3 Mirtul, 1369 DR

Dear Moira,

The time we have been looking forward to must be coming closer. You know the Order set me free to seek my own adventures four months ago, and under the Rule my Test must be given no more than a year later. I had hoped that the caravan I agreed to accompany to Nashkel might put me in the way of some orc bands, or better yet that I would be near the front if war did come to the north, but the tensions faded just as I arrived. Even more to my chagrin, I found nothing more challenging than a few kobolds and winter wolves on our return, although at least I was able to collect a few pelts. I have left most of the proceeds from that with Celmar the banker, and I charge you to take from it whatever you may need. I understand from Minna that father is sometimes forgetful of late about the housekeeping money.

I am glad the garden is doing so well for you, but you have always had a knack with plants and pets. Even old Magandru said that you were the only one who could coax Mother’s favorite scarlet rhodelias into bloom. I must close for this evening; my night prayers are at hand. I shall ask for a sign as to where Helm wishes me to go next. I ask that you add your own prayers to mine, and I will try to write you every day now that I am back in town. As usual, I’ll leave the letters with Minna. I’ve no wish to anger Father, so I’ll not ask you to meet me. Be well, and know I am always thinking of you.

				Your loving brother,
				Anomen

4 Mirtul, 1369 DR

Dearest Sister,

Well, this day I have much to tell! I prayed for a sign from the Great Guard, and throughout last night I dreamed of a single scene: I saw a table on which a candle burned; a scatter of paper and a writing kit lay across it. There was also the back of a woman’s head as she knelt in front of the table, left hand raised with outspread fingers, as if in prayer. I slept heavily, almost as if I had been drugged, and it was a full two hours after cock-crow when I awoke. I was irked with myself for having lain abed so late, and my mood was not improved by waiting in the dark common room of the Copper Coronet while such a smiling day beckoned outside. I’ll wager you spent most of this day out in the garden or in Government Park yourself. Had I not had the dream, I should have left myself to walk in the Temple District.

A few “adventurers” wandered in by twos and threes, but they were obviously little more than your average back-alley cutthroats, and I did not even bother to speak with them. Near noon the door finally opened again, this time admitting a group of four. Even as silhouettes in the light of the door, this group drew the eye, for the man among them was most remarkable. I am not short, Moira, but this man overtops me by at least six inches. Still, it was one of the women that stopped me cold. She had turned back just inside the door to speak to a gnome behind her, and I knew the back of her head at a glance. Light brown hair braided in a coronet, just as I saw all last night in my dream.

By Helm’s grace this group passed close to me, and I was able to address the lady unobtrusively. You have always teased me about my lack of courtliness, Moira, and I know I am not so glib as other merchants’ sons--- else would I have been more willing to take over the business--- but luckily these people were not easily offended. I said nothing of my dream, however. I will not expose myself or Helm Himself to ridicule. Father has found enough things in his time to belittle me for. Moira, I am sorry if that pains you; I do not mean for you to feel trapped or torn between us, but you know how many bitter words have passed between Father and me.

The woman’s name is Patricia Contemplata, and she seemed glad enough to have me join her group. Quiet in demeanor as she is, there is no question that she is the driving force of the assemblage. There is something a bit strange about her, though. I cannot quite place what she is. Her speech is that of a well-educated woman, and her manners surprisingly genteel for a customer of the Coronet, but there is an effacement about her that I do not understand. So short a time as I have been in her company, I have already noticed that at times she almost fades into the walls, as if she were merely part of the furnishings of the room. Do you remember how we would look and look for Binglet the old gray tabby, and suddenly find him sitting in plain sight, when we’d passed the spot twice already? That’s what it reminds me of.

At any rate, evidently she and two of her companions--- the giant Rashemite called Minsc, and Jaheira, who is easily the least attractive half-elven woman I have ever met--- have recently come from the North. Although they have not had time to tell me the full tale yet, Patricia has told me that a childhood friend of hers was unjustifiably taken by the Cowled Wizards. You know well that I believe them to be banes of our existence, truly serving no laws but their own whims. Apparently she has been told that a sufficient amount of coin may effect this friend’s release, and so she seeks “honest adventures”--- her own words--- to earn this fee.

I may say that she wastes no time in her quest. Only minutes after our meeting--- in fact, as soon as she had made sure that I was ready to travel--- she excused herself, saying that she had been told that Lehtinan, that reptile that owns the Coronet, might have some information she needed. She returned shortly, and mother-henned us through into one of the back rooms. Minsc, Jaheira, and the gnome called Jan followed her without question, but I was beginning to resent being herded. Patricia must have sensed my irritation (in spite of my training, I cannot always hide my feelings), because she got close enough to murmur that I must make no open protest, whatever we might be about to hear. She believed something truly foul was afoot here, but wanted to glean as much information as she could without tipping her hand. I confess that my doubts were legion at this point, but I held to the memory of the sign and chose to give her the opportunity to show her true colors.

She was right, Moira. That foul Lehtinan was running a veritable warren of vice behind the tavern’s back wall. Not only was he running a ring of ladies of ill repute and a drug den, he had the unspeakable effrontery not only to be a slaver, but to force his victims to fight monsters to afford his customers amusement! For the opportunity to clean out this den of corruption alone, I must thank Helm for sending me these companions. Whatever their own goals may be, I can say that none of them hesitated for a moment to strike out at such a foul business, though they went about the task with a wariness that showed them to be old campaigners.

We threaded the back passageway until we found the cells where the gladiators were kept. Luckily there was a stout door into the area, and by closing it we were able to keep the rest of the inn unaware of our little fray. There were only four or five guards back there, and they were not skilled enough to pose much threat to a well-armed group. Minsc, the huge Rashemite, bears a gigantic two-handed sword. Jaheira seems to prefer the scimitar and a shield, while the gnome uses the most peculiar crossbow I’ve ever seen. I did not realize until all was over that I had not seen Patricia. I had assumed her to be a wizard, or perhaps a bard, herself, for she wears no armor. However, when I turned to look behind me, she wasn’t there. Then I was relieved to hear her voice from the opposite side of the staircase, where she was talking to Hendak, a barbarian who seems to be the leader of the slaves. Somehow he survived the fighting pits for years. Years! I cannot believe that such an evil has gone undetected and unchecked for so long. What can the Council be thinking? And why has the Order never heard of this?

In order to free the slaves, we had to get the key from the Beastmaster in charge of the pits. We finally found him in the creature cages on the far side of that despicable “arena”. I was again surprised by this lady’s behavior. I expected Patricia to send Minsc and me out front as a shield wall for herself and Jan, behind which they could spellcast freely. Instead, she walked coolly up the corridor and confronted the Beastmaster directly. When he refused to turn over the key and loosed his pets on us, Patricia stood her ground and began to take him apart. I was too busy to be able to see how she did it, and I confess the mystery is beginning to intrigue me. Her fighting style is truly unique.

After Hendak was loosed, he and the other slaves set forth to wreak vengeance on the men who had abused them for so long. Not one of us saw fit to interfere in the quarrel on Lehtinan’s behalf, nor did any of the Coronet’s other patrons. To cut the tale short, as it grows late, Hendak killed Lehtinan, and has taken over the Coronet as weregild for his family. Tonight we will rest here, and tomorrow we will seek out the slave pens where Hendak says many children are being held. This has been a long tale, with much evil in it, but I trust, Moira, that you will rejoice with me that such foul deeds are ended. I must go to my prayers now; the others have gone upstairs some while ago.

				With love from your devoted brother,
				Anomen