They grew serious now. It was time to confront this potential miscreant. First they needed to see if his cloak had any telltale rips that might match the scrap of ruby-colored cloth given them by Tirdir. For that, they’d have to get close, but not alarm him. Jan was elected to perform this mission. It was Nalia who came up with the bright suggestion that they use the entryway of the nearby Temple of Helm to screen the gnome’s spellcasting. The others spread themselves out around him, pointing at various architectural features like any ordinary gaggle of tourists, while the illusionist deftly made himself invisible.

“I’m off!” he said in a low voice emanating from nowhere. “Don’t cry for me, Nally, I’ll be back before you know it!” This was accompanied by a Thwack! Nalia jumped, and beat at the air, but missed her unseen compatriot.

“Don’t call me Nally!” she said indignantly, gently massaging her rear. “And I hope that man steps on you, you little menace! Anomen should have silenced you while he had the chance!”

Keldorn looked stern. “I know gnomes are addicted to practical jokes, Mr. Jansen, but that was uncalled-for.”

“I’m afraid you might as well save your breath, Keldorn,” Patricia interjected. “Jan’s easily all the way across the road by now.” Furthermore, she thought, I’d better be prepared to receive the same treatment, because there’s an even chance that Jan will elect to announce his return by swatting me. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of eliciting the same shocked response.

It was less than five minutes before Anomen began to fret under the strain of inactivity. “That popinjay had best not foul up his assignment, milady. He is becoming extremely arrogant, and I must say that I do not find these… these deceptions particularly amusing!”

Patricia was about to reply when she saw a piece of rope slowly winding itself around Anomen’s boots. She realized at once that Jan had obviously heard Anomen’s words, and opted to target the cleric instead of herself. “All right, Jan, that’s enough,” she said gently. “You’re a prince of sneakiness, it’s plain to see. Or rather, we can’t see, which is the whole point. So what about our quarry? Is he missing a palm-sized piece of his cloak?”

She watched the rope rapidly uncoiling. Good; they didn’t need to risk having an injury right now. “Ayup,” the gnome’s voice said from the level of Anomen’s knees. “Color’s right, and the edges match. Right now he’s absorbed in something going on down on the docks. I heard a lot of confused shouting down there. Sounded like ogres protesting their working conditions. I’d hate to be a foreman trying to stand up to them! Anyway, he’s our man. Not wearin’ any armor though, not even leathers, so it’s a good bet he’s a wizard.”

“A mage?” Keldorn asked sharply. “That could pose certain dangers. Lady Patricia, I have not yet asked, but we do have a spellcasting license ourselves, do we not? Otherwise I simply cannot countenance the use of any more wizard magic within the city’s walls.”

“You may rest easy, Sir Keldorn. Nalia upgraded her apprentice’s permit to a journeyman’s the moment we returned to Athkatla, and she registered Jan as her nominal master-in-Art at the same time,” Patricia replied. She’d been relieved that she didn’t have to go speak to the Cowled Wizards’ representative herself; she wasn’t sure she could have remained polite. Besides, her presence alone could have been reason enough for the Cowlies to turn Nalia’s application down.

“See, Jan and I have our paperwork right here. Well, no, I guess you can’t see Jan’s, but he’s got it.” Nalia dug in her spellcase and waved a piece of parchment. “No way was I going to let Isaea get me dragged off the street for that! And everything’s also filed in triplicate at the Council Building.”

“And now may we get back to trying to apprehend this miscreant?” Anomen asked in a deceptively casual voice. “It’s only idle curiosity, after all; I merely need to know,” his voice turned deadly cold, “if he was the thrice-damned whoreson that murdered my sister!”

Everyone fell silent for a moment. “So that was what you and Patricia were referring to,” Keldorn said quietly. “The man found with Moira also wore red, and Sethle and Tirdir’s testimonies indicated that there had already been multiple victims of this kidnapping ring. Aye, it does seem to hang together.”

“Anomen, you can’t go,” Patricia found herself saying. He turned on her with a look of outrage. “No,” she repeated firmly. “Nalia and I will talk to him. Jan can go with us and line up a dead shot with his crossbow. He will not be so worried about the two of us. If you so much as walk over there now, he’ll run at the first sight of your face. You are not in control of yourself, and we will learn nothing.” She turned to Minsc and Keldorn. “Hold him back until I call for you, or Jan becomes visible. I want to clean out this whole nest of vipers at once, and we’ve got to find out where their den is first.”

Minsc nodded. “You listen to Tisha. She is wise. The tiger sneaks up before it pounces!”

Anomen’s face grew grim, and Patricia began to sense the pain welling up within him. She had to go, fast, before she got caught up in it. “Come on, Nalia. I order you to stay put, Anomen!” The look he gave her scalded her soul, but she was adamant, and stared him down. They had to bring this matter to a full closure, not bungle it through the anger of the moment.

Nalia left her bow behind before they crossed the street. Faintly Patricia could hear Jan’s footsteps beside them. With luck, they’d look just like two upper-crust girls out slumming for a lark, in spite of the blade swinging at her own hip. As they neared the railing on the sidewalk that looked out over the river, they could hear the dispute Jan had mentioned. It sounded as if it had broken out into a scuffle. All the better; it would help cover any noise they themselves made.

Now they were close to the man. Young, Patricia noted, maybe two years older than Nalia. Either he was bad at growing a beard, or he’d been really callous about shaving lately; impossible to tell which. Brown hair, brown eyes. Except for the cloak, completely nondescript. The perfect face for a pickpocket. He still hadn’t noticed them, even though the boardwalk was otherwise deserted. Bad reflexes; almost certainly a wizard.

“Er, excuse me, sir,” Nalia said.

The man whipped around, then relaxed a bit when he saw only two women.

“Well?” he asked with some impatience. “Can you not see that I am busy here? This promises to be the best fight I’ve seen since they closed the arena at the Copper Coronet.”

That did it! Any man who could talk about that slave pit in such terms would stop at nothing. “Oh, terribly sorry. I'll wait at the graveyard then. I think you visit there occasionally?” said Patricia in her most nasal voice.

The man was startled. She needed to pull his name out of him…. “What?” he gasped, then seemed to try to pull himself together. “All right then, what is it you want? What are you trying to pull here?”

Patricia looked at him, then casually moved to her right, while Nalia faded slightly left, boxing the man neatly against the railing. “I know what you have been up to at the graveyard. Let's talk, shall we?” Patricia said sweetly, reaching out to grab one arm. He wasn’t going to get off a spell if she could help it. Nalia did the same on the other side. Hopefully Jan had a bolt locked on the man’s forehead.

The unknown mage stiffened even more. “What? What did that little weasel tell you? I knew I shouldn't trust him. I had no choice. Them or me!”

Nalia couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “So you have been kidnapping people and dumping them? That's monstrous!”

“It pays the bills,” the man said indifferently. He paused as a new idea seemed to strike him. “I’m Amsi. You must be pretty good if you tracked me down here. If you want in, I'll cut you a slice. I'm sure we can work something out.”

Patricia was disgusted. He wasn’t even a smart crook. “Oh, no. I am quite sure we can't. You’ve got far worse troubles than me, wizard. You’ve just managed to pull the wrath of Kelemvor down on your head, and I’m nowhere near stupid enough to want to cross him. I'm going to put an end to this right here!”

Amsi looked pasty now, though he still seemed to think he had little to fear from the unarmored women. “You? You’d kill me quick. My partners are the ones I fear. You've ruined me, but you'll not get me here! Open the door, boys! I gotta get in!!”

With a convulsive movement, he tried to get away, but Patricia grimly held on to his cloak, even as Jan’s bolt whistled past her head and Nalia tried to stab the man with her dagger. She heard the clanking of armor as her other friends charged into the fray, Anomen well out in front and closing fast, mace upraised. Just then, Amsi gave a final jerk forward, dragging her bodily through a door that had suddenly opened in a nearby house. The door slammed shut after them.

“I'm sorry! I don't know how they found out!” he croaked out, half-strangled from Patricia’s hold on his cloak. The dwarf and armored man standing in the middle of the room looked less than amused. Amsi was tall, and they didn’t appear to have noticed Patricia standing behind him yet.

“That ain't why we're mad, you little rock-gnawing fool!” yelled the dwarf. “You were supposed to kill them sacks, not dump them!”

“I... I couldn't!” Amsi choked. “I can't... I can't stand the blood!”

Patricia had heard enough. Clearly they had found the vipers’ den. Instantly, she delivered a stunning blow to the back of Amsi’s neck, sending him slumping to the floor even as the dwarf continued ranting.

“So drown 'em! Whack 'em with a stick! I don't care! What kind of.…”

The fighter broke in as Patricia’s form appeared behind Amsi’s body. “We have to go, Camitis. We got company!” He raced straight for the door, dodging past Patricia’s raised sword.

“Not before I kill this little rat-stink!” bellowed Camitis, working himself up into a true dwarven battlerage. “Not before!”

No! She wanted Amsi alive; she needed to turn at least one of them over for prosecution. She wanted Anomen and Cor to know beyond the shadow of a doubt who had been the cause of Moira’s death. “Nalia! Jan! Quick!” she yelled. “I need another Hold spell!” There would only be a few moments before Amsi regained consciousness, and she couldn’t afford to let Camitis plan his attack. Then suddenly she saw something large and shiny flash past. It was Anomen, charging full tilt at the startled dwarf. Patricia at once turned around and gave Amsi a whack on the top of the head with the flat of her hand. That ought to be enough to keep him out for a bit. She whirled back just in time to see Camitis take a well-aimed swipe at Anomen’s midsection. Anomen gasped as the dwarf’s axe crashed heavily into his breastplate. While Camitis’ momentum was still carrying him to her right, Patricia aimed herself low, throwing her weight against his legs in the same direction his inertia was pushing him. The dwarf lost his footing, but managed to roll himself out from under her before she could deliver another blow. He was very skilled, she thought in the fraction of a second before his luck ran out. Anomen’s mace descended on Camitis’ helm in the pile-driving strike that was his hallmark, and when the cleric raised his weapon, there was nothing left fit to look at.

The two companions stayed still for a few moments, catching their breaths, Anomen clutching his injured side and Patricia slowly becoming aware that she was going to have some cuts and bruises from the impact with the dwarf’s armor. She pulled herself into a sitting position, carefully ignoring the spot where Camitis’ face used to be. “Are you badly hurt, milord?” she asked.

“Painful, but not deep,” he replied. “I’m not sure if he cracked any ribs or not. And you, milady? Did either of these fiends harm you?”

“I’m a little bruised,” she said, “but nothing much. It’s awfully silent outside. Do you think the other one got away?”

“I am not certain. He was running fast, but Nalia was pelting him with those Minute Meteors and Minsc was close on his heels. I heard you calling for aid, and … well, I am in your service, after all.”

Patricia fidgeted. She wished he’d stop saying that. It made her uncomfortable. “Anomen,” she began, when the door burst open again and Keldorn and Jan almost tripped over Amsi’s unconscious form in their haste.

“The guy who ran out won’t be running anywhere anymore, Tish,” Jan declared proudly. “Nalia and Minsc creamed him, and they’re searching the body now. Then they’re going to get that Inspector Aegisfield.”

“Then be a little more careful where you tread. The wizard there should still be alive, and I want him kept that way. We need a witness. I’m sure both Inspector Aegisfield and Tafomi will want to question him. We haven’t searched the rest of this building yet. You two look unscratched; can you go check out the upper floor while Anomen and I get patched up and silence the spellcaster?”

Jan yawned in an elaborate show of nonchalance. “Oh, sure, but do you mind if I check the stairs for traps first? Explosions are so tiresome.”

She chuckled. “Be my guest. The neighbors will already be complaining about the excessive noise. Keldorn, would you like to examine this fine suit of plate mail? It’s not as well-crafted as your own, naturally, but it ought to fetch a few danters if the Inspector allows us to keep it.” She stretched experimentally. The contusions seemed to be so minor that she could skip worrying about them for now. She could heal herself tonight.

“All clear, Jan?” she called.

“Looks to be. Are you ready, Keldorn?”

“Aye,” the paladin replied. “Let us see what awaits us above.”

He joined the gnome, who had already picked the lock on the door at the top of the stairs. They had scarcely gone through the door before Jan called, “Tisha! We got a live one!”

She hurried up the stairs to see what was going on. The second story consisted of a single large room. There were beds and wardrobes to one side, but a young woman of about her own age was bound to a chair drawn out into the center of the room. Keldorn was already removing a gag and blindfold.

As the gag came out, the woman cried, “Who's there? What do you vermin wish now? The guard will hear of this outrage! Who...,” she stopped abruptly as her vision was restored. “You are not my captors. Who are you? I demand to be freed!”

Whoever this woman was, she was from a wealthy family, Patricia mused. Her voice sounded much like Delcia’s and her soiled and wrinkled clothing had once been quite fine. “Of course we shall untie you,” she replied.

“Lady Elgea, do you recall me? I am Sir Keldorn Firecam. Your family’s estate backs on to mine,” the paladin said.

Elgea looked distinctly relieved. “Why, of course I know you, Sir Keldorn. But when did the Order start accepting nonhumans?” she said, glancing at Jan.

“Mister Jansen, Sir Keldorn, and I are all part of a group investigating this series of kidnappings of the nobility,” Patricia said diplomatically.

“This is Lady Patricia Contemplata, the de’Arnise Regent,” Keldorn supplied.

“Ah, I see,” Elgea said in a noncommittal voice. “Well, I thank you then. I have been in this place too long. No doubt my ransom was on the way, but I begin to doubt they would have released me.”

Patricia wondered if the other woman was a friend of the Roenalls, or was just trying to hide the fact that she’d never heard of her. “I’m afraid your doubts were justified. Lord Tirdir Jalpurn was their last victim, and he only escaped because my ward Nalia happened to hear his shouts for help. I don’t wish to further upset you, but their habit was to bury them alive. A cruel, if bloodless death.”

Elgea shuddered. “Then you have saved me from a grim fate indeed. I have nothing of value on me to repay your kindness, I'm afraid. I offer my sincere thanks, however. I and my descendants are in your debt.”

“Nonsense,” said Patricia. “But there is one thing you can do to help us. Did you ever hear the names of any of your captors, or see them closely enough to identify them?”

“Yes, I saw all three of them, though I only heard one name. The others called the youngest one ‘Amsi’. I don’t think he’d been working with them long; the other two were talking once and they said ‘that Amsi’s too lily-livered, not at all like Dorwen, too bad he got himself killed’.”

Patricia’s eyes lighted with triumph. There it was! Circumstantial evidence, yes, but strong enough to convince Aegisfield. They’d just found Moira’s murderers, and at least one of them was dead by Anomen’s own hand. He’d sleep better at night now.

“Keldorn, would you and Jan please take Lady Elgea to meet the Inspector? I will be with you shortly. Ask Anomen to come upstairs as you leave. We need to examine these wardrobes for incriminating papers.”

“Of course,” said Keldorn, a gleam of understanding in his eyes. He realized as well as she did what the news would mean for the squire.