Jaheira had arranged for Minsc and Aerie to join her and Lidia outside the Adventurer's Mart that afternoon after they'd taken a bit of lunch. Before they left town again, there was one errand they had to try to fulfill, if they could.
Jaheira had once told them that Ribald could fulfill any request or know someone who might. For something like this, Lidia thought, that theory might face a serious test.
Ribald's dwarven crier was calling to his customers outside: "Fine Dwarven crafts from the Deep — you won't find better!" When he spotted Jaheira, he gave her a deep bow and began plying his trade again.
They pushed the door open and found the place much as they'd left it: still dim, somewhat dusty, and full of an incredible array of goods for an adventurer's every need. The two private guards that Ribald engaged were still at their usual posts, occasionally checking the small, dirty windows,
Ribald was on a wooden step-stool, taking a feather duster to a neat line of small, colorful jars upon a high shelf, and immediately sprung down into action as soon as the bell on his door jangled. "Welcome! Welcome! What'll I be doing you for today?"
"Fair Dynaheir's spirit wanders and cannot find its way back to Rashemen!" Minsc said. "We must find someone who knows the old rites — Boo, unfortunately, is in over his tiny hamster head." He gave the small creature on his shoulder an affectionate rub with his massive finger.
To his credit, Ribald didn't treat any of this as unusual but instead glanced over to the others for an explanation.
Aerie spoke first, if hesitatingly. "Um…what he means is we need to find someone who can do a funeral for a Rashemi witch. And…we don't have her body. Do you…do you know someone like that?"
Ribald's face wrinkled thoughtfully. "I do know someone who might be able to help," he finally said. "She's not of Rashemen — one of them dark elves, actually — but she'd know better'n anyone how to do what you ask for here in town. She's stopping by on her way to Westgate next tenday."
At the mention of the dark elves, Aerie recoiled slightly but noticeably.
Ribald addressed her: "Maybe my eyes are getting dull, but are you an elf, miss? I take it you've no love for the drow."
"I'm Avariel," Aerie said in a small voice. "At least…at least I was, once. The drow…they've killed my people without mercy. They can't be trusted."
"I'm not powerful fond of them either, but they're not all crazy Lolth-worshiping cultists," Ribald said, gesturing with the feather duster in hand. "Maybe some —most of 'em, I'd wager — just get by, stuck down there in caves having to deal with the backstabbing and murder and all that. Can't say I'd do different if I'd had the misfortune of being born in the Underdark instead of Athkatla.
"And you even get a drow now and again that gets sick of the politics and makes their way to the surface. Maybe you've heard of Drizzt? Anyway, some of 'em leave the Underdark, probably lose their magic somewhere down the line, and never come back home because their people won't have them."
Aerie still seemed doubtful, but she was listening. "She's…she's not like the other drow?"
"All the dark elves I've met have got some prickles on 'em," Ribald said. "I wonder if they have to in order to survive long enough to leave. But Liriel's got fewer than most. And if you want the kind of help you describe, there's no one else I can think of right now who's got the time or the inclination — the witches don't often leave Rashemen, and then only with guards like this fellow, here," he said, nodding to Minsc.
"So, Boo wonders," Minsc said, "will we have someone to send Dynaheir's spirit where it belongs? Home among all the good, watchful spirits of Rashemen?"
Aerie said, "I…I suppose so, Minsc."
"Oh, glorious day!" Minsc said, holding up Boo with both hands and bounding around the room. Miraculously, he didn't break anything. "We may have failed to protect our witch, but we shall not fail in this! Beware, evil spirits! Dynaheir is coming for you, with regards from Minsc and Boo!"
Minsc's celebratory mood lasted late into that night. Whether it was from Lidia joining a "lodge full of noble heroes" or a desire to hold a kind of wake for Dynaheir, or possibly both, nobody could say. But his good humor was infectious, especially now: with his share of the treasure, he bought several rounds of drinks for the Company and around two dozen other patrons in the Coronet's taproom.
By round three, the consensus in the Coronet was that, although the Rashemi was addled, he had sense where it counted.
Minsc, by now, had climbed onto a table among half a dozen mugs of beer and was leading a number of the patrons in an old tavern song:
"Upsen Downs! Upsen Downs!
Ye've found the town of Upsen Downs!
Upsen Downs! Upsen Downs!
Make some smiles from those frowns!"
One, a gangly lean regular named Amalas, burst out into a verse, rendering something between a chant and off-key singing:
"Ye've found the place o' the finest ale
With arm-sized pretzels that're never stale!
With big Chef Muglump and his coney stew
And Master Bumble with his forty brews!"
This was not accurate to what the Coronet's usual fare was — it was doubtful whether Skratha and Dibbler had ever put a coney in their pots, regardless of what they claimed — but it was enough to prompt a cheer from the crowd and a toast to Bernard.
In all this, the rest of the Company mostly stayed on the sidelines, taking in the sight.
Yoshimo turned to Jaheira. "It's been far too long since we've spoken. I have heard this and that of what you've been doing, but I have yet to hear the full story."
"That is because the full story is not yet told," she replied, taking a sip of her wine. "I'm finding myself with something of a thorny problem; perhaps you can help solve it?"
"I am eager to please if you should want for anything."
Jaheira nodded in approval. Her voice dropped. "Very well. If you have any insight concerning the Shadow Thieves, that I can use."
The look on Yoshimo's face was one of instant regret.