11. Candlekeep Convergence Capers

11. Candlekeep Convergence Capers

12 FLAMERULE 2200
THE SEA OF SWORDS – THE UNDERSEA PALACE

“How are you enjoying your stay, Mr. Bond?”

“Please – Jarek. Quite nice, actually, Jeweler. Although I might suggest to your chef that the caviar is overemphasized. It’s only a garnish, really, not a side.”

“My apologies, Jarek.”

The Jeweler returned to stroking his cat with one hand and sipping his wine with the other, sitting back in his large shark-leather chair, behind which a pane of enchanted glass kept the actual sharks of the ocean at bay. Across the large marble table and the food lavishly laid upon it, Jarek Bond casually but expertly cut his shark steak into small, polite bites. The captive of three nights was dressed in understated black-tie noble’s attire, and not physically restrained in any direct manner, although a number of golems stood motionless far behind him against a wall of the large room. In the chair next to the swashbuckler’s, Bucki Ryder picked lazily at her food, clad in a glamorous and revealing black evening gown and a generous but tasteful array of jewelry.

“You know what I like about you, Jarek?” the Jeweler gestured with his wine goblet as he spoke, “You’ve an appreciation for the finer things in life, particularly in those extra measures a worthy adversary goes through to be sportsmanlike and generous. So hard to come by in a do-gooder these days. Those proselytizing paladins, always denouncing wealth, power, and promiscuity. And the good monks – their vows of poverty and celibacy are even more extreme! It’s almost comical, and yet they have no sense of humor at all! And those rangers, a bit less stiff, but still shunning the finer things that civilization has to offer. Why, those woodsmen are almost barbarians.”

“They are a bit rough around the edges, aren’t they?” Jarek nodded while raising his goblet to the Jeweler and with his left hand reaching under the table to stroke Bucki’s leg through the split in her dress. “You certainly seem to have quite an eye for life’s little luxuries. The architecture here – so clean, spacious, magically well-lit, and such a view – “ he gestured to the transparent walls through which the sea was visible “ - impeccable. The food, aside from my few pointers, is five-star. The women, absolutely dazzling.” He squeezed Bucki’s thigh and then moved his hand further up while the assassin bit her lip and smiled politely. “And the crew here – “ he gestured back with his wine goblet to the golems behind him, causing the Jeweler to chuckle, “Competent and loyal. But you seem to have a particular taste, Jeweler, for the small things.” To Bucki’s visible dismay, Jarek pulled his hand out of her skirt and held up her hand in his, showing off her many jeweled rings, “Like say, gems and jewelry.” Jarek then gestured again toward the Jeweler, with a subtle but unmistakable downward motion pointing toward the Jeweler’s collar.

“Ah yes,” the Jeweler smiled indulgently and moved his cat-stroking hand to his necklace. The chain was simple platinum, but the pendant was of a fiery-glowing red gem. “I’ve always been so fond of jewels. The dancing colors, the translucence and the light, the smooth edges, the hardness. I cherish them all - Diamonds, rogue stones, star sapphires, pearls, moonstones, and the rest. I do so love them.”

Jarek smirked. “I don’t suppose you’d also have an interest in swords?”

“But of course, Jarek,” the Jeweler eyed his adversary suspiciously. “I’m a collector of many things.”

“Like, say, slaves?”

“Exactly.”

“Tsk, tsk, I can’t approve of your tastes categorically.”

“It’s no mere hobby, Jarek, it’s the way of things.” The Jeweler rose from his seat, and walked over to two large fish tanks at the edge of the long table, each of which contained a very mean-looking dragonfish. The Jeweler scooped one of them out with a gloved hand, and then dropped the writhing, gnashing creature in the other tank. The two dragonfish immediately zoomed for one another. Their long fins and tails lashed about, and they bit at one another with small but razor-sharp teeth, and soon the tank because murky and then opaque with the billowing clouds of blood. The Jeweler looked on in amusement, and after a few minutes the underwater fog of blood cleared. One dragonfish was happily munching upon the other, which was torn apart and dead.

“So you see,” the Jeweler proclaimed while applauding the victor, “Chaos and violence are simply the natural order.” He gestured to the large window-walls of the room, where a shark was swallowing a smaller fish. “It is only man that has tried to introduce ludicrous concepts like ‘morality’ and ‘law’; I’m merely doing what would be expected of any living being.”

“You’re a monster, Jeweler,” Jarek declared calmly between sips of his wine.

Still standing by the fish tanks, the Jeweler growled under his breath, an inhumanly deep growl, and clenched his gloved fist so hard he shattered his goblet. “Careful, Harper 007,” he bellowed at least an octave below normal human range, “You would not wish to prove yourself correct.”

**********

12 FLAMERULE 2300
ATHKATLA – THE ROENAL ESTATE

“She will be mine. Oh yes, she will be mine.”

Isaea Roenal paced nervously. Dwein Seroindose, apparently a Thayvian Red Wizard masquerading as a member of the Council of Six, was going to kill Nalia de’Arnise! Correction – HIS Nalia de’Arnise! Oh, he wanted de’Arnise Keep and its lands, to be sure, and he would hate to see her on the Council of Six herself. She was somehow brought under his control. He wanted her so he could get her lands. And he simply wanted her. In the basest of ways. He had tried to force her hand in marriage, but been apprehended by her ruffian friends, and since those same had sullied his reputation with admittedly true evidence of his corruption, things looked grimmer than ever. It’s not really corruption, he told himself. I merely hadn’t gotten the law in line with my practices! His lawyers, some of the best in Amn, had been hard at work absolving him of technical legal liability for his crimes, but his reputation among the nobles and the government – who were practically the same – still suffered. His lawyers had also been busy figuring out how to bring Nalia de’Arnise under his control – they’d tried insanity, and it’d almost worked that once, and it still seemed like a plausible avenue. She had done more outlandish things since that last Bhaalspawn-interrupted fiasco, and he had more evidence against her. If she was found unfit to care for herself, a marriage would prove the perfect solution, and put her assets – every kind – under his legal control.

But that was the problem. Dwein had sent assassins to kill her. And to desecrate and destroy the body. Not kidnap her again. His lawyers had also been hard at work figuring out how he could acquire her material assets in that case, but the prospects there looked slim, as they had never been technically married yet. And moreover there was the matter of her personal assets, which he wanted badly. No matter how many times he visited the back rooms of the Copper Coronet and partook in the best it had to offer, no matter how many courtesans he sneaked in and out of his estate, that burning greed for her would not go away. He had to have her, Dwein or no.

A knock was heard on Isaea’s door. “It’s THEM,” the butler stated.

“Well let them in, you great oaf!” Isaea called, trying to sound authoritative, but his voice cracked.

The door opened and three very slight, perhaps elven, figures wearing form-fitting head-to-toe leather, strode in. Isaea tried to look haughty as he appraised them, but in truth he was shaking. “Y-you’re the best the Shadow Thieves have to offer, eh? I’m not impressed.”

“You’ll be impressed with the results,” the middle one hissed, “So long as we’re impressed with the payment.”

Isaea tossed him a bulging gem bag. His pitiful throw fell far short, but the left thief’s arm suddenly lashed out like a snake, and a web of rope flew from his wrist, ensnared the bag, and brought it snapping back into his palm. This figure opened and inspected it all with that one hand, then nodded and spoke in a raspy voice. “This had better be worth a hundred grand at market prices, or we’ll come back…to get the rest.” Isaea gulped. “With any outcome, we keep this one. If we return successfully, have the same again. If you can’t pay the rest…we’ll get our money’s worth out of the princess some other way, I’m sure.” The figure’s mouth, like the others, was covered by a mask, but Isaea could tell he was grinning broadly underneath.

Isaea’s face grew red and when he tried to speak, and only gibberish came out. Finally he swallowed and managed to speak. “I c-can pay. J-just make sure you get her unharmed and untouched. There’s another group with an eight hour lead on you seeking to kill her, so you’d better get to Candlekeep first. And she herself an archmage now, and may still be with friends; don’t underestimate her.”

“Don’t worry,” the left thief rasped, “I, the Bounty Hunter, will set a harmless but flawless trap for her.”

“And,” the middle thief hissed, “I, the Assassin, will put her to sleep with a harmless but flawless drought.”

“And,” the right thief croaked, “I, the Swashbuckler, will apprehend any that try to interfere with my harmful and flawless technique.”

“S-see that you do,” Isaea nodded, “And be quick about it.”

“But of course,” the Assassin hissed, “Our time is valuable. And on that note…” the three thieves almost disappeared from Isaea’s sight and moved as silent and shadowy figures out of the room.

Isaea walked over to one of his dressers to change into unwet pants.

**********

13 FLAMERULE 0800
THE COAST WAY – NORTH OF THE CLOUDPEAKS

The four knights of the Order had stopped en route to Beregost and Candlekeep to rest out of sight of the Coast Way road next to a stream in a fairly secluded valley. They had ridden all through the night, as the Cloudpeaks pass was a treacherous place to camp at night, with all manner of goblins and thieves liable to pour out of caves or down from peaks. In their daytime campsite, Adonis Narcissus was leaning over the bank of the stream and admiring himself while styling his hair, but Judas, Puritus, and Anomen sat around in a circle, eating their rations cold.

“Your eyes flinch, Sir Delryn. Why?” Puritus demanded.

Anomen sighed, not wanting to answer. “I have a doubt.”

“This is a perfect campsite; we already went over it.”

Anomen could have let it rest at that, but he wouldn’t have felt quite honest letting the man deceive himself. “No…about our assignment.”

“Do you really think he’ll be so foolish as to resist arrest by four members of the Order?” Puritus scoffed.

Anomen thought carefully. “We should give him the chance to come voluntarily before declaring it an arrest. I’m sure he’d resist arrest, actually. I don’t even know why we’re making this trip; he’d have come back to Athkatla soon enough anyway.”

Judas frowned pensively. “Justice must be swift!”

Anomen glanced up tall, rugged Tyrran. With his week’s stubble, long, greasy black hair and jutting jaw and forehead, he looked like a barbarian save for his polished full plate armor. “Are you sure this is justice?” the Helmite priest asked meekly.

“How dare you question the judgment of the Order!” Puritus scowled. “You yourself have reported his crimes.”

“Problem with this Onyx is,” Judas mused in a gravelly voice, “He’s taken justice into his own hands.”

“Yes,” Puritus smiled, “Keldorn should have known than to put him on a mission where the avenging of his betrothed was at stake. It’s clouded his judgment.”

Judas nodded. “Sounds like the Bhaal-tainted murder-knight enjoys killing. He’s crossed the thin red line between justice and revenge.”

Anomen bit his lip. “I think the mistake people make is, it’s not that Onyx enjoys killing – he’s just good at it.”

**********

13 FLAMERULE 1100
EAST OF CANDLEKEEP

“Oh WOW! This countryside is so beautiful! I’ve never seen anything like it. When I was with the c-circus we went all over Faerun and even Calimshan, but we never really got to see things. And now…WOW!”

“Hey, it’s cuz ya’ve never been this far north! The plants and animals change, cuz it’s colder and stuff. Boy, I sure remember Jaheira lecturing me on all that stuff a bunch. My brother and I used to play in fields like this one all the time. Candlekeep was pretty stuffy, y’know. Well, I enjoyed reading books, but Onyx never really did. If it wasn’t sports in the courtyards within the walls, it was walks and exploration and adventures outside ‘em.”

“I envy the freedom…being the daughter of nobles, I was constantly under watch from servants and guards, and I pretty much had to sneak out whenever I wanted to be outside our keep.”

The three mage maidens rode at a casual pace upon their ponies, their blonde, brown, and pink locks of hair tied with eclectic assortments of barrettes and hair-ties but blowing in the high coastal winds nonetheless. For they were approaching Candlekeep, having turned off the Coast Way onto the westward road which would lead them there. The walls of the library-fortress-town were almost in sight, and the smell of salt was in the air.

“Well,” Imoen spoke again to her companions, “I guess Onyx and I must have had a pretty free upbringing compared to either of you, but life in Candlekeep is pretty strict, as I’m sure you’ll see. I mean, after all, it is a big library, and you know how those are.”

“Actually I’ve…never even been to a library,” Aerie sighed, “There’s so much I’ve never experienced…well, “ Aerie giggled and blushed, “I guess I’ve experienced a lot of new things the past few months…but before that…I guess a few months can’t really make up for an entire childhood, can they?”

“Aw, cheer up,” Imoen smiled, “You’ve got a long life ahead of ya, Aerie.” Imoen’s perkiness was marred as she spoke the words ‘long life,’ for it occurred to her that she would not have nearly as long a life as her elven friend. Her future sister-in-law would outlive her and their brother/lover by centuries, would she not? Mortality had almost never occurred to Imoen before, as it does not occur to a child, but now that the Bhaalspawn War was over and she wasn’t constantly fighting for her life and could take a more long-term outlook, these things had been occurring to her with increasing frequency.

“You know, Aerie,” Nalia added, “I believe you’ve already seen more than most people will a lifetime. Most people have hard, impoverished lives…they may never leave the village where they were born, and know nothing but pushing the same plow across the same field or sweeping the same floor with the same broom every day of their poor lives.”

Aerie turned the corners of her mouth down and stated, “Well, they should work their way out of poverty instead of getting rich girls to pity them.”

“You couldn’t work your own way out of destitution,” Nalia scoffed back haughtily, “Onyx had to come and rescue you! How can you want to deny others the same chance.”

“Firstly, I wasn’t just poor, I was a SLAVE. Secondly, it was Quayle who bought me out of slavery, Onyx just rescued me from that nasty illusionist Kalah,” Aerie scowled, her small face twisting up, “Not that you would really understand the difference, with your perfect little princess childhood!” She stuck her tongue out at Nalia, who returned the favor.

“Aw, c’mon girls,” Imoen sighed, “I thought being away from Onyx and Jaheira would keep the arguments and politics at bay,” Imoen then winced and mentally put her foot in her mouth when Aerie’s face turned red. Mentioning those two in the same sentence was something she tried to avoid doing in the avariel’s presence, but she’d slipped. Aerie sad nothing, and merely looked down at her own saddle and scowled, and Nalia looked the other way and petted her pony and admired the scenery, then pulled out her letter from Valygar and reread it (for about the twenty-seventh time that day). While the three shared an awkward silence, Imoen looked at the road ahead, which she recognized well. Old memories came flooding back. Was that the milestone where they’d met Montaron and Xzar long ago? Was that the grove where Gorion had…been struck down….

“We’re here!” Aerie cried with glee as they came up to the gates. Imoen withdrew from her robes a tome (“Simulacra and Simulation”) and handed it to the guard and the three were allowed entry. They left their ponies in the stable within the town and head for the Candlekeep Inn.

“Heya, Puffguts!” Imoen jumped for joy as they entered the main room and she saw her foster father for the first time in over a year. She hopped right over the counter and gave the portly but kindly innkeeper a big hug.

“My, my kiddo, you’ve grown! But not as much as me, I’m afraid!” he laughed and patted his belly. “Pink hair? Heh heh, I shoulda see it comin’. And the mages of a robe? My my. You always were a bright one, my girl, I knew that you’d go far. But I never expected…well, every bard in town has been singing about your adventurers! First it was solving the iron shortage, then keeping that monster in the Iron Throne from starting a war, then saving the elves from a mad wizard, and we’ve just these past few days started hearing the tales about this so-called ‘Bhaalspawn War’! My My!”

Imoen spent the better part of an hour telling her adopted father recent news and personal anecdotes of their adventures while Aerie and Nalia took their stuff up to their room, the nicest the Inn had to offer.

“I’m sorry about earlier, Nal,” Aerie sighed to her companion, breaking the awkward silence as they finished unpacking. “You know I love you like a sister.”

“Likewise. It’s fine,” Nalia smiled. “I’m glad we talk about stuff.”

“I was mean though,” Aerie bit her lip. “It’s just…it was so horrible…I spent my time in captivity daydreaming, and a lot of it was about having the sort of childhood you were just given on a silver platter. I tell myself I shouldn’t envy you, just like I tell you the poor shouldn’t envy the rich, and there’s no reason I should get mad at you personally for it…I’m sorry!”

The avariel began to sob into her robes and Nalia hugged her. “It’s okay…everything’s okay now. You’re free, and now we’re finally safe too! This is going to be a start of a wonderful and relaxing vacation. And then Onyx and Valygar and Minsc and the rest are going to meet us here and everything will be just fine.”

Aerie sniffed her tears back. “Yes…it’s almost too good to be true. That’s sort of what worries me, you know? They say if something seems to good to be true, it usually is. And that’s what happened the first time. When I was a child with my wings, in my innocent bliss, it turned out to be too good to be true. And so now, I’m so worried that something bad will happen. Like what if Onyx never comes back?”

Nalia kept hugging her friend but shrugged. “You’re simply better off not thinking about it, because right now there’s nothing you can do. That’s just always a risk with the kind of lifestyle we lead.”

Aerie’s face wrinkled up and she began to cry again, “Maybe it’s the wrong lifestyle. Ooh, I never should have let him go! He said we’d take a break after we were done with the Bhaalspawn War, and then look what happens! Or we should have gone with him! Then we’d be together, and his party would be a lot more powerful with us!”

“Perhaps we should have,” Nalia sighed, and she could think of a few more reasons still. “But in the meantime, we should just enjoy ourselves.”

“Y-yes, I’ll try to be more optimistic, I guess.”

The two went back downstairs to find Imoen explaining to ‘Puffguts’ about how drow in Ust Natha were evil, fierce, magic resistant, and sticks-in-the-mud to boot. She gave the innkeeper a hug as they left.

Imoen led them around the keep, giving her friends a tour and taking herself for a trip down memory lane.

“Here’s the courtyard where we used to play football or do whatever at recess.”

“See those footholes in the wall? I used to climb up or down it here when I was sneaking around.”

“There’s the barracks. Onyx and Grom – his half-orc friend – and some of the others used to hang out there and Jondalar and the other men-at-arms would show them basic sword and bow techniques. The guards had plenty of free time around here back in the day…”

Aerie smiled as she noticed a sleeping, snoring guard. “…and thanks to your and Onyx’s efforts solving the iron shortage, looks like they do again!”

“There’s the haystacks, and Nessie the cow!” the three petted the cow. “Behind these haystacks is where Onyx and Phyldia used to…eh, nevermind.”

“Here’s the small temple – well, shrine really – of Oghma, goddess of learning, naturally. Onyx was never really fond of books, but I always liked ‘em pretty well. In this pool here – oh hey! Is that you, Phyldia? Heya, it’s me, Imoen!”

The old friend of Imoen’s, clutching a book as usual but now dressed in priestly robes rather than a village girl’s dress, came out of the small indoor chapel of the temple of Oghma. She dropped the book when she noticed Imoen, and the two ran up to each other and hugged. “Wow Imoen, it’s you,” Phyldia smiled in a happy but breathy, almost tired voice. “I never dreamed I’d see you again. I’ve heard all your adventures, but it’s nice to see you for myself in one piece! Is that a mage robe? Wow…”

Imoen looked back at her old friend’s attire and the emblems adorning it. “And you, a cleric of Oghma now?” Phyldia nodded. “I shoulda guessed. Looks like you’ve really found your calling.”

Phyldia smiled contentedly. “Yeah. It’s quiet, but I like it that way…I guess. Where’s Onyx?” she asked while appraising Nalia and Aerie.

“Oh, he’s still adventuring at the moment, but he’ll be back here pretty soon I think,” Imoen grinned.

Phlydia grinned wider and became visibly giddy, dropping her book again just as she’d picked it up. “Wow! It’s been…over a year! That’d be great!” she smiled dreamily.

“Yep!” Imoen smiled, and bit her lip. “Oh, I should introduce my new friends. This is, uh, Nalia de’Arnise, of the de’Arnises of Amn.”

Phyldia smiled knowingly. “Yeah, I thought I recognized the crest on the ring.” Nalia nearly blushed and withdrew her hand into her robe.

“And,” Imoen continued. “This is Aerie.”

Phyldia appraised the elf. “You look like an avariel,” she observed studiously, “But that robe doesn’t look unusually roomy…”

Aerie hung her head. “It’s not,” the sighed, and Phyldia nodded with understanding.

Phyldia looked at the two again. “Well, as I’m sure everyone’s been telling you, we’ve heard about you and your adventures. You’d be surprised at how much detail the bards keep in those scattered heads of theirs. Lady de’Arnise, quite the sneak and archmage, you were kidnapped by that corrupt Roenal heir weren’t you?” Nalia’s scowl answered the question. “And Aerie, also a capable mage and a cleric of avariel and gnomish deities alike, glad you’re back from vampirism,” the avariel scowled at her, for the regarded invasion of privacy as well as for other reasons, “And you…” Phlydia’s face grew long and distant, “Were betrothed of Onyx, yes?”

Aerie smiled proudly. “Yes, I am.”

“Oh.” Phyldia said simply at bit her lip. After an awkward moment of silence she added, “Congratulation.”

“Thank you,” the avariel cleric said curtly.

“You said you are, not were?” the human cleric inquired.

“Of course!!” the priestess of Aerdrie Faenya snapped and clenched her small fists.

“That’s funny,” the priestess of Oghma frowned, “Because there was this bard singing at the Inn yesterday evening, you see, and….”