They were greeted politely by the guards on duty at the front door, who exchanged a few words of greeting with both Anomen and Keldorn. The foyer was as grand as Anomen had said, though somber. To spare his feelings, Patricia and Nalia strolled about for some minutes examining the various statues and paintings. When they were well out of earshot of the others, standing in front of a six-foot-tall ebony carving of a man on horseback titled Sir Beauregard and Bocephus at the Battle of Tilver’s Gap, Patricia whispered, “Why do men always assume that women are interested in the furniture?”

Nalia whispered back, “You’ve got me. I wonder if this stuff was acquired over the years, or just willed to them in one fell swoop by some poor old guy with absolutely no taste?”

“I hope the latter,” Patricia replied. “Especially this thing,” pointing at the horse’s bridle on the statue in front of them. “Look at that fellow’s ears--- they stick straight out on either side of his head, and his warhorse is swaybacked! And while ordinarily it’s a good idea to stick to a color scheme, all the clashing shades in this room are making me think of childish riddles!”

Nalia giggled. “‘What’s black and white and red all over?’ ‘A polar bear with a sunburn?’ ‘No, it’s an embarrassed Knight of the Radiant Heart!’”

Patricia found herself giggling a little too. She really did need a good night’s sleep; she was acting far too silly, and she knew it was reaction from the sheer misery of yesterday. She was glad Nalia was here; having another woman to talk to did help ease the ache for her sister a little. Imoen would have had much the same reaction to the décor, only she’d have abused it in more colorful language. “We’d better stop, or I’ll never be able to keep a straight face,” she said. “Although I don’t think it’s easy to embarrass Keldorn. He’s probably seen it all before.”

“Yes, he’s a lot more relaxed than Anomen,” Nalia agreed. “But he’s already made it to full-fledged paladin. He’s a lot like Father--- he’s got nothing left to prove. I think Anomen’s pretty uptight about this Test thing.”

Patricia was startled. Nalia had noticed more than she’d given her credit for. The mage continued, “Jan and I were talking about it yesterday afternoon, before the messenger came about Moira. Jan told me that just one mistake could cost Anomen his chance to be a knight. I’d never thought about it before. That seems a little stiff to me. We both agreed that it wasn’t really fair to condemn someone for a single fall from grace.”

Something about the way Nalia spoke nagged undefinably at Patricia, but she didn’t have time to muse on it. They’d been standing there long enough; they could stop pretending to be enthralled by Beauregard and Bocephus now and rejoin the others.

“What an interesting room,” Patricia commented blandly as they rejoined the group. “I’m sure you’re quite anxious to speak to Sir Trawl, though, Anomen, so Nalia and I won’t waste any more of your time. Where in the building shall we meet you?”

“Sir Ryan will likely be in the Great Hall at this time of the day,” said Anomen. “Simply look for me there, milady.” He bowed stiffly and walked away.

Patricia turned to Keldorn. “Which way to the Great List, milord?”

Smiling, he gave answer. “The name is a trifle misleading; the rolls have grown so long that they are no longer painted upon the wall of the Great Hall, but rather written in a book within the office of the Prelate’s scribes. Come, we shall find our friend’s name together.”

She turned to the others. “Do you want to come along?”

Nalia said, “Actually, Patricia, my feet are getting tired. I’m still not quite used to so much walking. Would there be any place that I could just sit down for a few minutes, Sir Keldorn?”

The knight replied, “Of course; there is a visitor’s parlor to your left. We shall rejoin you there. Gentlemen, what of you?”

Minsc said, “Tisha read me Ajantis’ letter, and that is enough for me. Besides, I think Boo is getting hungry again. After this morning, I must watch him carefully while he eats.” There was an indignant squeak at that statement, and the ranger looked down. “You ate so fast you got sick, greedy one! Do you not remember?” Another squeak was accompanied by an irritated twitching of whiskers. “No buts!” Minsc admonished.

“I don’t know Ajantis myself, so I’ll take the chance to put my feet up, too, Keldy—orn,” said Jan, hastily tacking on the last syllable in response to a glare from Nalia. “There wouldn’t be any chance of a cup of turnip tea, would there?” he added hopefully.

“I’m afraid not, my good gnome, although I will ask one of the servants to bring you a pot of regular tea and some cakes with which to recruit your strength until the evening meal. Please follow me, Patricia.”

The two crossed the huge marble-faced hall. Patricia thought that such a structure would be eminently impractical in Candlekeep or Baldur’s Gate, where winter’s chill would be certain to creep in no matter how many fires were lit. Here in Amn, however, the cool marble would offset the broiling summer sun. She noticed that everyone they passed spoke in hushed tones, presumably to keep the omnipresent murmuring echoes down to a minimum. It reminded her very faintly of whispered conversations between monks in the Candlekeep Library, and she sighed with longing for the peace of the dusty stacks.

As she and Keldorn returned across the Great Hall some minutes later, they spotted Anomen deep in conversation with another man behind the colonnade on the south side of the room, and went to meet them. The other knight was not particularly tall--- only two or three inches taller than Patricia--- but he was very broad, with a few strands of silver standing out starkly against his straight dark hair. He was clean-shaven, with a straight nose and wide-set light-gray eyes in a large face. He was standing facing them, and his eyes widened slightly over Anomen’s shoulder as he noted their approach.

When they were within a few feet, Anomen himself turned around to greet them. “Were you successful?” he said bluntly. Patricia was surprised by his abruptness, but concluded that perhaps she and Keldorn had intruded at an inopportune moment.

“Yes, thank you,” she said politely. “We wished to tell you that we will be waiting with the others in the visitor’s parlor when you are ready. There is no hurry.”

“Nay, milady,” spoke the other man, “you arrive very opportunely, for our conversation at present turns upon you.”

Patricia arched an eyebrow. “Indeed?”

Anomen seemed to make a herculean effort, and said, “Lady Patricia, allow me to present my knight, Sir Ryan Trawl.” What was he staring at? Was he discreetly trying to tell her that a button had popped open on her tunic?

She automatically switched the small parcel she was carrying in both her arms to her left hand, and proffered her right to the knight. She’d intended to shake hands, and was somewhat startled when Sir Ryan lifted it to his lips instead.

“It is indeed a pleasure to make the acquaintance of so valiant a lady, and one so graceful withal. My squire has been relating something of your recent adventures.”

She blinked in utter surprise. Goodness, knight and squire were certainly very different men in this respect! A light-tongued flatterer if ever there was one, or she missed her guess. Hopefully Lady Trawl (she thought she remembered Anomen mentioning one) was a tolerant sort, if the man turned such flowery phrases to every woman he met. Or perhaps Amnish manners were simply more courtly. She drew her hand back as quickly as she could with politeness.

“I am extremely grateful that your squire has been in our company these last eight days,” she replied. “Lady Nalia de’Arnise would surely have lost everything without his strong right arm and expertise. The victory was quite as much the result of Lord Anomen’s efforts as anyone else’s, make no mistake.”

She caught a glimpse of Anomen’s crimson face out of the corner of her eye. Nalia’s riddle popped into her head at once--- What’s black and white and red all over?--- and she found herself working hard to stifle a smile. Well, he deserved the credit.

“I am pleased to find he has your commendation,” Sir Ryan replied. “It is doubly gratifying because some word of your exploits in the North has preceded you. I understand that you and your former companions were single-handedly responsible for resolving the iron crisis in a way satisfactory to both Amn and Baldur’s Gate.”

Patricia felt herself reddening in turn, and hastily called upon the Fourth Discipline to control her reaction. “I’m afraid that’s a grave misconception,” she said. “My friends and I were the instruments by which the man,” she gulped, and hoped it would pass unnoticed, “Sarevok was eliminated, but it would be a gross exaggeration to say that we alone engineered the collapse of the Iron Throne or the resolution of the extremely complicated plot behind the disruption of trade.”

Sir Ryan smiled. “I believe my sources to be reliable, milady, and what they have told me of your abilities and sacrifice is most impressive, though I honor your modesty.”

He turned to Keldorn. “Well, old friend, I envy you the chance to adventure with so fair and noble-hearted a companion! But surely you will add your voice to my plea that we ask this lady for her assistance in a small matter to benefit our Order?”

Keldorn looked grave. “So, the problem has not yet been resolved?”

Sir Ryan shook his head. “It is not something we can take on ourselves, as you must realize.”

Keldorn nodded. “Aye, I can see the difficulty. An outside source is perhaps the only satisfactory solution. But what of Squire Anomen and myself?”

“If the matter is addressed quickly, before her association with you is well-known, I believe it may be worked around.” Sir Ryan turned back to Patricia.

“I do most humbly beg your pardon, Lady Patricia. Sir Keldorn and I have been standing here talking over your head, and you have had the patience not to berate us. The matter is most delicate indeed, and we need someone with your vaunted expertise.” He cleared his throat and continued. “It is partly for that reason that I would like to offer you the opportunity to help The Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart. Are you interested in hearing my proposal?”

She wondered why everyone she met nowadays had some black blade of disaster hanging over their heads. In the next tenth of a second she wondered why she kept listening to their tales of woe, instead of making progress on her own problem. Finally she realized that the gods must be testing her again: she should help these people, and in so doing, raise the necessary coin to free Imoen. A win for the forces of good all the way around, unless she died in the attempt. Ugh! What a train of thought! She had to get back to Caan House or the Coronet soon for a rest, or she’d be walking in circles in another turn of the hourglass.

Without a noticeable pause, she opened her mouth and said, “Why, yes, of course I will help you if I can, though I must warn you I have urgent business in the Windspear Hills, and intend to leave Athkatla sometime on the fourteenth.”

Sir Ryan’s face split with a wide grin of relief. “I cannot tell you how long the task may take, but I am relieved that you are willing to accept it. The life of a paladin is not easy. Many break under the demands of our path, and leave to pursue avenues of life more appropriate to their talents. This is often the best outcome for all concerned; many a man and woman who has left our Order has gone on to achieve greatness in some other field. Far worse are the ones who bend instead of break, twisting their paladinhood to serve their own purpose. These are hard to detect, but when found they are quickly cast out.”

“Aye,” Keldorn interjected. “It grieves all of us that good men could come to such a pass, but the seed of corruption lies in us all. We must remain vigilant always in our struggle against it.”

Hitherto silent, Anomen also broke into the conversation. “Hmph! Such manner of base scum should be put to death, in my opinion. To be a fully-sworn paladin and to turn your back on your sworn oaths is inconceivable.”

Patricia looked at him in shocked horror, but managed to restrain herself from outraged comment in front of his superiors.

There was an awkward pause, and then Sir Ryan continued, “Recently one of our highest-ranking officers was implicated in smuggling slaves. His name is Anarg, and though he was once a friend, he was expelled from the Order.”

She saw a look of stunned surprise flicker across Anomen’s face at the mention of the name.

“We thought that the end of it, but Anarg took others when he left. He is a charismatic man and some of the younger knights were swayed by his words. We could tolerate their loss,” said Sir Ryan in response to her questioning look, “but they masquerade as paladins, abusing our good name. They extort, smuggle slaves, and spit on all that we honor. The Fallen Paladins, as they're known, would recognize any of our Order, and some also fear conflict with former friends, so we need outside help in this matter.”

“I see your difficulty,” said Patricia. “What do you want us to do then?”

“The Fallen Paladins always need warriors to aid their illegal activities. We want your party to ally with them, especially Anarg. He's the key to them all.”

“And then what, Ryan?” Keldorn asked. “I take it the idea is to collect enough evidence of their perfidy to take before the Council for prosecution by the state?”

“Aye, Keldorn,” replied Sir Ryan, “but if at any time you consider these men a threat to your own well-being or that of another, then do what you think is necessary. Gloves of Healing would be a suitable reward for the task, I think, Lady Patricia. Do you accept?”

“I shall see what we can do. There’s no excuse for slavery, and it seems to be a growing business here in Athkatla.”

Anomen piped up suddenly. “Patricia, do you think that perhaps Lehtinan was involved in the same smuggling ring? Didn’t that Haegan say something about having paid off the Guards? I wondered at the time that no word of such a sizable operation had reached the ears of the Order. If Anarg was involved, perhaps he used his position to prevent that from happening.”

All three nodded in approval. “That would explain much, Anomen,” Sir Ryan said. “I shall see if I can find anything out. Thanks to the Shadow Thieves, Anarg has kept their activities localized in the Bridge District. I suggest you search there. May Torm be with you.”

“May the Five light your journey on the path of truth,” replied Patricia in farewell, as they departed to rejoin their companions in the parlor.

They were halfway to Caan House when Nalia asked, “What’s in the box, Patricia?”

She’d almost forgotten she was carrying the parcel Ajantis had sent to her. “I don’t know, Nalia. I’ll open it when we get to your great-aunt’s.”

She sensed a sudden shift in the rhythm of Anomen’s step beside her, as if he’d faltered on a stone. Then his pace quickened until he’d all but left the others behind. He was a good half-block ahead of them by the time they reached the mansion, and was nowhere to be seen when the others entered the front hall.

“Does he normally indulge in such behavior on the trail, Patricia?” asked Keldorn.

“No, but he’s under extreme stress right now, and probably felt a sudden need to be alone. Had you not heard that his sister was found murdered three days ago?” replied Patricia.

Keldorn looked grave. “No, this I did not know. Has an arrest been made?”

“No, and it’s unlikely the perpetrators will ever be discovered unless we determine what happened ourselves. I’ll tell you all we know after dinner. Right now I’m curious about the contents of this parcel myself. It doesn’t rattle or anything.”

They were in the drawing room now, and Patricia picked up a penknife from the writing desk to cut the twine. A few moments later she had extracted an envelope from underneath the first layer of brown paper, and was quickly scanning its contents.

Dear Patricia,

I see that I mistakenly packed something of yours with my own belongings when I left Baldur’s Gate. I’m sure you will be glad to see its return due to its importance to your work. I am also enclosing a whole new packet of kitchen needles and a ball of twine. I showed my new repair technique to Sir Blethyn and a few others, and all were most impressed by the results. Also, here is a little something from Waterdeep to remember me by. I am happier than I can say that you survived your recent encounter. I shall pray for your safety daily, and for Imoen’s rescue. Since I cannot be with you now myself, I am glad to hear that you have met another member of the Order to see you safely on your journeys.

		Until we meet again, I remain as always,
		Your servant,
		Ajantis Ilvastarr, KMRH

P.S. Tell Minsc and Jaheira that I miss them and have said prayers for the souls of Khalid and Dynaheir.

P.P.S. I shall write again within a tenday, I hope, and with words that I trust will make your heart rejoice.

Patricia chuckled as she read. Oh, she was sure now of at least part of the contents! And she would be anxiously awaiting his next letter; he must be growing certain now that the wished-for permission could be won from his guardian.

Nalia was shifting her feet with impatience where she stood by the mantelpiece. “Oh, come on, Patricia! I’m dying to know! Not about your letter---,” she said in sudden embarrassment, “but what else is in the box?”

“Well, just let me hand this note to Keldorn, and we’ll find out.” Patricia proffered the parchment to Keldorn, who took it gladly. Then she opened the inner wrappings to disclose a small box which she knew to be the needles and twine, a book, and a flat packet.

“Needles? And a book?” Nalia said with some disappointment.

Patricia laughed outright at the girl’s disgust. “The needles are sort of a running joke, and the book got packed in his things by mistake. Besides, this is a very special book. It’s a treatise on cooking written by the elven mage Dradeel. He presented me with it himself as a gift for rescuing him from being marooned on Balduran’s Island. It’s got some absolutely priceless information on the non-sentient components of the diet of werewolves.”

She picked up the flat packet. “I’ve no idea what this is, however.” Carefully she unfolded the wrappings. “Oh!” she and Nalia both exclaimed at once. It was a triangular shawl of the finest snowy silk, embroidered all over with tiny scarlet rosebuds and with long black silk tassels hanging from the bottom edges. They admired it for some minutes, holding it up to the lamp to marvel at its transparency and the fineness of the needlework.

After a while, Jan got bored with watching them play with the fabric. “Yeah, yeah, so it’s black and white and red all over, Tish. It’s not like it can do tricks!” The two women couldn’t help it. They exploded into paralyzing fits of laughter, holding each other to keep from falling down, and refusing to tell the men just what the big joke was all about.