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Familiarnapped: Part 5


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#1 Guest_Ophidia_*

Posted 12 February 2003 - 05:42 PM

An Enjoyable Partnership: Familiarnapped


Part Five

The ting, ting, ting sound of rigging slapping against masts was the first noise that greeted the party of adventurers as they entered the docks of Athkatla. Edwin remembered it well- it had been a constant background noise during the time he had worked for Mae’Var. That had been such a strange, dreamlike period in his life: after the first wave of Red Wizards had attacked him (two apprentices, easily dispatched), he had realised his ruse had finally failed, and he had sought shelter within the guild of the shadow thieves. It had been a time of dark despair, insane hope, and a growing loathing of both Mae’Var and his working practices. One thing he had forgotten, though, one thing that brought back the memories with alarming force, was the smell.

“Fresh sea air!” Andorel said, breathing deeply. “Nothing like it.”

“Fresh?” Anomen said in astonishment. “Why, it smells like a combination of…”

“My house is in this district,” Valygar said, “I have some business I would like to attend to while we are here.”

“Um, fresh, yes, the air smells lovely here. Salty.” Anomen quickly amended.

“It smells of rotting fish guts, brothel middens and the peculiar exhalations of sailors who haven’t bathed in three months.” Edwin declared.

“Of course, you would know what a brothel’s midden smelt like, wouldn’t you, Edwin?” Anomen snapped. “No doubt you have landed in a few in your time.”

Edwin smiled thinly. “Not in the docks district. I have better taste than that.”

“Oh.” Anomen looked oddly disappointed.

“Enough yakking, you two! We have this Barg fella to find.” Andorel said.

By questioning the various sailors and passers-by they met in the area, they finally located Barg, standing near the seafront. He was looking out to sea, the breeze ruffling his slightly curly hair. He hummed quietly to himself, tapping his tankard to the time of his tune on a convenient crate.

“Hey, you!” Andorel called. Barg spun round, slightly misjudging it and having to swing back to face the half-orc. “My pal here wants to talk to ya.” He shoved Edwin towards the obviously drunk man.

Edwin approached cautiously. He was an astute judge of drunkenness, and he did not want to stand too closely to this man when he finally lost the contents of his stomach. He found himself vaguely wondering if he could manoeuvre Andorel under the resultant fountain. Hmm. That disgusting warrior would probably not even notice. Valygar instead, maybe? Seeing Valygar dripping with alcohol-infused vomit would have given Edwin a lot of satisfaction.

“Top o’ the morning to ye, my good man! Join me in a drink? More the merrier!” Barg offered Edwin his tankard.

“Ah, tempting though your offer is, I have more pressing matters. What exactly is your business here?”

“My business?” Barg swing his tankard around wildly, “Best business in th’ world! A pirate, am I. Work for that mincin’ ponce, Isaea. Ahhh, shouldn’t say that. He’s a good man, he pays me well, ya know.”

“That is…good to hear.” Edwin said.

“Not as much as the slavers, though. Now they make the big money, they do, yup. I prefer pirating myself. The roar of the high seas, the spray in yer face, the daring fights, the…”

“Yes, yes. I…wish to join these slavers. Do you…think you could mention my name to whomever handles such things?”

“Ah, go and see ‘im yerself. Officer Dirth, Sea’s Bounty. That pub up by th’ steps.” Barg threw and arm around Edwin’s shoulders, drew him close and winked slowly. Edwin tried not to breathe. “Good lasses up there, too, eh? Uhhh…I feel sick…”

Edwin hastily stepped out of the way of the resulting deluge.

***


Feredain was playing a game.

It was one she often indulged in for her own amusement. Degardan was currently working on his scrying, and she had little to do. This time, Nalia was the target. Feredain stared at her, unblinkingly, turning her head to follow Nalia’s every movement as she paced restlessly. Nalia’s pacing speeded up under her gaze. She could almost see the young noble’s heart rate increasing with every passing second as she became more and more discomforted by Feredain’s examination. The stare game was good practice of her intimidation techniques, and therefore useful for her future career. It had been a while since she had had a chance to exercise her skills. There was also a simple enjoyment in making de’Arnise suffer.

Eventually, Nalia sat down on the bed and started biting her nails instead. Feredain decided to practice another skill instead. So much could be learnt by judging the tiniest reaction to statements and questions.

“The Odesseiron. He is important to you.”

Nalia started at the sudden sound of Feredain’s smooth voice. “Yes. I, I suppose he is. I miss him, I guess.” I do miss him, she thought, wonderingly, I miss his sarcastic wit and his numerous peculiarities. I even miss being constantly insulted by him. He’s my familiar, and I miss him.

“A mistake, Lady de’Arnise.” Feredain said, standing up with a rustle of expensive fabric. She seemed to be staring at midair, at some private image of her own. “A mage of your power is only weakened by forming attachments, especially those formed of mere desire. No doubt you see that, now.”

“You have a point, I guess. If, if I’d never met him, I wouldn’t be here now, would I?”

“Indeed.” Feredain said distantly. “Those who rely on others, fall. Those who stay alone, stand strong. It is a lesson I thought the Odesseiron knew. It appears he did not.”

Does she mean he is trying to rescue me? Or does she just mean his link with me? Hard to be sure.

“Is it a shame that you learn the lesson too late to profit by it, de’Arnise.” Feredain stood over Nalia, now, impassively focussing her shining gaze upon her.

There was something strange about the way Feredain had said her name, Nalia realised. Something she had missed before, or maybe noticed and tucked into a little envelope labelled ‘That’s odd’ in her mind, and then forgotten. Today, though, it tugged at her thoughts, moulding them into a new pattern. Images started jolting through her mind in a sudden tumble of inspiration and chaos.

Flash.

Feredain, visiting de’Arnise keep, examining the elaborate library carpet with disdain.

Flash.

The council of Zulkirs, Feredain standing quietly against the wall, waiting.

Flash.

She always calls Edwin ‘The Odesseiron’.

Flash.

Her barely disguised look of hatred when she shimmered into existence behind Isaea in Nalia’s bedroom. The look directed at Isaea.

It was all so obvious.

Nalia looked up into those shining, empty eyes, stared straight back at the tall figure leaning over her. She felt her mind empty of everything, all worry, all concern for the future.

“You always become the thing you hate,” Nalia said, so softly it was almost a whisper, “Don’t you, Lady Feredain?”

Feredain blinked. Nalia stood up, grinning. Feredain took a step back.

“I’m not scared of you any more, Feredain. In fact, I pity you.”

Feredain took another step backwards. “You…you should pity yourself, Nalia.” Then, without another word, she turned and left the room.

Nalia smiled grimly. A kernel of a plan was starting to form in her mind.

***


The Sea’s Bounty was entirely unlike the Copper Coronet. Although it had about the same level of notoriety, it was distinctly quieter. There were drunken sailors in there, as rowdy and uncontrolled as sailors everywhere, but there were also a few nobles, drinking quietly, and, in one corner, a group of surprisingly respectable looking adventurers, giving the other patrons shifty looks before turning to talk quietly to each other.

“Eddie? Oh, I knew you’d come back!” A high pitched female voice squealed as the party entered. “You’ve braided your beard! That is just sooo cute!” The barmaid dropped her drinks on a nearby table and ran over to fling her arms around Edwin’s neck before he could dodge out of the way.

“Ahh, er, do I know you?”

“What’s this thing? You didn’t used to wear it!” The girl said, yanking on his nose-chain.

“Unnnh! Thdon’t Thdo thath!”

“Oops, sorry.” She let him go. Edwin clutched at his smarting nose. “It’s me, Eddie! Remember? I know you haven’t forgotten me.”

“I, ah…” Edwin rummaged through his memory. Yes, he did vaguely remember her. It had been that first night that Mae’Var had tortured Lin. The screams had echoed through the guild house, and Edwin had decided to get absolutely blind drunk. If Mae’Var could torture his own cousin like that, Edwin had thought, then the guild was not the safe haven he had thought it would be. He had gone to the Sea’s Bounty to escape his own thoughts.

The girl, Gracie was her name, Edwin vaguely remembered, turned to Andorel’s party. “He’s a real sweetie you know. Have you ever heard him sing?” She asked, turning to Keldorn.

Keldorn and Valygar gave the mage a predictably disgusted glare, but Anomen and Andorel were trying to hide envious looks. Minsc was, as usual, looking utterly unconcerned with current events.

“I do not sing!” Edwin hissed. “(Though no doubt I could excel at it if I tried.)”

“You did that night. What was that great one? Something about a girl called Lydia, I think. Oh yes, she had tattoos didn’t she?”

Edwin grabbed the Gracie by her shoulders and glared at her and his taut temper, already wound up by the party of adventurers, finally snapped. “It was one mere night, wench! I have far more important things concerning me right now than your pathetic drivellings.”

For a moment, Gracie’s pretty face flushed red and her lips quivered, then she pulled back her hand and slapped him soundly across the face.

“Well, if that’s how you’re going to behave, fine!” She said, picked up her tray of drinks again, and minced off into the crowd.

Minsc stared after her with a look of longing. “Minsc wonders if the lady needs a strong ranger to protect her…”

“Come on, guys, show’s over.” Andorel rumbled. He put a heavy arm around Edwin’s thin shoulders. “I have to say, Eddie, you might lack tact, but you have excellent taste.”

Edwin smirked briefly, blinking slightly to stop his eyes watering. “Of course.” He looked around the bar anxiously. “Now, before we were so rudely interrupted, we were looking for an Officer Dirth, were we not?”

“Minsc sees him!” Minsc said, pointing. “Over there, look! See the terrible cruel smile and the feeling of evil around him?”

The party looked to where Minsc was pointing.

“Minsc,” Keldorn said kindly, “That’s a sailor, playing with his pet ferret.”

“Yes! Anyone who keeps ferrets is Evil, Boo says!”

“I suspect that this man here is our target.” Keldorn said, leading the way to a man in plate mail drinking quietly at a corner table. “I see none others in this place dressed for war as he is.”

“Are you Officer Dirth?” Edwin called above the general hubbub. The seated man got up, and walked towards him, a pleasant smile on his face.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“I believe we have a mutual friend in Barg, the pirate.”

“Oh, not again” The man rolled his eyes in exasperation. “I’m sorry, but I don’t give out alms to all and sundry.”

“I was interested in perhaps joining your little side-business. The one involving Isaea Roenall? I believe there is money in it.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “What side business? I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re talking about, young man.”

“Oh, but I think you do. Slaving.”

“Me? Involved in slaving? Ridiculous!” Dirth crossed his arms and laughed scornfully.

“I already know you are, oaf.” Edwin snapped. “Confess your involvement and I may possibly be merciful.”

“Oh yes?” Dirth said with a sneer. “Don’t make me laugh. You can’t harm me.”

“Can’t I?” Edwin replied. “We shall see about…” He stopped suddenly, and wilted. Of course, he couldn’t harm this man. No spells, no magic. He clenched his fists at the futility of it all.

“Eddie? Duck!”

Edwin had previously got used to Andorel’s fighting techniques, and, for once, did as he was ordered. A two handed sword passed over his head and took off Dirth’s head.

“Ergh, I hate slavers.” Andorel knelt down and rummaged through the fallen man’s armour. He stood up, clutching a sheaf of papers. “This looks interesting. Um, can someone read it for me?”

Keldorn took it out of Andorel’s grasp. As he read, his hands started to shake in rage. “Hmm. It seems our suspicious friend Khellor had the right of it. These are orders for the placement of recently acquired slaves. Orders sealed with the Roenall signet, Isaea’s personal seal.”

“I would never have believed it, a fine family like theirs, so corrupt at heart?” Anomen said in dismay.

Keldorn clasped the young knight’s shoulder comfortingly. “Never mistake fine clothes for fine intentions, young Anomen. I presume it is now time to see if Jan has acquired the other evidence.”

The six adventurers turned around and left the Sea’s Bounty. Gracie watched them go, and, once they had left, burst into tears.




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