Chapter 5

Valygar’s Cabin, just before sunset


Valygar motioned for Keldorn to sit, taking his own chair after exchanging several glances and whispers with Jaheira. Keldorn, puzzled, looked between the two expectantly.


What in Torm’s name is this all about?


“Forgive my secrecy, old friend” Valygar said apologetically, seeing his friend’s discomfort. “Trying times are upon us, and I must be cautious.”


“I don’t understand” replied Keldorn. “Does this have something to do with the Rasheman Kid?”


Valygar dipped his head. “Possibly. There is another matter, one I have been looking into for a time. Jaheira feels it may somehow relate to your problem with the payroll robbery.”


“*What* matter, lad?” Keldorn said with more than a hint of exasperation. It is not like Valygar to speak in riddles.


Valygar looked him in the eye. “There’s trouble brewing among the Sun Elves, Keldorn.”


Keldorn felt the hackles on his neck rise. Grievances were common amongst the elves, and many were justified. But they usually pertained to everyday issues such as access to local water sources, or the encroachment of the reservation lands by herders. The old sheriff could see from Valygar’s face this was obviously something far more serious than a simple grazing dispute.


“For weeks now, there have been signs of growing unrest on the reservation. Traders are increasingly being turned away, herders who come too close to reservation lands are being harassed or even threatened, and visitors are watched with great suspicion.”


“This is troubling. Any idea of what is causing it?”


“Aye, I have a very good idea of what is causing it.” Valygar paused, his expression grim. “From what my sources tell me, an elf named Sovalidaas is behind the unrest.”


Keldorn gave Valygar a sharp look. “*General* Sovalidaas?”


Valygar nodded. “The same.”


Keldorn now saw the full context of Valygar’s concern. Sovalidaas was a legend, a military genius respected and feared during the Human-Elven wars. Charismatic, brave, and often ruthless, he had never lost a campaign. And he had been militantly opposed to the peace treaty signed by the elven leaders. If he was behind the unrest…


“You think an uprising is coming?”


Valygar shook his head wearily. “I don’t know. There is much I have yet to discover. But I fear what may happen, especially if the Amnian government learns of this before the situation is made clear.”


“This is dire news” said Keldorn. “And it would seem to be worse yet. You believe Sovalidaas may have something to do with the stolen payroll shipment?”


Valygar exchanged glances with Jaheira again. She nodded her agreement and spoke directly to Keldorn.


“There is more to this unrest than the actions of one man” she said. ”There is something else in play. The Balance has been upset. Nature is not in harmony here.”


Keldorn shifted uneasily. He was never comfortable with the sort of mysticism Jaheira and other elves espoused. It struck him as vague and based too heavily on ancient superstitions. At the same time, he was loathe to dismiss any clue, no matter how vague. And Keldorn reminded himself that he’d relied on his intution and gut instincts many times in his career, even when it was sometimes at odds with the known facts of a case.


The old sheriff became aware that Jaheira was studying him intently as he mulled over her words. She read his next question in his face and cut him off before he could ask it.


“No, I do not *know* how your bandit relates to the Balance. I only sense that he is somehow connected.”


Valygar grinned at Keldorn, who again was forced to chuckle at the half-elf’s bluntness.


Keldorn thought for a moment longer, then nodded. “Fair enough. What do you propose we do about it?”


“There is one who might be able to help us both” Valygar replied. “An old priestess named Demin is living at the reservation temple. Jaheira thinks Demin might be able to clarify her perceptions.”


“Or perhaps at the very least give us some information about Sovalidaas” Keldorn mused. “You can arrange for us to meet with this Demin?”


Valygar gave Keldorn a faint smile. “I’ve not lost all my contacts amongst the elves, old friend. It will take some time, but I think I can arrange it. Give me a couple of days.”


“Very well” agreed Keldorn. “I’ll return to Trademeet in the meantime. I want to see if my deputies have learned anything about the Kid’s whereabouts.”



*

Trademeet, the back room of the Three Oaks Inn, around 11pm


Imoen wearily changed out of her dancer’s outfit and pulled on a faded pair of dungaree overalls.


Ah, that’s better she thought as she hung up her dress and leggings. I wish some of those buffleheads in the crowd had to wear a corset, just once.


Imoen rubbed her eyes. She was tired, but still had quite a bit of work to do yet cleaning up the bar. She tucked her hair up under a cap and went out front to the bar.


Good thing Winthrop taught me a thing or two about taverns Imoen thought while she used a bit of seltzer to wipe down the bar. I wonder if he’s still running the inn there?


Candlekeep was a distant memory most times. But some nights, Imoen could not help but think of the tiny seaside town. Tonight was one such night.


Imoen picked up a mug and wiped it out with a towel. Heh. That old rumduke prolly would have hollered to the rafters if I’d dumped a beer on a customer back then. Ol’ Puffguts never could stand to see good beer go to waste.


She set the mug down and stared into it, picking at some speck of dirt on the glass.


It’d be nice to go back there someday. Maybe if I save up enough money I can enroll in the monastery’s school. Yeah, and maybe I’ll become the Queen of Tethyr.


Imoen sighed as she put the glass away and picked up another.



*


Somewhere in the countryside, north of the Amn/Sword Coast border


Minsc lay in his bedroll, staring at the star-filled sky. Boo was curled up nearby, warming himself by the campfire and letting out little snores. The peacefulness of the slumbering rodent stood in stark contrast to the big man lying next to him.


Minsc’s dark eyes smouldered, a piercing gaze that threatened to tear a hole in the night sky above him. It seemed sleep would never come, for Minsc rarely slept anymore. But at last his eyes closed and he slumbered next to Boo.


The screams came again, as they did every night. The same hazy nightmare, over and over. In his mind he saw faces of those who were in terrified, those who were in great pain. And then, invariably, came his own pain.


Minsc bolted upright with a howl that spoke not of fear but of terrible rage. Boo darted about frantically, squeaking and leaping from spot to spot. He landed on Minsc’s head and scrabbled down into his shirt, delivering a nip to the big man.


“Ah! Whatwhat? Oh…Oh-ho-ho! Minsc understands now!”


Minsc reached into his shirt and withdrew the frightened prairie dog.


“Ah, Minsc is sorry, Boo. I should not frighten my sleeping friends so.”


Minsc pet the furry rodent for a long while, calming it down while he brooded. He remembered a bit of the dream, as he always did. He looked to the north for a long while, then stood. Without another word, he broke camp and saddled up. He rode off into the night, heading for Beregost.