Well, I'm afraid I've been rather prolific lately, so here is another part. 
Not much to say about this one. The angst has died down for the moment, giving everyone time to get to know each other a little better, for new personalities to mesh with old, and for new conflicts, and old ones to rise to the surface again as the group starts on the road to their next adventure.
Flarn
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_For the Fallen_ by Flarn
(Part 5)
They returned to Athkatla as silently as they had come - and though they no longer carried Jaheira's body with them, Alyndria wondered if her spirit might not have remained. If their friend was with them truly, there was no tangible awareness, no hint, no suggestion, merely a hope that lingered steadily beyond the edge of faith.
She *really* missed Imoen. When the nights had been really bad, they would share the same bedroll as they had when they were just children, holding each other against the terrors of the dark. Minsc had Dynaheir, and Khalid had Jaheira... but now all of them were alone in one form or another. She wondered idly if Yoshimo had a sweetheart who would turn up in their travels, but was not inclined to ask - especially not after she had rather curtly rebuffed his own inquiries about her past. She felt a little guilty for that, but there was something... pointed about his questions which made her extremely uncomfortable.
"Khalid... I'm sorry to disturb you," Alyndria began, falling back to speak with the fighter.
"Not at all," he smiled bleakly. "The distraction is welcome."
"When you saw the marketplace, you knew we were in Athkatla as Yoshimo suggested..."
"Yes, I have been here before. With Jaheira."
"I'm sorry, I should have known..."
"Don't be... I'm afraid if you tried to avoid all the parts of my life which included Jaheira, there would be very little to talk about. When you
have been with someone for so long, every place has a memory..."
"And Athkatla? What kind of memories does it have?" she asked.
"Good ones, until now... It's been five years, little seems to have changed."
"So you could tell me a few things - like where would be a good place to sell off the things we left with Talev?"
"I could," Khalid said. "I know just the place."
**********
"Ribald Barterman at your service, I - "
"A fine day to you," Khalid replied, as the shopkeep stared at him in surprise.
"And to you, Mister Khalid," the man answered. He had a comfortable face which bore unmistakable traces of elven blood - he also looked a fair bit older than Khalid, though younger than Gorion, appearing to be about fifty-four by Human reckoning. By elven reckoning his true age in Human years was anyone's guess. "Ye'll not bring Harper trouble to me doorstep, good sir... might I remind ye that me days of involvement with yer kin are long over?"
"This visit is purely unofficial - we're here to do business."
"In that case welcome, good customers. I haven't seen you in *ages* - how's life on the road treating you? And where is your lovely wife?"
Khalid didn't answer, and Alyndria felt extremely awkward.
The shopkeep glanced between Khalid and Alyndria. "Oh, how terribly gauche of me... you'd think after all these years I'd know better."
"You are mistaken, Sir," Alyndria finally found her voice. "I am not... it is not what you think. It's just that... Jaheira..."
The expression on Khalid's face must have finished the rest, because the older adventurer's face betrayed a note of genuine discomfort.
"Now that is grave news... grave news indeed. Oh my, that... really isn't the kind of news I expected when I saw it was you. You have my *deepest* sympathies," said Ribald, the faint lines of his face etching slightly deeper.
"Thank you," said Khalid, pausing for a moment to swallow. "I should introduce my companions - this is Alyndria, she is the daughter of an old friend - a priestess of Oghma, and a reluctant, though gifted practioner of the Art..."
"Is that so, lady? Then why are you all clunked up in that armour, hmm?"
"That would be the reluctance," Khalid told Ribald meaningfully.
"I hardly think reluctance is out of place here," Alyndria exclaimed indignantly. "The Cowled Wizards took away my friend yesterday for casting spells in self-defence."
"Ye gods," the shopkeep shook his head sadly. "Are you sure no one has cursed you?"
"Sometimes I wonder," Alyndria said. "Would you happen to know anything about the people that took her?"
Ribald shook his head. "Nothing, except that we all steer clear of upsetting them. They always get the strangers, though, people who don't know just how many of 'em seem to store their magic wands right up their... ahem... yes... See, a friend came in from Riatavin about a year back, a mage named Terce. His mule had gone lame, and he'd summoned a floating disc to carry his supplies.
“They captured him, of course. Terce should have known better... I'm sure he thought a disc was harmless enough, but those wizards are strict about their licenses.
“I tried looking for him, but the Cowled Wizards aren't easy to find... nobody knows where they stay, here. And they never let out where their magical prison is.
“It's a travesty that the Council gives them so much power. Mystra only knows what they do with their prisoners. Wish I could help you more, but I never heard from Terce again."
Alyndria frowned. "That is a tale as sad as our own. But I intend that mine will have a happy ending. No matter what I have to do. We will keep an eye out for your friend in our quest, Ribald Barterman."
Gravely, the former adventurer sketched a courtly bow. "If you find him, lady, I'll be forever in your debt - might even give you a discount or two." The seriousness of the man's tone belied the flippancy of his words. "You sure got a determined one, there, Khalid. I like 'em with plenty of fire, if you don't mind me saying so, Miss Alyndria - unfortunately, unlike Khalid here, I'm not Calimshite and I don't think my wife would understand if I came home one day with some company for her."
"I wouldn't want to get you in trouble," Alyndria replied, feeling herself blush. "We really must get down to business though - we've a few items we
acquired recently that we'd like to turn into some coin."
"A friend of Khalid's is a friend of mine - I'll do my best for you. Let's see what you have for me, hmm..."
When their goods had been exchanged for gold - and little enough of that, Ribald drove a hard bargain - Alyndria and the rest wandered about the shop, admiring the goods which were for the most part out of their reach. There were a few very interesting looking flails which tempted her, even though lately she'd come to enjoy the more predictable stability of a well-balanced morningstar - but even one of the items she considered would have taken the entire contents of the group's purse. Finally she settled on a magically enhanced gem bag - trying to view the exorbitant price as an investment, seeing as it would allow the group to carry more spoils, which would bring in the gold they so desperately needed to properly furnish their quest to find Imoen.
She caught Khalid watching her as she inspected Ribald's collection of magic scrolls, and found herself guiltily retreating, though the reason eluded her.
She climbed the stairs towards the back, and felt her heart leap to her throat as she came face to face with a pair of yellow eyes, in a scaled face that hovered regally at the same level as her own. Fetid, rank-meat breath caused her gorge to rise as she backed away in shock, staring mutely at the small, live wyvern who returned her fearful gaze with one of proud disdain. "I, oh - could you be a... pet?"
"Aye missy, that there's Lucy," Ribald called. "Pay her no mind."
/Easy for you to say,/ Alyndria thought, remembering, with a not-so-faint twinge of guilt, the wyverns they had faced in the Cloakwood. The population was thriving - doing a little too well - by culling livestock and terrorizing the local farming communities. There had been several deaths, and even Jaheira admitted the winged lizard population needed controlling.
Still, she couldn't help but be shaken by the scene at the beasts' cavern - the giant creatures they had fought, which Alyndria had assumed were mature adults, had been dwarfed by two much larger carcasses. What once had been proud and noble beasts were now nothing more than twin hills of rotting, maggot-ridden meat, smeared with gore, bristling with the arrows that had taken them down. And the supposed "giants" Alyndria's group had killed... their orphaned young, forced to forage on their own after someone else had come earlier and deprived the fledglings of their parents' nurturing.
Jaheira had wept over the little ones, and something inside Alyndria had broken at the Druid's tears, and at the barbarity of her own actions, though at the time they had seemed right. Poor creatures... they had been formidable foes, and had fought well, but were no match for humanoid cunning.
Alyndria browsed the stacks of books, lost in her memories, when suddenly she was jostled out of her reverie by the impact of another body with hers.
"Hello there," a silken voice purred, "I have been watching you since you entered. I suspect you may have need of my wares."
Alyndria looked up, captured instantly by pale gold eyes, predatory as any wyvern's. The elegant pale blonde woman before her exuded worldliness as if it were perfume - and exuded even more of that. So *that's* what that smell was... She had been sure that someone had spilled most of the spell components... er, cooking supplies, Ribald kept on hand, though how any such combination of ingredients could be used for cooking was anyone's guess. Just a whiff of the overpowering olfactory "stew" assaulting her nostrils - attar of roses, musk, ambergris, bergamot, pungent violet, all roiling together, wafting like the spray of a skunk - was enough to turn her stomach and make her go unpleasantly light-headed.
/Don't people know perfume is no substitute for a proper bath?/ she wondered, forcing herself not to wrinkle her nose as the woman drew her further into the seclusion between two bookshelves. "Er, what do you sell...?"
"Magical scrolls," said the scented lady. "Illegal of course, which is why I must charge so much for them." Alyndria did not miss the meaningful dart of eyes to a spot below her waist, where her pouch hung, looking deceptively full.
"Have you no fear of the Cowled Wizards?" she asked. Perhaps it was worth bearing the stench if she could get some information in the bargain.
"Those pompous fools? They are as corrupt as anyone else in this city if you know who to talk to. Now are you interested - "
"Perhaps you could tell me who to talk to amongst the Cowled Wizards," Alyndria suggested, giving the woman her best ingénue smile, infusing her voice with as much false deference as she could muster. "I'd be *very* interested in that."
"Aye, I'd imagine you would be..."
Alyndria continued to look both humble and hopeful until her cheeks hurt. /I am not paying a bribe to a walking perfumery./
Finally the woman waved her hand dismissively. "One of the wizards by the name of Corneil decides who gets licenses to use magic. You can probably find him in the Government District. Bring plenty of money if you go to see him... Now - "
"Yes, please do show me what you have to sell," Alyndria replied with forced congeniality. "I certainly won't have money to spend after I pay him a visit."
Privately, Alyndria had to admit that the woman's collection of scrolls were even more impressive than Ribald's, though a lot of the spells were too far advanced for her to even contemplate. She could probably copy at least a few of them into her now sadly depleted spellbook, but experience told her she would have a splitting headache afterwards. As for casting them, that would not be for the foreseeable future. Regretfully, she relinquished the intriguing parchments, although...
"Would you happen to have an extra one of those cases for sale?" she asked. "I try to protect my scrolls, but they always seem to get battered by something or other that I am carrying as well."
When Alyndria emerged from the shadows of the bookshelves, it was with an even lighter purse, and an inner promise to keep a tighter rein on said purse strings until they had once again established a cash flow that went *both* ways.
"What do you have there?"
"Oh, Khalid, I didn't see you there... well, I was just having a little talk with this woman, who told me something very interesting about the wizards who kidnapped Imoen and Ribald's friend - "
"You're avoiding the question, Alyndria. Why?"
"It's a scroll case, alright," she replied mutinously. "I wasted our money on a scroll case. Two hundred and sixty-four gold pieces, or over a fortnight's luxury accommodation at the Jovial Juggler in Beregost. Would you like me to break it down further? Fifty tankards of Evermead - enough for all four of us to drink ourselves to death and back again. Further still? Two hundred and sixty four boiled leather breastplates - enough to outfit an army of thieves. Are you happy?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact I am," Khalid replied with a small smile. Despite her outburst he seemed completely unperturbed. In fact, he looked the happiest she had seen him since the moment when she had awoken in Irenicus' prison, and his tongue tripped even more than usual as he rushed to express his delight. "And I think it is a reasonable purchase for a magic user, who must keep the tools of her trade protected. As you may have noticed, our group now lacks a mage. I am happy to know you have decided to take over the function. I do believe Ribald has a robe that will fit you, it's even trimmed with green - "
"I am not 'taking over' anything, Khalid," Alyndria ground out. "I simply want to have a place to keep the scrolls we find until we can *sell* them."
The disappointment in his dark eyes was immediate, and it filled Alyndria with shame. Khalid shook his head, regarding her with an expression of pity. "I had hoped you would get over this fear of yours with time. Your gift is great, and yet you flee from it. Imoen has had to work much harder for hers, but she has welcomed it."
"And look where it got her, Khalid! Just look! We don't know where she is, or if she's even still alive..." She cut herself off as she realized people were staring, eyes drawn by her outburst. "Excuse me. I need some fresh air." Keeping her eyes straight ahead, she made her way towards the door, stepping gratefully out into the crowded market, the blessed sea of meandering life where no one knew - or cared - about her inner turmoil.
The bustle of the promenade swept over her like a wave. The cries of the vendors, the day to day banalities of the people who came to shop, it was all
so blessedly normal.
Dimly she heard the others call out her name, but she paid them no heed, crossing through the throngs, feeling an uncommon streak of rebellion. /Let them follow if they wish - right now I am not inclined to wait for them./
The caged beast drew her like a moth to a flame. Tall, taller than a man, a towering behemoth, forest king, the moose was a giant dwarfed, cowed by his
cage. The scent that wafted from his enclosure was the stench of captivity, and it was rank indeed: feces and urine, mouldy hay, animal musk, fear.
A shudder ran through her as she observed, recalled her own state, not so long ago - in a cage of her own, painfully, intimately similar. One should not know
the scent of one's own filth - a thousand times worse than any beast's.
Cages. Poor Imoen had gone from one to another, with barely a moment of open sky, of freedom before...
Further beyond, there was a large hunting cat, with dappled spots on his pale fur that nearly matched the pretty, auburn brown of Imoen's hair. A stronger scent clung to him: death, overlain with meat. He was drowsing, flat on his side, feet stretched out as if he were running. When she approached his cage, he did not growl as she might have supposed, but made a chirrup of curiosity and surprise, which reminded her very much of the cats at Candlekeep. With his great green eyes, his intelligent, almost bored gaze, he made her feel as if *she* was the one on display for *his* amusement, and not the other way around.
The serpent was the last, and it chilled her. She didn't like snakes, but this one was far too big to be considered mere vermin. You didn't crush a snake like
this under your heel - it crushed you. Spiralling over and over, restless in the afternoon light, like a knotted coil, like a hangman's noose, its forked tongue licking at air, this beast did not regard her, did not care.
The pattern on its skin struck a sudden note of familiarity - the masklike face of her captor, so mobile, and yet so alien, as if he wore another's flesh.
"A handsome creature. He looks like he could wrap himself twice around the world, does he not?"
Alyndria started at the voice, so close behind her, hand going instinctively to the morningstar hanging from her belt as she turned around. Her glare must
have been uncharacteristically fierce, because when she faced her assailant - who turned out to be Yoshimo - he took a wary step back.
"Oh, it's you, Yoshimo - you surprised me."
"For one who is not a warrior, your instincts aren't bad," he pronounced. "But neither are they especially good. I could have easily slit your throat while you watched our little friend there, hmm? You should not have run off alone..."
"I think you should mind your own business," she replied ungraciously. "I've never met anyone who has tried to become so familiar so quickly. First you ask
about my childhood, and then about my father - I think you already know far too much of me for our short acquaintance."
"I apologize if I have offended, Alyndria. It was not my intention. But as you have recently become aware - the life of an adventurer is dangerous, and often
short. I like to make it my business to know about those with whom I may very shortly die. From what I do know of you, and from what I have recently seen - I
could follow your banner from battle into death with few regrets. If you do not feel the same about me, please tell me, and I will take my leave with no bitterness towards you."
Now it was Alyndria's turn for contrition, as she regarded the solemn figure of the bounty hunter before her. "I think it is I who must apologize. I know its
no excuse, but these last few days... I'm afraid I don't know yet how I feel about you, Yoshimo, I cannot be other than honest. But I think from what I have
recently seen, and what I do know of you, I am willing to take the chance to find out more."
"You will not regret it," Yoshimo promised.
"Alyndria!" Minsc was next to arrive, his heavy brow furrowed. "You should not have run off without telling us. Boo was worried - and worried hamsters are messy!"
Khalid was a little slower in arriving, but arrive he did, and Alyndria was left facing a trio of bewildered and overly protective malefolk.
Being the only woman in the group was definitely *not* the way to go, and Alyndria vowed, then and there, to acquire another female ally as soon as a suitable candidate presented herself.
(To be continued)
A Baldur's Gate Romance
