Chapter 26

"What will you do now?" said Firebead.

"Visit the smithy again," Jaheira answered. "Then return to the mercenary. We have a diplomat to escort."

The two of them watched from the entranceway of the house as Dorean entered the living room.

"Very kind of you, making the short, wounded one clear the dishes," he said loudly, climbing onto one of the chairs at the dining table. Imoen's voice floated airily from the kitchen.

"You can do the washing if you'll take the gloves off."

Muttering under his breath, the dwarf hopped off the chair with a plate in each hand, returning to the kitchen as Khalid's voice emitted from next to Imoen's.

"M-maybe I should..."

"Nope," said Imoen. "If he's gonna be a stubborn little baby about it, then he can do the fetching. Could you stack these for me?"

Jaheira and Firebead listened to the sound of clinking plates for a few seconds.

"I know of Kagain," said the scholar. "He...has his faults, but he serves a good cause."

"So long as it nets him a profit."

"The caravans need to get to Baldur's Gate, Jaheira. Along with this Witton fellow. He may be able to avert war with Amn."

"Or hasten it," Jaheira replied, watching a grumbling Dorean return to the dining table and climb onto one of the chairs again. The dwarf had steadfastly refused their assistance. Noticing that Firebead had tilted his head at her, she then gave a low sigh. "We could already be halfway to Nashkel by now. Ghastkill's request was urgent."

Firebead nodded in understanding, quietly waiting for her to speak further. Jaheira lowered her head, looking uncomfortable, before finally turning to face him.

"Listen-"

"If anything were to happen to Nadine or Euric, Deneir forbid, and I thought you may have been involved, I would have done the same," said Firebead, and for a few seconds, there was a cold, hardened gleam to his eyes. Then he smiled warmly. "I suppose I should be flattered that you didn't take any chances with me. And here I was starting to think I had gone rusty with age."

"The halfling followed me here last night," Jaheira whispered, now dead-serious. "You need to leave now. Today." The old scholar's expression briefly changed to match hers before he nodded.

"Been meaning to settle down for good anyway," he replied softly. "I don't have much reason to visit Candlekeep now with Gorion gone." He paused as Jaheira looked away, her face clouded. They again watched as Dorean, grumbling more loudly this time, struggled onto another chair.

"You have to start eating less," the dwarf called out, grabbing no less than five plates from what had been Imoen's side of the table.

"I will if you start eating more," Imoen answered. The dwarf entered the kitchen yet again, still mumbling under his breath.

"This bounty doesn't make any sense," Firebead said abruptly. "Gunnhallur Silvershield disappeared seven years ago. Why not frame him for something more recent?" He looked at Jaheira's expression. "You don't truly think he was involved in it?"

"I don't know if he was."

"Jaheira..."

"Nor could I confirm it without a thorough investigation. Which I am unable to conduct for now."

Firebead hesitated, looking to the kitchen where the sounds of dish-washing and bickering roommates could be heard.

"I will look into it."

"...thank you," said the half-elf. Firebead smiled and gave her a pat on the shoulder.

"Whoever set it up may be the same people who killed Gorion," Jaheira added grimly. "If you find something, I want to know as soon as possible."

"...and what do you intend to do once you've learned their identities?" Firebead asked, his face clearly showing that he already knew the answer.

Jaheira glanced at him, quiet and unblinking.

Unnoticed by either, Dorean hopped off the sixth and final chair with Montaron's plates in hand, still pretending to grumble as he silently contemplated what he had overheard.

..

Following behind Khalid and Jaheira, Dorean and Imoen stepped through the open double doors into the Dented Shield headquarters, then stopped in the centre of the empty lobby and looked around.

"Where is everyone?" said Imoen.

"Most of 'em are still stuck at the Red Sheaf under questioning," said a familiar voice behind them. Dorean stiffened, took a quick breath, then turned around more slowly than Khalid and Jaheira had. Imoen, however, merely blinked and looked over her shoulder at Montaron.

Ignoring the reactions of the two Harpers to his sudden appearance, the halfling stepped forward and held out his hand. Dorean blinked at the sight of his two knives in its palm, then took and tucked them in his belt.

"Been gone almost two hours since I left ye friend's house," said Montaron, ignoring the dwarf's nod of gratitude. His eyes moved to the new crossbow on the dwarf's back, then to Imoen whose gambeson was now gone.

"Sorry," replied Dorean, jerking a thumb at the weapon. "Had to test-fire four of these before I was satisfied."

"And he made me wear three of these before he could decide which one was best," said Imoen, lifting the hem of her pink shirt to reveal the studded leather gambeson underneath. "Plus he shot me eight times."

"Would you rather I had used real arrows instead of dummy ones?"

"They still hurt!"

"D-d-do you two ever stop arguing?" Khalid asked. The duo turned to look at him.

"Do you want us to?" said Dorean. Khalid looked at him and then at Jaheira.

"No," he said simply, not taking his eyes off her. Jaheira blinked, then pouted at him. Khalid smiled back.

Dorean kept his face straight, holding back a frown.

Trying to make us relate to you?

He turned away and almost did a double-take upon seeing Montaron. For a fleeting half-second, the halfling had lost his usual impassive demeanour; he appeared almost doleful.

Then Montaron's eyes snapped to his, narrowing to slits. Dorean leaned back very slightly, barely suppressing an urge to back away.

"...war room," said Montaron. "Let's go."

He strode past the four of them towards a door on the north-east side of the lobby.

"Do you know where Xzar is?" asked Imoen, turning to follow him.

He neither answered nor looked back at her.

..

The 'war room' appeared to also serve as a storage room. Barrels, crates, boxes and sacks lined the walls.

In the centre was a large, low table, absent of chairs and currently surrounded by Kagain, Jessa, Ajantis and the female half-elf/orc mercenary. They all turned towards the door as Montaron led the party inside.

Kagain's eyes met Imoen's and he glowered at her, but otherwise said nothing. Noticing this, Dorean glanced at Montaron before looking away.

"I heard you were involved in an altercation at the Burning Wizard shortly after I and my men left you outside the temple," said Jessa, her tone crisp and unfriendly. She held up a hand before any of them could speak. "And I have already spoken to Kagain and the minstrel Garrick. We have found no reason to suspect any of you were at fault."

Dorean released the breath he had been holding and looked around. "Where is Garrick?"

"He left an hour ago for our headquarters to speak with the two men who survived Rosena's attempt to murder them."

"And you remained here," said Jaheira, her tone hinting that she already knew the reason why.

"If youse are done jabberin'," said Kagain, cutting off Jessa before she could answer. "Maybe we can get ta talkin' 'bout somethin' useful. Get over here, alla yas."

Walking up to the table, Imoen's eyes widened upon seeing the enormous sheet of parchment on it. She leaned over and stared down at the intricately-detailed map.

"Wow...who made this?"

"Her," said Ajantis, smiling at the half-elf/orc. "Lene is the Dented Shields' cartographer."

Imoen's face broke into a grin. "This is beautiful," she said, tracing her fingers over a drawing of Baldur's Gate. Lene blinked and fidgeted slightly.

"Get ya hands off of it," Kagain snapped. "Now, if all of ya-"

"Excuse me," said Dorean. Kagain growled and looked at him.

"What?"

"Could I get something to stand on?"

There was a moment of silence as the party all looked at the dwarf. Montaron glanced at the table, which was low enough for even him to see all of the map.

Kagain then sighed, and thirty seconds later, Dorean was standing atop a crate.

"Before I start, I wanna make something very, very clear; everything we talk about here an' now, we keep to ourselves. Understand?" Kagain took a moment to look around at the other eight faces standing at the table. "Good. Now-"

"Shouldn't Xzar be here?" said Imoen, looking back at the door and thus not noticing everyone turning to look at her.

"I'll fill him in later," Montaron answered after a moment.

"Vai here," said Kagain loudly, clearly having reached his limit for interruptions. "Is gonna be comin' with us an' the caravan to Baldur's Gate. Kelddath's hired her ta help us out."

"Governor Ormlyr is not hiring us," Jessa replied, clearly unhappy about this arrangement. "My company is responsible for the lives of the townsfolk."

Kagain sneered. "Yeah. Sure. An' ya doin' it fer free too. Outta the goodness of ya heart." He met Jessa's jaw-clenched glare for several seconds, then turned to Lene, who spoke immediately without prompting.

"The caravan consists of eleven wagons and around thirty to forty people, not counting the escort. We have eight men at the ready, including Kagain and myself, and another eight wounded, undergoing healing as we speak."

Dorean frowned as he listened to the woman's voice; it appeared to be a strange mix of the light, silvery tone akin to an elf and the deep, throaty tone of an orc or hobgoblin.

"How many men do you have available, Officer Vai?" Lene went on, turning to the other female mercenary.

Jessa briefly lowered her head. "Nine or ten, including myself."

"That is all you have?" said Ajantis.

"The Shield is not the only company that has lost people to the bandits," Jessa replied. "Me men are needed to guard the town and patrol the surrounding woods."

"But surely you could spare more-"

"We have already had this discussion before, Squire Ivarstarr," Jessa said tersely. "I would rather not repeat it."

"Yeah, shut ya trap," said Kagain. "Ya only here as a courtesy."

Ajantis looked at both of them in turn, then closed his eyes, breathed in and out through his nose, and bowed his head.

"I apologize." He paused, noticing the party's stares. "Lord Witton and I joined the caravan when it left Athkatla. Ten men were assigned to guard him." He paused again, avoiding everyone's eyes. "I am the only one left now."

"I'm sorry," said Dorean.

"...thank you," Ajantis replied. He then blinked upon feeling Khalid's hand on his shoulder, and gave a deep, drawn-out breath before nodding to the Calishite.

"Hey," said Kagain. "Ya done cryin'? Wanna get back to this before we all die'a old age?" He snorted disdainfully as everyone save Dorean, Montaron and Lene glared at him. "He's right, though; we need more men for this job."

"I will see if I could bring in more of my people," said Jessa. "I have also sent word throughout the town asking for armed volunteers and freelance mercenaries. For whom the Flaming Fist will provide payment if they agree to escort the caravan with us," she added to Kagain. The dwarf gave a loud grunt of disapproval, but did not press the subject.

"Now, Montaron told us that the bastards who took out the last caravan attacked it here," Kagain placed a finger on the map just north of the (beautifully-made) drawing of Beregost. "So this time, I say we avoid the road."

Taking out a quill pen and ink bottle, Kagain began tracing a line north from the Song of the Morning Temple.

"We'll take the same route you guys took ta get here," said Kagain. "East of the road, then north to the Friendly Arm."

"Miles of open ground with no cover," said Khalid.

"Exactly. Means we'll see 'em comin'. I ain't settin' myself up fer an ambush again."

"What about the people in the caravan?" Khalid asked. Kagain growled, rolled his eyes and fixed the half-elf with a pointed glare.

"They ain't ya concern."

"E-excuse me?"

"I said, they ain't ya concern. The whiny four-eyed noble is."

"The bandits have skilled archers, and you want to march f-f-forty people across that?"

Kagain's bared teeth became visible as he sneered up at Khalid.

"Hey, know what else I want? For you to shut ya trap."

As Lene sighed and looked away, Khalid and Jaheira stiffened, glaring fiercely down at the dwarf who gave yet another contemptuous snort.

"Heard what happened to ya. Took a lightning bolt for strangers instead'a protectin' ya own. Soddin' moron."

Jessa frowned and looked at Khalid. A muscle twitched in Jaheira's jaw as she stepped up beside her husband, tightening the grip on her quarterstaff. "Do you often arrange for your clients to be killed after they have paid you?"

The dwarf snarled and called her something that made Jessa and Ajantis take offense.

As everyone else descended into a muddied quarrel, Imoen looked at Montaron who was calmly eating an avocado, at Lene who was covering her face with her hand, and finally at Dorean. The dwarf was fixated on the map, ignoring the spectacle around him.

Imoen's brow furrowed, but before she could speak, Dorean raised his hand and slapped the table, causing everyone to stop arguing and look at him.

"Kagain's right," he said, keeping his gaze on the map. "I'm sorry Khalid, but you have seen what happened to the caravan north of here. The bandits have set themselves along the roads too well; it'll be suicide to use them. Either way," he paused, not looking up and keeping his expression solemn, "If we are attacked, people will most likely die. At least if we see them coming, we'll have a chance to mount a defence and drive off or kill them before they inflict too many casualties." He then pointed to where Kagain's line ran through the drawing of the plain east of the road. "What about the ogre?"

Kagain frowned, then jerked a thumb at Montaron. "He told me about it. Don't worry, me an' my guys'll take care of it."

Dorean raised an eyebrow. "Right," he said shortly. Kagain narrowed his eyes at him. "So, should we put it to a vote?"

He looked around the table, keeping his gaze steady as his eyes travelled from person to person, reaching Jaheira last. She stared coolly at him, their eyes now almost level with each other due to the crate, then turned to Kagain.

"When is the caravan leaving?"

Kagain glanced at Dorean for a moment before answering. "Tomorrow at dawn. I want this done fast."

"We don't have enough men," Ajantis insisted. "We need more time to prepare."

"Numbers are not everything, squire," said Jessa. "And I say again, I will do what I can to bolster them."

Ajantis hesitated, then nodded. "Then I will help you."

"No, ya won't," Kagain said firmly.

"We only have one day to muster more men."

"Yeah, but ya wearin' the colours of the Radiant Heart in Athkatla, an' there ain't much love for Amn around here right now," Kagain replied. Ajantis scowled at him.

"Master Kagain, with all due respect, I think-"

"I don't care what ya think. Get back to the temple an' guardin' ya master. An' get 'im a shield an' some armour, that fancy suit'a his won't save him from an arrow."

Kagain then turned away. Ajantis glared at the dwarf, his mailed hands clenching into fists, before uncurling them and deflating slightly. "Very well."

Kagain snorted, then looked at the party. "As for the rest of ya, ya will be helpin' him protect the diplomat," he jerked his thumb at Ajantis. "Never mind the civvies, my guys'll take care a'them.

"We'll decide who we protect," said Jaheira, though she glanced with a frown at Dorean instead of him. "Not you." Kagain sneered at her.

"Fine. But if he dies, it's on all of us."

"And don't you forget that," said Jessa. Kagain turned a baleful eye up at her.

"Don't ya tell me what not to forget."

The two mercenaries exchanged contemptuous glares, the atmospheric effect ruined somewhat by Montaron loudly biting and chewing his avocado. Imoen looked from Kagain to Jessa and then spoke, her tone innocuous.

"Are you two together?"

Everyone stared at her. Montaron stopped chewing.

"Get outta here," said Kagain. "All'a ya. Temple, dawn, tomorrow."

Jessa blinked at Imoen and then, without looking at Kagain, turned away from the table and walked towards the door. She stopped at the doorway, then slowly turned around.

"One other thing; should any of you attempt to escape, I will have you all brought to Baldur's Gate in chains." She stared straight at Dorean, then turned and left.

"...sodding Fist," Kagain grunted after a moment's silence. "Think they run this whole sodding country." He turned to Lene. "Go to the Sheaf an' get our boys ready. An' you," he looked at Ajantis. "Don't get any ideas about helpin' out, y'hear? Ya go straight ta the temple, an' ya stay there, understand?"

Ajantis gave a heavy, frustrated sigh and then nodded. Kagain looked at the party.

"Whattaya all still doin' here? Get outta here. Temple at dawn, sharp."

Slowly, everyone began to move towards the door, all except Dorean, who stroked his beard while looking at the map. Imoen paused halfway across the room, looking back at her roommate. Kagain rolled his eyes at the younger dwarf.

"What now, ya admiring the penmanship or somethin'?"

Dorean paused, then lifted his head and looked at Kagain. "Do you know anyone here aside from Fuiruim who sells enchanted items?"

Kagain blinked and then frowned. "I might. What's it to ya?"

"I've seen the bandits, and I want my people to have better gear."

Kagain hesitated. After a moment, he nodded. "Marcus Feldepost. He can get ya what ya need."

"Thank you." With that, Dorean hopped off the crate and started to walk away, then stopped. "Almost forgot."

He turned and tossed the Star Sapphire over the table. Kagain caught it in both hands, looked at it, then frowned at him.

"Paying you in advance," Dorean said simply.

Imoen stared. So did the others, most of them lingering at the doorway.

After a moment, Kagain snorted and tossed the gem back. Without looking at it, Dorean caught it in one hand, blinking at the mercenary.

"I get paid when the job's done, nugget. Now get outta here."

Dorean hesitated, then nodded and walked away. Kagain's eyes followed him out of the room, and he remained standing at the table long after they were gone.

..

The first impression Imoen had upon entering Feldepost's shop was that it bore an uncanny resemblance to Winthrop's; it was even located down a corridor from the inn's bar. She hesitated in the doorway at the thought of her father. Dorean looked at her, then gently took her by the elbow and led her in.

"Come in, come in, don't be shy," said Feldepost, giving what he clearly hoped was a welcoming and friendly smile. Khalid, Jaheira and Montaron followed behind Dorean and Imoen. "And, ah," he added, turning to Khalid. "Please allow me to apologize for last night."

Khalid blinked at the coins in the man's hands. It took Imoen two seconds to count all the money and realize that it was the same amount as what Khalid used to secure them a room the previous night. She glanced at Khalid who was still blinking rapidly at the money, then stepped between him and Feldepost.

"No need to apologize, Mister Feldepost," she said merrily. "We're all friends here."

Rather than reassure him, her words only seemed to make him more uncertain. "Ah, you're too kind, Miss Imoen, too kind."

Dorean raised his eyebrow, then turned away to look at the items on display.

"Oh! Where are my manners?" said Feldepost, hurrying behind the counter. Dorean briefly considered and then decided to test his theory.

"There are a lot of customers out there, Mister Feldepost. Surely you could have someone else mind the shop instead."

"Oh, no, no, it's my pleasure to serve you all," Feldepost replied, waving his hands in front of him. "Personal touch and all that. Unless, you would like me to have someone else...?"

Dorean smiled at him. "No, it's quite alright. Thank you."

"You're welcome," the innkeeper said immediately. "Please, take your time. Anything in particular you'd like?"

"Information relating to the town," replied Dorean. "The kind that is worth paying for."

Feldepost blinked, then smiled and nodded. He bent down and rummaged behind the counter for several seconds before coming up with a small wooden chest. Flipping the lid open, he then placed several rolled-up scrolls on the counter. Her curiosity piqued, Imoen stopped admiring an amulet in a glass case and went over to the counter. Khalid and Jaheira followed her while Montaron stayed in the back finishing his avocado.

"Nothing in here that ain't worth selling, I guarantee," Feldepost declared, placing his hands on his hips. "Now, ordinarily I'd charge six gold per each, but for a friend of a friend, I'll give you a two-gold discount. "

Despite not visibly reacting to this, Imoen could tell that Dorean did not believe Feldepost in the slightest. Nevertheless, he reached into his coin pouch, placed four coins on the counter, then selected one of the scrolls at random and immediately opened it.

"Thank you for your business," said Feldepost, quickly scooping up the money. Dorean nodded distractedly, his attention focused on the scroll. The innkeeper hesitated, then looked around at the others. "Is there anything else I could help you with?"

"You have quite the selection," said Jaheira, her eyes on a glass cabinet containing an array of weapons.

"And you have a good eye, miss," said Feldepost, still wearing his obvious salesman's smile.

"May I ask how you came by these?" said Jaheira. Feldepost hesitated.

"Well, all sorts of ways," he answered, reaching up to rub the back of his head. "I have folks working for me who'd trade 'em for coin. And there's travelling merchants, of course, most of 'em coming from up north in Baldur's Gate or Waterdeep, or from Amn in the south."

"Hm. And do these merchants also stay at your inn?"

"Of...of course, miss. Best place in Beregost, I guarantee. You won't find a better meal or more comfortable bed in all the towns." He paused, then leaned forward slightly. "And between you an' me, you can't trust the other inns. Especially the Burning Wizard. They don't even provide their own meals for their guests!"

Jaheira frowned, but at that moment, Dorean returned to the counter, rolling up the scroll and tucking it into his shirt. Seeing this, Feldepost moved back behind the counter. "I hope you were satisfied with the information, sir?"

"I am," replied Dorean. "So, how much for the rest?"

Feldepost blinked. "Err, do you mean these?" He pointed to the remaining scrolls on the counter.

"Yes," said Dorean. "And those," he added, pointing at the chest. "How much for all of it?"

Everyone looked at him.

"Urm..." said Feldepost. "Just...give me a moment."

As the innkeeper began removing and counting the scrolls, Imoen frowned at her roommate.

What are you up to? she silently asked.

Dorean avoided her eyes, keeping his gaze on Feldepost.

..

Firebead glanced towards the window as the sunset rays filtered through it, bathing the living room in a slightly reddish glow. Then, satisfied that he had everything he needed, he finished checking the contents of his rucksack and stood up, looking around his home. His eyes lingered on the wooden chest whose contents he had given to the Candlekeep roommates, and he stared at it for almost a minute before taking a deep breath and shouldering his rucksack.

He was halfway across the room and reaching towards the doorknob when the 'ping' from an abjuration alarm sounded in his mind and he instantly spun around, his melancholic expression swiftly changing to grim alertness. He remained very still, eyes searching and scanning, before a 'thud' from above drew them to the ceiling.

The scholar hesitated at the doorway, considering his options. Then he straightened himself, his gaze pointed grimly upwards as he began casting a few protection spells over himself. He then slowly crept towards and up the stairs, keeping his back to the wall. The wooden boards seemed to creak loudly with every step despite him keeping close to the wall, and almost four minutes had passed by the time he reached the bedroom door.

Drawing his dagger, Firebead slowly turned the knob, braced himself, then brought his foot up and kicked it open. After several seconds, he slowly peered around the doorway.

A man dressed in green robes was sitting on the end of his bed. His posture was slumped, arms resting on his thighs, and he was facing the opposite wall, apparently displaying no reaction to Firebead's appearance. Long, dark hair fell to his shoulders, obscuring his face.

Firebead hesitated, then stepped boldly into the room, his dagger held out and his other hand ready to launch a spell. When the intruder did not so much as move, the scholar hesitated, unsure of whether to speak to or incapacitate him.

He had finally chose the latter and had his hand raised when the stranger spoke.

"...wrong."

Firebead hesitated, his hand hovering in the air.

"Wrong," the intruder said again, louder this time. "Wrong. All of it. All wrong." His hands began to tremble, and the sound of rustling paper helped Firebead spot the open scrolls clutched in his hands.

"It is all wrong!" he suddenly shouted, standing up from the bed and hurling the scrolls to the floor. Barely stopping himself from hurling a spell, Firebead watched as the intruder stamped repeatedly on the papers, grinding his foot into them.

The man then stood still for a few seconds, breathing heavily, before looking up at Firebead.

"Who are you?" he asked, his bright green eyes staring unblinkingly at the old man's face. Firebead blinked repeatedly, his dagger and free hand wavering slightly.

"This is my house," he finally said. The stranger frowned, looked around the bedroom, then back at him. They stared at each other for a moment.

"Your notes," said the intruder. Firebead's eyes flicked to the crumpled scrolls on the floor, then back to the man's face. "Why?"

"...why what?" he found himself asking.

"Why not take them? Why leave them here?"

Firebead hesitated, his dagger and spell-hand lowering slightly from the strain of holding them up. He blinked repeatedly.

"...why do you care? And who are you?"

The stranger stared at him for a full five seconds. He then lifted his head slightly, his expression now contemptuous.

"Useless. Pointless. Worthless."

He turned away, went over to and opened the window, then hesitated with one foot on the sill.

"Sarevok Anchev."

"What?"

He leaped out. Firebead blinked, then crossed the room at a run and looked out the window into the semi-crowded street.

The man was nowhere to be seen.