A/N: Continuity here meant to be independent from other fics. ;)
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We left to find Shar-Teel, carrying arms. The trouble was we didn't know exactly where she was; so Imoen and I went down to the docks for Faldorn and Ajantis. The Umberlant temple was not far from the Iron Throne's building, but we stayed away from it. It was broad daylight, after all.
(...investigate, at least; there are surely some Flaming Fists loyal to the truth...)
Ajantis stood some distance from the Sea Queen's blue-painted house that stretched out over the waterside, watching The harbour was busy with its defences, the way I'd seen it once when a sahuagin attack was expected from the seas, from a safe distance. Ballistae; warships in port, men and guards. Ships were being constructed, slender and lightweight but sleekly and strongly lined, beams of wood lifted on carts and ropes. The design was new to me, though I didn't have time to consider the warships in progress.
"Dopplegangers..." Ajantis almost stammered. "Indeed! These are evil foes indeed; warmongers and foul... I am sorry, my lady Skie..."
I'd no wish to hear that from him.
"I've heard of illegal marketeering here in the docks in peacetime, up in the east end where the fishers are," I said, "and of course the main marketplace. We couldn't find her near the Mermaid."
"Separation, then; we do not wish to make ourselves conspicuous together," Ajantis said. "Imoen, would you care to wait for Faldorn within that house in my place? She found and spoke courteously enough with Tenya, but I do not wish to enter an evil deity's temple."
"You search the markets, I'll search the docks," I said; he'd get along better in a slightly more legitimate setting. "Try not to get into any trouble!"
The afternoon sun burned. The rigging from the harboured ships creaked; weapons were loaded to them, guards gathered around outfitted in bright steel. Possibly Iron Throne steel. To be too obviously inconspicuous was itself conspicuous; I stepped between groups of people, careful to not be the only one for notice to rest upon. Back here, perhaps I could find some of the places I'd heard of. There in the distance was that long craft known as the Low Lantern, moored and in fact chained to its position, though perhaps it still did some of the business for which it was reputed.
The smaller fishing boats rose out of the water like a flight of ducks. Cages for trapping lobsters and crayfish were fixed by the sides of the docks, mussels growing on the slick stones and wooden panels, barefoot children running through the muddy waters. A dirty sign that buried the image of an ale mug below enough dirt to fill a street-sweeper's cart swung from in front of a building; a low tavern. I was going to look inside that, but in the distance a tall figure with a sword strapped to its back caught my eye.
The figure was red-haired, exactly like Shar-Teel; I moved closer, and she was clearly recognisable. So she'd come here after all. But it was odd, to whom she was speaking; a child rather than a merchant, perhaps twelve or thirteen, thickset, wearing a greyly modest dress without tucks. Neither of them turned to see me, and I drew closer through the crowds. The red-haired girl carried a basket of fish in her arms, and watched Shar-Teel; her face was freckled and quite coarse-featured, upturned to listen to her. One of the girl's feet was bigger than the other—I saw it, when she moved a little; she was club-footed, and that boot dragged on the ground.
"—give the gold to Wayland, and that's all. I already gave some in the Beard. Get out of my sight," Shar-Teel said.
The girl didn't stop looking up at Shar-Teel; there was a small bag she had tucked into her plain dress. She wore a symbol of Ilmater sewn into her clothing, I saw, stitched from more homespun cloth. I knew the Ilmatari priests dressed orphans that way in the temple. Around her neck was a plain clay necklace, crudely beaded. "Please—how long will you be here?" she asked..
Shar-Teel turned her head and spat on the ground. "Long enough to kill a few. Don't try to seek me out."
I saw the girl's expression crumple, and with her club foot she took a step back. I'd come closer to them, and yet neither of them had seen me.
"Mother—" the girl managed to say. I stopped in shock.
The features they shared, red-haired, the same nose and set to the chin; the age. It was possible; one would never have imagined—
"—Are you going to...come back here? I work for Jhessen, his fishmonger's stall just over there, and he and his wife Bellivia have been very kind to me. You could meet them; I told them I had a mother who was busy in other cities..."
Shar-Teel raised a fist as if to strike her. "You shouldn't have told her that, bastard-brat. If I'd known how to get rid of you from the belly I'd have done it when I had the chance."
I should...not be listening to this at all...
"If I see you again I'll knock your teeth out."
The girl cringed back like a beaten dog. It was painful only to watch. I chose to step forward, and then Shar-Teel's glare was wild and rabid at me, as if she would draw her sword and run me through in only a moment—
"I said, run along now, Tevanie!" she said to her daughter; and in a slow, awkward stride, the girl fled from her...
"Skie," she cursed. "You'll tell none of this; none in the group or I'll see you dead." It was very believable. I couldn't speak of it; I started to stammer through the news, telling her. "D-doppelgangers, m-more— Thought— M-my father, I w-wanted to speak to him one last time; but I c-couldn't..."
"And let them know you turned up!" Shar-Teel had threatened to hit her child; she slapped my face then, without holding back. "We go through the Throne building tonight. Show them fear, not take it to the damned Fist."
—
There was a bruise on my cheek. I started to run back to the Mermaid; then realised that was too noticeable, and slowed to a walk as if I had something definite to do. Then past a narrow, shadowed street: something grabbed my arms and pulled me back before I could move or scream, and then there was a hand over my mouth and a sword at my chest.
"You," a woman's voice said, and her other hand touched my earlobes, the greenstone I wore through them. "I see. The description; and in fact these very earrings."
There was...a man in full armour, thick chainmail; it carried no insignia below a striped brown cloak, but his helmet covered a large proportion of his face. His nose was beaked, and he carried the sword that threatened me. Nobody came to help in this dark corner of the city. The woman held me.
"I purchased those myself," the female voice continued reminiscently. Tethyrian accent, my mind supplied. She smelled of damp earth and fresh leaves. The sword was still extended before me. "A small merchant town, once upon a time in Cormyr upon various and vital business. I thought it the perfect gift for the protégée of an old, very dear friend of mine."
"Of ours, d-darling," the man said, stuttering. I became slightly less afraid of them.
"The girl in question, I recall," spoke the woman, "bore the name Imoen Winthrop. I know already that you are a thief; and that you are not she. Tell us, what have you done to her?" The steel might have drawn more closely to me. "Do not scream, or we will be quite willing to run you through. You have caused us a good deal of trouble in the Sword Coast."
The hand rose slightly from my mouth. "—I didn't do anything to her. Imoen must have seen me wearing these for ages, even if I don't..." I didn't seem to remember the reason why I liked them so much. "I'm surprised you didn't know she prefers other colours; especially if you really do know of her..." She wore a rose quartz pair now, dwarven-made.
The couple exchanged a glance. "Gorion," the woman said, "did write us something about pink. I assumed she would grow out of it. Well, if you have not proved sufficiently morally depraved on top of your other larcenies, to steal a priceless gift most carefully intended for our very dear friend's young one..."
The name of Gorion. If there is necessity: seek out Khalid and Jaheira? They have long been my friends?...Her with the temper and he with the heavy armour... I stared at the man of the odd couple. He could be a half-elf, a little short for a human man; and the woman behind me didn't seem to be nearly as tall and broad as her voice and impression made her seem.
"Y-you paid two silver pieces, and received change, if I r-recall, dear," the man said. "If this girl did thieve them, she has not done a g-great crime..."
"'Tis the principle, Khalid," the woman said. Jaheira, I knew then. "In addition to illicitly smuggling herself to the city!" she added. "Now, you will bring us to Imoen, child. Tethtoril wrote of her leaving, and we have heard that she travels with you; if you have abandoned her or worse then I swear I shall..."
"No, she's with me!" I said in a hurry. They were Gorion's friends; if they wanted to betray us they'd have done it already, and they must want to look after Imoen. Protect her, though she was a clever mage. "Definitely with me. Er... You do have pretty good taste, Jaheira," I managed. "I've been wearing these ever since I can remember..." (Because I couldn't remember why other than it was something I hadn't wanted to forget; but I thought it was a good idea to try to keep on Jaheira's good side.) "And...all my other larcenies? I didn't think I did..."
"Aldeth Sashenstar told us all," Jaheira said, in a most forbidding manner. I still could not see if her visage was as intimidating as her voice. "Though we assume them trumped to excess, the long list of crimes upon your notice are none short of disturbing. Also reports of banditry."
"I...see," I said. "What have you done? Why are you here? What have you been doing?"
"There is much we cannot share with you, Skie," Jaheira said coldly; but she released me then, and her spouse sheathed his sword. I turned to look at her. A half-elf, wearing leather armour, carrying a staff; she was well-muscled in her arms, and her long golden brown hair suggested the mane of an angry male lion. She scowled, almost as easily intimidating as Shar-Teel. "This war upsets the balance. We seek to end it, for all those calling themselves our allies say." This time her glare did not appear to be directed at me. "We will join with your group if we are satisfied with your conduct."
I want the war to end just as much. This is my city. "You can meet Imoen on neutral territory," I said. "She ought to be able to vouch for you, and if she can't, we won't take the risk."
Jaheira's scowl deepened, and she seemed about to grab me again; but her husband spoke up. "S-she is supposed to be f-far too foolish and trusting. J-jaheira, dearest, is it w-wise to agree to this?"
"Go to the Elfsong tavern and wait," I said. "We'll come by eighteenth hour; enough of us to make sure it's no trap. We'll be watching."
Jaheira gave a curt nod. "And in turn we, child. Do not come late."
Khalid actually smiled. "Er...and g-give our r-remembrance to Imoen," he said. "I...s-suppose it was good to meet you."
"Come, Khalid." Jaheira pulled him into the shadows with almost a rogue's skill; and they walked on alone.
I fingered my shoulders where she had grabbed me. It could have been someone far less well-intentioned. Best to return to Imoen, and obviously as quickly as possible.
—
"—And you trust these," the man with the wide scar on his face said. It ran as a jagged cut from left ear to his chin on the right side of his face, shearing part of his nose and twisting his mouth. It was a face I'd seen in the past.
"You risk us all—Harper," hissed the aristocratically-dressed woman by his side. A small nightingale was perched on the shoulder of her flowing green gown. The scarred man gave her a reproving look for the spite, but Jaheira showed no reaction at the knowledge revealed. She simply threw down a parchment; a notice with the drawing as the bounty hunters of the Beard had held.
"They share the enemy. And have done so for longer than this," Jaheira said.
"Is that a drow?" an armoured woman said harshly, learning forward to examine the sketched image. "You would expect a creature of evil to work against us." She looked up, saw Viconia in the flesh below her cloak, and glared.
This was a meeting two sets of stairs and several complicated turns through passages below a building, in a darkened once-storeroom where I wondered if it was part of the Undercellar; we had been blinded by Jaheira's casting to travel the exact way to its entrance, although the turns we had taken from the Elfsong were still in my mind. If I'd chalk, then like the story I could... But it would be very bad to sabotage them in any way.
"At least hear them out," said the red-haired woman by the scarred man, leaning impatiently forward; she wore a thick dark jacket, and at her collar was the glint of chainmail. Under the table she wore a sword by her side.
There were nine people beside Jaheira and Khalid. The red-haired woman and a younger man sat by the commander with the wide scar; the other armoured woman sat stiffly by them, a symbol of Helm openly on her neck. Two men with the grey robes and holy symbols of Ilmatari priests were on her left. On the right sat a middle-aged woman in black, silent, with greying hair and a patient, slightly plump face; and by her the nightingale-wizardess in green and a young woman, painfully thin and dressed in plainer olive.
Commander Scar, whose real name was— Everyone called him Scar. Duchess Sauriram—Dowager now, I supposed, married to Belt. Emerie Jannath, whom I hadn't known particularly well before, a wizardly hanger-on to her cousin; and the younger woman must be another relative.
The Duchess blinked. "Young lady," she instructed, "step into the light. There's quite a—resemblance."
Ao knew what utter havoc that other one had wreaked, wearing my clothes at that. "Duchess, it is me; I haven't been back to the city since Ches; I adventured to find my brother; I didn't know any of this, or what the girl who isn't me's done. I have the proof of his signet ring, which I'd bet those shapeshifters wouldn't have let anyone touch; and we adventured to bring back Balduran's sword. Imoen?"
She'd enchanted it with that spell from Islanne; when she drew it from her grey scabbard, it glowed as bright as it would have in Balduran's own day. You'd expect the legendary sword of our founder to have seemed impressive, along with our slightly abridged tale; but apparently it was not.
"Theatrics and diversions," Scar growled, sounding almost painfully like my father at his sternest; then Emerie spoke up again.
"Well, then, darling, your reputation has been quite ruined by...these supposed creatures. No secret premature child, hastily buried?" she said; I thought she was rather too old for that sort of gossip.
"No— I..." That one with my face...
The Helmite raised her symbol, glowing white. She stood. "I call on my truesight," she said. "A very simple way to settle this."
Her eyes were brilliant white, as Ajantis' had once been though stronger; they searched.
"The Great Guard reveals treachery. The Great Guard reveals sin," she said; and it came black to the surface, and she was repulsed by it.
"The girl is of the shape she appears, but Helm judges her for sin. The drow is no Drizzt, and I will not tolerate her evil..."
"I serve Shar, and I know the strength of our leader outmatches yours, pitiful surfacer," Viconia said.
Shar-Teel snorted. "Go ahead and save your precious city on your own, guard dog. Or pick a fight, if you like dying."
"...And a squirrel?" The Helmite's gaze had turned to Ajantis. "Apostate still. And I would doubt that was ever a holy—"
"Leave them alone!" Imoen said, holding the sword. "You've got we're who Skie says we are. There's no right to get into folk's heads and mess 'round there!"
Jaheira took a step forward. "Quite well said, child. Perhaps some of Gorion's teaching lives within you after all. I, for one, have not challenged the Shadow Druid for our differences."
"You are an overly soft weakling and when disgusting cities like this one overrun all Faerun it will not be the fault of my druidic order," Faldorn said serenely, for all she spoke to a druid at least twice her age and rather better muscled. "I am here to see grass grow in the blood of the instigators of the Cloakwood mines." Jaheira glared and tensed as if to spring at Faldorn, but Khalid laid a hand on her shoulder and she desisted from it.
"I cast my vote against," the Helmite said; she seated herself once more, scowling. "We need not side with corruption."
"I would want to...fight for right," Ajantis managed, in a soft near-whisper. "Sarevok Anchev is an evil war-monger, slaver, killer of..."
"For," Emerie Jannath said; she had examined Eddard's ring, and seemed to have cast some divination spell over it. "I see no point to turning down allies." The other mage beside her nodded.
"For," Jaheira said coldly. "In the past I trusted my life to Imoen's uncle; and they are the enemies of enemies."
"She and her husband brought them," the Helmite said. "They should not have entitlement to vote upon this."
Scar gave short assent to that, without yet casting his own vote.
"I agree with Annaclair. Against," said the younger of the Ilmatari priests, a long-nosed man who stared at Viconia and Faldorn.
"For," the other priest replied, an older man with grey hair who watched Ajantis.
"So many useless men," Shar-Teel said, glaring at Scar. "Typical Flaming Fist. Sit around and stare."
Which could so easily have ruined our chances entirely. I did remember her attacking that Fist, but he was attacking Viconia.
"For, withal," Lady Sauriram said. "'Tis hard to take in the deeds claimed by young Skie; but at least this girl is closer to the child of Entar I once knew than the one of late. I believe her tale of shapeshifters." Once she was a kind but bland and unhandsome woman always by the side of her husband; I'd never really looked at her when she and Duke Belt came to see my father and she used to pat me on the head. She had not changed by appearance, but the outline of her face and her voice seemed more...definite, these days. She was dressed in a widow's black weeds, a thick lace collar covering her throat.
"Vai, Sorrel," Scar said, addressing the two beside him: the red-haired woman with the sword, and a younger fair-haired man whose eyes seemed an odd pink colour in the low light. Flaming Fist, or at least formerly and recently so.
"—Vai? You're the name Garrick said would give a reward for the bandits," I said. "A bard with a harp. We collected some, ah, scalps..."
"Said he was an adventurer. I remember. We found one half-dead miscreant who talked of traitors fitting you lot." She looked at Shar-Teel and Viconia.
"And did he come to the city? Bring news of the mine slaves to Eltan? Because he was coming, with Yeslick—"
Scar held up a hand to end that. "Sorrel: your vote?"
He startled, almost guiltily, and spoke with hesitation at potentially disregarding his officer's will. "Sir, I would say...yes?" It was Viconia he watched, though his expression was odd enough that I did not quite think it was her figure to sway him.
Five to two; unless Scar had a casting vote, he and Vai could not change that. "Settled," he said. The Helmite's lips thinned to pale white, but she said nothing; the younger Ilmtari glanced away from Viconia. "Under one provision of truth that you achieved Vai's quest."
I half-wondered if he would take up a holy symbol of his own; I'd heard he was a Tyrran like my father. But instead of divinations, he only laid out some papers of his own.
"—They're the documents Sarevok's servant Davaeorn sent to the bandit camp, and we still have the original copies," I said; thanks to Therella's faith in us.
"I was given them in the days before Eltan's murder," Scar said. "Sufficient for suspicion. Insufficient for proof. Then came the Amnian attack—so-called; then the skyship plans, and Anchev's stock couldn't have run higher; then Eltan's death. A ring of the Shadow Thieves' insignia by the body. All too convenient."
"And I suppose my father was recorded to cast a vote in his favour." I sounded stiff enough for that. I'd cried enough before, when I'd heard from him—or thought—no, too much information implied by the letter, probably heard. After that, it would have been; not so long after that, perhaps, since it seemed I was still called the Duke's daughter. I don't always have to be slow to understand. Scar confirmed it.
"Then as to the tale of the mines: Vai went, and saw nothing but a flooded shaft and evidence of some migratory human settlement," he said. "Perhaps connected to druids. We know nothing of this friend of yours."
Garrick and Yeslick and the slaves went to the druids of the forest and found a safe home there with them... Or so I wished to be true.
"And my poor, dear cousin. At the coronation," Emerie said, dabbing at a green-eyeshadowed lid with a delicate handkerchief she had produced from the depths of a wide, embroidered sleeve. "They exploded out of the crowd. The most horrible monsters you could imagine, as if by some illusion. His mistress—or one of them, they say—carried out some spellwork; he himself gave the appearance of striking at them. Then his own pet archmage cast a spell, and all was confusion, and most seem to believe him the hero. Fortunately my own mentality is stronger," she said, giving a stare made from an early morning's frost.
"By carrier-bird they've pushed past Nashkel into the Cloudpeaks, six days' march from Crimmor," Scar said; he unrolled a map to point out Sarevok's strategies. "Reinforcements ordered to keep the Nashkel mines. But it's the navy he's using to gamble away men's lives: ordered almost all to an immediate strike on Athkatla itself, leaving the city defenceless."
"Three fronts opened in Amn," Shar-Teel said suddenly. "Sythillis to the south; Cloudpeaks pass; Athkatla. But you break first if the new ships don't get out in time." She tried hard to say the last as if she meant to gloat over it.
"Almost as if he wants an invasion," Scar said. "Fend it off and once more the common man sees him a saviour. Sorrel?"
"There are these," the younger man said. What he passed across the table was a small disc hanging from a piece of black cord; a symbol. From the exclamations the others had, this was also new for them. We were last to be handed it for inspection, and I saw a medallion dark in colour, the back of it featureless. Upon its other side was a raised skull in sharply stylised design, coloured a sickly yellow against the dark background. Around the skull swordlike thorns flew in a deadly circle.
"They've not yet told me more," Sorrel said. "But some of his men among us seek almost to establish him as more than a simple war leader. As if a sort of dark saint, or even a Chosen of some deity. When I've seen him fight...perhaps I see their point." He drew back his shoulders in embarrassment. There was something odd about his eyes, indeed; they were pupilless and contained only a small amount of white at their edges, coloured a strange pink. Perhaps a trace of some magic.
"Do you, demonspawn?" Annaclair said. Scar held up a hand, and she stiffened her lips again in silence. My father used to treat other merchants with respect regardless of their origins, elf or dwarf or tiefling. An expression of some interest, perhaps inevitably, showed on Viconia's face.
"The skull reminds me of the emblems of some evil gods," Ajantis volunteered.
"Myrkul; Bhaal; the Dark Sun; no doubt more than one reptiloid or orcish deity," the priestess said, reeling off her dour list. "But this particular design is not one I know of."
"Nor we," the younger Ilmatari spoke.
"Trashy materials," Shar-Teel said, and sent the icon spinning back to the Fists. "What male doesn't have delusions of superiority? Skyships, you say. Saw 'em in the harbour. Like what the Halruuans have? —Then take one, and scorch the palace with him in it, or ram it. Or use a harbour catapult to shake him. Do all of you sit around useless?"
Skyships; the word caught my imagination. For all his crimes, if Sarevok had brought skyships to Baldur's Gate and gave us merchantships that could ride over sea and land alike, as possessed the Halruaans but only confined to their own countries, in case of thieving of the means... Then again, there was also Halruaa to consider. And Shar-Teel's known hatred of Flaming Fists coming to the fore, yet again.
"The doorway," Jaheira said, "is behind you."
"Petty squabbles are an artefact of soft cities," Faldorn said; although given what she'd said to Jaheira, one could doubt the entire truth of that. "I am listening; you know more than us of the circumstances."
Scar's dark eyes passed over her. "I do not doubt your claimed powers; but it is an ill thing when youths are brought to war. We will have a Halruaan attack to fear the moment one of those ships rises aloft, and yet we trade that fear against the Amnian near-certainty.
"What we do to deny Anchev support is to remove his supplies. He and Dosan order grain hoarded for their cronies; we redistribute to the folk who could least bear these times. We reach to overturn him before he leaves the city as none but a smoking husk." Angelo Dosan, I'd heard on the streets, was the name of the new commander of the Flaming Fist, though Sarevok had taken his place; Shar-Teel said nothing more, but watched Scar intently.
"And fails to recognise those of more rightful familial authority," Emerie Jannath said.
"T-that's... Stopping him is r-right," the apprentice said; her voice was soft and frail and half-broken, like a young bird's.
"A second objective: exposure." Scar looked across at us. "I want your group to challenge the Silvershield impersonator in the open, if she's yet present. Taros, accompany them." The older of the Ilmatari agreed. "For his daring to use monsters..." The commander smiled a thin smile. "Reveal him as one."
—