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.

The piece of the grave

'So Valygar killed his own parents?' exclaimed Fritha, hardly able to believe it herself, 'Good grief!'

'Indeed,' came Anomen in stern agreement, 'though he did stress the fact that his mother had been corrupted.'

Fritha snorted half-heartedly, still too shocked to be truly scornful. 'Yes, but by whose assessment of the thing? All I can say is, Aerie had better watch out, especially now she's studying again. Did you know that Elder Yundra let her sit in on a lesson with Emurra and Hulmeira before the Wychlaran departed? I couldn't say who was more proud, Aerie or Minsc! I don't think I've seen him without a grin since they left.'

Anomen smiled as well, the two returning their attention to their path, the buildings becoming grander as they left the slums, travelling south towards the temple district, the streets quiet as dusk fell about them. It had been a pleasant couple of days, everyone split up, going about the city on their own errands as things slowly returned to normality. Anomen had been under strict orders from both Aerie and Jaheira not to leave his bed for any length of time and Fritha had taken it upon herself to keep him company when she was not at the theatre or checking in on the rescued children at the Illmaterans, the girl keeping him informed of the comings and goings outside his room or playing cards, sometimes the pair just sat in silence as she embroidered and he read, their relationship returned to the innocuous friendship it had always been.

But he was well enough to leave his room now and that afternoon had found their group reunited about a table in the common room, taking a late meal and discussing Deril and their on-going investigation. Valygar had finally unearthed a list of contacts that his mother had made back at his estate, the directory comprised of local alchemists, apothecaries and other less reputable sorts who were in a place to supply the exotic and sometimes macabre ingredients required by those wishing to practise the necromantic arts -and without any unnecessary questions. The last day or so had been spent making inquiries and narrowing it down to something more manageable, the remaining few names split between them that noon and the group had paired off to follow what leads they had left.

Fritha and Anomen were heading for an apothecary over near the Promenade who had a reputation for supplying less common ingredients, though the knight had requested they make a minor detour so he could visit the temple and give thanks for surviving yet another battle. Fritha had joked he should start to ask if Helm couldn't just help him to avoid them.

'Oh,' said Anomen suddenly, as though he had just remembered it, 'I wished to thank you for having my breastplate mended.'

Fritha smiled and shook her head. 'It's not me you should thank -I just took it over to the Order. I was quite lucky really: young Squire Marc recognised me as I was stood looking rather lost in the courtyard and fetched Sir Harn for me, and you know how he is. We took tea in the kitchens while Marc took your cuirass over to the smiths, so it was hardly a chore.'

'Speaking of which, you visited the theatre again this morning, did you not? How was it?'

'Oh, fine, fine. I spent the majority of it chatting with Mayen and Wynn. Wicked girls! Oghma only knows how they got on to the subject, but a few days ago the actresses were all complaining about how being on the stage made them very conscious of their figures and Zeran had apparently started boasting about being able to eat whatever he likes and never putting on an ounce. So Mayen and Wynn have been secretly taking in his costume by a fraction every evening these last couple of days and teasing him about how he is starting to look portly. The poor vain man is apparently frantic –he is refusing to touch anything remotely sweet and has even given up his customary mead in favour of white grass tea.'

Fritha was laughing merrily, Anomen joining her in a smile.

'It is never a dull moment at your theatre, is it? I forgot to ask before, but did you change the ending of the play?'

Fritha was still laughing as she admitted, 'No. Higgold seemed to think it was enough of an offence to change the prose. I imagine he would have spent the rest of the production prostrate before the shrine to Milil had I had them act out such heresy as a revised ending.'

Anomen snorted with a mild amusement. 'Perhaps that is for the best, my lady, the nobility of Athkatla are intransigent at best.'

Fritha nodded and smiled. She had noticed she was 'my lady' again now; it made her slightly sad in a way she never could have anticipated.

They rounded the final corner, the great stone temple to Helm about halfway along the street standing proudly over the surrounding temples and shrines, Anomen opening the door and stepping back to allow her through before following her inside and nearly walking straight into her where she had halted directly before the doorway, the girl looking as though she was tempted to retreat back further as High Watcher Oisig spotted them, the grave man unusually flighty as he crossed the chamber to greet them.

'Ah, Brother Anomen and the Lady Fritha, I am so pleased you have come, indeed that you have both come this day, for I understand we own much of our good fortune to you, my lady.'

Fritha forced a smile, glancing to Anomen to see if the knight had any more idea than her as to what the High Watcher could be referring.

'Oh, ah, really?'

Oisig smiled. 'Why, yes -Brother Anomen said you were the one who convinced Sir Sarles to take our commission.'

'Sarles?' Fritha repeated, going pink as she glanced about her warily, 'He's not here is he?'

'No, my lady, but his servants made delivery of his masterpiece just this morning. We are to have a grand unveiling in the glory of Helm's name this coming tenth day service as part of the St Aldulphi's Day celebrations, though I would be proud to let you both have the honour of seeing it first.'

Oisig moved to go, clearly expecting them to follow, leading the pair to a small circular antechamber just off from the main room, a stone plinth unevenly draped in a large white canvas looming before them.

'Well, I shall leave you both to it,' Oisig muttered, shutting the door to leave them quite alone. Anomen looked to Fritha, eyebrows raised as he reached out and removed the cover in one smooth sweep. And there it was, the pale marble image of a woman, flowing stone robes rippling in some ethereal breeze, her hair wild about her in a halo of swirling tresses while a slender arm was held out and pointing, her fine face screwed up as she harangued some unseen transgressor.

They both stood staring up at it in stunned silence when the chamber was suddenly ringing with Anomen's laughter.

'Anomen,' Fritha reproached, hiding her eyes beneath a hand even as she smiled herself, her face scarlet.

'I think it wonderful,' he enthused, still grinning widely as his eyes studied it, 'the likeness is even better than the one in Trademeet.'

'Oh, don't,' she laughed, moving to take the canvas from his hand, 'here, help me put the cover back on.'

Anomen obliged her, though he was still laughing to himself as they left the temple a good while later and Fritha wondered if he had even managed to stop whilst he had made his prayers, the knight only just able to suppress his amusement long enough to bid farewell to the High Watcher as the pair left.

'Right,' sighed Fritha, as they turned to walk north back up the narrow raised street, the canal next to them grey under the cloudy sky, 'Valygar said the apothecary had a shop on Leam Lane –that's four streets south of the Promenade, isn't it? …Anomen, will you stop laughing!'

The apothecary's shop was a dark green fronted building with a single large window that ran the length of it, though dusty green curtains actually prevent all but the tallest from seeing into the gloomy room inside. The street it was set in seemed nice enough though, two lines of terraced-buildings that held a jumble of houses and shops. His prayers had kept him a while, the days so much shorter now, and it was getting on for the evening. A tall woman was locking the door to the milliner's opposite while further down the street a stout balding clockmaker was bringing in his canopy, Fritha and Anomen silently watching all from the mouth of the alleyway that ran alongside the apothecary's holding.

'Right,' said Fritha, turning back to the man she was stood next to, 'I'll go in first; give me a moment or so and then come in afterwards with the story we agreed.'

Anomen nodded, the girl disappearing around the corner and an instant later came the rattle of the door and the merry chime of a bell followed by a polite if rather flustered voice, as though customers were something of a rarity for him.

'Oh, a p-pearl to you, miss, but I was just about to close for the-'

'Please, you must help me!' interrupted Fritha's haughty plea, though the tale behind her spontaneous distress was cut off by the slam of the door.

Anomen leaned back against the wall, continuing to watch the few people walk along the street next to him, all seemingly focused on their own destinations and paying him no mind. The milliner had disappeared now, as had the portly clockmaker, Anomen's eyes drawn to a simply dressed couple walking arm in arm, the man's clothes and hair still dusty with plaster, his empty hod resting over one shoulder while the woman at his side smiled and nodded as he spoke. Anomen turned back to stare at the dull brick wall opposite. It had seemed an age ago he had made his promise in that darkened room, the words easy to give, though he was finding them a lot more difficult to feel and Fritha's apparent gladness these last couple of days had been both encouraging and disheartening as he watched a semblance of her old cheerful manner returning and he was forced to recall the reason.

Anomen sighed to himself and straightened. It was likely long enough now for whatever lie Fritha had concocted to have taken affect, the chime of the doorbell announcing his entrance as he strode in to the centre of the shop. It was smaller than it seemed from the outside, the dusty shelves of jars and caddies that stretched floor to ceiling somewhat oppressive, something not helped by the sharp acrid smell that was emanating from the small caldron that was bubbling on the narrow counter that ran halfway along the back wall.

Fritha was in the far corner, the confirmed actress sending him a teary eyed glare before whipping back to dab her nose on her sleeve and continue examining large jars of what looked to be frogspawn as the woolly-haired old man who had been hovering nervously at her shoulder immediately whirled to greet him.

'Oh, sir,' he came as he hobbled over to him, trying to smooth out his long white beard and black robes both, 'I am afraid I was just about to close. If-'

'Not a problem,' Anomen cut in sternly, 'I was not here on business.'

'Oh, well, perhaps-'

'I am here as a representative of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart. The City understands that your reputation as a merchant could be ruined if the Watch were to be seen visiting your premises so the Order was asked to send someone over to investigate matters more discreetly. There have been complaints, Master Apothecary, from some of your neighbours.'

'Com- Complaints?' the old man stuttered, his pale wrinkled face flushing, fingers moving to play nervously with the wispy ends of his beard.

'Indeed, some citizen's have raised concerns over certain clientele visiting the area -late night deliveries and the like.'

'What? Why- why that is preposterous!' the man scoffed, genuinely outraged; whatever illegal activities he was engaged in did not lie there it seemed. 'Why, I cannot believe- who was it? That old fiddle-faddle, Eideous? He was always jealous of my business acumen. That old clockmaker couldn't make a river run, let alone a timepiece.'

'Well, I fear all complaints must be investigated,' Anomen pressed, keeping his gaze boring down at the old man as in his peripherals he watched Fritha slowly edge her way behind the counter. 'Since they are groundless you should have nothing to worry about.'

The apothecary was looking nervous again. 'Oh, I- I see, well, I, of course, have nothing to hide, though I do not like to think of the Order wasting their time on the petty grudges between simple merchants. Perhaps we could come to some arrangement-' he offered, half-turned as though he was about to fetch something from the counter behind him.

'Are you offering me a bribe, sir?' Anomen rumbled furiously, Fritha's face awash with relief as the old man instantly whipped back to stutter his objections.

'No, no, certainly not! Merely wishing to show you and the Order and- and the citizens you serve that I am a respectable businessman,' he assured, his stooped form even more bowed as he wheeled and crawled. 'As you can see I have many rare ingredients which others would have trouble to supply, ingredients in much demand for salves and antidotes to help the sick and wounded. Perhaps I could make arrangements to supply your Order at a reduced cost.'

Anomen raised an eyebrow as Fritha rose from behind the counter and began edging back out, her hands busy securing something under her cloak.

'Hmm, you seem an honest man to offer the city this aid. I will speak to my superiors of this, in the meantime-'

'Excuse me,' interrupted an imperious voice, Fritha stood behind them blotchy faced and scowling once more, hands clutching a large jar labelled salamander eyes, 'but I wish to buy something -I was here first.'

Anomen and the apothecary concluded their talk with little more than a farewell, the knight waiting in the alley for Fritha to reappear, the girl back to her previous cheer and merrily swinging a small linen bag as she rounded the corner.

'Did you obtain what you required, my lady?'

The girl nodded. 'Four ounces of salamander eyes and,' she stalled fishing a small slim book from her pocket which had been considerably fattened by all the random scraps of paper stuffed between its pages, 'one receipt book. This should give us some clue as to who his usual customers are. Come on,' she trilled, setting off down the street, 'let's see what the others have found.'

xxx

Jaheira felt her nostrils twitch, the cold air somehow making the reek of fish and stale urine even more pungent as she walked the narrow street, Cernd at her side, the tall ramshackle houses that hemmed them in swathing the lane in deep shadows that seemed at odds with the amber gull-strewn sky that arced just above the rooftops, bright with the sunset that was alighting the harbour but a few streets away. She and Cernd had been deemed the most suitable to speak with one of Valygar's least approachable contacts: a grave robber by the name Masid who had apparently supplied his mother with the bones, dead flesh and other bounties of the graveyard, the only words next to his name on the list Valygar had unearthed, the name of a tavern situated in the rougher end of the docks, and so there they were.

Jaheira pointed to the narrow lane that led away to their left. 'Is this the way?'

'The next one I think,' came the man next to her, gesturing to the following turning with his staff and the pair set off once more. Cernd had been remarkably calm about the slow progress they had been making concerning their investigations into Deril, especially since the three nights of the full moon were now upon them.

But perhaps that was merely what he wished her to believe, the man spending nearly all of his time alone in his room meditating and for her part, Jaheira could not bring herself to press him on the matter; she had worries enough of her own at the moment. There had been no contact from Dermin and though he could just be out of the city on some task of his own, her fears were high that he had somehow tried to speak on her behalf and had been seen as conspirator and judged accordingly.

Still, for all her own concerns she could not completely ignore the troubles of the man at her side, the broken misery with which Cernd had once spoken of his son and the tense hope that no doubt filled him now. He had been kind that last tenday, always at hand with reassurance when her worries for Fritha pressed upon her heart, and Jaheira felt, as another who had come into the trials and joys of guardianship by unexpected and untraditional means, she owed it to the man to help him in this as best she could.

'Here, this was the one was it not?' Cernd's mellow voice broke through her thoughts, the man pointing up to the chipped peeling sign that jutted into the street above their heads, the plain letters above the poor picture of a dark-skinned man with a large black moustache and bright green turban reading the The Calim's Head.

The windows next to them were so dirty it was hard to tell whether the lights inside were on or not, but the place was most definitely open, Jaheira striding through the door to face the cloying heat of the small cramped space beyond, the room suddenly a sea of appraising frowns as the assembled patrons turned to take in these interlopers, Jaheira left wondering how much they could actually see in that heavy fog of pipesmoke.

The stares were easily enough ignored though, the pair heading straight to the small bar that had been crammed into the opposite corner, the stout red-faced landlord stood at the counter listlessly cleaning a cup while behind him a leaner lad with a dirty blond braid struggled to tap the fresh barrel he had just heaved onto the stands.

'Evening there.'

Jaheira merely nodded. 'We're here to see Masid? Is he about tonight?'

'Never heard of him,' the landlord rumbled, no change to his bored expression, 'Now what you drinking?'

They took their ale over to one of the few empty tables, as far from the roaring hearth as they could manage, the table still covered with cups and bottles from the previous occupants though it was not until they had almost finished their own drinks when someone arrived to clear them. It was the server from before, the young man making a show of stacking the many empty cups carefully upon his tray and not lifting his eyes from his work as he began nonchalantly, 'I heard you asking after Masid. What you looking for him for?'

Jaheira spared Cernd a glance before replying in a manner just as casual, 'We heard he was in the position to supply us with certain… goods.'

The man grinned, revealing a mouth of crooked teeth as he heaved his tray to the other side of the table and took the chair between them.

'Ah, I recognise that reluctance well enough –I'm Simuth, I used to be Masid's contact here -vet potential customers, you understand?'

'Yes, we understand,' agreed Jaheira grimly, 'We would like to speak with him.'

'Well, wouldn't we all,' Simuth laughed, 'he owed me a good few coins before he passed over.'

'Passed over?' repeated Cernd, 'You mean to say he is dead?'

'Aye, happened about a month back now -though I still might be able to help you depending on what you're in the market for.'

Jaheira waved away his offer impatiently. 'Yes, yes, but how did Masid die?'

Simuth frowned, eyes darting between them before he decided on his answer.

'Well, they say it was an accident. He had been drinking a lot lately –business taken a bit of a down turn- and they found him drowned in the harbour.'

'But you do not believe that,' confirmed Cernd, Simuth wetting his lips nervously as he leaned in and dropped his voice.

'He'd been drunk plenty of times before, you know? Ah, I shouldn't really say anything, but there was a bit of a turf war going on at the time, some new grave robbers moved in to the city -foreign types, I heard. It wouldn't have usually been a problem, most of the clients in our business like to stick with suppliers they trust, but these lads… rumour had it they could get bodies so fresh they had barely seen a tomb. One by one, the other grave robbers about the city went out of business and soon old Masid was the only one left still working. Then came the final nail in the coffin as it were -him lost to a watery grave and those two had free run of the city.'

'Do you know their names,' asked Cernd, 'or how we might contact them?'

But Simuth was shaking his head, nervy and restless as he glanced about them.

'No, no, they don't deal with me and I stay well clear of them –I've already said too much and I don't want to end up the same way as Masid.'

Jaheira reached for her purse to lay a bright gold piece upon the table before him. 'Perhaps this can bolster your courage?'

Simuth eyed the coin a moment, fat and gleaming on the dull wood, before covering it with his palm and sucking in a deep breath as though drawing strength from the small disk of metal.

'All right then, Balquit and Meacio: them are your fellers if you want something really fresh -though if you're just in the market for some unblessed bones or grave dust, then-'

'No, thank you,' cut in Jaheira categorically, leaving Simuth grumbling into his chores as she turned to leave.

'Well, that could have been more constructive,' Jaheira sighed to the twilit sky as they stepped outside, even the reek of the docks better than the stale heat of that tavern, 'But these two newcomers sound promising at least.'

Cernd nodded and murmured something vague, his eyes still on the blue-grey clouds. Jaheira felt her heart twist in sympathy and decided there and then that she would see the man and son reunited, whatever it took.

'We will get him back, Cernd.'

The druid smiled and agreed in that mild mellow way of his, though her words had done nothing to lift the air of unease about him and they made their way back to the inn in a silence much the same.

Apart from the notable change in staff, the Coronet was little different from before, the patrons crowded about the tables drinking or warming themselves by the four large fireplaces. Bernard and Hendak were in conversation behind the bar, though the latter raised a hand to Jaheira as they passed, she and Cernd the last to arrive at their table, five familiar faces glancing up as they approached.

'So how went it?' Jaheira asked briskly as soon as she had taken her seat, more than ready to bring Cernd from his ill humour with tales of their success. 'Aerie? Minsc?'

The elf sighed as Minsc shook his head regretfully. 'Not so well actually. We visited that alchemist Valygar suggested, but his business closed down an age ago. He had some trouble with the Watch and moved to Waterdeep –it's a bakery now. So we spent the rest of the afternoon watching Deril's estate. Truth be told, we quite heartened by the number of deliveries he seemed to be receiving -until one of the carthorses threw a shoe and we were given our opportunity to approach with aid. Apparently, Deril is holding some sort of gathering in the next couple of days.'

Jaheira felt her suspicions prickle. 'Could it be something connected to his necromancy?'

Aerie snorted. 'Not unless such dark revels are usually decorated with festoons of ivy and winter roses, imported at goodness knows what cost from the city hothouses.'

A grim murmur of disheartened agreement rippled over the table; things did not look promising there, Jaheira redirecting her hopes to the ranger sat opposite.

'And, Valygar, have you discovered any more from your mother's diaries?'

'No,' he answered shortly, and clearly not wanting to speak of it further, Jaheira suppressing a sigh of her own as she turned to their final pair.

'So, how was the apothecary then?'

'Well, you cannot fault Anomen's performance,' Fritha enthused, her cheer out of place on that table of dour faces. 'He comported himself admirably and kept the old man distracted while I had a good pry.'

The knight flushed, though a smile did not break past his lips as he demurred, 'You lend me too much praise, my lady. It is you that has the talent for such deceptions; I entered the shop to find you almost as another person –tell me, what pretence had you so distressed?'

Fritha laughed. 'Oh that. I told him I wanted a curse for my sweetheart after I caught him writing love letters to another girl. There,' she announced proudly, setting a small jar of slimy bright orange orbs on the table, each no bigger than a peppercorn, 'a quarter of salamander eyes. Brewed up just right, then slipped into ale or tea and it'll fester tiny green boils all over his lying cheating tongue.' Fritha leaned back in her chair looking rather pleased with herself. 'That'll put an end to any illicit kissing he's got planned for the next tenday.'

'Fritha,' Jaheira observed dryly, 'this man doesn't actually exist.'

'I know.'

'Well,' the woman sighed over Aerie's giggling, 'did you manage to get anything other than an apt retribution for your roving and utterly imaginary beloved?'

'No,' Fritha confessed gloomily, 'it was a complete waste of time, I'm afraid. I took his receipt book, but there is no mention of Deril or deliveries to his estate. Perhaps he is served off the books, though without any solid evidence of his ill-doings we are no further on.'

'Well, the apothecary was most definitely hiding something,' concluded Anomen firmly, 'no merchant of this city would be so generous were he truly honest.'

'Indeed,' Fritha agreed, 'though it doesn't really help us with finding anything incriminating on Deril –sorry Cernd.'

The druid mumbled something into his chest, but made no other response.

'Well, we may have some lead,' announced Jaheira, determined their investigations were not to have been a complete failure. 'According to our contact, a new pair of grave robbers are working in the city and have driven most of the others out of business –or worse. It is said they can supply bodies of an unrivalled…' she paused for a word that did not turn her stomach and came up short. '…freshness,' she finished eventually to more than a few crinkled noses. 'Two young men named Balquit and Meacio.'

Fritha cast her eyes to the ceiling with a sigh. 'You're joking.'

Cernd and Jaheira shared a look, the woman continuing mordantly, 'No, though your tone suggests we will soon wish we were.'

'They're false names. Balquit and Meacio were the grave robbers in Oswalden's tragedy, The Leafless Tree.'

'Oh, very witty,' Jaheira spat crossly, 'Though at the risk of sounding intellectually conceited, I do not believe our contact could have thought up something so poetic; it must be the names they go under.'

'Well,' Fritha sighed, straightening in her seat to clap her hands together, trying to return herself to her previous enthusiasm, 'if there is one thing I am pretty sure grave robbers need it's graves. Shall we take our investigation to the source?'

A round of agreements, Jaheira's twinge of reservation revealing itself in an involuntary glance to the man next to her.

'You do not have to join us, Cernd, if…' She did not have to finish the sentence, her eyes flicked pointedly to windows next to them, opening out on a darkening sky and the full moon which had yet to rise.

The man just shook his head though.

'No, it will be fine. I wish to come -this is all for my benefit, after all,' he added with what could have almost been bitterness.

'All right, then,' came Fritha after a pause; she had clearly heard it too. 'Well, we can take dinner here and then head over to the cemetery once night has fallen.'

And Jaheira turned to signal one of the maids as the talk turned to more mundane matters, Aerie playfully questioning Fritha about her adulterous lover, the young bard gleefully taking up the game with a shrewish rant which gave the subtle impression that she was perhaps not the easiest of ladies to be paired with and their relationship would have been something he would have ended honourably -had he not been too afraid to tell her. Something that was proving entertaining for almost all of them; Cernd back to watching the windows with fathomless eyes.

xxx

'Ah, another evening, another choice Athkatlan nightspot,' Fritha sighed, the girl heading their group as they stepped under the ornate stone gateway into the city cemetery, 'we always go to the nicest places.'

'What are you complaining about?' asked Aerie, 'Our last outing took us to a tavern –admittedly it was full of slavers and you started a brawl.'

Fritha laughed. 'I know; can't take me anywhere, can you?'

'According to the site map, the more recent plots are this way,' said Valygar, the man promptly striding off along the eastern pathway through the mausoleums.

The sky above them had finally cleared of clouds and was all the colder for it, a hoar frost creeping up the stonework around them, Fritha pausing in her march to commit the diamond strung filigree of a spider's web to memory, before hurrying after the others. The graveyard was changing about them as they walked, the older mausoleums giving way to smaller crypts and crowded areas of just large gravestones and ornately carved sarcophaguses, statues and idols to every god she could name raised in marbles and granites about them with seemingly no thought to the cost. That last sign of devotion from the faithful or the desperate final act of one who was not sure how warm a welcome they would be receiving beyond the veil? Valygar had not her indecision.

'Ah, keep your temples and your shrines -you never see anymore proof of men's unswerving faith than in a graveyard.' He snorted contemptuously as his eyes dragged over a large icon to Lathander in gilt and marble, 'Such pointless veneration.'

'You mean you don't believe in the gods?' asked Aerie as though she could not believe an unfounded hatred of magic was not enough for the man without adding this heresy. Valygar shrugged evenly –her reaction nothing out of the ordinary it seemed.

'No, I believe in them, just as I believe in the trees and sky and cities. But as with all those things, knowing they exist does not necessarily lead to my worship of them.'

'So you do not pray -not ever?' The elf gasped, the stars reflecting in her wide eyes.

'To what end? I have no need of the powers the gods grant you.'

'But one does not worship for power,' corrected Anomen, perhaps more calmly than Aerie though the same intensity still lingered behind his voice, 'but because your chosen Lord is the divine embodiment of all you believe in and strive to be.'

But the ranger remained unmoved. 'There is no such god for me.'

'But that is no reason not to worship,' pressed Aerie, 'The gods gave us the whole world -they gave us life.'

Valygar raised a cool eyebrow. 'It could also be said your mother and father gave you life, Aerie, did you worship them as well?'

'No, of course not, but I did love them.'

'But for the fact they gave you life, or for the care they gave to you?'

'So, you do not worship because the gods do not care?'

'I do not worship because I should not have to.'

'The gods do care!' Aerie insisted, her voice rising. Valygar sighed, his patience for this constant censure of his beliefs seemingly wearing thin.

'The gods care as the gods can, Aerie. They are gods, immortal and beyond our understanding and I do not believe that the prayers of mortals make any difference to the general outcome of their plans and desires. But what does our leader have to say on this matter?' he continued, Fritha glancing up from where she had been trying to achieve different patterns with her breath in the frigid air and happily keeping out of it. 'You are the only one among us on who I have noticed no holy mark or allegiance; do you believe in the gods, Fritha?'

'Seems a bit daft not since I was sired by one,' she laughed.

'Fritha!' chorused Jaheira and Anomen.

'No, I did not mean-' Valygar cut himself off with a sigh to clarify, 'Do you pray, Fritha?'

'Yes, of course… well, when I want something.'

'Fritha!' chorused Jaheira and Anomen again, Aerie adding her soprano to their disapproval. A half-smile was twisting the ranger's lips though, her blunt honesty clearly amusing him.

'But without constant worship, do you not think it will merely draw resentful eyes upon you?'

Fritha shrugged. 'Well, maybe, but sometimes I think they might be all, "oh, why not let her have it? She so very rarely asks for anything and she has had a bit of a hard time lately".'

Valygar snorted though he was still smiling as he said, 'I think you perhaps give the gods too much mortal emotion.'

'Aye, I likely do, but I find I fear them much more when I don't. Besides, Bhaal was jealous, scheming, and very keen to avoid his own demise by any means necessary -and not unlike your average person now I consider it, so I do not think my assumption is too far from the mark.'

Valygar's bark of laughter sent a great cloud of icy mist into the sky. 'How does one so bitter remain so bright?'

'It's like Cernd said; accept the cold and you soon get used to it. Isn't that right, Cernd?' Fritha laughed as they came to a halt at a small crossroads, a pale grey statue of Kelemvor raised upon a plinth at its centre, the effigy looking down on them with a detached lifeless gaze and Fritha wondered if the god himself would look anymore expressive.

'Cernd?' she prompted again, glancing back for his agreement to find the druid walking along behind them with little interest in either their discussion or even the fact they had stopped, still walking as he muttered under his breath, his eyes fixed up the distant white orb that was hung low above the silhouette of the western roof tops.

'Talking to yourself, Cernd?' Fritha teased, her voice sing-song, 'First sign of madness…'

'And you would know,' snapped Jaheira tartly, closing the distance between them to lay a light hand upon the man's forearm and start him from his trance, 'Cernd, is there a problem?'

'Sorry? No, no,' he assured her tersely, 'I am fine. I merely have much on my mind.'

'Are you sure?' asked Aerie, 'You look rather pale.'

'Yes, you can return to the inn if need be,' agreed Jaheira, making to take his arm, 'Come, I shall join you.'

He eased it from her grasp. 'No, I wish to stay.'

'But, Cernd-'

'You heard the man, Jaheira,' interrupted Fritha blithely, 'Right, time to split up. We can walk in pairs about the area and meet back here in a couple of hours. Shall we take a turn about the gravestones, good Cernd?' she offered, not waiting for his agreement as she neatly linked an arm about his elbow, the druid stumbling after her as she slipped into the shadows between two plain stone crypts and they were gone.

'Well, I am flattered that you would wish to have me join you, though perhaps surprised as well,' the druid began a few moments later when Fritha had finally relinquished him his arm and they were continuing their stroll through the mausoleums at a more reasonable pace. 'It is unusual for the magpie to be without its partner and I am more used to you pairing yourself with Aerie -or Anomen.'

Fritha ignored his intimation though. 'Well, I thought you might need a spell away from everyone. I know they mean well, but fuss- they're like old mud hens, the lot of them.'

'They are merely concerned,' he countered, wondering himself why he was defending them when only moments before he had been thinking the very same. 'They informed you of what occurred in the slave pits?'

'Of course, they did,' the girl exclaimed as though his partial transformation into a savage beast was a mere triviality. 'But you're a sensible man who knows what he thinks and how he feels and I trust that if you say you are fine and wish to stay then you can and that if there's a problem or you need anything, you'll let us know.'

'Like you do?' he asked pointedly, but Fritha merely laughed off his antagonism.

'Certainly, if I thought there were anything you lot could do.'

'So something has been troubling you -I thought you had been in good spirits of late.'

'Ah, I am found out!' she laughed, the girl sending him an embarrassed smile as she confessed, 'I have not been sleeping so well. Jaheira and I might have had a run in with some mercenaries who had seen the bounty notices a few days back and since then I've been finding it harder to drift off at night and when I do my sleep is fraught with dreams of men I cannot see chasing me down darkened streets and rattling at my door.'

'And did you not think to inform anyone of this? I or Jaheira could brew something that would help you take your rest.'

Fritha looked instantly appalled. 'Oh, Cernd, thank you, but I am certainly not going to take a sedative when there is a good chance someone might try to get into my room and kidnap me! And so what other option have I? Go running to Jaheira and ask to sleep in with her every time I have a nightmare? I gave up on that foolishness when I was five.'

Cernd watched her smile, seemingly at ease with her troubles.

'So what do you do?'

'Well, I read a lot, keep my journal and embroider until I am so tired I fall asleep with the needle in my hand –though I would not recommend that one,' she grinned, 'you can find yourself suddenly awake again very soon afterwards.'

She laughed again and he felt suddenly frustrated that she could pretend to be fine to the point where she seemed to trick herself into believing it and he could not.

'Why are you doing this?' he demanded suddenly, 'Investigating Deril, helping me retrieve Ahsdale –it will earn you no coin.'

Fritha drew back, frowning, as though his question did not make sense.

'Well, no, but this is important to you and how could I face Imoen if I raised the money for her rescue at the expense of all else?' The girl turned from him to engage an unseen third, 'Oh, Imoen, the price I had to pay for you! Worth every copper? -You cheeky mare! It was quite the sum I had to raise but I managed it- Of course, we had to kill an innocent man and let some Rashemi woman be taken by slavers and leave Cernd's son with some evil necromancer to do it, but, well, you understand.' Fritha shook her head, 'She wouldn't want that. I don't want that.' The girl was frowning again, her eyes black in the gloom as they caught him with a searching look. 'Cernd, is something wrong, I mean other than the full moon and worries for your son and well, you know…'

He felt the answer rising in his throat unbidden, unexpectedly desperate to unburden his worries upon someone. To confess that although he longed to have his son with him, he feared it too. And not only the fact his life would be so suddenly and irrevocably changed forever. Recent events had reminded him he was not merely a man; a darker presence lurking within him waiting only for a moment of weakness to emerge and he wished he could voice to her the terror he felt, how he could never forgive himself if he lost control and hurt the boy.

'Cernd?' Fritha questioned again, though she did not look hopeful about getting a response, the rasp of stone forestalling his reply and the pair flattened themselves to the mausoleum they were stood before as the next crypt along opened, two men stepping from it and not even noticing them, their heads bowed as they searched through whatever small trinkets they had managed to find. The taller one was also the younger of the pair, face smooth and tanned under the mop of dark curls. He clearly thought of himself as something of a dandy, the lad dressed in fine long coat of dark blue wool that did not look particularly practical for digging through tombs, a fine scarlet scarf wound about his throat, while his older companion was more sensibly dressed in leather jerkin and plain brown cloak, tuffs of greying hair sticking out from beneath his black felt cap.

Fritha's teeth were a flash of white in the gloom as she sent Cernd a grin, the girl drawing her sword as she stepped up behind them.

'Halt there, sirs; his Lordship, the Magistrate has ordered your apprehension. Tis a foolish man who would dare raise their eyes to his fair ward, Celeste.'

The two men whirled, seemingly too bewildered to be afraid.

'You what, love?'

'Who in the 'ells is Celeste?'

Fritha glanced to Cernd with the briefest frown. 'Er, The Leafless Tree, act three scene two,' she explained impatiently, 'What did you do, just flick through it and find two names you liked?'

But the men persisted to look confused, the younger of the pair still frowning deeply while his older friend shook his head.

'Eee, it's just like my Liza says: full moon always brings out the weird uns.'

'You mean you're not Balquit and Meacio,' confirmed Fritha looking heartily disappointed.

'Er, no, love,' agreed the younger man, seemingly glad the talk was returning to more familiar territory as he thrust a hand out at her, 'I'm Baird and this here is Harris.'

'Evenin' there.'

'Fritha, Cernd,' the girl introduced briskly, sheathing her sword to take his hand before making an instant return to the task that had dragged them all out there, 'Well, you two are grave robbers, aren't you?'

'Why, who's asking?' demanded Harris, eyes narrowed to the point where Cernd wondered how he could even see them in the gloom. 'You two with the Watch?'

'No, but we are looking for pair of grave robbers who might be working around here,' said Fritha, hopeful as she glanced back and forth between the pair 'Newcomers perhaps? Known for getting their bodies very fresh?'

But Baird was shaking his head. 'Nope, not round here, love, and I'd give them a piece of my mind if we did.'

'Why? Competition is the life's blood of this enterprising city,' said Cernd, trying to keep the scorn in his voice to a minimum.

'Ain't about the competition,' snapped Harris, 'Anyways, we ain't grave robbers, we're tomb robbers.'

'The difference being?' questioned the druid coolly.

'Tomb robbers take whatever affects may have been buried with the body –grave robbers take the body.'

'Now, that's just disrespectful,' added Baird, the pair nodding in stern agreement.

'Whereas rifling through the deceased's personal affects for your own profit is the height of reverence,' muttered Cernd, Fritha's cheeks suddenly suffused with a blush that had nothing to do with the cold.

'Come now, Cernd, the man has a point. But either way, I'd cry off tonight, lads; there are some others of my company about here tonight with a less enlightened view of things than us, if you catch my meaning.'

She sent the pair a friendly smile, the men clearly deciding her advice was worth heeding, Harris slapping his younger companion on the back.

'Ah, come on, lad, it's bitter out tonight and if we hurry we can still make last orders at the Old Crow.'

A respectful nod and the men were gone, Fritha and Cernd walking the narrow paths between the gravestones and crypts for another hour before they headed back to the meeting place to find Aerie and Minsc had not long given up their search as well, Jaheira, Valygar and Anomen arriving but a quarter hour later all with the same result.

'Anything?' Fritha called to them, the men shaking their heads as Jaheira answered for all of them.

'No, this place is deserted.'

'Aye, silent as a tomb,' laughed Fritha, 'Shall we head back?'

The muttered agreements were cut off by a soft 'Oh!', Aerie glancing up from the receipt book she had borrowed from Fritha while they had waited for the others. Fritha's interest was instantly piqued.

'Aerie?'

'This receipt book you took -there are regular sales being made to another shop.'

'Another shop?' Fritha questioned, moving to peer over her shoulder at the small book Aerie was still rifling through.

'Yes, Ignatio and Virid. It's a bookshop in the main square just west of the Promenade, one of the few in the city allowed to stock volumes relating to the arcane. I used to visit there between shows at the circus.'

'Why would they want supplies from an apothecary?' asked Jaheira, the elf shaking her head, as bewildered as any of them.

'I don't know. I never really spoke to the owner, though he seemed nice enough for a Cowled Wizard -just old and a bit forgetful, though he loved his books. I cannot imagine him wanting to branch out into magical supplies, especially some of these things,' Aerie glanced down to read the cramped spidery hand, 'crushed foxgloves, raven's feet, Basalisk's blood –these ingredients would be used for only very dark magic.'

'Is there any other sort?' muttered Valygar.

'Now, now children,' Fritha cut in sternly, Aerie's mouth already open for her retort, 'let's all play nicely. Well, it is certainly worth investigating the place, though I don't think it's anything that can't wait until the morning.'

The Coronet was all but empty now, Hendak nodding them a greeting from behind counter as they trooped past him for the stairs. Apparently, the last decade spent fighting for his life every night had made him something of a nightowl, Bernard more than happy to swap the day shift permanently.

Fritha stepped into her room, listening to the sounds of the others bidding quiet 'goodnight's through the door behind her as her eyes fell upon the bed and for a moment she saw it: the rest of her night stretching endlessly before her, the girl too tired to read, too nervous to sleep, and suddenly Fritha did not feel quite as weary as she had back in the graveyard. Outside in the corridor she heard the door opposite click shut and suddenly she was opening her own again with painstaking care, shutting it behind her to steal further along the hallway and pause before the last door.

'Jaheira?' she hissed into the wood, her knock no more than a light rasp of her fingernails though it roused the woman all the same, the druid appearing in the narrow gap between frame and door.

'Yes? Fritha is something wrong?' she questioned in an instinctive whisper. The girl grinned.

'No, I just wondered if you fancied heading over to the Promenade.'

'To investigate a certain bookshop?' Jaheira confirmed with frown, 'And what happened to your plans to visit them tomorrow morning?'

'Ah, come on, they're not going to tell us anything if they're guilty and it's so hard to have a proper look about when the owners are actually there.'

The druid snorted but Fritha could tell by the smile that was fighting to quirk her lips that she had won the woman over.

'Reason enough, I suppose.'

Just a moment for Jaheira to collect her cloak and bag and the pair were creeping back along the corridor, almost to the stairs when the door to their left swung wide.

'Going somewhere, ladies?'

'Anomen!' Jaheira gasped, a hand clutched to her chest, Fritha making to slap his arm as she hissed , 'You scared the life out of us!'

The knight hardly looked repentant though. 'You are heading over to the shop Aerie spoke of, are you not?'

'How-?'

'I know you well enough by now, Fritha.' Anomen sent the girl a deeply disappointed look. 'You promised you would inform me before any more reckless jaunts about the city.'

Fritha flushed, defiant of both him and the guilt that was suddenly twisting through her stomach.

'No, I promised you I'd try.'

'Well, then may I suggest you try harder.'

'Fine, fine,' the girl appeased, not willing to waste any more time arguing with him, 'so what now?'

Anomen sighed, suddenly weary. 'I do not suppose I can convince you both to return to bed?'

Jaheira snorted as Fritha almost laughed her, 'no'.

'Surely, there must be a better way to proceed in these investigations, my lady,' he almost pleaded, the girl sending him a strangely sympathetic look.

'Not that I can think of. I'm sorry, but we need a chance for a real look around if we are going to discover anything –this matter with Deril and these grave robbers may affect more people than just us in the end. Now are you reporting us to the Watch?'

The man sighed again, pulling his door closed behind him. 'I was hardly tired anyway.'

'Why are you three still in the hall?' whispered a voice before them, Valygar stood before his open doorway, armour removed but still clothed.

'Gods help me!' hissed Fritha, 'We're going to break into this bookshop of Aerie's –you coming or not?'

Valygar reached back inside and suddenly he was swinging his new green cloak about his shoulders, fastening it with one hand as he locked his door with the other. Fritha nodded once, turning back to the stairs.

'All right then. Now, let's go before we end up having to take half the inn with us.'

– Blackcross & Taylor