Chapter 44
After exchanging a look with Ghastkill, Jaheira turned away without a word, bow or nod and ushered Dorean and Imoen outside. Xzar trailed after them, Khalid following close behind him. Ajantis lingered as Kagain glared at Ghastkill before stomping out as well. He then bowed to the mayor before taking his leave and closing the door behind him.
Shoving past the half-elves and nearly bowling Dorean over with his shoulder, Kagain returned to his mercenaries, most of whom were sitting in the dirt after their arduous journey. Imoen scowled at his back before looking around. "Where's Montaron?"
Eldoth pointed at a receding figure headed down the path the party and mercenaries had earlier trekked, back toward the river.
"He is going to see his handler again," said Xzar. Dorean glanced at him and then frowned after Montaron.
"Again?"
Xzar blinked, looked down at him, and smiled. "Yes, little dwarf. The same one from Beregost." His smile faded when Jaheira stepped in between them. She looked at him for a few seconds before gesturing to Dorean and Imoen.
Leaving the Dented Shields behind, the party followed Jaheira along the path leading toward the river back into town. Imoen looked out at the fields where peasants were working in pairs, with one tending to the crops and while the other held up a torch. She winced as one of them dropped his torch, inciting a string of curses from his partner as the latter hastily kicked dirt onto the flames. "Do they usually work this late?"
"They have little choice, with the lack of iron tools and approaching winter," Eldoth replied, his voice soft and expression pensive as he watched the farmer angrily send his partner to get a replacement torch. "And from the full wagons in that army encampment, it seems most of their harvest is being claimed by the soldiers." He paused, looked down at Dorean and Imoen and gave a small smile. "I was a farmer once." He then smiled at the collective gaze of the entire party save Skie and Safana, both of whom were quietly conversing.
As they approached the bridge spanning across the river for the second time that night, Imoen felt Dorean tense up again. Without speaking or looking, she quietly took his hand in her own.
A scruffy, young peasant with messy, straw-coloured blonde hair stood up from where he was seated next to the bridge. "Hi!" he greeted with a wave at Jaheira. "I'm Noober. Nice place, huh?"
Jaheira frowned before inclining her head in a polite nod. "Yes, very. We – "
"So, killed any monsters yet?"
Jaheira's frown deepened. "'Yet?' What do –"
"Ever been to Baldur's Gate? I've been to Baldur's Gate."
"Why are – "
"Ugh," Noober complained, lifting his foot. "I think I stepped in something. Hey, everyone in town used to throw rocks at me and tell me I was annoying."
Jaheira stared at him, face blank and eyes half-lidded, before silently striding past him onto the bridge. Noober followed her alongside the party and continued to chatter.
"What time is it? What's that big weapon for? You know, those colours look pretty stoopid on you…"
They were now halfway across the river, and Dorean was gripping Imoen's hand so hard that it hurt. He closed his eyes as his body started to convulse again, and Imoen drew closer to hide the sight from the others.
"Hey, why's he shaking?" Noober asked, pointing at the dwarf.
A pebble hurtled through the air and collided with the side of the peasant's head. Yelping in surprise and pain, Noober turned and stumbled back across the bridge. Everyone stopped, watching him flee into the fields and be pelted with handfuls of dirt from angry farmers as he trampled their crops. They then all turned to look at Garrick.
"It's the only way to get him to leave," he said with a shrug. "He would have followed us around for the whole night otherwise." He looked at Dorean. "Is he alright?"
"He's fine," Imoen said quickly. "He's just tired. And very hungry. We should get going, right, Jaheira?"
Seeing the pleading in her eyes, Jaheira hesitated before nodding and turning away. The party followed her, Ajantis and Khalid looking worriedly at their dwarven friend.
As they finished crossing the bridge, Xzar's half-lidded eyes lingered on Dorean's hand slowly relaxing its grip on Imoen's, and the pink-clad girl quietly touching her shoulder to his head.
He then blinked, realizing he had fallen behind, and jogged to catch up.
..
A nondescript one-storey building like almost every other in Nashkel, the riverside tavern was nowhere as impressive as the Friendly Arm or Feldepost's.
With more than a few eyes in the party still directed at Dorean, Imoen hurriedly looked up at the signboard next to the entrance. "The Belching Dragon, that's a funny name. Hey, Garrick, how's the food here? Is it any good?"
"The Dragon is more popular for its drinks," Garrick replied, blinking at Imoen moving a trembling Dorean in front of her and away from the nearby river. "That's not to say the food is bad," he added, following them as they led the party toward the door. "They have a large menu. The ale is also very refreshing and the people are quite friend-"
As soon as they entered, every single head in the tavern turned toward them and all conversation within ceased.
"…ah," said Garrick, looking around at the lack of friendly faces as the rest of the party filed in after them.
Across the tavern hall, a middle-aged yet spry looking man looked up from behind the bar. His expression of mixed irritation and tiredness suddenly changed to alarm. "Hey, hey!" he shouted, pointing at Xzar. "No wizards!"
Xzar blinked as the man rounded the bar and glided around tables and stools toward the party while five burly men stationed at the sides of the tavern hall moved to surround them. The five wore simple yet well-crafted leather gambesons, and patrons ducked down or moved away as they readied their bows.
"I can't have wizards in here!" the bartender exclaimed, his voice turning panicked and his eyes darting to the windows.
Imoen's eyes narrowed and her mouth tightened into a thin line. She took a step forward and Dorean grabbed her arm. "We can try the other inns."
She frowned down at him and opened her mouth when Xzar proclaimed, "Very well, I will leave."
"But…" said Imoen, turning around to face him. Xzar flinched back from her, then abruptly composed himself and sharply turned to Khalid and Jaheira.
"Make sure they do not stay up. Dinner and then straight to bed." He reached off to the side without looking and ruffled Ajantis' hair, then turned back to Imoen and Dorean. He blinked once, slowly, before saying, "I will see you tomorrow," and turning toward the door.
"We'll buy something for you," said Dorean. Xzar froze with one foot up, then waved his hand.
"No need, I'll eat by myself later."
When the tavern's front door had closed behind him, Imoen's pout became a scowl as she turned back to the bartender.
"…I am very, very sorry," he said. "But I cannot have wizards in here."
"Give us all a round of your famed ale and we'll forget about it," said Safana. The barkeep opened his mouth to speak, looked round at the party, then slumped his shoulders and nodded his head. He turned and gestured to a nearby trio of barmaids before unhappily making his way back to the bar. The bouncers put away their bows and returned to their posts.
While one of the barmaids ushered the party, the other two moved two of the tavern's round tables together along with their stools. Dorean, Imoen, Khalid, Jaheira and Ajantis took up one table while Garrick, Eldoth, Safana and Skie took the other. Pulling her stool close to Garrick's, Safana then sat down next to him, giving the young bard a smile before looking to the barmaids. Once the party were seated, the ushering-barmaid listed off the menu, of which every single dish was a variation of fish, and began taking their orders. She blinked at Dorean opting for a fruit juice instead of an ale.
"Do you have anything that isn't fish?" Skie asked.
The barmaid's answer was a tired sigh.
"S-sorry," Skie stammered. "I didn't mean to…"
"No…" the barmaid, who appeared to be no older than Skie, replied with a second sigh. "I'm the one should be sorry, miss, seeing as you're our guest here. I'm afraid fish is all we have at the moment. We usually have other things like beef or mutton, but –" she paused at the sound of marching feet and clinking armour from outside. A hush fell on the tavern as the patrolling soldiers moved past. "…times've been hard lately," she finished.
After another moment's silence, the party unanimously settled for fish, and the barmaid gave them a bow and smile before leaving. Mugs of frothing ale were soon served. Eldoth drank and then made a face as he lowered his. "Watered down."
Garrick too lowered his mug. "It was better the last time I was here."
Everyone else drank nevertheless, parched from their journey. Only Imoen did not drink; her fingers clutched her mug as she looked at the tavern's front door before frowning again at the bartender. "What's he got against wizards?"
"Nothing, at least to my knowledge," a voice said. The party all turned to see a stout man dressed in fine clothes of well-laundered white and black approaching their tables. "The Cowled Wizards arrested a mage in this very establishment the day before yesterday. Our barkeep there tried to stop them and was warned that serving unlicensed wizards is a criminal offense. He has been a nervous one since." He smiled warmly at Imoen. "He is a kindly soul at heart, so please go easy on him." He paused. "Ah, but of course; I am Marco Velez, merchant and scholar by trade."
"By trade?" said Garrick.
"Indeed. For the mere price of an ale and an ear, I could offer you my knowledge of the local trouble that continues to vex the people of this town."
Jaheira frowned and Eldoth opened his mouth to speak.
"You're on, Marco," said Imoen, tossing a gold coin across the table. The corpulent scholar caught it with both hands. "Start with what the cowled cows are doin' here."
Marco beamed, waved to the nearest barmaid and pulled up a stool. He plomped himself down in one of the two narrow sections between both tables, Jaheira and Garrick on either side of him. "Apparently, they are here for the same reason as the army – guarding the Amnian border in the event of war with Baldur's Gate. I have seen a few of them here in town, though they usually keep to the army camp."
"Of course," said Eldoth with a mirthless smirk. "It is where all the good food is being kept."
"What about that mage they arrested?" Imoen asked, ignoring the bard.
"You must be new to Amn, young lady. Any foreigner here who studies the Art is required to have a license with them during their stay, and she refused to purchase one." Marco sighed. "I suppose she did not expect to encounter Cowled Wizards in Nashkel. I hope for your friend's sake that he would be more co-operative. Unlicensed wizards are ill-tolerated at best, hunted down at worst." He looked up and brightened at the sight of serving tray-bearing barmaids approaching their table.
As their meals were served and the party and Marco began to eat, Imoen once again looked worriedly at the door. Dorean hesitated, staring at the roasted fish on his plate, before breathing deeply and tucking in. Eldoth gave his food a look like it had mildly disappointed him before doing the same.
"Have the Wizards shown any interest in the iron shortage?" said Jaheira as soon as Marco had finished taking a long draught of ale.
"None that I was able to witness. They had not been heard to ask about the plague affecting the ore, nor the trouble in the mines."
"We have heard of the deaths and disappearances there," said Ajantis. "Do you know of the cause?"
"No one does, unfortunately," Marco replied. He paused in thought. "Though the mines have always been notoriously hazardous. I spoke to the foreman, Emerson – dedicated to his job, that one, though a touch insensitive and too strict. Anyway, he told me that ever since the Council of Six ordered increases in production six years ago – probably due to the toll that Amn's expansionism is taking on its economy - the diggers had unearthed many natural hazards and even the occasional monster lair. But nothing like what is happening there now. The miners and guards told me that the lower levels are now a death-trap, even with a heavy escort. A few of them believe that they are being invaded from below by drow."
A hush fell on the tables with the exception of Eldoth who continued to slowly chew his food.
"Did they tell you how far the lowest levels go?" asked Dorean, breaking the silence.
"Sadly, no. Emerson had me escorted out when I tried to inquire further. As far as I know, the only person who has the skill and local knowledge to risk the lower levels and learn more about this crisis is now a fugitive. I am speaking, of course, of Commander Brage of Nashkel's military garris –"
The front door swung open and Kagain marched in with five of his men.
The already morose and dreary atmosphere in the tavern darkened even further as the mercenaries moved toward the bar. Half the patrons and staff including the bouncers avoided the Shields' eyes while the other half glowered with obvious disdain. One peasant's face burned with open hatred. He stood and headed for the door as soon as the mercenaries moved past him, leaving his half-finished meal behind.
The table closest to the bar was occupied by four commoners, all of whom hastily vacated it as five of the six mercenaries including Kagain went to and sat at it. The slowest of the commoners received a hard shove from one of the Shields, falling to his knees and spilling his drink. The nearest bouncers stepped forward and stopped as two of the five seated mercs looked at him. He then slowly leaned back and took his hand off his bow, his fists clenched and jaw twitching.
The remaining mercenary walked up to the bar, slammed a slip of parchment onto it and said, "Make it fast, old man."
Lowering his head and not meeting the mercenaries' eyes, the bartender nodded and made a sweeping gesture to his staff, all of whom immediately abandoned their current orders to move to the door leading to the back of the tavern.
The barmaid closest to the bar went up to it, bringing her next to the lone mercenary, and picked up the parchment. As she turned away, the man leered, reached out and groped her behind.
Ajantis half-rose from his seat and Khalid quickly placed a hand on his arm.
The lecherous mercenary watched the barmaid stiffly walk through the door to the kitchen before joining his fellows at the table. He grinned at them, then blinked when Kagain gestured to him. He leaned forward, still blinking, and Kagain slapped him hard across the mouth.
The man's head violently snapped to the side, the slap's resounding echo followed by the clack of a tooth landing somewhere on the tavern's wooden floor. He clutched his mouth, eyes wide with shock as Kagain stared stone-faced at him while the other four Dented Shields looked down or away from both of them.
A moment passed. Then, eyes downcast and lips curled in restrained fury, the mercenary silently sank back into his stool, drew a cloth from his belt and pressed it to the blood trickling from his mouth.
Slowly, the Belching Dragon's patrons returned to their meals and drinks, conversation resuming in hushed whispers.
Kagain, who was seated in such a way that he could see the party off to his left, did not so much as glance at them. Ajantis continued to stand for a moment longer, staring at the side of the dwarf's head, before slowly sitting back down.
"That, friends, is Captain Kagain," said Marco, with a strange smile that did not meet his eyes. "Leader of the Beregost charter of the Dented Shield mercenary company." He paused before leaning into the joined tables and lowering his voice. "Yesterday I heard a rumour that the Shields had been driven out of Beregost by the Flaming Fist. Some sort of altercation at the Friendly Arm Inn. A whole contingent of Fist came down from Baldur's Gate and shut down their headquarters!"
"Anyone know why?" asked Eldoth without looking at Dorean.
"Could be any number of reasons, to be honest" Marco replied. "The Shields have an…unpleasant reputation, to put it lightly. And their main contracts are caravan escorts, of which they have suffered many recent set-backs and losses." He looked over at Kagain, who was still staring at the mercenary he had slapped, his expression like granite behind his thick white beard.
The rest of the party joined Marco in watching as six barmaids emerged from the kitchens and placed large bundles wrapped in thick brown paper on the mercenaries' table before heading straight back to the kitchens, presumably to serve the remainder of the order. The patrons shot dirty looks at the mercenaries and muttered behind their hands and drinks, though none dared voice their complaints aloud.
Three of Kagain's five men, including the one who was slapped, each picked up all the bundles, balancing them in one arm while keeping the other free. They headed for the front door, the slapped mercenary leading them. Blood continued to trickle through his tight-lipped grimace as he stormed out with his comrades into the night.
Marco straightened and snapped his fingers. "I just remembered; Brage was known to have hired the Shields on occasion to protect the miners. That may be why they are here now." He paused and rubbed his bearded chin. "Though I have my doubts."
"Why?" asked Dorean, sliding his plate of barely-eaten fish to Imoen and picking up his mug of fruit juice.
"Kagain and Mayor Ghastkill despise each other. It's not even a rumour, neither of them make any secret of it. They even duelled outside this very tavern a few years ago. There are still many arguments as to who won, but as for the reason, I heard it was because Kagain and his men were accused of pilfering ore and gems from the mines. Kagain denied it and took offense. Had Brage not spoken up for him, the mayor would have had his company thrown out of Nashkel."
"Brage spoke up for Kagain?" Ajantis said incredulously.
"Oh, yes. Ask anyone here and they'll tell you. Brage is the only person in Nashkel whom Kagain has any respect for." Marco's face then fell, and he placed his hands on the table and interlocked his fingers. "Or had. I doubt it would remain that way once he hears the latest tale concerning the commander."
Jaheira hesitated, then grimly slid a gold coin across the table in front of the scholar's hands. "Tell us."
Marco stared down at the coin for a moment. He then took another draught of ale. "It has been nine days since the commander was last seen," he said slowly. "He disappeared after killing eleven people, including his own family. No one knows why. I spoke to his fellow soldiers. Some say he went mad from the burden of responsibilities heaped upon him by the mayor and his family; others that he had never quite gotten over his past war-time experiences. Regardless, he has since been replaced; a Captain Bardolan from Athkatla has claimed his position as the leader of Nashkel's garrison. I hear he is a stern and gruff man, if fair; he was so to me when I arrived here. He has offered a reward for his capture." He paused. "Two hundred and fifty gold coins. And Brage is to be killed on sight."
Marco picked up and finished his ale. Jaheira opened her mouth to speak when the front door opened and a man wearing the armor of an Amnian soldier strode in.
His black hair was streaked with white, and his face worn from age. His left eye was bright brown, while the right was a vacant, milky white, with a scar running across it from forehead to cheek.
He moved across the tavern, making a beeline for the Dented Shields' table. The two mercenaries with Kagain rose to bar his way, standing in between him and their leader who neither looked up nor reacted at all to the soldier's approach.
The man stopped several paces from the table before the two mercs. "Kagain," he said, his voice sharp and oddly high-pitched.
"Juan," Kagain replied, still staring straight ahead with nary a glance at him.
"Call off your men; we don't need you to help us protect the mayor."
Kagain's beard twitched. "We aren't helping ya ta protect him. We're protectin' him from ya."
The old soldier named Juan slowly lifted his head, and the two mercenaries in front of him tensed with their hands easing towards their weapons. The bouncers exchanged nervous looks with one another.
"…I see," said Juan. "Fine. If the mayor doesn't object, then he's your problem. Anything happens to him, you'll be answering for it."
"Don't remember needin' yer permission."
"But this thing with the mine, Kagain? You do need our permission. And you aren't getting it." He paused, then continued when Kagain gave no reply. "It's our problem. Not yours, or yours either," Juan added loudly, turning his head to look at the two tables where the party was seated. "We're not stupid. We know why you lot are here."
"Do you?" said Jaheira, her cyan eyes narrowing in a piercing glare.
"Aye," Juan replied, his own eye flashing as he turned to fully face the party, putting his back to the mercenaries. "Mayor wants his own bodyguards? Fine by us. But the mine and its iron are an Amnian matter. It is none of your business."
"It is to the Radiant Heart," Ajantis declared, rising and moving away from the table to face the soldier.
"Does the Radiant Heart associate with criminals?" a voice said.
Ajantis, Marco and the party all turned to find a hooded figure standing before them, dressed in finely-tailored robes of bluish dark green. The patrons and barmaids froze and the bartender's face turned pale. Kagain's eyes narrowed to slits as the robed figure adjusted a gold-coloured sash on its shoulder before folding its arms across its chest.
Ajantis hesitated, then grit his teeth and faced the stranger, pointing a finger at Dorean. "This dwarf is an innocent man, wizard, and I will not have -"
"I do not care for your little groundling, squire." The man's hooded head turned toward the party. "The man who was with you earlier. You all should know by now that the practice of magic is forbidden in Amn without a license…as is harbouring such deviants. This is your only warning. Ignore it at your own peril."
Imoen began to rise, stopping when Dorean placed a hand on her knee. "Master wizard," said the dwarf. "How then may we obtain such a license?"
The Cowled Wizard paused, eyeing the dwarf. "To prove oneself worthy of a license, a…sacrifice is needed." A smirk formed beneath his hood. "A monetary one."
"This is extortion," Ajantis growled.
"How much?" Dorean asked quickly with a warning look at the paladin.
"Five thousand gold."
Garrick winced, leaned back in his chair and exchanged a look with Marcus. Khalid and Jaheira both glared daggers at the Cowled Wizard. Ajantis' head lowered, a corner of his upper lip curling in a sneer as his mailed hands clenched into fists. Eldoth slowly stood up and moved behind the paladin, clearly preparing to grab him if he took another step toward the wizard. Safana had gone still, her expression oddly neutral as she gazed at the wizard's obscured face.
"That's preposterous!" Skie exclaimed, shooting up from her stool with both hands on the table. "Five thousand! That's a ridiculous sum for a mere license!"
"The licenses and the coin used to purchase them protect and serve the people of Amn, silly girl," the wizard drawled. "Five thousand gold," he added, raising his voice. "Not one copper less. If you cannot pay the fee, you have until morning, you and your absent friend, to leave Nashkel. If you fail to comply –"
"We'll pay."
The wizard's head snapped towards Dorean, as did everyone else in the party. The dwarf hopped down from his stool, then grabbed his pack and walked around the table to stand before the wizard. With both hands, he removed from his pack and held out a leather bag the size of his fist. "This should come up to five thousand."
"Dorean…" said Imoen.
"Jaheira," the dwarf said tersely without turning around. "If she or anyone else says another word, please shut them up."
Imoen fell silent. Narrowing his eyes at the thin little dwarf before him, the Cowled Wizard slowly took the bag, untied its cord and removed a small, glimmering, uncut emerald. He shot another look at Dorean before dropping the gem back into the bag and stowing the latter beneath his robes. He then removed a scroll from his sleeve and held it out to Dorean, who reached out only for the wizard to drop it on the floor.
"Enjoy your stay in Amn," he said, with a bow as mocking as his words. A shimmering portal appeared behind him. The Cowled Wizard shot the party a smirk before stepping back through it. Ajantis moved toward him, fists rising slightly from his sides as the portal shrunk to nothing.
Dorean was still for a moment. He then picked up the scroll and turned back to the party. "I would like to rest now," he said quietly, before bowing to Marco. "Thank you for your time, Mister Velez."
Nobody moved for a moment. Then Jaheira stood and shouldered her pack. Khalid did the same, then quietly helped Imoen with hers. The rest of the party hesitated and then followed. They made their way toward the front door, Jaheira once again leading the way and Khalid and Imoen on either side of Dorean.
Jaheira stopped halfway, causing the party to halt as she glared over at Juan. "The iron shortage is everyone's business, soldier," she said loudly, her voice echoing throughout the tavern hall. "Amn is not the only nation that is suffering from it." She turned and led the party out of the Belching Dragon.
A lingering silence followed in the wake of their departure. One of the patrons then waved to a barmaid for another drink, and conversation resumed, still hushed in the presence of Juan and the mercenaries.
Juan slowly turned back to Kagain who finally looked at him, piercing blue eyes meeting brown. "Stay away from the mine, Kagain," said the old soldier, his voice and expression calm. "And stay away from Brage." He fixed Kagain with another glare, then turned on his heel and marched out of the tavern. The other two Dented Shield mercenaries slowly returned to their seats.
"One-eyed scum," one of them muttered.
"Yeah," replied the other. "Blustering, strutting old man, who does he think he is, talking to us like that? You want us to teach him a lesson, boss?"
Kagain abruptly slammed his mug onto the table, spilling ale and making everyone including his men jump. The bartender hurried to their table, keeping his head down and avoiding eye contact as he refilled Kagain's mug. Kagain abruptly lifted it to his beard and drank, causing him to spill in mid-refill. The old man lowered his head even further as he began to wipe the spilled ale on the table with a cloth.
"Get me some real ale 'fore I break this sodding thing over ya head," the dwarf growled.
As the beleaguered man scurried back to the bar, Kagain glared off at nothing, his blue eyes glinting in the light from the tavern's fireplace.
"No one's runnin' me outta anywhere," he snarled quietly.
..
Despite being identical in appearance to most of the town's other buildings, the Northern Light Inn was easy to find due to being lit like a beacon. Ajantis led the way inside and introduced the party to the innkeeper; a short, balding man named Reis Kensiddar.
"Nasty lot, them Cowled Wizards," Reis said, tugging at the colour of his old and patched light-brown wizard's robes. "Been licensed for nearly ten years now an' they still come by to question me! That business wi' that pretty mage-lady? Ye ask me, Cowled Ones are all bloody crooked. Probably took her to Spellhold on some trumped-up charge by now," He snorted contemptuously, then pointed at Dorean. "You're a good sort, dwarf, don't let anyone tell you different. Any friend'a Ajantis is a friend'a mine. Now, would ya be wantin' a drink, or should I get some rooms ready for ya?"
Khalid immediately rented rooms for himself and Jaheira as well as Dorean and Imoen. When the dwarf tried to protest, he smiled and gently ushered him and Imoen down a nearby hallway leading further into the inn.
"You should rest too, Ajantis," said Jaheira, her normally-stern voice now weary. "We will meet here in the morning." She nodded to him, then followed her husband and the yellow-and-pink-clad siblings without so much as a word or glance to Safana, Skie or Eldoth.
"Five thousand," Ajantis said softly, looking at Dorean. "He gave it all away without hesitating."
"Makes you wonder where he got those gems," Skie said, her eyes narrowed at Dorean as the latter turned a corner with Khalid and Imoen out of sight. She then winced as Eldoth discretely took her hand and gave it a quick, painful squeeze.
"It is late now, my dear. We can ask him about it in the morning," he said, depositing silver coins onto the counter. "As well as thank him for his 'monetary sacrifice', as that wizard put it." Receiving his room key from Reis, Eldoth picked up and waved it at the others, giving them all a smile. "We will see you all tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Safana," Skie said over her shoulder, waving to her friend with her free hand. Safana smiled and waved back, watching the two lovers move down the hallway until they turned a corner and out of sight.
"I'm going to see what they have at the bar," said Garrick. "I was hoping for a good drink at the Dragon." He walked away, leaving Ajantis with Safana.
"So," she said, facing the young squire. "Shall we go to your room?"
Ajantis looked at her, at Garrick, then did a double-take. "W-wh-wh-what, M-my lady –"
"Please, call me Safana."
Ajantis hesitated before squaring his shoulders. "That would not be appropriate, and, and, why do you want to room with me anyway?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Safana replied with a smile. Ajantis blinked, then frowned at her. She paused before lowering her head, and when she lifted it her smile was gone. "Skie and Eldoth need their privacy, and…I would rather not be alone tonight. Not after what happened at the Dragon."
"Why not ask Garrick instead?" Ajantis asked. "You seem to get along with him well enough."
Safana glanced at the bard cheerfully accepting Rei' recommendation of a Tanagyr's Stout Ale. "I do like Garrick, but if I have to be blunt, I think he has enough trouble protecting himself." She looked back at Ajantis. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable…"
The young paladin stared quietly at her. He then looked at the hallway leading to the bedrooms, then back to her again.
A long moment passed. Ajantis then sighed and approached Reis who was handing Garrick a tankard of frothing ale. "Mister Kensiddar…"
"Please, Sir Ilvarstarr, call me Reis," the innkeeper smiled. "Mister Kensiddar makes me feel old."
Ajantis hesitated before replying. "I would like to rent a room with two beds, if you have one."
Safana moved up next to Ajantis' shoulder. She stood very close, leaning slightly into the squire's armoured upper arm. Reis looked at her, then at Ajantis, then at her again, and his eyes went wide. A few bar-stools away, Garrick went very still, also staring wide-eyed at his two companions.
A wide grin broke out on the innkeeper's face, and he produced a silver-coloured key from beneath the counter. "Oh, no, I am afraid I do not have a room like that available. I do, however, have one with a bed big enough for two." He placed it on the bar. "Will it suffice?"
Ajantis' eyebrows smashed together and he opened his mouth when Safana leaned forward, her hair tickling his cheek, and took the key. "I have no problem with that, Reis," she said calmly. Ajantis turned to her, his mouth opening and closing. She gave him a smile, pleasant and friendly instead of flirtatious, and turned toward the hallway.
Ajantis stared after her. He then looked back to find both Reis and Garrick staring at him, the former grinning with his arms folded while the other remained wide-eyed and frozen.
A moment passed. Ajantis' eyes then fell to half-lids. Keeping them on Reis, he removed his pack from his shoulders, then removed his bedroll from the top of the pack.
"Thank you for the room. I will sleep on its floor." He hoisted the bedroll onto his shoulder, holding his pack in his free hand. "Goodnight," he added stiffly, then turned and marched down the hallway.
Reis shook his head. "Paladins. Never one to enjoy life when there's no harm in it."
Garrick watched as Ajantis reached Safana who was waiting for him at the corner of the hallway. He frowned as the duo walked together and turned the corner out of sight, then slowly turned back to face the bar and slowly sipped his drink.
..
"It is not much, especially compared to Feldepost's" said Eldoth, looking around the room. "But it is one of the best rooms here." He looked at Skie sitting quietly on the two-person bed, and remembered the poor meal in the Belching Dragon. "Would you like me to order something? We could have some Blood Wine…" He trailed off and frowned at her lack of response. "Skie? What is it?"
Still she did not answer. Eldoth slowly moved to and sat down next to her, putting a broad arm around her shoulders. "Talk to me, my love."
A moment passed before she finally spoke. "I…I'm still trying to…to get my head around…well, everything."
"Everything?"
"This. Us, sitting here." She paused. "Everything that's happened since we…since I left home." She became quiet again. Eldoth looked down at her, then slowly leaned into and kissed her hair. "What do you want to do?" he whispered into her ear.
She closed her eyes, leaned into him, and opened them again. When she spoke, her voice was of the same serious tone it had back in their room in Feldepost's. "I want to stay with them; to help them with the troubles this place. And…" Her voice faltered briefly. "And I want…no, I need to know if he had anything to do with Gunnhallur." She paused, then looked up at Eldoth. "But I don't want to put you or Safana in any more danger."
Eldoth looked down at her for a moment, then smiled, pulled her close and kissed her. Once again, he waited for her to break it, brushing her hair from her ear, then gently pushed her down onto the bed.
..
Standing in the doorway, Jaheira frowned at the sight of Khalid easily holding up and moving one side of a heavy dresser by himself while Dorean and Imoen both strained to move the other. She waited until they had finished placing it in front of the room's only window before stepping inside.
All three looked up at the sound of the door closing. Jaheira folded her arms across her chest, and after looking at each other, it was Dorean who stepped forward out of the three of them. "I think it would be better if you and Khalid have a room to yourselves tonight."
Jaheira's frown deepened, but she did not speak, instead looking up at Khalid and Imoen. She then looked back down and her disapproving frown faded as Dorean held up the Belt of Antipode. "Would you take this as well?" he asked softly.
"Why?" she said, her arms still folded.
"Because I don't trust myself with it anymore. Not after…" the dwarf hesitated, blinking repeatedly, and when he spoke again it was in a whisper that Imoen barely heard. "After you and Khalid nearly died." He paused, looking down at the belt. "Because I gave it to that ogre. And I've just given away a whole bag of gems, so…" He slowly looked up at her. "It'll be safer with you."
Jaheira's arms slowly unfolded, falling to her sides. After a long moment, she took the belt with both hands and looked at it, tracing its bear fur trimming with her fingers. She then looked at Dorean. Her mouth then opened slightly, but she did not speak. Several seconds passed with her clearly wanting to or trying to think of something to say to him. Then, without a word, she turned around and went to the door, opened it just wide enough to let her through and left, closing it behind her.
Dorean breathed deeply, staring quietly at the door. He then felt Khalid move up next to him, and felt his hand on his shoulder. "G-get some sleep, okay?" said the half-elf. He smiled at the dwarf and at Imoen before leaving as well.
Imoen stood by the dresser, eyes on her roommate's back. "Come on," she said quietly, walking over to one of the room's two beds. "Help me with this."
The dwarf complied, and soon the beds had been pushed together. "You wanna take a bath?" Imoen asked. He shook his head, and she helped him climb onto the human-sized bed before settling into the adjacent one.
Several minutes went by with the duo silently lying on their backs. Imoen then rolled onto her side to face Dorean. "They didn't take it when they arrested you?"
"No," Dorean replied, looking at the ceiling instead of at her. "That officer, Farrahd…he had all my belongings put in a box and kept in the dungeon's storeroom. Didn't let anyone take anything, not even a couple of coins." He paused, then softly added, "A straight arrow-type like that is often also the determined sort."
"With all the head-bashing and finger-pointing between here and the Gate, he'd have to be crazy to try to come down here after us." Imoen replied. "And that's if he even knows we're here now." She paused, then reached over and patted Dorean's chest. "We should be safe from the Fist here."
He glanced at her, then placed his own hand over hers. "But not from others." He blinked quietly as her smile faded and her expression became worried. "You worried about Xzar?"
"Yeah. I don't know if he knows those wizards are here. And we haven't given him the license yet…"
"I'm sure he'd be fine," Dorean replied, patting her hand. "It's you I'm worried about. You use magic too."
Imoen gave a cheerful snort. "Not enough to be any good at it." She gave a smile which Dorean, from his beard not moving an inch, did not return. "Maybe I should've used all that time to learn how to swing a sword instead. But then I probably would've stank at that too."
Her expression became morose, and she fell silent. Dorean turned his head to fully face her. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, it's…" she paused, looking into his grey eyes. "Hearing about this Brage guy, what he did…it's made me think about that family back in that clearing."
"Where we fought those hobgoblins?"
"Yeah…"
He gently squeezed her hand. "They won't be the last bodies we'll see."
"I know. It's just…" She sighed, blinking sadly. "What could make someone just decide to kill a whole family? Like, just decide to do it?" She paused, then shook her head. "I just can't get my head around something like that."
Dorean stared quietly at her, his hand resting on the knuckles of her own. After a moment, he let go, rolled onto his side and patted her shoulder.
"We should sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a busy one."
"Yeah…okay. Goodnight, little brother."
"Goodnight."
They both closed their eyes, lying on their sides and facing each other.
"And stop calling me that."
Imoen smiled, her eyes still closed, and gave Dorean's shoulder a light shove before sliding across the space between them, wrapping her arm around his small frame, and nestling her chin against his forehead.
..
The torchlight flickered, and Bardolan spared a moment to glare at his subordinate as the latter struggled to keep both his horse and torch steady. He then returned to scrutinizing the documents in his hands before looking down from his own horse at the tall, splint mail-clad figure standing before him.
"This doesn't say anything about your previous bounties," he said at last, passing the papers back to the man.
"I had to renew my license a year ago, and it would have cost more to keep my records on it," the stranger replied. "Bureaucrats."
Bardolan narrowed his eyes. "I have never met a bounty hunter with a vocabulary like yours."
"Then you haven't met enough. You would be surprised how many of us can speak as well as I."
Bardolan pointed to the tattered remains of the man's left ear and the scar on his left cheek. "How did you get that?"
"Throwing axe."
Bardolan's brow furrowed as a thought entered his mind that he should be connecting something important here. However, he had a long day and night of patrolling, and a meal of roast mutton and wine awaiting him at his officer's tent.
"Alright, last question and then you can go; are there any specific bounties that you are seeking?"
The bounty hunter lifted his head, and his dark blue eyes glinted in the flickering light of the solders' torches.
"Yes. There is."
..
Khalid finished pushing the room's two beds together. He then removed his armour and sword-belt, placing the latter up-right against the wall next to the bed before slowly turning around.
Jaheira was sitting cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the room, back and neck straight with her quarterstaff laid across her lap. The Belt of Antipode lay next to her, its ornate symbols twinkling in the moonlight rays emitting from the window.
Khalid slowly crossed the room, sat down next to her across from the belt, and gently placed a hand on her knee. Her eyes opened, and she stared straight ahead for a long, silent moment.
"I was no match for him," she said quietly.
"You w-were angry and upset," Khalid replied. "Had you been c-calm, it would have been different."
"Would it?" she turned to look at him.
"We are still alive, Jaheira. Both of us."
"Yes, but not because we were strong enough." She paused. "I'm not strong enough. I never was. It was always because of…"
She trailed off. They both looked down at the belt between them.
"Since Gorion left us all those years ago, with that…" her eyes flashed briefly. "With Winthrop, I have become…lax. I have neglected my training. I could feel it when we were fighting the Blacktalons."
"Your power hasn't waned, Jaheira…"
"I was able to protect myself from the Horror spell, but not you," she paused, and her voice cracked. "And I couldn't stop you from…"
She reached out and gently pulled back Khalid's collar, exposing his neck. There was no scarring on it, but her fingers caressed it nevertheless. Khalid blinked slowly as tears welled in Jaheira's eyes. He then reached up and took her hand.
"Then we do it again," he said, his voice now lacking any tenderness. "We grow strong together."
He wiped the tears from her eyes with her other hand, and touched his forehead to hers. She closed his eyes, then kissed him.
..
The pain in his leg had grown unbearable. Despite it, Kivan did not make a sound as he sank onto a tree stump and undid the straps of the leather greave covering the limb. He grimaced as he pulled up his trouser leg to reveal tiny masses of yellow liquid over where the dying gnoll's teeth had clamped.
He then sensed something approach, and his halberd was off his back and pointed forward before his mind discerned who it was.
Tiax stood before him with quarterstaff in hand, beard and feather-in-hat fluttering lightly in the breeze. Two ghasts stood behind him, towering over their gnomish master.
No one made a sound. Even as his leg throbbed, Kivan did not move an inch, keeping his halberd pointed one-handed.
Tiax then stepped forward and Kivan braced the halberd to stab him through the face. The gnome tilted his head, examining the wound, then put down his quarterstaff.
The ghasts kneeled down on their hunches, still and quiet, as Tiax ran his tiny fingers over the bite-wound while Kivan kept the halberd poised like a javelin, its spear-tip inches from the gnome's ear.
Tiax abruptly leaned forward, and Kivan froze as he felt the gnome's bearded lips touch his wound.
Tiax leaned back, not looking up. Kivan stared down at him for a long moment. His eyes then went to his leg; everything from the wound to the pus and blood was gone.
"Time grows short," said Tiax, his voice the same whisper as when he said to go south. He stood up, his beard smeared with blood and ichor, and turned away. "Follow, servant."
Kivan watched as the ghasts lifted Tiax onto their shoulders. He then gingerly stood up and realized that his leg no longer hurt. In fact, it felt stronger than it had ever been, more so even than thirty years ago.
He looked up at the ghasts carrying Tiax away, then slung his halberd onto his shoulder, adjusted the sack containing the chicken on his back, and followed them.
..
"Mind if I sit here?"
Garrick looked up from his second mug of ale. Without waiting for an answer, the woman took the barstool next to his.
"What it'll be, Neira?" asked Reis. "'nother Shadowdark?"
"I'll have what he's having."
The innkeeper's eyebrows rose. Then, with a knowing smirk, he nodded and turned away. The woman turned back to Garrick, brushing her greying, shoulder-length hair from her face. "You have been looking at me for the last fifteen minutes."
"Urm...have I?" said Garrick. She tilted her head and smirked, and he gave a sheepish smile. "Ah, perhaps I have. Sorry."
"Don't be," the woman named Neira said, nodding her thanks as the innkeeper placed a tankard of Tanagyr's Stout before her. "It has been a while since I've held someone's attention for that long."
"That cannot be true," Garrick said innocently, tilting his head as his eyes moved over her. "I mean, you are getting on in years…"
"Thank you."
"But you are still quite attractive," he finished. She looked at him with half-lidded eyes. "I didn't mean to…"
She chuckled and looked away. "I saw you and your party walk in. I didn't expect you to be the one to not get paired."
Garrick frowned and was quiet for a few seconds. "Who did you expect?"
"The dwarf. I've travelled with dwarves before, and their snoring could wake the dead. You'd be better off rooming with an ogre."
Garrick chuckled. "My dwarf's different."
"Really? How so? Aside from the lack of axe, hammer or round belly, I mean."
"Well, he's polite, considerate, and generous with money." Neira's eyebrows rose, and Garrick giggled again at the sight before taking a sip of wine.
"Damn. I envy you now. None of the dwarves I've worked with were anything like yours."
Garrick looked at her and rubbed his chin. "We are all meeting here in the morning. You could speak with him then if you want."
"Oh, I don't think I should. Not with that stern-faced elf hovering over him."
"You mean Jaheira? She's not so bad. Just serious about, well, everything." Garrick sipped his wine again and then shook his head, his cheeks now flushing a slight pink. "Wow, this is strong. Your drink's getting cold, by the way."
"In a minute," Neira replied. "You've told me about your friends, but what of yourself? What brings you to Nashkel?"
Garrick blinked repeatedly and then gave an apologetic smile. "I would like to, I really do, but…it is a fairly long story, and it's getting late."
"It's not that late," she replied. "Nights can last quite a while this time of year. And…it has been a long time since I've had a real conversation with anyone," When she smiled again, it was with a hint of sadness. "How about I buy you another drink?"
..
The house stood no more than a few blocks from the garrison building. It a humble abode, with the most noticeable difference from the other Nashkel residences being the boarded-up doors and windows. A patrol moved passed, some of the soldiers pointing at the house and muttering to each other while others silently gazed upon it with varying expressions of sorrow, fear or anger.
Standing just inside the front doorway, Xzar watched the rays of orange light from their torches travel through the spaces between the boarded-up windows. He then turned away once the last of it had faded, leaving the house in darkness.
Like its exterior, the house's living room was simple yet well-maintained; the north-west area contained shelves, a sink and counter, making up the kitchen. A large dining table took up the centre of the living room, its seven chairs arranged to face the fireplace on the west wall. Two doors were located on the east side, leading to the parents' and childrens' rooms.
Xzar slowly took it all in before closing his eyes. "Neither my Harpers, nor my Zhents showed," he said calmly, not bothering to keep his voice down. "I waited until midnight, but they never arrived." He opened his eyes, staring straight ahead.
"I come home. Aletha is in the living room. She had waited for me all day, but only now do I come back. She approaches me, asking what had happened." Xzar stood still for a moment, then slowly looked down at the large pool of dried blood at his feet.
"I draw and thrust. The blade pierces her stomach and exits out her back." He lifted his gaze to eye-level, then slowly lowered it back down. "I watch as she falls to her knees." He stared down at the dried blood, then lifted his head to the further of the two bedroom doors.
"I remove the blade from Aletha's stomach," He slowly moved across the living room to the door, eyes following an old bloodtrail on the floor. "And I enter the room."
Xzar slowly pushed open the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him. His green eyes moved over the two beds, both of which were now devoid of sheets, pillows or mattresses.
"The children sleep. They wanted to wait for me as well, but Aletha told them no." He walked to and stood over the nearest one, tilting his head at the copious amount of dried blood spread across the mattress-board near the head of the bed, as well as a wide gouge in its wood.
"I behead Hilda with an overhead strike." He lifted his head and looked at the arterial stains on the adjacent wall, ceiling and on the opposite wall where the other bed was located. "I use great force. Her head flies up and across, landing on Magreth and Svein. They wake."
He looked down at his feet, then bent and touched his fingers to a small, dried puddle of blood. "Aletha comes in. She stabs me in the side with her sewing needle, and tells the children to run. I push her down, and move to the kitchen."
The window above the sink had also been boarded up. Xzar stopped a few paces away from it.
"Svein had just unlocked the window. Magreth takes a knife and attacks me, to buy him time." He looked around the kitchen at the dried blood covering the sink, window-sill, window-pane, the two nearby walls and the kitchen counter. "I sever her knife-hand at the wrist, then bisect her from hip to shoulder. I go to the window, and toss Svein with one hand away from it."
Xzar slowly walked in between the dining table and fireplace to stand before yet another puddle of dried blood. He looked down at it, then at the crusted blood-spatters on the dining table, chairs and fireplace.
"The boy gets to his feet, and I bisect him from head to crotch." His head slowly turned back toward the childrens' bedroom, noting the dried, smeared bloody hand-print on the wall next to the door along with the bloodstain on the floor below it.
"Aletha staggers out. I am covered from head to toe in the blood and innards of our children. I am the last thing she sees before she collapses and dies." He paused, staring at the spot where Brage's wife had breathed her last, then tilted his head, his brow furrowing behind his messy hair.
"But this…"
He cast his gaze to the bedroom, the kitchen, and then at his own feet.
"All…this…it is not my design."
Xzar stood still, head and eyes darting from area to area.
Without warning, three spells slammed into him, two from his right and one from his left. His head snapped back and he let out a strangled cry as he fell forward onto his hands and knees.
Three hooded figures in blue-green robes materialized from thin air. One of them wore a bright gold sash across his shoulder. He sneered as a globe of shimmering, translucent light expanded to surround Xzar's fallen form. "So much for Zhent special operatives. And I thought we were going to have some good sport for once."
"I don't know," one of the other two wizards said, looking nervously at Xzar. "What about what he did just now?"
"What about it?" the sash-wearing wizard replied with a dismissive wave. "Can't believe he didn't have a single defensive spell prepared. These Zhent wizards are bloody idiots."
"Shut up, both of you," the third wizard snapped. He strode up to and kneeled down in front of Xzar. "Look at me, Zhent." When Xzar did not respond, he raised his hand and clenched it into a fist.
Xzar collapsed onto his stomach and spasmed, head and limbs violently jerking and twitching.
"Gods, stop it," said the nervous Cowled Wizard. "I can't stand it when you do that!"
"This is the work we do to protect Amn, boy," the wizard interrogating Xzar retorted, keeping his fist clenched over his squirming victim. "If you cannot stomach it, turn in your robes and get out of Amn."
The nervous wizard turned away, pressing a hand to his mouth. His sash-wearing comrade watched the torture with a gleeful smile. The interrogator waited a few more seconds before unclenching his hand. Xzar's body stopped spasming, and he hacked and wheezed as his lungs struggled to breathe. He rolled onto his back, which brought him to the edge of the interior of the global cage and directly below his torturer.
"That was ten seconds," the Cowled Wizard growled. "Want to go for fifteen?"
Xzar's head violently shook from side to side, his breath coming in loud, pained wheezes as his chest rapidly rose and fall.
"Good. Here's what's going to happen. You have a safehouse here in Nashkel. You are going to lead us to it. Then, you are going to give us everything you have and everything you know about the Black Network. And I mean everything. You leave out one name, one date, and I will personally see to it that you will be begging for death every waking minute for the rest of your miserable life." He paused. "But if you co-operate, however, you get to stay in Spellhold."
"No…" Xzar gasped. "Not Spellhold," he weakly raised his hand. "I want to…to make a deal."
"Oh, really?" the sash-wearing wizard drawled, moving forward until he was standing on the other side of the magical globe surrounding Xzar. "How about this; be a good little prisoner, and maybe we won't come after those people you arrived here with. Like that dwarf who likes you so much?" He lifted a hem of his robe to reveal a large leather bag, hanging from his belt as though it weighed no more than a coin pouch. "Or that girl in pink who wanted to speak up for you. Oh, yes, that one," he added, grinning toothily down at Xzar's widened eyes.
"We know she practices the Art," the interrogator said sternly while glaring at the sash-wearer. "No one hides from us."
"She's a pretty one," said the sash-wearer. "And young. Just the way I like them."
"Will you shut up and watch the –"
A knife-blade suddenly burst from the interrogator's face and he fell forward onto the magic globe.
The sash-wearing wizard's eyes widened and he shouted a single syllable. A Dimension Door appeared behind him just as Xzar's hand reached through the globe, grabbed his ankle and turned. The scream died on the man's lips as Xzar shot up like a lightning bolt, right hand clamping over his mouth.
"You are a rude one," Xzar whispered. His fingers pried the man's mouth open. "And stupid."
The Cowled Wizard desperately bit down. Blood flowed from his lips, but Xzar ignored the skin being ripped and torn from his fingers. He forced his hand further in.
"Just the way I like them."
Without sparing a glance at his partner or his victim, Montaron turned around and strolled toward the front door, of which the remaining Cowled Wizard lay nearby. The man's hood had been thrown back, revealing a round, young face. His eyes widened in terror as the halfling stood over him.
"Talk to me or talk to him," Montaron said, his voice and expression apathetic. He held his knife with the blade pointed downward; the blood pooled at its tip, yet did not drip.
The wizard looked up at him, then at the source of the strangled gurgling sounds now filling the living room. He then closed his eyes, and as he started to whimper, tears flowed from his cheeks onto the dried bloodstains on the floor.