Chapter 12
Gorion stood at the window to his new room, enjoying the sea breeze. Succumbing to the weight of his eye-lids, he closed his eyes, took a long, deep breath, and exhaled slowly.
After a moment, he opened his eyes, looking out at the sun setting over and beyond the Sea of Swords.
I have almost forgotten what it was like to see that.
He recalled the words of an old partner.
'Like sinking into the sea.'
That last word brought forth a recent memory, formed only the previous day; carrying a tiny, terrified dwarven child across a causeway of stone. Gorion blinked, then looked over his shoulder.
The child in question was now lying on one of the two beds in the room, of which he had chosen the one furthest from the window.
Gorion stood quietly, watching the little dwarf.
During his private meeting with Ulraunt and Tethtoril, which had taken up most of the day, Dorean had to wait outside the room. He neither spoke to nor approached anyone. He had taken dinner with Gorion in complete silence, after which he climbed into bed (after finding and using a wooden box for a step) and fell asleep within minutes.
Dorean woke up late the next morning, ate his breakfast with Gorion, again in silence, then took one of their room's many books and had been reading it since.
There was a faint odour now emitting from the little dwarf; he had neither bathed nor changed out of the tattered, raggedy clothes he had worn on their journey.
Gorion paused, then moved from the window towards him. The boy's head shot up at his approach, though this time he did not drop into a defensive stance and brandish a weapon. Moving slowly, Gorion sat on the bed at Dorean's feet. They stayed that way for a long moment, neither moving, speaking or looking away from each other.
"What's it about?" said Gorion, breaking the silence.
Dorean blinked once, looked down at the book, then silently held it out to him. Gorion took it, pausing briefly to note the size difference in their hands, then turned it over to look at the cover.
The artwork was relatively decent, though unimpressive; an armoured, uniformed man, crouching down and holding a lantern over the arm and shoulder of what clearly was a dead body. Frowning, Gorion turned to the inside front cover and read the summary; its story apparently follows a murder investigation in Athkatla, conducted by a city watch officer named Feresh.
Briefly noting from the open pages that Dorean had read to about half of it, Gorion lifted his eyes from the book.
"What do you like about it?" he asked softly.
After a moment of staring at the wizard, Dorean looked away. "I dunno. The investigatin', I guess. Findin' clues. Answers."
Gorion tilted his head slightly to the side to get a better view of Dorean's face.
"Feresh is now lookin' at a list of somethin' he calls 'suspects,'" said Dorean. "Not sure what that is."
Gorion lowered his head for a few seconds, then lifted his gaze back to Dorean. "Do you want to know?"
The dwarf blinked at him, twice, then nodded slightly. "Sure."
Gorion's explanation on the definition of suspects was then followed by the process in which one determines or eliminates them. Dorean listened with rapt attention while asking the occasional question.
Before he realized it, by the time he had finished his impromptu lesson, the sun had completed its descent into the ocean, and night had fallen upon them.
Smiling to himself at the dwarf's unexpected attentiveness, Gorion handed the book back to him. Dorean quietly turned it over in his hands, looked at the cover, then lifted his gaze to Gorion's face.
"You ever done stuff like that? Investigated killings and puttin' together suspects."
Gorion's smile faded very slightly. There was silence for a brief moment. "Yes, I have."
"Could you tell me about them?" the dwarf asked, gray eyes turning round with abject curiosity.
Gorion paused. "I used to be a Harper."
Dorean tilted his head to the side. "What's that?"
Gorion hesitated a moment, then gave a gentle smile. He began to tell Dorean about the organization, pausing only briefly to light the candles with a wave of his hand. The dwarf listened intently, eyes focused on the wizard's face and gesticulating hands, the crime novel now lying forgotten on the bed beside him.
..
She was back at the campsite near the road. The bandits stood around her, their laughs echoing into the night air.
The laughter stopped. The bandits all turned to look at Dorean, standing stock-still next to the fire, arms at his sides.
The dwarf's gray eyes turned to gold, and the bandits reeled back, screaming in terror as their bodies wasted away into dust. Only Imoen and Dorean remained.
He slowly lifted his head to gaze upon her. The twin pools of gold held her in place.
Her father's voice, strained and desperate, echoed in her head.
"You don't know what he is..."
The glow in his eyes intensified, and the world around her was enveloped in bright, blinding gold.
..
Imoen awoke with a gasp, then fell back onto her pillow.
Several minutes went by as Imoen slowly steadied her breathing, blinking and staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling. She paused, then turned her gaze onto the bed across the room from hers.
Dorean was still sitting up against the headboard of his bed. His eyes were closed, and his head was tilted back and leaning slightly to one side, long hair flowing onto and over the cloak draped on the headboard.
He tried to stay awake through the night.
Imoen laid still for a while, watching Dorean's beard flutter from his soft snores.
Her gaze went to the parchment on his lap, and she lifted her head, blinking at it.
Curiosity taking hold of her, Imoen eased herself out of bed and walked over to Dorean. She hesitated, looking at his sleeping face, then carefully eased one side of the page out from under his right hand. Walking slowly over to the window, she held it up to the morning light.
His hand-writing was as neat and tidy as always.
Ulraunt - Is aware of and resents my thieving activities. Is aware of my training and tutelage. Knows that I was being prepared for something dangerous. Considers me to be a 'danger' and a 'great risk.' Has access to most areas in Candlekeep.
Tethtoril - Always treated me well. Perhaps too well? Has access to most areas in Candlekeep. Was with Father the morning of the day.
Firebead Elvenhair - A multiple-time victim of my thieving activities. Was in Candlekeep on the afternoon of the day.
Hull + Fuller - Multiple-time victims of my cheating at games of cards and dice.
Reevor - Has access to all the storehouses, including the one where Shank Gwist was waiting for me.
Parda - Was outside and close to the storehouse where Shank Gwist was waiting for me.
Obe, Arkanis, Canderous, Osprey, Mordaine and Deder - The axe-strike from Arkanis may have been intended to be fatal.
Imoen's gaze lingered on the next name for a very long moment before she continued reading.
Winthrop - Knows Father better than perhaps anyone else in Candlekeep. Travelled with Father, and likely to have seen his skills, capabilities, preferred tactics and habits. Knowledge and acquaintance of me is second only to that of Father and Imoen. Sent me to serve Shank Gwist and Carbos. Was at the gate when Father and I left Candlekeep.
There were more names, but Imoen stopped reading. She lifted her gaze from the parchment for a moment, looking out the window impassively at the guards patrolling the Friendly Arm's walls, then looked back down.
Her eyes were drawn to the last name at the bottom of the parchment; it was the only one that had been cancelled. Numerous lines had been drawn across it, so many that it was impossible to make out the word underneath. The area of paper around it was shredded, as though Dorean had used unnecessary force.
After a long moment, Imoen slowly turned around and walked back to Dorean's bed.
She tilted her head, gazing quietly at the dwarf's face, before placing the parchment back onto his lap and gently shaking his shoulder.
Dorean awoke with a jolt, raising the quill pen in his left hand over his head as though to strike. He blinked as his eyes focused on her, then lowered the pen. Two seconds later, he froze, glancing at the list lying open on his lap. Turning away from Imoen, he lowered his head and closed his eyes tight.
"Mornin', little brother," Imoen greeted warmly, reaching over and tousling his hair. Dorean's eyes snapped open and he looked up at her in surprise. "Y'know you're supposed to lie onna beds, not sit up like that?" The pink girl grinned and lifted an admonishing finger, wagging it at him. "Don't try an' stay up late again, okay?"
His jaw quivering behind his beard, Dorean opened his mouth to speak when a knock sounded at the door.
"Urm, g-good morning?"
"Get behind the bed," Dorean hissed at Imoen, moving out of his own bed and positioning himself behind the door. Imoen stayed where she was, watching her roommate draw a knife from beneath his shirt.
"It's K-Khalid. We m-m-met last night? In the c-common room?" There was a pause. "J-Jaheira has reserved a t-table for us. We'd like you to j-join us. For breakfast." They heard the shuffling of feet outside.
Dorean and Imoen exchanged glances for a moment before Imoen looked to the door. "We would love to. Could you wait for us to get ready? We just need a few minutes?"
"N-n-no problem. I can wait," came the reply.
"Make it snappy," said another voice from outside.
Dorean and Imoen looked at each other again. Montaron? Imoen mouthed.
Dorean frowned, then put away his knife and nodded to her. They began moving about the room, getting dressed and gathering their belongings.
Dorean hesitated for a few seconds before rolling up the list and stowing it in his pack.
As he secured the clasp of the halfling cloak, the dwarf blinked and then turned towards the window.
A light-blue bird had alighted on the window sill and was now watching them through the vertical iron bars.
"What's the matter?" asked Imoen, glancing at the still dwarf.
"...nothing. It's nothing," replied Dorean. He returned to his packing while shooting a few more glances at the animal.
Eventually, hoisting their packs onto their shoulders, Dorean and Imoen walked over to the door. After pushing the bedside table away from the door, Imoen turned the knob while Dorean stood to the side with one hand around the knife hidden beneath his shirt.
They caught Khalid standing in the middle of the wide corridor, nervously wringing his hands together, before he quickly straightened and brought them to his sides. Montaron was casually leaning against the wall next to the door.
"G-g-good morning," said the half-elf, giving them an awkward, lopsided smile. "I am s-sorry for coming at such an e-early hour, b-but my wife felt we should talk as soon as p-possible."
"S'fine," said Imoen good-naturedly, returning his smile with one of her own. She looked at the halfling. "Morning, Monty! Got a good night's rest?"
"Don't call me 'Monty'."
"Urm, y-y-yes, well..." Khalid trailed off, biting his bottom lip and looking down at Imoen and Dorean.
"Shall we?" Imoen finished for him. Khalid nodded, smiling at her gratefully, then turned and led them down the corridor. Dorean and Imoen followed him.
Montaron waited a few seconds, then eased himself off the wall and strolled after them.
..
The common room was now considerably busy compared to the night before. Every table was occupied and barmaids, most of them gnomish, scuttled to and fro among the tables with trays in hand. The hubbub was loud enough to drown out most of the music from the three gnomish musicians at the eastern wall.
Jaheira awaited them in the lounge area at the north-west corner, seated at a table upon which two drinks had been placed, one in her hand and the other presumably for Khalid. She looked up at their approach, but said nothing.
Khalid seated himself next to her while Dorean and Imoen sat opposite from the couple, Dorean deliberately selecting the seat across from Khalid. Montaron, bringing up the rear, hopped up onto the seat at the end of the table, placing Imoen to his left and Jaheira to his right.
Growing uncomfortable beneath Jaheira's thin-lipped gaze, Imoen looked anywhere but at her. "Hey, where's Xzar?" she asked, turning to Montaron.
"Busy," replied the halfling, reaching over and opening the food-bag beside Imoen's chair. She blinked at him but did not protest.
"Well, don't we have quite a gathering 'ere!" said a voice at Imoen's elbow, causing her to spin around in her seat. The same barmaid who had brought Dorean's message to Khalid and Jaheira beamed innocently up at them.
She happily took Imoen's order of eggs, ham and bread along with Dorean's order of a single apple and pear. The gnome then turned to Montaron, opened her mouth to speak, stopped and tilted her head quizzically at the halfling biting into the salted pork he had taken from the food-bag. After a moment, she shrugged good-naturedly, gave Imoen a radiant smile, then hurried off to relay their orders.
Someone really enjoys their job, thought Dorean, watching the little woman practically skipping away from them towards the kitchens. He looked back, momentarily caught Jaheira's eye, and quickly looked away as her impassive gaze locked onto his face. Looking uncertainly at his wife, Khalid bit his bottom lip again.
Imoen, after glancing at Dorean and seeing that he was keeping his head down to avoid Jaheira's gaze, reached over and patted him reassuringly on the back.
"Soo, did ya two have a good night's sleep?" she asked, attempting a smile. Jaheira neither answered nor looked away from Dorean. Khalid gave them an apologetic look as Imoen awkwardly drummed her fingers on the table.
Dorean and Imoen's drinks were served a few silent minutes later. As Imoen reached for her mug, Montaron leaned over, pushed her hand away and promptly sprinkled what looked like a fine white powder into it. He gestured roughly to Dorean, who hesitated before sliding his own mug over to him, and repeated the process.
"Monty, what are you doing?" Imoen asked innocently.
"Checkin' fer poison," he replied. "An' stop callin' me 'Monty'." He looked at both Dorean and Imoen's drinks for a moment before grunting and leaning back in his seat.
Jaheira's expression instantly went from unreadable to a cold, hard glare. "There is an accusation in this, isn't there?"
"Innkeeper's yer friend," the halfling replied calmly, picking up his half-eaten salted pork.
To Dorean and Imoen's surprise, Khalid rose up from his seat with fists clenched. Jaheira's arm shot up and grasped him firmly by the forearm. Their eyes met, and she shook her head. Khalid's lower jaw trembled, and he blinked rapidly before slowly sitting back down, eyes closed and breathing slowly and steadily.
After giving Montaron another cold glare, Jaheira turned to face Imoen, apparently deciding to ignore the unpleasant halfling.
"We should introduce themselves. I am Jaheira and this is my husband Khalid." She paused, placing her hands on the table and clasping them together. "And you are?"
Imoen blinked, then straightened in her seat. "Oh, I'm Imoen. And this is Dor..." she hesitated, looking down at her roommate.
Dorean paused, then nodded quietly to her.
"...Dorean. My little brother." Imoen paused. "Pleased to meet you," she added, mimicking Jaheira's action in clasping her hands together on the table and causing the woman to frown at her. Montaron, who had taken a mug from Imoen's food-bag, lifted it in front of his mouth to hide his grin.
"B-b-brother?" said Khalid, eyes and head moving from Imoen to Dorean and back again. "Urm, p-pardon me a-asking, b-but..."
"Oh, we grew up together," replied Imoen in a brighter tone, visibly relaxing now that the ice and awkwardness seemed to be breaking.
"We were not informed that we would be meeting a girl," said Jaheira, her eyes narrowing to match the thinness of her closed lips. "You say he is your brother? Who are you, exactly?"
From the corner of his eye, Dorean noticed Montaron slowly lowering his mug.
"I am Imoen," said Imoen, as though it was explanation enough. She cringed slightly at Jaheira's deepened frown. "Sorry, sorry." She grinned sheepishly at Khalid, who could not help but smile back. "I am the innkeeper's daughter."
"Which inn?" said Jaheira.
"The one at Candlekeep."
"C-Candlekeep?" said Khalid.
"Yeah," said Imoen. She blinked as Jaheira and Khalid looked at each other, then glanced at Dorean. The dwarf did not meet her gaze; he was watching the half-elves closely. Imoen then looked at Montaron; the halfling had produced a teabag from his pocket and was now preparing for himself a lukewarm tea using water from his water-skin.
"So you are both from Candlekeep," said Jaheira. Imoen quickly looked back to her, but Jaheira said nothing else; she stared silently at the pink-clad girl with narrowed eyes, as though analyzing every detail of her face, then did the same to Dorean, who this time maintained eye contact, his expression impassive. Khalid looked nervously at his wife again before turning to the dwarf.
"Something about you is f-familiar, child. Your manner reminds me somewhat of..." he hesitated, glancing at Jaheira. "Of Gorion."
"It is almost a slight on him," Jaheira said coldly. "But I see it too."
"J-Jaheira," said Khalid softly, looking at her nervously.
Dorean stared at her unblinkingly, his face blank.
In one leap, he cleared the table and buried his knife in the side of her neck...
"So you are his son," said Jaheira, her greenish-blue eyes gazing into Dorean's gray. To her left, Montaron slowly swirled his mug, paused to scrutinize the tea, then swirled the mug again.
"W-w-what about you, Imoen?" said Khalid hurriedly, wringing his hands against his chest.
"Hmm?" said Imoen distractedly, watching Dorean and Jaheira's staring contest.
"Y-you said there is an inn at Candlekeep. W-we d-didn't know that."
"Oh, err, there wasn't one until a little bit after I arrived there with...with my dad, actually. About ten years ago." She paused as Jaheira finally looked away from Dorean to her. "Mister G...urm, that's Gorion...he helped us build and pay for it."
Jaheira frowned. "Who is your father?"
At Imoen's hesitation, Dorean's eyes narrowed as he glanced sideways at her. "Oh, he's...he's just the innkeeper there. Though he was an adventurer once. I think. His name's Winthrop."
Jaheira's face dropped, and she straightened so suddenly that Imoen flinched backwards. The two half-elves turned to one another, exchanging wide-eyed looks.
Dorean's eyes narrowed further as he scrutinized them, but then his brow furrowed upon noticing Montaron sipping his tea.
He's being calm. Far too calm.
The dwarf looked over his shoulder, eyes sweeping the common room for Xzar despite knowing the futility of it.
"D-do you know him?" said Imoen, her voice small and mouse-like.
After a long moment, Khalid and Jaheira relaxed and turned back to Imoen, Khalid glancing at his wife before speaking.
"We m-met him many years ago, when he was...w-working with Gorion." He trailed off upon uttering Gorion's name.
Dorean slowly lowered his gaze to the table, head bowed in thought. An uncomfortable silence fell on the table once again, and there was little sound save Montaron sipping his tea.
"Hurry up an' tell 'em 'bout why yer here," he said abruptly.
Khalid and Jaheira both looked at him, then Jaheira looked back to Dorean and Imoen, closed her eyes, breathed deeply, then opened them.
"In case Gorion didn't tell you, we are members of the Harpers. Do you know what that is?"
"Err, yeah," said Imoen, moving her hand to her chin. "They are people who do good things and save art and music and history and stuff. Something like that, right?"
Jaheira paused. "Something like that, yes," she said as Khalid bit his bottom lip again, this time not from nervousness. "As for why we are here," she glared at Montaron. "We were on our way to Nashkel on a mission when we received a letter. It said that Gorion would be meeting us here at the Friendly Arm. And that he would be bringing his son with him." She clasped her hands on the table again, focusing her gaze on Dorean. "It seems that you are that 'son'. It can sometimes be difficult to tell with dwarves, but Imoen clearly isn't male. Also," her voice turned cold. "You referred to him as 'father' when you accused us of being involved in his death."
Dorean kept his head down, not meeting her eyes. "I am sorry about that," he said quietly. "I was upset."
After a moment of silence, Jaheira folded her arms across her chest. "How did you know him?" she asked, her voice lowering to match his.
"I was an orphan when he found me," Dorean said softly, not lifting his gaze from the table. "He took me in and raised me. I've been living in Candlekeep for the past twenty years."
Jaheira lowered her head for a long moment before looking back to the dwarf. "And before that? Where did he find you?"
Dorean paused, then lifted his head to meet her gaze. "I don't remember. I was very young."
"How old are you?"
"Thirty-nine."
"You said you are an orphan. Who are your parents?"
"I..." Dorean trailed off, and Imoen looked at him worriedly. Montaron paused in mid-sip, black eyes focusing on the dwarf. "I don't remember. Like I said, I was very young."
"Nineteen is young?" said Jaheira.
"For a dwarf, it is," said Imoen. She hesitated, then ruffled Dorean's hair. "That means I'm older. I'm twenty, by the way. What's your age?" She smiled at Jaheira's frown.
Silence fell upon them again before Khalid placed a hand on Jaheira's shoulder, nodded to her, then turned to Dorean and Imoen.
"I know this will be hard f-for you," he said gently, facing Dorean. "But we want to know what h-happened." He paused. "Please tell us."
Dorean looked at the Calishite, then at Jaheira and Montaron, who merely raised an eyebrow at him before refilling his mug. He then looked at Imoen. The girl paused, then reached over and gently patted his shoulder. The dwarf faced Khalid and breathed deeply, exhaling through his nose.
"Okay."
He told them of the events of that fateful day; from Gorion informing him of his intention to leave Candlekeep, to Shank Gwist's failed attempt on his life followed by his questioning of the man and learning of the bounty on his head before the man bled to death, to leaving Candlekeep with Gorion in the dead of night with Winthrop seeing them off with a bag of food.
He left out many details; of Winthrop refusing to let Imoen accompany them, of his questioning of Shank involving torture, and of Gorion putting Imoen to sleep after she insisted on going with them.
He hesitated then, when the gnomish barmaid returned with their food, apologizing for the lateness of the order since the inn is busier than usual today, and resumed his story when she scuttled away from Jaheira's impatient scowl.
After another deep breath, Dorean went on, describing the events after crossing the causeway from Candlekeep. At that point, Jaheira nodded silently to Khalid, who then took out a notebook, feather pen and ink bottle. Imoen and Dorean exchanged looks before the latter resumed his tale.
He described the ambush in the clearing in great detail. It was very easy, since he could play it back entirely in his mind; the attackers coming out of the north-east end, their leader demanding that Gorion hand over his ward, and the attack commencing when the old wizard refused.
Khalid wrote steadily with his head down and Dorean had to resist the urge to glance at the notebook; Jaheira was watching him closely.
When he got to Gorion being cut down, he stopped and pretended to close his eyes, watching the reactions of the two Harpers.
Khalid had looked away with his eyes closed, while Jaheira remained still, though there was a barely perceptible tremble in her jaw.
Dorean took a moment to peek at Montaron, whose presence Khalid and Jaheira seemed to have momentarily forgotten. His face betrayed nothing, showing no emotion, but his black eyes were focused on Khalid's notebook. The dwarf was reminded of Montaron drugging him unconscious to search his belongings.
There will surely be trouble if he tries that tactic on them.
Dorean hesitated before continuing his account of the ambush, Imoen running into him afterwards, and returning to the clearing the next morning.
Imoen took over from there, telling the Harper duo of meeting Xzar and Montaron, their help in burying Gorion's body, and then agreeing to travel with them to Nashkel. She left out being grabbed around the throat and Dorean being threatened by Montaron.
"And then, we...came here." She paused. "That's it, really."
Dorean glanced at Imoen, then caught Montaron's eye.
She left out the bandit attack.
There was a long moment of silence. Jaheira slowly leaned back in her seat, head lowered and fingers clasped with her elbows on the table. After a moment, she turned her gaze onto Dorean.
"Do you know who is after you, or why?"
He hesitated. "No. I mean, I know Gwist was just after the bounty, but I don't know why there would be one on me in the first place. He didn't either."
Jaheira stared at Dorean for a long time without blinking, then looked at Khalid and nodded. Her husband returned the nod nervously, then removed a large parchment from his pack and spread it on the centre of the table.
Moving aside their plates and drinks, Dorean and Imoen leaned towards each other to read it.
Dorean's own face stared back at them. Above it were words, in large, fat letters.
By decree of the Flaming Fist and the Dukes of Baldur's Gate.
Dorean paused, then lowered his gaze to the words below the composite sketch.
The dwarf known as DOREAN OF CANDLEKEEP is WANTED, DEAD OR ALIVE, for the crimes of Thievery and Murder.
It is Preferred that he be brought in ALIVE, as he is also wanted for questioning in regard to the disappearance of Sir Gunnhallur Silvershield of Baldur's Gate.
Whoever delivers this man ALIVE will receive a Reward of 1000 gold. If delivered DEAD, a Reward of 500 gold.
Claim of the bounty is to be conducted at the Flaming Fist headquarters in the city of Baldur's Gate.
There was a sharp intake of breath from Imoen. Dorean's eye-lids lowered, and he went very still, listening to the breathing of the others at the table. Then, moving only his eyes, he glanced at Montaron.
The halfling was ignoring them all, leaning back in his seat with his hands on his lap and his head tilted up to the ceiling in an almost casual manner.
Faces appeared in Dorean's mind as he returned his gaze to the bounty notice; of the guards at the gate, the people in the common room who had looked his way after Jaheira attacked him, the ones whom he had passed in the corridors and staircases to and from his room, the barmaids, Bentley and finally Tarnesh.
He heard Jaheira's voice, blinked and looked up. "Sorry?"
"The crimes. Are they true?"
Dorean did not glance at Imoen, but he nonetheless felt her stillness; her eyes were fixed on the bounty notice, and her jaw had gone slack. Montaron leaned forward, snatched it up from underneath her nose, and flicked it at Khalid who caught it reflexively.
"Put it away, idiot, before someone 'ere sees it."
As Khalid meekly returned the parchment to his pack, Jaheira took a second to glare at the halfling before returning her gaze to Dorean. The dwarf paused for a long moment before breathing deeply.
"One third of it is. I am a thief. Candlekeep's visitors and guests are usually quite wealthy; they wouldn't have been able to afford the entry fee otherwise. I have stolen from many of them, over the years." He paused, looking straight into Khalid's eyes first, then Jaheira's. "But I am no murderer."
For a moment that lasted several seconds and also an eternity, Jaheira's eyes bored into his.
"And Gunnhallur Silvershield's disappearance?" she asked, her voice calm, steady and cold.
"I was still living there at the time," Dorean answered, matching her tone. "I don't know what happened to him."
There was a moment of silence.
"The p-p-person whom you q-questioned in the storehouse, S-Shank Gwist," said Khalid, looking at his notes. "You said he told you that a f-f-foreign woman set up the bounty."
"Yes," replied Dorean. "I suspect she is one of the two women who attacked us."
"Are you sure?" asked Jaheira, narrowing her eyes at the dwarf. He returned her gaze steadily.
"I am."
"Where did you get this?" said Imoen softly. They all looked at her; until now, she had been silent from the moment she saw the notice.
Jaheira paused, then looked at Montaron who returned her cold, hard gaze with a bored, dismissive look, before answering Imoen.
"What you saw was a copy. We saw the original after it was taken from a man who attempted to break into your room last night."
Dorean's eyes narrowed while Imoen's widened.
"He was a young human dressed in black-green robes," Jaheira added.
"Tarnesh?" Imoen exclaimed, straightening in her seat. Khalid blinked.
"Y-you k-knew him?"
"He was the previous occupant of the room we were staying in," said Dorean. "He gave it to us after the innkeeper told us the inn was full." He paused for a moment. "Who took the notice from him?" he asked, despite feeling he already knew the answer.
Khalid's mouth opened, then closed, and he looked to his wife.
"I believe your friend here could answer that," said Jaheira, jerking her head at Montaron. "He was there."
"Monty?" said Imoen.
"Don't call me that."
"What were you doing outside our room?"
"Standin' watch. Good thing too, considerin'. Young'un tried to get in and got his neck broken. Yer welcome. An' block off the window next time," he added to Dorean. "It don't matter how high up ye are."
"His partner - Xzar, was it? - killed this Tarnesh before he could enter the room. We were on watch too," said Jaheira at Dorean's questioning furrowed brow.
"Why?" he asked, before he could stop himself.
Jaheira did not answer him. Instead, silence again fell between them, carrying over to Khalid and Imoen as they noticed it. The Tethyrian closed her eyes, then slowly opened them.
"We will be making our own inquiries into this," she said, her voice calm and authoritative. "And shall see if what you told us is accurate." A steely glint appeared in her eyes, and her voice turned cold and hard. "And we will learn the truth behind what happened to Gorion."
She paused for a long moment, staring at the dwarf.
"But first, we will go to Nashkel and accomplish our mission." She looked away from Dorean, facing Imoen. "You may come with us, if you wish."
"We can protect you," said Khalid hurriedly, looking at Dorean. "There may be others who would try to collect on the b-b-bounty."
Dorean turned to Imoen and froze slightly at her expression; it was filled with concern and worry, all directed at him. She reached over and placed her hand over his, giving it a tight squeeze.
The dwarf watched her for a moment, his expression softened, before turning back to the Harpers.
"Your company would be welcome."
There was a moment's pause, then Jaheira slowly nodded.
Dorean and Imoen finished their breakfast promptly, then rose with Khalid and Jaheira from the table and gathered their belongings.
After saying goodbye to Bentley Mirrorshade (Imoen gave the innkeeper a hug and kiss on the forehead, earning stares from the crowd), they headed for the exit.
Dorean reached for the hood of his cloak, but stopped when Montaron tapped him lightly on the back.
"Not now. Wait 'til we're outside."
..
After Dorean, Imoen and Montaron retrieved their weapons from the gate-house, they joined Khalid and Jaheira at the gates and set out across the large, wide drawbridge.
Xzar was waiting for them at the end. He smiled cheerily, waved upon seeing Imoen, and was nearly tackled when the pink girl rushed up and took hold of his wrist.
"What happened to your hand?"
Xzar hesitated, watching her examine his wound. "Animal bite. I was...trying to catch a rabbit."
"A rabbit?" said Imoen, looking up at him.
"In the dark," he said quickly. "With my bare hands. And my teeth." He paused. "It got away." He paused again. "I like rabbits."
"Oh," said Imoen. She turned to look at Montaron, who returned her gaze with an irritable glower, before looking back to Xzar. "Will you be alright?"
He tilted his head at her. "No signs or symptoms of infection, as sure as Glittergold. Just need to go easy on it for a few days."
Imoen paused, then sighed in relief. Xzar's expression became one of mild confusion when he was promptly presented with wrappings of strawberry-flavoured cornbread.
"You missed breakfast."
"No I didn't."
"What did you eat, then?"
"A dead body."
Imoen stared, then blinked. He returned the stare and blink.
"Was that a joke?"
"...no?"
"Oh."
They stood in front of each other with the cornbread between them, exchanging stares and blinks. The rest all watched from a distance, except Montaron.
"Well, you should still take these. For lunch," said Imoen, pushing the cornbread towards him.
"Oh. Yes, I should. For lunch," he said, reaching up and taking them.
"What about me?" said Montaron. Imoen blinked before turning around to smile at him.
"Nothin' fer you, Monty, you've already taken half my food." She stuck her tongue out at him, earning a glower from the halfling.
"I said don't call-" he ended his sentence in a frustrated growl, then walked past all of them down the road without looking back.
Dorean looked up at Khalid and Jaheira's questioning stares, gave a shrug, adjusted his crossbow on his back and followed Montaron, taking Imoen's hand as he passed her and pulling her along to walk beside him. The Harpers followed behind them, glancing at Xzar as they went past.
The wizard stood still for a moment, staring off at nothing, before promptly turning on his heel and following the group. He unwrapped and bit into one of the square-shaped breads as he walked, seemingly unaware of the glances being thrown his way by the Harper duo several paces in front of him.
..
"Here," said Tethtoril, leaning forward and placing the basket on the floor in front of him. Winthrop paused, glancing at the First Reader, before using his feet to pull the basket towards himself and then picking it up with his hands, the chains at his wrists clinking and emitting a slight, bluish glow at his movements. He paused again after lifting the cover and seeing the contents.
"I thought you would like something better to eat," Tethtoril said quietly. "You've been in here two nights now."
Winthrop said nothing, dropping the cover back onto the top of the basket.
"Ulraunt's awake now," said Tethtoril, sitting down cross-legged on the floor of the cell. "He's...upset, about his eye. Wanted to speak to you in person. I convinced him to let me do it instead." He waited a few moments, but there was no sound from the other man.
"Winthrop, I trust you. I know you didn't have anything to do with Gwist's death. Whoever killed him clearly did so with a knife. From the investigation and review of events, it seems likely it was our recently-departed dwarf."
Winthrop looked up at him briefly, his expression unreadable, before lowering his head.
"I'm sure he had a good reason," said Tethtoril. "Self-defense, most likely. It would explain why Gorion left in such a hurry." He sighed. "It seems whatever he was preparing the child for is finally coming for him." He looked away to the side. "I will miss them both."
Pausing to rub his forearms, the First Reader resumed speaking.
"We are still looking for Gwist's cousin. Carbos, I believe that is his name." Tethtoril paused, watching Winthrop's face. "The two nobles have been questioned, and I decided they were innocent."
There was a long moment of silence.
"Aren't you going to ask me anything?" Tethtoril said softly. No answer came.
"Winthrop...I am sorry, but you were out of control. If I had not put you down, you might have killed someone, or been killed yourself. It was Imoen's choice to-"
"Get out."
Tethtoril hesitated, then sighed softly, his shoulders slumping, before standing up.
He paused after closing the door to the cell, then reached into his robes.
"This arrived in the mail last night," he said quietly.
The envelope floated through the air across the cell, then dropped lightly next to the basket at Winthrop's feet.
"I think it is from her," said Tethtoril, lowering his voice further. He turned and left, his footsteps echoing softly off the stone floor.
Several minutes passed in silence.
Then, using his foot, Winthrop slid the envelope closer to himself, picked it up and opened it.
Contact made with principle. Now providing escort. Will provide protection and overwatch for principle with or without escort.
M.
Winthrop stayed still for a long time, staring at the letter. After briefly scanning his surroundings, he folded the letter in half and promptly tore in in halves, then quarters, then eighths. Crumbling them in his hands, he then shoved the pieces of paper in his mouth and chewed steadily.