Chapter 25: Feldepost's Inn
"Your iron or your life!" bellowed one of the three half-ogres that were blocking the path ahead.
"No, your iron and your life!" another of the half-ogres suggested.
"Yeah, that one's better," the first half-ogre said. "Your iron and your life!" he shouted.
Well, that's new, Imoen thought with a small grin. In the past two days, they had found that the hilly woodlands east of the road between Nashkel and Beregost were crawling with bad guys. Yesterday, they had killed a swarm of xvarts who were menacing a poor farmer's only cow, a sweet-natured black and white thing named Arabelle, as well as a group of ogres who were actually eating a man when they came across them. Today, three men wearing red and black had demanded their lives as toll for passing through a gulley; they were dead now, and Kivan had taken their scalps.
"Why do you want our iron?" Ajantis called out to the half-ogres, who were still several dozen paces away.
"Yeah, what's wrong with our gold? Everyone else seems to want that," Imoen remarked quietly.
"Ours no good!" The first half-ogre shouted. "Crumble like elf-bones and make our Clan into laughingstock! Ha ha, big joke... We kill you quick, no pain. Just take iron."
"Yeah, we kill you. Maybe eat you later, once iron smelted," the third of the half-ogres said.
"Fine. Come and get our iron!" Ember called out to them.
The skirmish did not last long. The half-ogres wore little armor other than helmets, and while they were stronger than even Minsc was, two of them had swords that were barely more than fire pokers. It was an easy task for Imoen to pepper them with arrows, and one of them fell to the ground with a thud, one of Imoen's arrows sticking out of his neck. The third half-ogre had a better weapon, and managed to hurt Ajantis pretty badly before he was cut down.
Imoen examined the one good blade while Ember healed Ajantis with her magic touch. The sword was very large, very sharp, very well made, and, as far as she could tell, enchanted much the same as Ajantis's blade and her own short sword were. She grabbed the hilt and tried to lift the weapon, but it was far too heavy for her.
"Minsc, come here!" she called out.
The large ranger approached her with a smile. "Does little Imoen need help?" he asked.
"What do you think of this sword?" She gestured towards the blade in question.
Minsc looked at the sword. "That is the sword the evil ones wanted to use to cut up little Imoen and little Ember for their dinner!"
"Yep! Since he doesn't need it anymore, I was wondering if you could use it, and turn it into a sword of justice instead?"
Minsc lifted the sword with ease and studied it closely, his face scrunched up in concentration. "It is a very big sword. Many evil men would run away from this sword, wouldn't they?" He turned towards Boo, who was sitting on his shoulder. "Boo, do you think... yes? Boo agrees! Minsc has larger sword! Evil, beware!"
"And hamsters and rangers everywhere, rejoice! Right?"
"Yes! And little Imoens, too, if they want to!"
"Of course they do!" Imoen smiled happily and hugged her large friend.
---
Feldepost's Inn was the largest and most opulent building in Beregost, and its clientele as diverse as the citizens themselves. Ember and her companions arrived at dusk, the busiest hour of the evening. Courtesans were already milling around outside the inn, and Edwin glanced longingly at one or two of the women until a heavily painted lady waddled towards him and asked if he wanted to look at her diddeys.
"Your ...'diddeys'?" he snorted with disgust. "Madam, you appear to have mistaken yourself with a bovine, and I am not about to waste my considerable erotic talents on a woman with the level of taste and intellect that such a delusion of identity implies. (Can't they even groom their concubines right in these barbaric lands?)" Edwin gathered his robes around him and turned and walked away with an expression of perfect superiority.
"Moo," Imoen said as they walked up the steps to the inn. Edwin glowered at her; she grinned sweetly in return.
The inn was packed with merchants and farmers, all busy with the important task of merry-making. Several inebriated farmers were sitting at the closest table; one of them looked at them, scowled, and got up from his seat. "'Ere now, get out! I don't like your type in here!" the farmer yelled, waving a beer mug in a menacing manner.
"Ignore him; he is drunk," Kivan said quietly. "Where is the innkeeper?"
"Over there! He has many pretty things on the wall," Minsc said, pointing to their right.
The farmer approached them. "Hey! I told you to get lost! Ain't no room here for ye trouble makin' strangers!" he yelled, brandishing a balled fist under Ember's nose.
Ember stepped backwards. "No need to get all bent out of shape," she said. "There's plenty of room for us all."
"I take whatever shape I want! I'm sick of you freakish adventurers going out, consorting with gods know what, and dragging your trouble back into my home town! What do you say to that!?"
"Hey, we solve a lot more trouble than we cause. From our point of view, anyway," Ember said with a chuckle, realizing that they weren't exactly the Iron Throne's idea of problem-solvers.
"Oh, you think it's funny, do you?!" the farmer yelled. "You mess up the local economy with your treasure, you upset the balance of nature, you flash your magic around, and because of it maybe somebody's son thinks it's fun and goes out and gets himself killed!"
"At least it sounds like he had a choice about the matter, unlike some people I could mention," Ember said. Fun, indeed... although I have to admit it has been more interesting than I'd ever have expected.
"He was a good boy 'til your kind came through town! Filled his head with nonsense they did, and because of it he's dead!"
Ember glared at the enraged farmer. "Perhaps you should ask yourself if he wouldn't have left anyway!"
"'Tain't true! He was going to take over the farm and settle down. Maybe apprentice with Thunderhammer during the winter. He never wanted to adventure."
"That was what you wanted, Marl!" one of the other farmers interjected. "Yer blaming these folk fer what couldn't be helped. That boy was a firebrand if ever there was..."
"No! He was settling down! He wanted... he wanted..."
"That new plow ye bought last year, he got the gold by helping clear kobolds near Ulgoth's Beard. He wanted to make a difference, make the Realms a bit safer. Just like these folk, most likely," the other farmer pointed out.
"By Chauntea, why couldn't he just stay home?!" the farmer moaned.
Ajantis stepped forward and gently placed a gauntleted hand on the farmer's shoulder. "Good sir, it is never that simple. The realms call, and you go. He sounds a fine lad taken too soon, but doing what he was meant. If you will suffer my company, I'll buy a round and toast his memory with you."
The farmer nodded slowly. "'Twould be fitting, I suppose," he said, and raised his mug. "To Kennair Nethalin! Rest ye well!" the farmer cried, and emptied his drink. He placed the mug on the table and wiped an eye. "I... I would be alone awhile," he muttered, and wandered off.
"Well... 'tis the calmest I done seen him in a week," the other farmer said. "Still, best you move along. Marl ain't known for his steady moods."
"We shall take your advice, good sir," Ajantis said. "May his grief loosen its grip soon."
They made their way through the bustling crowd to the right wall, where the innkeeper stood behind a bar of meticulously polished beechwood. The wall behind him was completely covered by finely carved shelves. The lower shelves were filled with bottles of wine, but the upper shelves displayed an impressive array of books, jewelry and fine weapons. A suit of chainmail, much like the one Ember wore, hung from a mannequin in the corner. The innkeeper himself was a richly dressed man, and he smiled pleasantly at them.
"Ah, adventurers! May I interest you in some of my fine items? I stock only the best quality! Or perhaps a drink, to wash away the dust of the road?"
"Thank you for your generous offers, good sir, but there are matters that must be attended to first," Ajantis said. "We are seeking a man named Tranzig. We were told we could find him here."
The innkeeper sighed wearily. "Yes, I do have a guest named Tranzig. You have messages for him, no doubt."
"Is he here now?" Kivan asked.
"I believe so. Shall I fetch him for you?"
"It would be preferable if you could show us to his room," Ajantis said.
The innkeeper straightened himself. "As a rule, I do not tell others where my guests' rooms are, not even their friends. Tranzig may show you himself, after I fetch him."
"He is not our friend," Ember said.
"Indeed?"
"We are investigating the iron crisis," Ajantis said. "Tranzig is implicated, and it is of utmost importance that we question him."
The innkeeper's astonished expression did not last long; his mouth became a tight line, and his brow furrowed in an angry scowl. "I should have known that little weasel was up to something. He is upstairs, the first door on the right. Feel free to take whatever measures you must to aid your cause."
Ajantis bowed. "Thank you for your cooperation, good sir. We shall do our very best to not inconvenience your other guests."
They moved quietly up the stairs. The hallway was covered with opulent carpets, which served them well; the sound of their footsteps was muffled. Imoen examined the lock of the first door on the right.
"It's not locked," she whispered. Ember immediately stepped forward and opened the door. Inside, a heavyset man in black mage robes was gathering items in a burlap sack. Bald, burly, black robe, dour face... a perfect match to the description Branwen gave us. At Ember's entry, he stopped packing his bag and glared at her.
"Why do ya bother me?" Tranzig demanded. "Can't ya see that I'm in a hurry?"
"Perhaps you could tell us why you are in such a hurry?" Ember asked casually.
The mage glared at her. "Git outta my face before I hurt you, little girl!"
Ember smiled and opened the door further. Her companions filed into the room. "You won't be rid of us that easily," she said. "We know you're up to no good, you see. So you'd better tell us everything you know."
The mage's face fell, but he quickly composed himself. "Ya know what I'm up to, eh? Well, maybe somethin' ya don't know about is my magic skills. Ya might not believe me, but if you ain't outta my face in the next 5 seconds, I'll BLAST YA TO KINGDOM COME!"
Edwin laughed coldly. "As if your meager abilities could possibly be a match for my own."
Tranzig gestured rapidly, and a bolt of electricity shot out of his hands, aimed squarely at Edwin. The bolt hit him in the chest and knocked him off his feet, but the current flowed through his boots and into the floor, leaving the red wizard unharmed.
Tranzig was not as lucky. The bolt of lightning ricocheted off of a mirror and headed back the way it came. It struck Tranzig with enough force to slam him into the bed behind him. The air filled with the odour of burnt meat and thunder.
Edwin bent over the other mage, who was jittering uncontrollably as the force of the bolt worked its way out of his body, and laughed. "That is why you never use lightning bolts indoors, you fool! (At least the girl knows better than that. I must remember to thank her for giving me these boots.)"
Ember aimed her sword at the mage's belly, and Kivan held his hammer over Tranzig's head. Minsc and Ajantis stood further away, but they had also drawn their weapons.
"I give up!" Tranzig wheezed as soon as he recovered his voice. "Please, let me live. I'll tell ya anything ya wanna know."
"So speak," Ember said.
"It's not me you want! I'm just Tazok's messenger! I ferry messages between him and a fat cleric named Mulahey. That's all I do!"
"That, and posting bounties, and paying assassins, and petrifying clerics, and cursing militia captains... did I miss anything?" Imoen asked. Tranzig paled.
"Where can we find Tazok?" Kivan asked.
"Tazok? You can find him in the Wood of Sharp Teeth. He's the captain of two groups of bandits. Their camp's always movin', so I don't know how much luck you'll have in findin' them. Please, will you lemme go?"
"Do you know who I am?" Ember asked.
"No! But I'm sure you're very important, very gracious and benevolent..."
Ember grabbed the mage by his collar and pulled his face close to hers. His hair crackled and stood out like bristles on a brush.
"You know, if you were to possess a measure of intelligence that I suspect is far beyond you, I would tell Ember of Candlekeep exactly why you are hiring people to kill her," Edwin remarked.
"Em-Ember?" Tranzig panicked. "I-I don't know! Tazok gave me the orders! I just followed them! I know nothing more!"
"That's too bad," Ember said, and ran Tranzig through with her blade.
