Happy New Year! Ah, wait. It's February. Happy Lunar New Year!
(And because I couldn't reply in the reviews section)
To Nimloth of Thay: You guessed right! Sanzo was a Lathanderite cleric, Goku a barbarian (got him carrying a staff just for show but switching to a sword during fights hehe), Gojyo a thief, Hazel a necromancer, Gato a ranger (almost tempted to make him use a sling just for the *bullets* haha), and Hakkai… well initially a monk for the unarmed combat but then had him be a druid instead so he could still heal, use offensive spells and entanglement – like his youkai form. ^_^ Thank you for the kind feedback on the tale and lessons, let's hope Irse remembers them in the days ahead hehe. Awwww, Lena's adorable; just had to laugh at the mental image of her taking her sweet time feeding - Priorities!
To All, many thanks for reading! May your year ahead and after that be full of extra auspicious things. Like mooncakes with three, not just one, salted yolks. Yum.
THE HIDDEN SWORD: A TALE OF BALDUR'S GATE
Book One : From the Earth | Chapter 4 : A Cobbled Path
"We're here!" the old farmer announced as their cart stopped at what seemed the widest road anywhere in the East Docks. Gulls flying in all directions screeched overhead while around them, wagon wheels rattled and innumerable leather boots clacked upon uneven cobbles. Above the drone of a multitude of voices and the bustle of harbor activity came the hoarse shouts of tradesfolk hawking their wares. The air was soaked with the stink of discarded fish entrails and fetid river water. Irse sneezed.
"Don't care much for fish guts either. Rather be sniffin' pig manure all day; at least you know the smell's from somethin' still alive!" the farmer snorted in agreement.
Okami alighted from his perch and held out a palm with some coins. "Please accept these for your troubles, Uncle," he presented to the old man.
Irse canted her head as she looked at her Teacher curiously. Of course the two men were unrelated, but she had noticed how Okami often greeted elderly folks they passed by with either "uncle" or "auntie". Another of his people's odd customs, she supposed. With a half-grin, she wondered what would happen if she, an elf, went around calling every human adult as such. The look of scandal on their faces might be something to see. Uncle Ulraunt! The young girl shivered, the thought immediately stamped down and abandoned.
"Nah, keep it for yourself an' the lass. The Gate may not be suckin' gold like that greed pot down south, but nothin's free here either. You keepin' me awake the rest of the way is payment enough," the farmer clucked, grinning and waving away the offer.
"Our thanks then," Okami said as he and Irse bowed at him.
The old man nodded at them and cracked the reins. Her eyes followed the cart as it circled wide to turn around, then pulled away and moved up the road northwards. The old farmer had mentioned staying at the Outer City, but he had been kind enough to go out of his way and take them as far as the East Docks. Maybe Kicker would be treated to an apple later.
"Where to now, Teacher?" she asked.
"To Iriaebor where a former acquaintance of mine currently resides. We are to travel by water this time. It is much faster than if we were to head south and take the Uldoon Trail. At the very least, we avoid the risk of running into…" he cut off as he looked at Irse.
The elf understood. More bandits.
They walked to the far end of the quay to a river ship, eighty feet long with two masts, docked apart from the rest. While other vessels had their names proudly painted on the bow, this one's moniker was faded, scratched out in most places and barely readable. A lone woman labored by the boat, tall and sandy-haired, her broad muscled shoulders marred with not a few scars and tattoos while her suit of boiled leather was scuffed and nicked, having seen better days. She inspected the crates lined up on the dock alongside the ship, one hand carrying a sheathed shortsword and in the other a horned helm.
Okami approached her with a respectful nod. "Good day to you, Madam. May we speak with the captain of this ship?"
The woman shot him a glare that would have sent lesser men cowering. "I'm the captain of this ship."
Her teacher seemed unperturbed. "Will you be sailing the Chionthar within the day? We wish to acquire passage to Iriaebor," he replied, gesturing to himself and Irse.
"And what if we are? Do I look like I let rats aboard my ship? Get out of my face! I don't need a pathetic male in my vessel!" the woman captain yelled, dropping the helmet as her hand reached for the hilt of the sword. A slight nod from her Teacher and they both walked away but stopped after a few steps.
"Disdainful of men," the blacksmith remarked in a low voice. "All the more reason for us to secure passage in her ship."
"Are you sure that's a good idea? From the looks of it, she'll gore you with that helmet of hers if you so much as breathe in her direction."
"I prefer to take chances with a man-hating captain than one who falsely professes chivalry."
For a moment, Irse remembered their earlier attempts with the other vessels. The captains and their crew, all men, weren't always outright rude and some even spoke with contrived flourish in an attempt to sound like high seas swashbucklers despite being riverboat folk. Yet inexplicably her Teacher would suddenly change his mind or tersely reject their terms. It was only in the fifth or so instance when she realized why. While the captain or any of the crew talked with Okami, their eyes would stray leeringly to her. Though garbed in a boy's tunic and trousers, she had felt uncomfortable and gathered her cloak about her. A quick glance and she had seen the dark look on her Teacher's face, only briefly, then masked again by his usual reserve.
"Shar-Teel! They're gone!" a voice rang out. Another woman, dressed in the same manner as the captain, cracked spectacles on her nose and auburn hair messily gathered under a bandanna, ran down the plank and smacked the captain's shoulder.
"Damn it, Nells! That's Captain Shar-Teel to you, rude bitch! How're folks supposed to respect me when my own first mate can't even address me proper!" the woman captain ranted. "Now who's gone you say?"
"Risa and Beno! They haven't returned since yesterday! One of the harbor hands saw them running out the docks arm-in-arm before jumping in a wagon. Now we're two people short of a crew!"
"I should've tied them to the mast and lashed them when I caught them screwing on the deck. Didn't I tell you – never hire a man! Didn't I? You wouldn't listen! Pigs! Would dig a dead rotting snatch out of the mud just to sard it! Feh!" Shar-Teel spat at the wooden planks.
Nells countered indignantly, "We wouldn't have to hire him if you hadn't fired Lolla for, as you said…" She paused and rolled her eyes. "… excessive manwhore-mongering."
"What would she need a dumb man for anyway? We've got two masts in the ship, one for each of her ho-," Shar-Teel began but was interrupted by another smack on the shoulder and a sharp look from the first mate. The captain glared back with murder in her eyes, but Nells held her ground, jaws set and eyes almost challenging the other woman. It seemed this wouldn't be the first argument between them about crew discipline.
"Beno's the only experienced freehand we could find then. We need to leave within the day but where are we supposed to round up two extra hands at such short notice?" the first mate continued then looked around, noticing the elf and Kozakuran watching them.
"How about those two? Weren't they looking to hire themselves?"
"Nah. They want a boat going to Iriaebor. Told them to bugger off."
Okami approached them, his head in a respectful bow. "Captain Shar-Teel, please forgive my presumptuousness. May I speak?"
The blonde woman's expression brightened a bit. "Yeah, go ahead." Then she scowled. "But make it quick."
"I am somewhat acquainted with the workings of ship crews in my journeys. If you would take us with you, not only will we labor without compensation, but we will also pay for our passage," he bargained.
Nells excitedly poked at Shar-Teel's ribs. "C'mon. Paying workers! Take them already!"
Shar-Teel elbowed her first mate. "Shut up! I'm the captain; I make the decisions here!" She balled a fist and pointed her thumb at each of them
"You two don't happen to be lovers now, hmmm?"
The elf's eyes widened, her face suddenly red at the question.
"No, we are not," Okami answered, unruffled as if he had been asked if he had three heads and a tail. "I am a blacksmith and she is my apprentice."
The captain grunted, seemingly satisfied. "Good. Don't want any hanky-panky business on my ship like what happened to my ex-crew." She eyed Irse from head to toe. "Besides, that girl's got to be too old for you."
"What do you mean by too old?" Irse demanded.
The captain sniggered wickedly, "Yeah, elf girl. Sure it looks like you just popped out of your momma's gash this morning but I'm betting you're really two hundred years old. Your kind are like that. You're not fooling Shar-Teel an' her sharp eyes!"
Bewildered, the young elf looked to her teacher. Okami merely closed his eyes, his brows raised in amusement. "Had you said so, I may have fashioned you a cane instead of a sword," he said with a slight quirk of his lips. She scratched the back of her ear and grumbled in reply.
"Yeah, they're hired. Temporarily," Shar-Teel declared, then suddenly shoved a pointing finger a mere inch from Okami's face.
"But you, milksop… extra-temporarily," she growled. Her outstretched hand curled into a fist and with that she cuffed the blacksmith quick and hard at his collarbone.
Irse's breath hitched, yet her Teacher remained composed, his eyes neither reciprocating nor submitting. The captain put on a gratified smirked before turning her back on them to pick up her helmet and stroll up the ship's plank.
Nonetheless, the first mate beamed with relief and adjusted her glasses. "Right! You heard the Captain. We set sail at the third bell – won't hurt to get in as much hours as we can before dark. Our other crewmate, Dotie, is out and about the Docks right now, getting what things we need for the journey. You best do the same for yourselves before we leave," Nells instructed them before she herself climbed up the ship.
After buying provisions from the wet market and a quick midday meal of cheap fish stew from an itinerant hawker, her Teacher had opted to stay by the boat to pitch in with the preparations while she explored a bit more of the Gate, or at least what she could in the next couple of hours. Clearly he hadn't much taste for the commotion and crowds, but the girl couldn't help herself. The farthest she had been outside the monastery walls was the edge of the village. Even Beregost down south was just an oft-mentioned name. Now was the chance to finally see Baldur's Gate and who knew if this was the last time she would pass this way?
A quick reminder from Okami to be mindful and wary, to stay away from dark corners and alleys, and she was off for a look around. With her pack slung on her shoulder, she walked away from the docks and kept to the main road to help her remember her way back. It steeped upwards then sharply leveled after a few blocks. Stone buildings with gray walls adorned by brightly painted shutters and window boxes rose like islands in a patchwork sea of people, animals, and wagons. In the smaller side streets, stone buttresses arched above the narrower lanes, appearing as if they were bridges between the upper floors of the structures though it seemed only cats and pigeons would dare the crossing.
So many people! Not even the summer high season brought this much to the great Library; her mind toyed with the question of how many of these folks Winthrop could fit in the old inn before the whole thing bursts at the seams. She grinned at the thought and pressed on. There was no destination in particular, only excitement at seeing as much as she could of this place so new and foreign to her.
New and foreign. Yet as she crossed each block, each step over a cobblestone, an odd feeling came over her. Her eyes narrowed as they scanned the walls of the buildings ahead and behind her. This place, no, not the Docks, but this – being here, it was familiar to her. Had she been here before? It wasn't unlikely though. Her foster father could have brought her here as an infant on his way to Candlekeep from – where? Even so, it would have been impossible for her to remember anything at that age.
Then came a tug, quiet and small, yet insistent. With a start, she looked at her feet, at the cobblestones. As when Imoen, younger and shorter, would yank at her sleeve to get the elf to look down at her.
Irse furrowed her brows at the source of the invisible pull. Down? Where? In the ground?
She shrugged her shoulders, the weird impression immediately banished from her mind.
Just imagining things. Must be lingering hunger. After all, the air had more "fish" than that stew with more water than the river.
Wooden boards hung by doors proclaiming the wares and services sold within – some with drawings of boots or shirts, others a tankard, some a lute or a fiddle, or scrolls and bottles. But not all shops were indoors – there were outdoor stalls as well displaying all manner of goods. Jumbled piles of silver and copper trinkets lay on blankets spread upon the ground, next to carts of pottery and jars of varying size and function. Boxes of old tomes and rolled up parchments sat side by side with crates of fruit.
She stopped by a kiosk where rolls of cloth were stacked against the wall, and observed as a woman haggled with a merchant over a bolt of fabric. A brief memory of Ilphas and Tannyl flashed in her mind. In the woods along the Coast Way, some bandits were now likely sleeping on fur, sporting silk beneath rough leathers while robbing common folk with barely a cloak on their backs. The elf sighed and moved on to the other stalls.
One sign caught her interest despite the chipped red paint – a sword and axe crisscrossed. It wouldn't hurt to look inside even for just a minute. She wandered into the shop, surprisingly quiet and empty save for a young man dozing behind a wooden counter. Immediately she was awestruck by the sheer number of weapons of varying sizes and make displayed upon the racks lining the walls.
An idea seized upon her. What if she bought her own and get Okami to teach her with a real blade instead of this clumsy stick? Wouldn't that help her learn faster? And then she could be on her own much sooner, find her answers and be back at Candlekeep before the next midwinter feast – just as she had promised. Irse remembered counting a few gold coins, a pair of jeweled rings and a bracelet from the elven merchants' hidden stash. These should be enough for a working weapon.
Swords! She rushed over to the display of unsheathed blades. But how best to pick out one for herself? Will it be as one of the stories she read back at home where the hero must choose from among a pile of seemingly old and broken weapons and the plainest one would turn out to be the legendary long-lost sword of his clan – just needing a spit and polish, or the blood of a self-sacrificing maiden to get its dull runes to shine. At least here in the store, she wouldn't have to fight a dragon guardian with a name of jumbled consonants to get hers.
Or perhaps the other way around – the blade itself, an ancient relic, would call to her and elect her as its sole and worthy owner. There were such swords, she vaguely remembered from the tales. Moonblades, they were called. Wielded only by the bravest, strongest, most skilled, most valorous, and of course, the most strapping, broad-shouldered, tallest, ruddy and handsomest of warriors among the elves.
The elven girl let out a dreamy sigh as her eyes swept over the swords displayed upon the racks. Most of them were plain but a few were at least pretty enough, adorned with some simple design so as to be imagined a storied old family heirloom.
Her hand reached out, about to take one by the grip.
"Is there something you're looking for?" It was the shop assistant, disheveled and bleary-eyed. The sour look on his face ranted unmistakable annoyance at the interruption to his afternoon nap.
"Oh! I'm thinking I could buy a sword?" she inquired nervously. And then with a bit more excitement at remembering the small wealth in her pack, she added, "Would it be all right if I look at the best ones? Or maybe not the best ones, just something better than the usual? You know, a sword with some…"
She narrowed her eyes and flitted her fingers enigmatically.
"... Mmmagic?"
The young man eyed her as if she was the bluntest blade in the rack.
"You mean an enchanted sword?"
"Is that what they're called?"
"Yes."
"Ah-haha! I knew that! I just… forgot?" Irse chuckled timidly.
"Yeah, we had a few of them come in the other day. Suppose I shouldn't be surprised you'd want one for yourself. After all, your kind makes a lot of those, even better than what we sell here. But as we always say, if you can't make your own then buy one."
"Great! Will this be enough?" she asked as she plunged her hand inside her pack. The elf licked her lips as she rummaged through the items hastily stuffed inside. Ah here it is!
Fingers squeezed at the pouch. She pulled it out, puzzled at the unfamiliar feel; mainly because it was no longer a red velvet purse tied with a silver string, filled mostly with hard coins.
It was now a small, brown, dusty loosely knotted sackcloth. Filled with sand and small rocks.
Panicked, she flung the pouch over her shoulder and frantically rummaged through her stuff once more.
Clothes, clothes, bandages, stick, clothes. Hole.
Fingers wiggled as they poked out of a sizable tear at her pack. Someone had slashed her bag, taken her money, and switched them with a weighted decoy!
Bewildered, she looked up at the shop assistant with a helpless grin. The young man didn't seem amused.
Embarrassed. And penniless now.
Not only did the purse contain the elf merchants' gold and jewelry, but all the other coin, mostly coppers and a bit of silver she had saved and earned from when the inn needed extra help in peak visiting season. All her life savings – gone!
The elf had dashed out of the store, her mind racing. But how and when did they do the deed? She was moving most of the time, not stopping long enough to give anyone the opportunity. Where the thieves that quick and light handed? And how could she not have noticed that her bag suddenly weighed slightly lighter; granted that it wasn't that much gold and the trinkets themselves were of delicate make. Th elf groaned. Of course, a doe-eyed country bumpkin gawking at everything and everyone in the big city. Distracted, easy picking for cutpurses, might as well have scrawled "Rob Me" in red ink on her back.
The urge to sit down and cry fought with the urge to smack her head with the bag of rocks. Maybe she shouldn't have tossed that away.
Whoever they were, one or perhaps two, they could not have gotten far. A gleam from a polished helm and a halberd standing tall above the sea of heads caught her attention. Painted on the chest of his plate armor was an inverted diamond enclosing an upturned red fist in a blaze. Flaming Fist! Hope welled up in her heart as she hurried towards the guard.
"Help me! Please! I've been robbed! Someone took my money!" she cried.
The man's lips scrunched, his pauldrons rising lazily before dropping with a dramatic sigh. "Sure, sure. Were you hurt, girl?" he asked without even looking at her.
"What?" she blurted, surprised by his seeming indifference.
"I said, were you hurt? Thief stabbed you in the side? Held a knife to your throat?"
"No, Sir. Just my pack. They cut open my pack and took my money while I wasn't looking."
"Tough luck. Nothin' I can do 'bout it. Consider yourself lucky. Maybe next time you better watch your stuff more closely," the guard said, his eyes still averted, looking straight ahead.
"But, Sir! It was everything I-," Irse persisted as she reached out to grab the man's arm. Before she could touch him, her hand was roughly swatted away. The butt of the halberd stomped on the stone pavement as a warning.
"You want me to look for the lowlife who pinched some measly coppers off of you? No, elf. They posted me here to watch for big trouble, not to barge into the Guild like some dumb hero and get shanked in the neck. Now move along!" the guard barked at her.
She raised both palms in surrender, backing slowly before walking away. The girl turned around, hands on her head in frustration. Distraught, she marched along with the crowd, her feet leading her into the side streets, turning into one before being jostled off into another, then another, and another.
Her eyes scanned the countless faces streaming by, hoping to find any shady hooded character who could now be proudly wearing the stolen trinkets out in plain sight. Don't be a ninnyhammer! She scolded herself. Would a thief be so dumb as to count his loot out in the open? Well, maybe she would, if she was one since she could never resist hanging around at the scene of her "crimes" back at the Keep. It was always the snickering that gave her away. The "pride of a perfidious perpetrator being one of the signs" – as Ulraunt always sternly said to her foster father; though a sign of what, the Keeper of Tomes never really did say.
Guiltily, she wondered if this was what a handful of the Avowed who studied eastern philosophy often referred to as karma – something along the lines of reaping what you sow and things coming back to you a hundredfold.
The elf pouted. Surely the gods would agree this was a lopsided punishment for that time she replaced the bottom cabbages in Dreppin's wicker basket with rocks. It wasn't her fault that the groundskeeper would rather carry the burden on his back than put it on Nessie, his beloved cow. The man was already a third through the Lion's Way en route to the village before he realized that cabbages weren't supposed to weigh like the world upon his shoulders. This time though, the girl didn't smile at the memory, feeling instead the sting of loss and humiliation of having been preyed upon so easily.
Another turn, another street. Her fruitless search turned up no cowled criminals with obviously criminal faces. Everyone seemed not suspicious and suspicious at the same time. It was hopeless. Might as well give up and head back to the docks.
She retraced her steps, expecting to come out into the avenue that sloped down to the Docks yet she emerged into another level street that looked just like the one she had come from – similar in that it was also a noisy stretch of a cobbled path lined with stalls selling the same assortment of everything, manned by people dressed in the same drabness selling to folks in the same dinginess.
How in Toril could everything and everyone appear the same in a huge place like this? And that bossy dwarf, Reevor, once said that all elves looked alike!
The street intersected with one that looked just like it and continued into another one of the same. Even tiptoed and craned her neck to peek at the horizon but it only flowed into endless streets, and a wall of buildings and towers beyond. Ask the locals then? But what if they also turned out to be thieves, or worse? The hole in her bag would be nothing compared to a bigger, deeper, bloody hole in her back. It was hopeless.
Irse looked up at the sky, but it was only past noon and the Mirtul sun stayed directly overhead, no way of telling where east or west could be. Nells said they'll sail at the third hour. A bell had tolled somewhere, yet how many, she could not remember. Dread began to creep in. What if they sail without her? At the very least Okami wouldn't leave his apprentice behind, would he? But it had only been days - not long enough for him to decide she'd be worth the trouble. Her stomach churned. Back to square one then but in a bigger square - broke and alone in a place like this. No wonder none of the folks who'd been outside the Keep had spoken fondly of big cities - always telling them off with a foreboding "… places like that'll swallow you whole, chew you up, then spit you out for the rats to gnaw on what's left!"
For the first time in her life, she knew she was lost.