Chapter 54: Appearances
The wind settled during the night, and the following day brought sunshine and a pleasant warmth. The sun shone through the small, stained windows in the main chamber of the Fist headquarters, creating beams of light in the heavy air and painting mottled patterns of gold where it touched the stone walls. Ember and her friends had arrived early; while they waited for Commander Scar, Imoen amused herself with tracking one of the golden squares as it moved across the wooden table they had been seated at.
At the first chime of the noon bell, Scar came down a winding staircase in the corner of the main chamber. "Ah, here already? Excellent," he called out. "The Grand Duke awaits you in his office. Follow me."
The commander led them up the narrow staircase to a smaller chamber. It was sparsely furnitured, and two doors led away from the room. A tall man in gleaming armor stood in one of the doorways.
"Let me introduce you to Grand Duke Eltan, one of the lords of the city, commander of the Flaming Fist and member of the Lord's Alliance," Scar said, a note of pride in his voice.
"I am glad to see that you have come," Duke Eltan said with a broad smile. Ember immediately liked the man. "If you would follow me, we may talk more comfortably," the duke said, and led them all through one of the doors into what had to be the duke's meeting room. The room was dominated by a large table, surrounded by a dozen chairs. The walls were completely covered with bookshelves except where the torch holders were, and daylight drifted in through more of the small windows they'd seen below. A bowl of fruit stood on the table.
"Please, be seated," the duke said. He waited until everyone had taken a seat before he continued. "Now, I know that such a meeting is unusual, but in these circumstances it is necessary. From what I have been told, you have been quite a thorn in the side of the Iron Throne."
"About as much as they have been in mine," Ember said.
"You must be Ember, then," the duke said, leaning forwards across the table. "I am interested in you, because of the obvious hatred that they hold for you. I never trusted the evidence that placed the blame for the recent caravan raids and iron shortage on the Zhentarim; it was far too easy to blame them, and they would not have much to profit, while the Iron Throne had everything to gain. Your testimony about the Throne's intent merely cemented my suspicions."
"So what are you going to do about them?" Imoen asked.
The duke sighed. "Unfortunately, my hands are tied; I can't act against the Iron Throne until I have hard evidence of their wrongdoing."
"And all we have is hearsay, right?" Imoen said.
"Correct. If hard evidence is to be found anywhere, I'd expect it to be in the Iron Throne headquarters. A small group - preferably with no known connection to the Fist - could break into their headquarters and search for such proof," Duke Eltan said, looking at each of Ember's companions in turn as he spoke. "If you do this for me you'll be paid extremely well; two thousand gold to divide among yourselves. What is your answer?"
Minsc looked up from the apple slivers he'd been feeding Boo. "Minsc and Boo need no gold when there is evil that needs buttkicking!" he cried.
"(The lumbering oaf may speak for himself, but not for me,)" Edwin muttered. "It is a foolish endeavour, but I suppose it is the next logical step. I do expect you to reimburse any expenses we may incur from this, of course."
"That can be arranged," the duke said with a small grin.
"We can do this, I just know it!" Alora chirped. "Oh, it'll be fun!"
Kivan, Ember and Imoen exchanged amused glances. "Looks like we're doing this," Imoen said. "Consider us hired!"
"You have made a wise decision! It is a difficult mission that I give you, but I am sure that you have the wherewithal to make it through," Duke Eltan said. "Return and report to me once you feel you have enough information to use against the Iron Throne."
"If there is anything useful there, we will find it," Ember said.
The duke smiled. "Of that, I have no doubt."
---
After the audience with Duke Eltan, Ember and her companions headed into the inner city. It was time for a midday meal, and several of the Flaming Fist soldiers had recommended the food served at the Blushing Mermaid. It was a rather long walk, and the inn was in one of the seedier parts of town, but the soldiers assured them that the spiced meat pies were more than worth the trip.
"I can't say I look forward to breaking into the Iron Throne," Ember said. "Who knows what we'll be up against?"
"You know, I've been thinking about that. We don't have to just barge in," Imoen said. "We could try to be a bit sneaky this time instead."
"Oh?"
"We could pretend we were supposed to be there! Disguise ourselves as merchants, or something. I mean, they must have real guests all the time, right?"
Ember smiled. "You're right."
"Me and Alora could watch the place for a bit first, you know, to see how to fit in, and we could all wear important-looking clothes!"
"I think I'd need a better disguise than just clothes, though," Ember pointed out. "There is bound to be someone there who would recognize me."
"Nothing could be more important-looking than my robes," Edwin said, brushing an invisible speck of dust off his sleeve.
"But Eddie," Imoen said, "you know that someone like you in a robe like that all but screams 'Red Wizard', right?"
"Yes, I am aware of that effect." Edwin said testily. "(Especially because it is intentional. How else would the barbarian rabble know when their betters approach? She really is surprisingly dense some days.)"
"Good! Are you aware that the Iron Throne probably knows that Ember travels with a Red Wizard, as well?"
Edwin opened and closed his mouth a few times. "(I don't see why I should have to disguise my glorious nature at all,)" he eventually muttered.
"Oh, it'll be just like a game, Eddie!" Alora exclaimed. "Just wait and see!"
"They probably know about all of us, except possibly Alora," Imoen added, "so we should all try to look different."
"Minsc does not know how to speak like merchants, and Boo cannot do it for me," Minsc said in a low voice.
"Then you can be our armored guard," Ember said. "You won't have to speak at all while we're pretending." A relieved smile spread across the large ranger's face.
"I refuse to wear armor!" Edwin declared. "(I will not allow them to hamper my abilities like that!)"
"Of course not, Eddie. We'll find something else for you and me," Imoen said. "I have some ideas..."
Several ideas for disguises were tossed around as they walked up the last few streets towards the Blushing Mermaid, and the conversation didn't end until they reached the door of the inn. As Kivan reached out for the handle, a hulking figure rose under the shadow of the eaves. It stepped out into the sunlight and moved towards them, revealing itself as a very tall, skinny ogre, dressed in red and black rags and holding a very large club. Ember instinctively shifted her grip on her staff to a more battle-ready position.
"Huurm," the ogre said, "I be Larze. You be Ember of Candlekeep. Don't try deny it. You should not have come to Baldur's Gate. You given many warning before, but you ignore them. Now you must pay. Sorry, but Larze must kill."
"Why do you think she is Ember of Candlekeep?" Alora asked. "I heard that Ember of Candlekeep is a great big warrior with flaming eyes and a roaring voice and that she can knock anyone down with one hit! I'd be too scared to be around her, I would!"
"Huh? But she must be Ember of Candlekeep," Larze said, gesturing with a massive hand at Ember. "Me see picture, and it look like her. It had no fire eyes or big voice. Though pictures don't have voices. Hmmmmm, I confused."
"Do you have this picture with you?" Ember asked in a pleasant tone. Roaring voice, indeed, she thought amusedly.
The ogre slowly pulled a matted and torn scroll from his bag. He unrolled it and thrust it in Ember's face. "See? Is this not you?"
Ember took the picture from Larze. It was a very detailed sketch made with black ink, showing Ember in her old chainmail and with her sword drawn. She had to admit it was a rather good likeness. "I can see why you mistook me for her; we do resemble each other. She looks like a skilled swordswoman," she said to the ogre.
"Yes. They warn Larze. They say to me, do not let her cut you. Squish her first."
"That sounds like good advice," Ember said. "But you see, I am a druid. I don't have a sword, and I am not even allowed to use one."
"Druid?"
"Yes. See, I have a staff, and no chainmail."
The ogre scratched his head. "Then you really not her, me think. Too bad. Tazok will not be pleased." Out of the corner of her eye, Ember saw Kivan flinch slightly; thankfully, Larze didn't seem to notice the elf's reaction. "Him sure that Ember of Candlekeep was in town," the ogre continued thoughtfully.
"She could be somewhere else," Ember suggested.
"Yes. Larze go look now! Bye bye," Larze said, and walked off into a narrow alley with his club slung over his shoulder.
"And that is why we need disguises," Ember said as soon as the ogre was out of sight.
