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.

– Blackcross & Taylor

The fair foul day

Fritha raised a hand politely to Samuel as she passed, the halfling busy serving patrons in the midday day rush though he spared her a nod all the same as she headed for the stairs, descending into the flickering lamplight of the theatre. Their group, includingthe reticent ranger, had retired as soon as they had arrived back at the Coronet that morning, the others presumably going straight to bed, though sleep was not for her, Fritha still soaring with joy and their triumph and she had turned her energies to something far more important.

Fritha jumped down the last three steps, cloak and hair billowing about behind her and she could see those who had been sat idle on the stage suddenly struggling to their feet, rushing to look busy lest they invite her temper of the previous day. Someone called backstage for Higgold and sure enough, the man appeared on stage a moment later followed by what looked to be the rest of the troupe, though only the director ventured down into the auditorium to meet her.

'My Lady Patron-'

'Right,' she cut him off, sweeping up the aisle to throw the final draft onto the stage with a pointed slap, 'that is the script we will now be working from. Once everyone's had a glance over it, please take it to the Temple of Oghma to be scribed,' she continued to Meck, tossing the boy a purse which he caught deftly. 'Six copies should be more than enough.'

'My lady!' came a gasp behind her and she turned to find Higgold flicking through the manuscript, his eyes wide.

Just say it, just say one thing!

'It's…'

Everyone seemed to hold their breath, waiting for him to proclaim judgement and for all Fritha had convinced herself it was a stupid play anyway and she didn't give two figs as to what they thought, her heart was in her throat.

'…wonderful!' he breathed, finally tearing his eyes away to beam at her with an expression of unflattering disbelief.

'Oh, well,' she faltered, her outrage dissipating to leave her feeling rather embarrassed, 'most of the work was Zeran's -I just altered some of the other lines to fit in around them.'

'No, no, my patron,' Higgold gushed, 'it is so much more than that, there is such a melancholy air of inevitability to it all now.'

Fritha frowned; they did say it was better to write what you knew.

'Yes, well… anyway, six copies please Meck,' she instructed, already turning to leave. Higgold's fretting halted her.

'But aren't you going to stay, my lady, and give directions for the first rehearsal?'

'No, I've written in directions where I thought they were needed –it will be fine.'

'But-'

Fritha sighed; her good spirits were evaporating. 'Look, I just got back from the Nine Hells about five hours ago -and no, that was not me being facetious.' She clapped him soundly on the arm, 'Higgold, I have every faith in you.'

The man nodded, squaring up to her gaze, his jaw jutting out with an almost comical determination.

'Well -well yes, my lady! Right, you all heard our patron,' he called, his voice drifting back to her as she headed for the stairs, 'now, everyone gather about and we shall do the first read through together.'

xxx

Fritha arrived back to the Coronet to find the high sun had roused more than just the Five Flagon's patrons, her friends sat about a table in the far corner taking a meal of fish soup together, Valygar still among their number, Jaheira glancing up with surprise at her approach.

'Goodness, Fritha, you've been out? I assumed you were still sleeping when I could not rouse you.'

'Asleep?' she laughed as she drew out the empty chair next to her, 'I wish. No, I had something to attend to at the theatre.'

Next to her, Minsc frowned. 'Boo says they demand too much of you, young Fritha; even the mightiest of warriors need rest.'

'I'm fine, don't fuss,' she sighed, leaning forward to serve herself some soup, Anomen glancing up from his dish to catch her eye.

'And how did they find it?'

'Find what?' questioned Jaheira.

'Fritha was re-writing the play for the troupe,' Aerie explained succinctly, turning to the girl herself. 'So how was it? Did they like it?'

Fritha shrugged, casually pouring some cream into the thick orange stew, trying and failing to look nonchalant.

'It was fine.'

But Anomen could obviously tell she was pleased and smiled kindly. 'As I knew it would be. We were just in discussion of what we will be doing today.'

'Apart from catching up on our sleep,' the druid added sternly as Fritha hid a yawn in her sleeve.

'Well,' the girl managed finally, trying not to sound unwelcoming though she could think of no nicer way of phrasing it, 'I wonder whether Valygar requires anything more from us since he is still among our company?'

Those about her shared a look and she could tell this was already something which had been discussed before her arrival, the ranger finishing his mouthful and laying the spoon back into his dish to fix her with that unyielding gaze.

'Actually, in finally meeting Lavok, I have been brought to the conclusion that I have not seen quite as much of the world as I once thought I had; things I had perhaps held as certainties now much more indistinct and I would welcome the chance to explore this and broaden my experiences further –in your company, if you will have me.'

Fritha smiled. 'Of course, as I am sure the others have assured you, we would welcome your sword and I, for one, hope you find the enlightenment you seek -as the sages say, the first step to understanding is accepting you know nothing.'

'Which is a lot easier for some than others,' quipped Jaheira dryly, sending her a sidelong glance. Fritha ignored the woman.

'As for our plans, we should start looking for some more work; does anyone have any suggestions?'

'I was wondering whether we would have time to visit the park today too,' ventured Aerie quietly with a glance to Cernd, the druid himself sighing as he shook his head.

'I appreciate your consideration, Aerie, but I see no point in tormenting myself with such fruitless pursuits. I would rather just put it behind me.'

'But, Cernd, he's your son. Just because Magistrate Ianulin said we shouldn't investigate Deril doesn't me we can't.'

Across the table, Valygar choked, his spoon clattering into his dish. 'Deril? Althan Deril?'

Cernd nodded slowly. 'Yes… do you know of him?'

'Only that he is necromancer of a power that even the Cowled Wizards will not attempt to control.'

'By the Gods, Ahsdale!'

'Now calm down, Cernd,' Fritha cut in evenly, 'You met the boy yourself and he seemed fine -I truly don't believe he is in any danger.'

'It is so, Cernd, and rash action now could only serve to make matters worse,' Jaheira agreed, turning back to Valygar to add, 'How do you know of Deril?'

The man looked reluctant to elaborate though he answered stiffly, 'My mother made experiments into the necromantic arts later in her life; she and Deril moved in the same circles for a time, though I never met the man myself.'

'And the authorities did nothing?' demanded Cernd.

'Necromancy itself may be frowned upon, but it is not outside Amnian law,' explained Anomen, Valygar nodding his agreement.

'That is so. However, the practise of such an art can require certain components which would be deemed wholly unlawful anywhere outside of Thay. The Cowled Wizards are said to monitor the practise of necromancy within the city -only those mages with enough power and influence can rise above their controls.'

Fritha sighed and shook her head. 'First there was Isea, then yourself, and now we're investigating Deril; are there no honest nobles in this city?'

'To be fair, Valygar wasn't actually a criminal,' offered Aerie. Fritha nodded thoughtfully.

'Oh, yes, I suppose so. Well, if Deril is a necromancer, our first goal should be to find some proof of this and any possible illegal activities which he may be linked to it.'

Valygar nodded. 'I may have some documents at my estate; we-'

But the ranger was cut off as the door to the Coronet was thrown open and two swarthy young women in plain travelling robes practically fell into the tavern, casting about the room wildly before they found their table and the shorter one cried, 'Yeniv! Ba yeniv!'

The taller was already striking out towards them, her imperious tones ringing over the general clamour, 'Daket, loars'svet!'

'Speak, their language, Hulmeira,' came the shorter girl meekly, 'Yundra said-'

'Yundra is not here, Emurra!'

Jaheira finally tore her gaze from the strange pair to send the ranger an inquiring look. 'Minsc, do you know these women?'

'Yes, he knows us,' snapped Hulmeira, instantly whirling to address the man again, 'Loars'svet, unguren'nahaij!'

'I see no must about it,' said Fritha, the flush to her cheeks quite at odds to the iciness of her tone, 'and you call Minsc that again and we won't be helping anyone.'

Emurra practically shoved her friend out of the way in her haste at a reconciliation.

'Please, brother, we need aid! Our Elder, Yundra, has disappeared. At first we thought nothing of it for she often leaves us to go about the city on her own errands. But it has been three days now and still she has not returned. We thought perhaps it was a test, but then yesterday we noticed a strange man, dark haired with reddish skin following our movements in that place with the many stalls -Waukeen's Promenade.'

'It is as my sister says,' added Hulmeira, her manner considerably more subdued, 'We are very worried for our Elder, she has much power but such often just attracts even greater enemies. Please, we require your aid.'

Fritha said nothing, just slowly turned to look at Minsc, the man's dark eyes bright and keen. 'Boo says it is our duty as Rashemi to help our sisters.'

Fritha turned back to the girls to nod once. 'Then we shall.'

xxx

'So you will have to return home and the Wychlaran Council are just going to –to pass some judgement on you and that is it?' Fritha cried, the two Wychlaran who were leading the way a few yards ahead of them glancing back at the noise.

Aerie kept her eyes on the fine tall houses that lines the street around them, trying not to feel guilty at the obvious pain in Fritha's voice as she questioned the man walking next to her. Their group had split up at the arrival of the Wychlaran apprentices, Fritha sending Anomen and Cernd with Valygar to look for information on Deril while she had joined Aerie, Minsc and Jaheira in accompanying the two witches back to their inn to look for clues as to Elder Yundra's disappearance, the circumstances of Aerie and Minsc's previous meeting with the three Rashemi being revealed along the way, much to Fritha and Jaheira's distress.

'But why did you not tell us?' asked the druid sadly.

Minsc shook his great bald head with a slow resignation.

'It would have changed nothing. I have always known it will be so. And after we kill Irenicus, Minsc and Boo will return to Rashemen to face the Wychlaran's judgement. It is a solemn duty and a great honour to be a guardian to a witch. Many thought I could not because I know I am not as other men, but Dynaheir believed in me, vouched for me, said I was strong and loyal and would do well. Now, when I return all who spoke against me before will rise up their voices again.'

'But it wasn't your fault!' pressed Aerie, frustrated that one who would fight relentlessly against injustice for others seemed so willing to accept it for himself. But Minsc merely shrugged.

'Were we in Rashemen, had my fellow warriors seen all I had done and known I had not acted as a coward then I would have ready voices to vouch for me at my judgement. I have none here who can prove that.'

'We would come! We would do that, wouldn't we?' offered Aerie earnestly, Fritha nodding her agreement.

'Ah, it is kind of you to offer, little Aerie, but the words of outsiders will hold little weight.'

'Oh, Minsc,' sighed Fritha, seeming utterly disheartened, though her lamentations were cut short.

'Here, this is our inn,' came Hulmeira ahead of them, gracefully sweeping an arm up the fair red brick building beside them, the sign swinging merrily over the door proclaiming The Duck and Drake in a neat plain hand. They were in a wide pleasant street in a more affluent area of the city, made so by the many merchants that took residence there, the large market square that sat before the western end of the Promenade only one street over.

And the inn seemed to reflect this; inside, it was more coffeehouse than tavern, the light airy room set with a dozen or so small circular tables, uniformed waitresses moving between them with tall pots of coffee and chocolate as well as the usual tea and small ales that were drunk in the day.

'So how did you two find us, anyway?' asked Fritha as their group climbed the narrow stairs to the first floor, Emurra glancing back to explain,

'When we realised we needed assistance, we asked about the Promenade where we met the elf witch and our brother. Most merchants did not know of them, but one towards the western steps said he had seen them in your company, and that I could find you at the Copper Coronet inn.

'Ah, I bet I know just who that man was as well,' Fritha trilled with a smile, 'How nice of him to remember me; it was an age ago I asked him to keep an ear out for work for us.'

Emurra nodded, looking unsure as to how to reply and turning back to the hallway now before her, the group making their way a few paces along it before Hulmeira brought them to a halt, unlocking the door to their left on a small but pleasant room of white plaster walls, only just large enough for the broad canopied bed and the small fireplace that was tucked into the corner, the window next to it opening out over the bustling street they had just left.

'Have the maids been in since Yundra left?' asked Jaheira as they moved into the room proper, Minsc stood unobtrusively by the bed as the women fanned out.

'Ah, I am not sure, I do not think so,' Emurra faltered.

Aerie moved over to the window, checking for any signs it had been forced, Fritha crouched at the fireplace next to her.

'Here, this could be something,' the girl muttered, sitting back on her haunches to lift up a small scrap of burnt parchment, fingers grey with the ash she had rescued it from. 'From the thickness and quality I would say it was likely a letter, but why burn it?'

'Yundra could have burnt it herself if she was worried about it falling into the wrong hands,' reasoned Jaheira, 'Do you know if she was in correspondence with anyone?

'I do not believe so,' said Hulmeira after a questioning glancing to her friend, 'but Elder Yundra kept much private and would often go out alone.'

In the corridor outside, the clatter of footsteps, a pair of maids walking past the ajar door laughing brightly over armfuls of folded sheets. Jaheira glanced back at the sound.

'I am going to see if the servants here saw or heard anything suspicious.'

'Okay…' Fritha murmured distractedly, straightening to give the fragment to the elf behind her, 'What do you think, Aerie?'

Aerie looked down at the scrap she now held, the paper smooth and tingling under her fingers. 'There is a trace of magic about it. Oh…' she sighed as some long forgotten memories suddenly emerged behind her eyes.

'What is it, young Aerie?' came Minsc, all eagerness.

'I, well,' she swallowed, her throat suddenly dry as the implications of what she was about to consider struck her, 'when I was captured, the slavers had to put many charms on my cage to prevent me using my magic. They- they would laugh at how easily they had caught me. Slavers usually take people by force or drug them but another way was to send them a letter with a magic glyph inside. It is much more expensive, but necessary in some cases. It activates when the letter is opened and paralyses the person leaving them vulnerable -especially useful for mages, who carry their weapon with them always and can kill whole rooms with but a word.'

'You were a slave?' repeated Hulmeira as though it confirmed a lot. The elf returned her look coldly.

'Yes, for a time.'

'D-Did they capture you with something like that?' ventured Emurra. Aerie turned away feeling sad and empty.

'No, they just shot me.'

She heard them mutter something behind her, but it was in Rashemi and she did not much care anyway, glancing up as Jaheira back came into the room.

'I've spoken to the servers, those two girls recall seeing the same man you described from the Promenade loitering around the back of the stables here, though they have not seen him for three days now.'

'That have been must be him!' cried Emurra eagerly.

Fritha nodded. 'Right, if this was this glyph thing and it was obtained within the city then there is a chance the Cowled Wizards will know something of it. Aerie and Minsc you go over to the Council Buildings with our Wychlaran and ask around. As for the slavers, I believe Jaheira may have a contact there.'

A moment for her intimation to dawn and the druid smiled, broad and predatory.

xxx

Clouds were drawing in overhead, grey and heavy, though there was not yet that coolness to the air that heralded rain. The wide cobbled avenue about them lacked the bustle of the slums or Promenade, a few people and the occasional carriage rattling past at a brisk trot as Valygar led both he and Anomen to his estate. Cernd looked up at the slender neat trees that lined either side, their trunks little thicker than his arm rising up to open out in a small globe of branches, not a twig out of place. They were kept too trimmed and confined to ever really grow, their roofs not given room enough to spread under the heavy cobblestones and the sight upset him more than if there had been no trees there at all.

It was a relief, then, when Valygar turned from the avenue into a narrower side street, the trees to their left replaced by a tall stone wall that no doubt secured the edge to one of the area's many grand estates.

Cernd walked on just behind the pair, his heart weighing in his chest like a thudding piece of lead, the normally liberating arc of sky above him feeling oppressive and stifling. He knew stress of any source, be it physical or mental, was not good for him, but he was usually so well in control of his emotions, always able to keep a strong rein on his wilder impulses at any point on the moon's cycle. Their recent planer jaunt had be an unpleasant reminder though of how it had used to be before he had become more proficient in Gragus's ways. That itching unwelcome feeling to his skin as though it no longer belonged to him, the quivering through his organs as they fought to ripple and change within him. Cernd started suddenly, tearing a sleeve back to find his arm just as it usually was, the skin tanned and taught over the sinewy muscles of his forearm, the dark hairs trembling in the faint breeze, no more coarse or thick than they were usually, his tongue running unconsciously over two even rows of teeth.

Cernd shook himself, trying to quell the sudden panic. That infernal scorched wilderness, Avernus -that barren desert of the Nine Hells had stirred something primal in him and once awakened it seemed it would take some time to calm again. And yet, the Fates had other trials for him to face, it seemed. Any mention of his son could not help but invoke strong emotions and he was trying desperately not to even think of the possibility of having Ahsdale given over to his care, the hope and uncertainty and pure primal fear surging through him.

That morning had dawned the same as any other and now all had changed. Everything seemed to be moving so quickly, like a river suddenly swollen with meltwater and he was being swept along by the current, unsure as to whether he should be struggling or not. When he had first learnt of Ahsdale's he had wanted nothing more than to be a father to him, the idea that he would remain forever a stranger to the boy was torturous. But it had been an idea he had accepted and despite how it had felt, he had survived. And now…

Was he ready for whole life to change completely? And was such a change in his son's best interests? After all, Deril might be a powerful mage, a necromancer even, but that did not necessarily make him evil and their investigations may not discover anything to indicate either way.

Cernd glanced up as the sandstone wall that loomed beside them was finally broken by a plain wooden door, the heavy wrought hinges creaking cheerfully as Valygar unlocked it on a small kitchen garden and the druid realised belatedly they were at the rear of his estate, indeed the back of a great sandstone house could easily be seen looming out of the neat rows of raspberry bushes and bean poles. Valygar led them through the garden to a small unobtrusive door at the back of the building and leading them into the kitchens.

It was a reasonable size and clean enough that someone likely took pride in keeping it so; from the deep terracotta tiles that covered the floor to the bright copper pans that hung above the hearth, everything had been lovingly burnished to a deep shine. The young woman at the sink peeling vegetables whipped round at the sound of the door and they were greeted by a shrill chorus of chairs scraping back as the three men who had been sat about the large scrubbed table taking tea suddenly stood.

'Master Valygar, you are returned!' the woman cried, drying her pink hands on her apron as she rushed to welcome him in, blond braids swinging, 'The Wizards asked so many questions about you but we told them nothing –indeed, we did not know anything to tell.'

Valygar let his gaze travel them all, his words holding a sincere gravity. 'You did well, Mab -you all did. Where is Nentat?'

'Oh, there's been some flooding down in the southern holdings,' she explained quickly, 'Master Nentat went out to speak to the tenant farmers and assess the damage, though he should be due back any day now.'

Valygar nodded once. 'Good. Now, I have some errands that must be run. Ivery, you and Mullen take this key and follow these directions down to the docks. You will reach a room. Anything left inside by way of books or notes -and I doubt there will be anything- but whatever you find bring back here. And Marden, I need you to take this,' Valygar continued, drawing a sealed square of parchment from his jerkin, 'and pass it to the innkeep, Johanis at the Ship and Star tavern.'

'Yes, my lord.'

And their tea was left, forgotten as the three servants immediately took their leave.

'Mab, we will be upstairs in the study,' said Valygar, the girl bobbing an unseen curtsey as the ranger stalked past her, Anomen and Cernd just left to follow, leaving Mab to clear away the half-full cups.

They followed the ranger, the hallways and doors becoming grander as they moved from the back of the house, the plain plaster walls of the kitchens changing to fine dark wood panels, heavy tapestries here and there breaking up the undulating brown. It was of a style Cernd knew to be popular in the homes of the Waterhavian nobles, rather than more traditional painted plaster and tiles of Athkatlan houses, made necessary by his homeland's long hot summers.

Through another door and along a hallway and they were suddenly in the entrance hall before a set of wide mahogany stairs, a dark wine red carpet running up the centre. Cernd gazed up as they reached the first landing, a huge stained glass window adorning the back wall, the height of the two floors combined and bearing the Corthala crest: a hart rampant against a great full moon upon a field of deep blue, garlands of emerald leaves entwined about it to make a boarder. The colours were vivid, enriched to even more vibrant hues as outside the sunlight split the clouds, Cernd feeling rather suffocated as he started up at it; the hart, those leave, that great pale moon…

'Who is Nentat?' he blurted out, anything to focus his mind upon as it swam and chattered in his head.

'He is our steward,' answered Valygar, sending him a measured look before turning back to continue his ascent, 'His family have been retainers to ours for generations and he ran the house for my parents just as he does so now for me –they were always too busy with their studies to take an interest and I am rarely here. Our household is no longer the grand estate it once was, much of it sold off and wasted over the years, but he keeps enough money coming in to maintain the lands and buildings and keep the few servants my parents retained in a wage and I do not care for much else. Nentat maintained the library too while we had one -it was he who had stored those books away in the attics where I first discovered Lavok's diary, when the main library had become too full to ever find anything.'

'I see… was the letter you sent out just now to him?' Cernd continued, knowing it likely hadn't been but wanting the man to very much keep talking. If Valygar frowned again, he did not see it, the ranger not even turning around as they reached the second floor and set out along a wide door lined corridor.

'No, it was a message to Arvind to let him know the outcome of our troubles with Lavok and the Wizards. If he made to visit me again in Umar and did not find me there it would have worried him, to say the least. He is a good man; he deserves to know all is well, that he and Sangeeta can move on from these troubles in peace. Here,' Valygar opened the door at his right on to a small room panelled in the same wood as the rest of the house, 'this was my mother's study.'

The air was cool and slightly damp as the three stepped over the threshold; there had been no fire lit in there for a while. A large desk was set against the wall they had entered by, a fireplace taking up most of the wall next to it, two large bookcases built into the alcoves on either side and barely holding enough books over both of them to fill even one.

'The Cowled Wizards rather emptied it in their search for Lavok's notes,' commented Anomen, Cernd nodding, feeling better for the cooler air and the soothing sweep of green he could see of the tolerably matured grounds through the two windows. Valygar just shrugged loosely, moving over to the bookcase that was nestled in the alcove next to the desk.

'Yes and no, though the Cowled Wizards did take what few were left, it was I who destroyed most of her books; why leave them for others to be corrupted as my parents had? The few hidden in my den at the docks were likely destroyed by Sangeeta and the others, though they were mostly related to Lavok's research and planar travel –I had no need nor desire to study necromancy.'

Cernd frowned, glad Fritha had decided to go with the other group; she would have likely had a lot to say about such arbitrary destruction of knowledge. He watched as the ranger fumbled at something just underneath the shelf above, a narrow panel finally jutting loose with a soft click and he removed it to reveal a small alcove just set in the wall behind, a few bricks removed to leave space enough for a small collection, the black-bound books within grey with loosed plaster and dust.

'No,' Valygar continued with an unusually wistful sigh, 'most of her and my father's books are gone one way or another- though I could not bear to part with these ones. These areher diaries from while she still lived. From before she even met my father to… well, the later volumes may contain some mention of Deril.' He was flicking through one with an absent look, Cernd wrestling with his pressing conscience as the man was forced to relive this pain for the druid's benefit.

'I am sorry, Valygar. Life's breezes may take the seed far from the tree, but however differently we grow from our parents they still have an influence and such matters, though part of the natural order, are never easy.'

'There was nothing natural about her end…' the ranger muttered into the turning pages.

Cernd and Anomen shared a brief look, the knight venturing politely, 'Did the Cowled Wizards exception to her… practises?'

Valygar was still gazing at the diary, and for a moment, Cernd thought he would simply decline to answer when-

'It was six years ago. My father had become sick and had eventually died of the malady. So caught up in her work, my mother had not even noticed and the shock when she discovered it was enough to send her over the edge, her mind having been slowly corrupted by the magic and the cursed blood in her veins. In Eshpurta at the time, I was informed of my father's death and returned home to find the pair of them had confined themselves to my mother's chambers, my father shuffling about the darkened rooms just a corpse animated by her fell magics -my mother's last desperate attempt to make up for the lost years. She was quite mad; I had no choice but to take her life.'

The silence seemed incredibly loud.

'There are some more books in the attics which the Wizards may not have found,' Valygar continued eventually, the man replacing the book on the shelf with the others and turning to leave, 'Come, we may find something on Deril yet.'

Cernd glanced to the man next to him, Anomen's face wearing the same horrified mask he suspected of his own as all the while his blood shivered and growled.

xxx

'Ployer?' Fritha called brightly as she stepped in from the relative brightness of the street, her eyes taking only a moment to accustom themselves and take in the room about her, the place a jumble of well, everything.

Rotting wooden beams and planks were leant against the walls amongst rusting armour and battered old furniture, some of which looked to be little more than kindling, every available surface covered in pots and jugs, all chipped and cracked, bundles of moth-eaten clothes stuffed wherever there was room. And there, in the centre of it all, a table that had definitely seen better days had been placed, a ledger and inkwell set neatly upon the top while, behind it, was a rickety high-backed chair. Fritha glanced to the woman behind her, Jaheira raising an eyebrow; Ployer was back in business it seemed.

'Ployer?' Fritha shouted again, a clank from the doorway opposite followed by 'I come,' in a familiar voice from somewhere in the yard beyond, the man bustling past the rotting curtain and suddenly Ployer was before them. He was just as short as Fritha remembered but not so scrawny, a thin layer of fat smoothing out the lines on his drawn tanned face. His dark hair was still worn long and greasy but the robes he wore were patched and clean and there was a keen hunger to his eyes that had been absent before.

'What, you?' he snapped, seemingly more that a little rattled as he recognised her, 'How did you find me?'

Jaheira straightened from where she had been examining a cracked speckled looking glass, emerging from behind a battered dresser with a cold smile.

'Why, we merely followed the reek.'

'J-Jaheira?'

'Yes, and remember what debt I owe you as you consider your next.'

Ployer had paled visibly, the man edging sideways to surreptitiously put the table between them –a mistake really.

'Jaheira, you're scaring him, ' Fritha scolded playfully, hopping up to sit on the table next to him as the druid stepped up on the other side, hemming the man in. 'Oh, don't fret, Ployer, we aren't here to kill you –that is unless you can think of a reason we should,' the girl teased.

Ployer snorted bitterly. 'I run a legitimate business now, for all the good it does me. In fact,' he considered, beady eyes narrowed a moment, 'I pay my taxes - Get out of here before I summon the Watch!'

'Sit down, Ployer!' snapped Jaheira, the man dropping meekly into the chair behind him. Fritha smiled broadly.

'That's better. We just want some information and then we'll be on our way. We need to know about the slavers in the city: where they hold the auctions, who the prominent traders are-'

But Ployer was already shaking his head.

'I don't know anything about that.'

Jaheira slammed a fist onto the table with a force that Fritha felt in her legs. 'Do not waste our time, Ployer! You may not be in the business now, but you were once, so speak!'

'I told you, I don't know!' he cried, swallowing nervously, 'I made it my business not to know!'

'Oh, come off it,' snapped Fritha, 'So you couldn't even make a guess as to where they would be operating from now? It cannot have changed that much since you were in the trade.'

Ployer was pressing back in the chair as though he could not get far enough away from them, the wooden frame creaking ominously.

'It can and has. It changes and moves constantly -it's the nature of the business. Those of the Watch who can't be bribed always on your trail; every nobleman or Magistrate who wants to be seen to be doing good by the citizens of Athkatla trying to find you out. No one understands that in a large city, slavery it just the way of things-'

'I did not ask for your life's philosophy, wretch!' shrieked Jaheira.

But it seemed his own words had bolstered him, Ployer's face regaining some of its colour as he ranted.

'Just look around you! It does not have to be slavery to make us slaves -all around us the strong pray on the weak. Merchants band together to keep the price they pay for goods from the farmers and labourers to a minimum. The young practically slaves in the guilds to which they are apprenticed. Why even that inn you stay in -right next door to the cheapest brothel in the slums. You cannot tell me all those girls are taking home a wage.'

xxx

The sun was low behind them as the women left his house, the street about them busy with people all making their way home before the dusk set in, carts trying to slowly navigate their way through the crowds.

'Do you believe what he was saying?' asked Fritha finally. Jaheira gave a grim nod.

'Yes, I do. By Silvanus,' she sighed with a mixture of wry amusement and fatigue, 'this life is never quiet. I gave a message to Bernard this morning; he will attempt to get it passed to Dermin and perhaps one of our troubles can begin to mend.'

Fritha nodded, a silence falling between them as they each returned to their thoughts and Jaheira let her attention drift about her, revolting in the crowds and the buildings and the all-pervading squalor and- she stopped, her feet thankfully unaffected as her eyes caught on the figures of four familiar men in the reflection of the passing windows.

She had seen them lounging about outside the Cracked Anvil alehouse, regarding everyone they past with a coolly appraising look. They were mercenaries by their appearance, each of them armed for it, though poorly and Jaheira suspected they likely took on the bandit hunting and caravan escorts that were the staples of that life. Though, it seemed that day the Fates had found them a finer prize.

'Fritha, do not look back but I believe we are being followed.'

'Followed?' the girl repeated, though she fixed upon the essentials very quickly, 'How many of them?'

'Four, I think. I only noticed just now. We could likely best them though I would rather avoid a fight when civilians are around. But either way, we will need to lose them before we return to the Coronet.'

Fritha spat a curse under her breath. 'Can't I have just one day when nothing tries to kill me? All right, all right,' she sighed as they closed upon a cross-roads, a cooper causing a bottleneck as he stopped with his cart to chat with one of the street vendors, merrily ignoring the people as they pressed and shuffled past grumbling loudly. 'Right,' Fritha bided, her hand closing about the druid's arm, 'wait until we're past the cart and… now!'

The girl ducked, pulling Jaheira with her as she took a sharp right and pushed half-crouched through the crowds, the women finally breaking free to find themselves tearing down an alley, the shouts behind them indicating their disappearance had not gone unnoticed.

'Quick, in here!' shouted Fritha, diving through the rotting curtain to their left, Jaheira on her heels.

...

'Are they down there?'

Jaheira stood at the curtain, the reek of smoke and grease that infused the heavy sackcloth making her nostrils twitch as she listened to the rasp of lingering feet shifting on the packed earth street just outside. Fritha was behind her, though facing the room they had just piled into unannounced, a finger held to her lips and Jaheira spared a glance behind her.

The woman looked afraid, though too much so to act, her stance submissive and squat as she nursed a sickly looking child on a stool by the unlit hearth, a swarm of children sat and stood about her, varied in size and age but all with that same wan worn look, silent as they stared up at them.

'No…' the man outside sighed eventually, 'no, I can't see them.'

'Ah, come on,' called another impatiently, 'It probably wasn't even them. Let's get back to the Anvil.'

The footsteps faded, Jaheira waiting a good few moments longer before she relaxed her grip on her staff.

'They gone?' murmured Fritha at her ear.

'It appears so.'

She heard the girl sigh, Jaheira turning back to watch her fish her purse from her pocket, Fritha weighing it unconsciously in her hand as she let her eyes run over the sea of gaunt grubby faces when she stooped, what would have likely been a year's wages for someone living in such meanness chiming pleasantly as she set the whole purse on the uneven stone flags before the woman's stool. 'My thanks, madam.'

Back out in the street, the cooper had moved on, people travelling freely past them once more as they hurried home.

'So,' began Fritha as they joined the crowds, 'this near miss of ours -how about we forget to mention it to the others.'

Jaheira nodded once, even as she cast another wary glance behind them. 'Agreed.'

And together they set a furious pace back to the Coronet.

xxx

'I can hardly believe it,' breathed Aerie, staring across the crowded tavern to the narrow rickety staircase that all knew led up to the side entrance for the brothel next door; until that moment just accepted by all of them as a part of slums' life. Minsc looked torn, concern for the witch at his side fighting with his fears for the Wychlaran he had vowed to rescue.

'Worry not, little Aerie, Minsc will make them regret the day they made slaves of innocents!'

'Sit down, Minsc,' snapped Jaheira, 'you storm up there and you'll just get yourself thrown out -or worse.'

'And what course would you propose we take, druid?' sneered Hulmeira, Emurra already tugging meekly at her sleeve.

'Hulmeira-'

'No, they swore to help us, but we are no closer to Elder Yundra than we were this morning! We had guessed before she had been taken and the Cowled Wizards would not even hear us; their help has done nothing.'

'You wish to continue your search for her alone?' threatened Jaheira coolly, Minsc hastening to refute her words.

'No, sisters, Boo says we must work together to find your Elder!'

'Listen to him, Hulmeira,' Emurra pleaded, though their squabble had yet to even register for Aerie, the elf still gazing over at the stairs, her face pale as though she was fighting the urge to be sick.

'All this time we have stayed here, while such- such horrors were taking place but a building away.'

'How could we have guessed?' sighed Anomen dully, the guilt at this oversight rising quick within him, 'It is not as though we would ever visit such a place.'

'No,' agreed Fritha darkly, 'but we're going to now. Valygar, you're up, mate.'

'What?' snapped the ranger.

'It's as Anomen said, we've never gone up there. It would look suspicious if we did now. You're new; you'll have to do it.'

'She has a point,' Jaheira concurred with a meaningful look. Fritha nodded; that had clearly decided the thing.

'There you go. Now do you need some more coin?'

Valygar frowned. 'No,' he said eventually. Fritha smiled.

'Well, set yourself away then.'

Valygar sighed tersely, giving her one final glare before seeming to give up fighting their logic and rising to stalk off towards the stairs. Aerie shook her head, muttering something about 'fresh air' as she rose as well, Jaheira and Cernd sharing a look before the woman rose to go after her, Cernd shifting into her empty seat to begin a quiet conversation with Minsc on the other side of that large table, the two Wychlaran left to mutter to each other in their own tongue.

Fritha exhaled in a long deep sigh and reached for the bottle before her, the girl ordering a drink before she had even sat down with Jaheira to explain their findings. Anomen watched as she filled one of the four small cups it had arrived with and knocked it back in one mouthful, and she was on her third cup before he spoke up.

'Fritha, that port is stronger than it looks.'

The girl pointedly downed the contents of the cup she had poised before her lips.

'Anomen, I believe we've already had the conversation about you not being my father.'

'And I do not seek to be! You know I care for you, Fritha.'

Fritha sighed dramatically and took up the bottle again. 'Oh come on, Anomen, don't start on again with that, I really haven't the head for it right now. I care for you too; you're my friend, despite all this-' she waved her free hand about erratically, quickly giving up on trying to verbally describe the complicated mixed of feelings between them. Anomen regarded her sternly a moment.

'Why did you keep the flower I gave you?'

'Oh, I don't know,' Fritha cried plaintively, 'I just did! Look, Anomen,' she continued with the pained air of a very forced confession, 'were this any other time and place I would have considered it. But we are here and it is now and there is really nothing to be done.'

'Fritha!' he exclaimed; the feeling everything he hoped for was so close yet just as out of reach was maddening. 'This is not going to just disappear because you refuse to acknowledge it. I am in love with you!'

'Anomen,' she hissed, going pink as people on nearby tables glanced round to the source of the noise, Minsc sending him a stern glare, 'you don't even understand what you'd be bringing upon yourself, do you? This-this alliance you seem to crave could mean your death!'

He sent her an unyielding look. 'Then I am willing to take that risk'

'Willing to take that risk?' she cried shrilly, seemingly unconcerned now about any looks she was attracting. 'Do you even know of what you speak? It isn't just some outside chance, Anomen. In fact, there are some bookmakers up in the Gate who will give you very good odds on it!'

'I will not deny our lives are dangerous,' he agreed earnestly, 'but neither my fate nor my actions would be any different were we sharing courtship. And if our days are numbered, do you not think that we should seize upon what small joys we can?'

Fritha drew back with an incredulous frown. 'So what you're saying is, we should be together because there's a good chance one of us could die? That doesn't make a jot of sense! And believe me, Anomen, if I thought this was to be one of my last nights alive, I would not be spending it drinking in the Coronet, just as I have practically every other evening since arriving in this wretched city!'

She snatched up the bottle again from the table before her, losing a good few slugs to the table before she calmed enough to refine her pouring. Next to her, Anomen sighed.

'What would you do?'

'Sorry?' she questioned, re-corking the bottle and turning back to find him gazing at her, his expression unreadable.

'What would you do, if it was your last night alive?'

Fritha blinked slowly, before deciding there was nothing offensive to his question and leaning back in her chair to consider it.

'Well, I would go to temple and pray for Imoen -just because I am going to die doesn't mean the rest of you will. And then I would visit the theatre and make sure everything was running smoothly and ensure Higgold remembers my will concerning the deed.'

'You already have a will?' he confirmed, looking mildly surprised and she shrugged.

'Seemed a little foolish not to, all things considered… it is to be kept in trust for Meck, without his knowledge, until his twentieth year when he may inherit it or the others may purchase it from him at the market value.'

Anomen smiled slightly, his eyes soft. 'And then?'

'And then…'

Go to the shrine of Oghma, surround yourself with books and have a good cry…

'I'd probably just come back to my room and go to bed,' Fritha finished lamely, 'I'm going to die the next day; it wouldn't do to be tired for it.'

She snorted slightly, but there was little mirth in it and Anomen did not even share that.

'Why is everything a jest to you?' he asked, his pained look making her temper flare.

'Because I have to do something, have some reaction, and I feel bursting into tears every few moments is unlikely to inspire others with confidence! Besides,' she continued with a sigh, calm once more and slightly weary, 'for the most part life is pretty funny. I mean, when you first met me, and we fought and fought, I'll wager you could not envisage you would be professing love eternal in but three short months.'

'Indeed, I could not,' he agreed shortly, 'and yet my feelings are no less sincere for their suddenness. And I notice that so far you have never once throughout all refusals of my courtship claimed you do not return them.'

'Anomen!' she cried, his sincere persistence making it all the harder, 'Don't you see? Once I get Imoen back, that's it, I am gone! Too many people around here know about me: I can't stay and risk trouble finding me. It'll be lucky if I remain on the Prime, and I am sure you did not work your entire life to join the Order just so you could leave to come gallivanting across the planes with me!'

Anomen looked almost desperate, the man reaching forward and he likely would have taken her hand if she had not instantly removed both of them from reach.

'Fritha please, do not deny what could grow between us. If we love one another, then nothing-'

'-Will change!' she cut in with a snap, 'Perhaps you should start to read romance novels as well, Anomen, they may give you a better understanding of the differences between realityand fiction. As far as I can see, a compromise is impossible in this situation and I will not be responsible for bringing misery on us both. Goodnight.'

Anomen watched her, obviously waiting for her to kick out her chair and stalk away. Fritha glowered at him from under fine amber eyebrows.

'Go on then, I'm tired of being the one who always has to storm off. I'm comfortable and my wine's here. It's your turn.'

Anomen did not move either, the man returning her scowl with one of his own. Fritha sighed, reaching out to set one of the three spare cups before him and filling it along with her own. Together, they drank in silence.

xxx

Valygar sank on to the roughly made bed, the dim lighting not quite hiding the frayed quilt, a thin pale woman, cheap make-up plastered thickly to her worn face sitting next to him with a practised smile that revealed at least one false tooth, the silver winking in the lamp light.

It had been simple enough to get there, the man trudging up the stairs to be cordially admitted by the madam, an ageing woman who was dressed with the pretence she was much younger. She had asked rather bluntly if he had any preference before taking his payment and seating him at a table to wait for the next available girl. The room had been small, windowless and crammed with tables, the air thick with pipesmoke as the men about him gambled and drank as they awaited their turn and his mind had fallen unfortunately upon the earlier meeting at his estate, his companions' undisguised looks of horror at his confession and the awkward way they had approached him for the rest of the afternoon.

He was not ashamed of the course he had taken; he had already mourned his father passing, the man a mere corpse, shambling and insensible when he had finally cut him down. And as for his mother, the grief of losing her husband the first time had been enough to drive her into a madness that had long been building, her mind poisoned by the cursed blood within in her veins and she had been beyond help or reason when he had been forced to end her misery. Or, that was what he had always believed…

'So, you ever been in here before?' came the woman before him, bringing him back to that cramped bare room with a jolt. He shook his head, the woman nodding, dark brittle tresses that spent too much time under the curling irons trembling slightly with the movement.

'No I thought not. I think I'd have recognised you. You're a merc, yes? From the Coronet?'

'Yes,' he answered curtly and he could tell she thought him nervous. The woman smiled again and more genuinely perhaps, turning to the small table next to them that was set with a carafe and two cups.

'Would you like some wine?'

'I would actually like to talk with you.'

'I am not trained in conversation, m'lord.'

'Nor are most people,' he observed dryly, 'and yet they seem to manage somehow. I have paid for my time; do you care how we pass it?'

'No,' she answered flatly, turning to pour herself some wine, 'I don't suppose I do.'

'I want to ask you about the slaves here.'

The woman glanced up from her cup with a guarded look. 'Ah, now Madam Nim does not like us to speak of that.'

'Are you a slave?' he pressed.

The woman shrugged tiredly. 'Perhaps I was once… but no longer now I imagine. I am past my best and I could likely leave here without them spending any bother trying to fetch me back, an old worn out thing like me.'

'Then why do you stay?'

She finished the wine in one mouthful, setting the cup on the table with a sigh.

'Well, it's a trade and I've a roof over my head and you get a few regulars. The management here let me keep my tips, and what I must do to earn them -well, after the first few times it doesn't much matter anymore and, like I said, I've been here for years.'

Valygar frowned, wondering if there was anything left of the woman to save, even if he had been in a position to help her.

'I am looking for a woman who I believe has been taken by slavers in the city. She is old, a foreigner and a mage too, though her magics are likely being suppressed. We think they have taken her to sell on elsewhere.'

The woman sighed again, smoothing a finger over her chapped lips as she considered it.

'Well, if she's old they won't bother bringing her here. I'm not sure where they keep the slaves before sales –the auctions move around a lot and those slavers that come here aren't usually in the mood to chat. Oh, but there's the fighting pit over on Tanners Row, under the Black Hatchet tavern. I'll warrant the slaves there know more than I, being in the thick of the trade as they are, though I doubt it will be as easy to get to talk to one. But it sounds to me like your best bet –they usually ask for a password for entrance to the pit, but just tell them you're friends of Lehtinan.'

'The landlord at the Copper Coronet?' exclaimed Valygar, the woman almost laughing at his surprise.

'Oh, aye, there's a reason he leaves most of the bartending to his staff, only they know him as Leith over at the Hatchet- there, that's a good enough secret to get you inside at least. He runs the fighting pits with a man named Ehid Brask. A pirate they say, he is the one who keeps the place in slaves while Lehtinan deals with the day to day running, making sure all the right pockets get line -or so I heard it from one of the other girls. A bit of a favourite of Ehid's is our Gwen – she must be, that he even spares the time to speak to her. Not all the men at the pit are owned by that pair though. Some of the gladiators belong to other slavers, while others are owned by a few of the noble houses here in the city. If a new slave has arrived anywhere over the city, then chances are someone over at the Hatchet will know about it. That really is all I know though.' She sighed and sent him a tired smile, 'I hope you find your friend, m'lord.'

Valygar nodded once, rising to leave and setting a small stack of gold upon the dresser as he reached the door.

'My thanks for your time.'

Valygar returned to find their group about the table where he had left them, a circle of grim faces, Aerie looking pale but determined in the flickering glow of the lamps as he recounted to them all the woman had told him.

'The Black Hatchet tavern,' breathed Fritha as he finished his tale, leaning back in her chair with a relieved sigh, 'thanks be I've never been there!'

'So what are we going to do?' asked Aerie, all haste. Fritha grinned.

'Well, I don't know about you lot, but I fancy a change of scene. I say we all go out for nice quiet drink.'