7 Kythorn
I woke up at morning in a small room at the inn with a fully dressed Dynaheir touching my wrist.
"I trust thou slept, Skie," she whispered to me. In her hand were several parchments.
"My ankle hurts," I said. It felt sprained, rather than broken; I remembered injuring myself like that from dancing once. Sleep had helped. She placed a finger to her lips.
"I wouldst this conversation in private," she said. "Remember that the walls of this place are thin." Some of Imoen's gear lay next to one of the two other beds, her pink stuffed Tarrasque sitting on a pillow; we were alone.
"All right," I said muzzily. My bruises had not exactly stopped hurting overnight either. Would Branwen come and heal them soon?
"I ensured it was mine eyes to first view these, and made certain to arise at an early hour." Dynaheir gave me a stack of four pieces of parchment. "Thou must read them, Skie. They appear to concern thee most deeply."
I was tired, but I looked at the first of them. The reading kept my attention.
BOUNTY NOTICE
Be it known to all those of evil intent, that a bounty has been placed on the head of a young woman travelling from Candlekeep known as Sky.
Last seen with the sage Gorion, this human is described as small, dark-haired, and possibly in the company of a red-haired human girl.
This offer has been extended to all appropriate guilds. Those returning with proof of the deed shall receive no less than three hundred and fifty coins of gold.
As always, any that reveal these plans to the force of law shall join the target in their fate.
The second parchment was exactly the same, but for six hundred and eighty gold pieces; the third was lower, the reward set to two hundred.
"Why?" I asked. There were only two reasons for a price on my unattached head, one moderately reasonable--to get to Daddy--and the other more tenuous, Mulahey's nasty associates. But since the note talked about Candlekeep, and Imoen only--Imoen! I must warn her!--it must have been sent before we'd killed Mulahey. So, it was to hurt Daddy, like I'd already guessed.
"Thou mayst take some consolation in the fact of the amount incre..."
"I think I know what you were going to say, and bounties aren't funny!" I interrupted Dynaheir. "I have to talk to Imoen about it, she's there too. And..." I looked at the note. "They didn't even spell my name right!"
Saying that--my pulse beat harder and my breaths hastened in fright. Not my name. If they don't know my name...
If they don't know my name it's not about Father. If they don't know my name it's not about Father. For once, they didn't talk about Father when they talked about me. If they don't know my name it's not about...it's about Candlekeep. It's about Gorion and Imoen. About them. Maybe at least the four women and NIMBUL were hired by that rude Ulf from the Counting House or something. The fourth letter seemed more reasonable.
Nimbul,
The money you have received from Tranzig should cover your usual fee. (NIMBUL had scribbled in the margins, What money? NIMBUL estimates 890 gold plus 50 gold late fee.) Your assignment may be difficult, but I'm sure you are up to the task. There is a group of mercenaries who should be coming through Nashkel in the next few days. They are led by a human whelp named Sky. Kill her, and all that travel with her. I warn you: they may be dangerous. Good hunting!
TAZOK.
Tranzig, who'd given orders to Mulahey. This was about the mines. Naming me and not Imoen or anyone else was strange, since it was Imoen's idea to go there. I mean, in a party with a pink-loving wizard-in-training, a singing bard, a tall battling cleric, and a really tough dwarf, they name (and misspell again) the petite one good at sneaking around? I don't know at all about this leadership thing. Tranzig apparently hadn't paid NIMBUL...because Branwen had caught up to him. Dated 1 Kythorn, not long after we killed Mulahey. Magical scrying, I guessed. We'd have to ask the mages to protect against that.
Dynaheir showed no reaction to the spelling correction. She'd never seen my name written down, and I knew the Thorass alphabet for Rashemi and Thayvian Mulhorandi would both transliterate it phonetically, whichever she used when she was at home. (I'd wager five dances with Bran Gangric that it's the former, from her old-fashioned accent.)
"Another thing thou ought to know of: one of the women imprisoned was found dead on their cell floor this morning. Wounded in the battle, probably at the hooves of that brave horse, she was murdered by her own companion rather than face interrogation. Her companion is no longer present." Dynaheir sighed. "Truly, thou did good in allowing their lives to be spared rather than dishonourably killed--" I was too tired to tell her that dishonourably killed was no great loss as far as I was concerned, disgusting as the actual process would have been--"and yet I must own that the Red Wizard's words proved true in this instance. Nonetheless, good may yet arise from thy noble choice."
"I'll see what Imoen thinks," I said.
"A reasonable decision, I suppose. I, too, must decide upon plans for the future. I do not recommend introducing these matters as knowledge beyond thyself; Imoen must be cautioned to have care." This long advice-giving was her parting remarks. I waited for either Imoen or Branwen to come back for me.
"Heya! Here ya go, we got some more potions when Branwen collected the reward for that mine thing. And Branwen says she'll take a look at your ankle, don't make such a fuss! And, hey...doya remember last night?"
Imoen was delighted to regale me with the whole embarrassing story. I must talk with her about everything.
--
7 Kythorn, Hour 16
A day of strange partings. I can't wait to finally enter Beregost and meet up with the escort Daddy must have sent by now. I hope the poor soldiers aren't getting too bored waiting for us. When Branwen healed and bound my ankle for me and I came down to join the others, Xzar and Xan were the first.
"Good late-morning, m'dear Skie. I was so hoping to catch you awake before our departure. A change in plans as to my body, you see," Xzar--she--said. Her acid-green robes looked clean for once, and she'd bothered to brush her hair.
"Are you...are you staying that way?"
"No, no, of course not. It's just that I happened to remember that, before our fateful meeting in--wherever it was--Monty and I had been spelunking about a nasty stone tower southeast of here. Or is it southwest? I always forget. Never-eat-slimy-wyverns, or never-wyverns-slimes-eat? I found the most delightful book that has given me a sudden urge to become a priest of Cyric and thereby dispel that spell myself. We unfortunately couldn't get any further in the tower; all those nasty ghasts and succubi and the like. 'Twas fortunate I had a scroll or two of invisibility to keep us safe. I'm mad, not stupid. In any case, innocent Skie, there should be a similar tome remaining there that I strongly advise you to read. You'll need it, little rabbit." She patted me on the head, giving me a rather disturbing glance from green eyes.
"Well, I don't really have plans to..."
"And now--Xan and I are off to Evereska!" she announced. "It should be tremendously exciting. I offered to travel with him so we can look after each other. After all, when I think of all we shared in Mulahey's dungeons-what was it again?"
"I have decided I must make my report to my superiors--" Xan sneezed--"and, since wandering on my own would be completely suicidal, I...well, accept Lady Xzar's companionship. I must be as mad as her, or he." He looked wretched, but he had always done so since we had found him. "I'm sure we shall find our throats slit by bandits in the first few minutes on the road."
"And then my new god Cyric can resurrect you! O happy day," Xzar gloated.
"No laundry service? The sooner departed from this barbaric town the better. (It is still a barbaric hour of the morning, at that.)" Edwin the Red Wizard approached, gesturing to the slightly damp sleeves of his robes as he ranted. "I hold you fully responsible, girl," he said, pointing at me. "Would requesting reparations of you be too much to ask?"
"Uh, I did learn how to do laundry in C...for a little while in this place my father sent me to...but I burned three of my shirts and accidentally flooded the vestry with soapy water," I said.
"Hmm, well, you've obviously found some service in this place," Edwin said, turning to Xzar. "I see you've...freshened up. (It is welcome to meet female wizards more appealing than the Rashemi savage.) Might I ask your name, dear lady?" He straightened the collar of his robes.
Xzar shook back her honey-blonde curls. "It is Xzar. You introduced yourself as Edwin of Thay, I believe?"
"You're perceptive. I admire that in a woman. Perhaps, once my business is concluded, we could retire to somewhere more private...and compare our spellbooks? (By which I mean: overwhelm her with Edwin Odesseiron's mastery of the erotic arts, second only to his wizardry.)"
"Oh, delightful, delightful; divinations and enchantments I adore next to my own beloved school, but conjurations I'll accept. Were we talking about laundry?"
"Indeed--for her crying upon my shoulder half the night, I'd rather the service you appear to have enjoyed. I compliment you again upon an almost Thayvian standard of appearance. (Perhaps if her hair was a good deal shorter.)"
"It's only a matter of skills learnt myself while living rough; travelling the Sword Coast with poor dear Montaron, you see." Xzar patted a spell component pouch that I hoped didn't contain what I thought it contained. "I'm flattered at your questions to little old me."
"(So that's how she acquired that lovely tan.)" Edwin puffed out what chest he had. "Be flattered. I must admit that you pique my interest as both a lady and a wizard; more the former, since after all I am already a master wizard."
Xzar bent across and whispered something in his ear. At first Edwin seemed charmed, and then he blanched and pulled away, almost as shocked as he'd been when Dynaheir had surprised him.
"A...a-hem! I must immediately go! Farewell, sir wizard!"
"Tata, Skie." Xzar's little wave as he dragged Xan with him was their exit.
Edwin sat down rather suddenly. "To business, then I feel we know each other quite well by now."
"Sure." You do feel as though you know someone if you've cried on their shoulders half the night. I joined him at the table. "Please don't attack Dynaheir?"
"For now I decide a brief truce (if only to avoid the noisemaking), and Edwin Odesseiron has a distinct habit of keeping his word. Until crying children no longer hinder me, of course. How did you come to meet her?"
"Minsc saved us from an evil slime-controlling wizard--" talking about my silly mistake when first seeing him in Nashkel would have been really embarrassing--"and then he told us she was in the fortress. We went down there and got her out."
"Out of the goodness of your hearts?" He narrowed his eyes.
"I wouldn't leave Bran Gangric in a place like that. Minsc and Imoen turned up to rescue both of us, and that's how it happened," I told him. "Weren't you talking about that stronghold to Branwen and Garrick? How did you know she was there?"
"(Such pathetic attempts at subtle questioning will not sway me.) Like her, I have my own reasons to travel the Sword Coast. Has she mentioned hers?"
"She and Minsc are on their dajemmas, of course. I guess you're on official business too." Why wear the robes of a Red Wizard so far west?
"Oh, of course the Rashemi fools are on their dajemmas." I wondered if he was a Red Wizard apprentice himself; he looked about Xzar's age, fairly young for a wizard. "Hmm. You say you extracted the witch from the gnoll stronghold, and she and the berserker voluntarily came here with you."
"Yes. Weren't you listening?"
He sighed. "(Ignorant simians. Could the witch possibly be travelling with them simply to entertain herself at their incompetence?...No, Rashemi witches have no sense of humour and I must continue my mission.) You must allow me to join your party. As a renowned wizard, I am sure I will be of far greater service than any other."
"But we don't really need you," I said. "We're just going to Beregost to meet Daddy's escort and go back to Baldur's Gate. Dynaheir, Garrick and Imoen all cast spells, so..."
"The witch is evil! You have already fallen prey to her deceitful guile. Allow me to join you and I shall watch her with the patience of one who understands her ilk!"
"I told you, we don't need you. Not that it's my decision or anything, I could ask Garrick and Imoen, but I think Branwen already doesn't like you, and obviously Minsc and Dynaheir..."
"(I cannot believe it has come to this. Still, the weeping wench seems biddable enough.) I grant you one month of my services as a wizard. So I promise, and Edwin Odesseiron keeps his word. The fine print: claim on any magical treasures pertinent to my profession, the bubbleheaded bard sees to my needs while travelling, the cleric or another imbecile with more muscle than pea-sized brain carries the surplus supplies appropriate to a wizard of my calibre, and my rest to memorize spells must be undisturbed. I'm sure you agree that my guidance as a wizard will prove more valuable than any ransom you could name."
"I can't promise the fine print on their behalf!" I could only imagine what Branwen would say for bargaining away her services...or do. "I don't think..." He looked disappointed enough that I felt sorry for him.
"Accept him, Skie." Dynaheir's rich voice carried well as she poked her head around the door. The inn walls really were thin. Edwin looked furious.
"Um, yes! Yes, I accept. What do you want to do first?"
"What do I...(Ah, yes, though I fear a trap of the Witch, this girl is biddable indeed. Wait! I recall!)" He looked suddenly taken aback. "You will be so kind as to tell me why apparently every hapless assassin on the Sword Coast recently took up residence in Nashkel for the purpose of killing you and the others."
"We helped stop the Nashkel mine poisoning which I suppose made us a few enemies, and...and it's also my father," I said. The most believable lie is one mixed with the truth, Eldoth quoted to me once. "I know it sounds a lot like boasting, when I'm here alone and penniless, but..."
"Yes?" Edwin tapped his fingers impatiently.
"I mentioned the escort we were meeting...The fact is that Daddy is one of the Grand Dukes of Baldur's Gate. His rivals must think he's vulnerable at the moment because...because my brother Eddard recently..." It's still too soon to think about it.
He quickly started patting my hand. "There, there. (Please Mystra don't let it set her off again.) Your father, a provincial nobleman, is already under distressed emotional circumstances and his rivals desire to eliminate you to further destabilize him. (Ah, in Thay I suspect she would be already dead.) Correct?"
I nodded.
"Very well. With this escort of yours and my magical skill, such things will cause no difficulty. (Ah, my intuition that it was nothing serious proved correct. It was perfectly wise of me to refrain from asking this question before offering the girl my under-regarded services.)"
A guard's head at the door was an interruption. "Package for a Lady Skie, tagged, cleaned and labelled as best we could, like the witch said." I looked into the large wooden crate, and recoiled: I recognized the belongings of the dead people.
"Don't be so squeamish, child." Edwin pulled out a blue potion and read the paper tied around its neck. "Potion of Magic Blocking. What a disservice to my skills. Scroll of Magic Missile--infantile--scroll of armour--already know it--scroll of Burning Hands--that will be mine. (The cheating witch will not be the only one aware of it!) Enchanted helmet--the fools couldn't tell what for. Hmm. Oh, that's a very good-looking giant battleaxe. Very nice giant battleaxe..."
"You totally palmed that ring, didn't you?" Imoen joined us, sticking her tongue out at him.
"No I did not I was merely examining it. Not the Ring of Wizardry I dream of someday finding, I fear. I am sure it is mere trash." He threw it carelessly up in the air; Imoen caught it.
"There's a label saying 'unidentified ring' on it, should I get Garrick? Oy, Garrick, over here!" Garrick obeyed the summons, still running a comb through his hair.
"It's a Ring of Infravision, for seeing in the dark like elves," he said--I remembered one of Xzar's comments on the subject, and shuddered--"and this is a helmet that does the same thing. And this enchanted studded leather, Skie, this would probably fit you, or you could wear this twice-enchanted leather..." The second outfit had a dark stain on its midriff the Flaming Fist cleaners had been unable to remove; I fancied the shape of horse's hooves.
"We killed people for these things! I know, I know, we had to go through Mulahey's stuff and everything, and take weapons and things, but--I'm not wearing anything belonging to dead people and I don't see why you're all so excited!"
Garrick dropped the armour he held; Imoen sighed. "Look, be realistic," she said. "Ol' Gorion and Winthrop've told me all about proper adventuring. These people nearly killed us, don't ya think we ought to have some protection? How'd you like it if Garrick here got an arrow through the chest if not for some nice studded leather?"
I paled at the thought of more friends dying. "All right, I'm not saying it's wrong or anything." Garrick did have nothing more than thick cloth protecting him. And Imoen with that kobold's arrow through her down in the mines... I remember just trying to stop the blood; I'd have done anything.
"Wrong? Ha! Looting corpses personally is typically below a Wizard of my position, but it is well known to produce useful results," Edwin said.
Imoen nudged him with a boot. "Havin' you on the side isn't a good thing, y'know."
"I...I would think that you are right, Lady Skie!" Garrick burst out. "We should have what we only buy honestly..."
Garrick with an arrow through the chest if not for some nice studded leather. "No, wear it, Garrick... The studded leather is almost your size. Really, Imoen's right. I've still got the shiny sword I took anyway."
"And a nice ring of infravision for the girl sneakin' through gnoll strongholds. I'm taking these good-looking boots...should be handy dodging arrows if I'm gonna be the greatest transmuter wizard in Toril...."
I did wear the ring.
"Minsc and Boo are overjoyed to see everyone up again, except for the Nasty Red Wizard." He clumped into view, Branwen and Dynaheir beside him. "You have the valiant spoils of battle collected! Minsc's witch has said these are for little Skie, as battle-plunder seized from wicked gnolls." He handed a pair of gauntlets to me. "Boo says they make others as nimble-fingered as little Skie and Imoen the pink witch."
A grey potion half-slipped from Edwin's hands as he did some unintentional, frantic juggling.
"How dare you startle me!" he fumed. Imoen giggled. I passed the gauntlets to Garrick.
"Skie, Imoen: wouldst thou exit with me?" Dynaheir asked. She carried her full pack with her, as did Minsc. "Perhaps we may wander about the town. It astounds me; the streets of Rashemen are empty compared."
"I've been to this town before too," Garrick volunteered.
"'Tis best thou complete thy identifications, good bard. Come, Imoen. We shall discuss a new spell for thee."
Edwin scowled, but did nothing. "(Attempting to hide in the shadows would be beneath my dignity. I suppose I shall extract the truth from the little thieves later.)"
"This scroll is an invocation to create a shield, which I scribed for thee early this morning; dost thou understand the runes?" she explained to Imoen. "Its effect is of a magically crafted shield, best effective against missile weapons, but not useless against others. The necessary component is..."
I couldn't follow them; I trailed along beside them, paying only polite attention.
"Yep, I think I got it! I'll scribe it into my own spellbook tonight," Imoen said, bringing out her tattered collection of pages covered in pink cloth from her hood's lining.
"Take care, for an error in concentration mayst spoil the scroll itself, leaving thee with nothing," Dynaheir warned. "Now, Skie." I jumped as she called me. "Thy plans are to travel to Beregost, and there meet guardians to take thee and Imoen to thy home?"
"Yes."
"Good. Then Minsc and I shall depart. We shall be in Baldur's Gate ourselves ere a month has passed; thou and I must meet again."
Meet again. They were leaving--I was surprised. It hadn't been long since we had known the Rashemis, but she and Minsc had both saved us, in their way. "But..why?" I hoped we would not encounter more assassins or bandits on our journey up to Beregost.
"I am not ungrateful of thy rescue," she said. "The Red Wizard has sworn himself to thee, and once knowing I am no longer present shall depart without anguish. Do not, of course, inform him of this promise. At that time, Minsc and I shall be in thy city. Thou art most welcome to seek us out...and indeed I may do the same. So I bid thee farewell."
"Yup, look us up," Imoen said. "I'll learn more spells 'till I'm the best lockpicking wizard on the Sword Coast, don't ya worry about that! Skie?"
That was of course the cue for Imoen and I to rehearse our Plan we've worked out. The Plan; a cheering reminder even after many assassins. We even have all the special gestures memorized, because sometimes you can't make noise in case guards hear you: "Go to Baldur's Gate, join the Baldur's Gate thieves' guild, and be the greatest thieves and thieving wizard on the Sword Coast!" Our fists bumped together and we did the extravagant handshake signal, dancing in the streets.
Dynaheir looked as if she were stifling a very bad head-cold, her mouth opening and her eyes popping out--"Truly I didst not consider thy specialist class of Transmuter to have been chosen with that aim in mind, Imoen. But thou hast noble souls, I am sure. Farewell."
"Boo will miss his companions in butt-kicking!"
Edwin hasn't talked to anyone all the time we've been walking today. I'm so happy we're nearly to Beregost and Daddy's escort.
Theoretically we briefly rest on our journey, but Branwen is talking about 'fighting drill' and 'my conscience as a priest of Tempus shall not rest if my companions cannot defend themselves in true fighting spirit!', and glaring at Imoen, Garrick, and me in particular. Maybe I can plead my ankle to get out of it; it still feels rather stiff. We're nearly home free.