“I swear before all that is holy, sword, if you don't shut up I'm going to beat you into a plowshare!”
“Aw, come on, Jarran, I'm just havin' a little fun.”
“That's it, you're going back into the scabbard, and I'm going back to my axe. Whoever stuck you in that sewer had the right idea, though I question their taste in poetry.”
“Hey! I wrote those!”
“Why am I not surprised?”
Kay looked at the talking sword with great distaste. What an incredibly annoying creature. Well, you're the expert. Really! Even I on my worst day cannot compete with that… that… thing.
Jarran sighed. What a pity he was the only who could use that stupid blade. He had to agree with Kay, the sword had been nothing but trouble from the moment he had taken possession of it. It had started with the cry of “We're here to kill you!” when they entered the building from the sewers, bringing a horde of guards charging their way, but the straw that had broken the camel's back was its refusal to stop screaming “Murder! Death! Kill!” while they were trying to calm the crying enslaved children. The poor things were still huddled in their cages, terrified to come out.
Jaheira approached him, a frown on her face. “I am unsure of what we should do, Jarran. I cannot coax the children out, and they become hysterical when Valygar and Anomen come near them. Do you think you could try?”
“I'll do my best.” About two dozen dirty, wide-eyed youngsters watched him until he stepped into the cage, then began to scream and wail in terror. He backed out quickly. “Oops.”
Mazzy marched past him, ignoring the tears, and walked to within a foot of the boys. “Now stop that this instant,” she said sternly. “You have survived a terrible experience, young ones. You should be proud! You are strong. You are brave. You have nothing to fear from these people, they have come to rescue you.”
As she spoke, the tears died away to sniffles, and smiles began to appear. The boys started to stand straighter, and one said, “You're really here to rescue us?”
“We have, ah, taken care of all the slavers that held you here, and now we will take you away from this place. Now, I have a very important task for you boys. You must come with me to the girls' cage and show them how brave you are. This will help them be brave as well.”
At these words, there was a sudden flurry of eyes being wiped and faces rubbed. Jarran had to grin as he watched the youngsters clean themselves up to impress the young girls. They followed Mazzy into the cell where roughly the same number of girls cried and huddled in the corner. Strangely enough the only one who was quiet was the little waif they had rescued from being eaten by trolls. She had tried to calm the other girls, but the sight of people in armor had overridden her assurances.
The girls quieted when they saw that Mazzy was accompanied by the boys. The halfling smiled and said, “Come with us, little ones. Freedom awaits you.”
One of the older girls blurted out, “How do we know you aren't slavers too? You could just be taking us somewhere to sell us.”
“If we were slavers, child, we would not be speaking this way. We would simply take whips or sticks and drive you out.” She sighed. “And it would appear that some of you know this from experience.” She knelt down beside a girl who was curled up into a ball. She smoothed out the back of the girl's dress, letting the whip marks on her back show through the tears in the fabric. “You need healing, little one. Does anyone else have injuries?”
Jarran was happy to see that the other children had no more than scratches and bruises. He watched Jaheira tending to the whipped girl, and a smile came to his face. She was so gentle and kind with the child, soothing the traumatized girl with a tenderness that those who had experienced her sharp tongue might not have believed possible. The image of Jaheira as a mother came into his mind. I wonder why she and Khalid never… He brought that line of thought to a halt. It was silly to think about that. He and Jaheira would never have children.
As the slave children gathered to leave, one of the boys asked Mazzy shyly, “W-who are you?”
“I am Mazzy Fentan, a knight of Arvoreen. You are very lucky, young ones, for you have been rescued by the adventuring party lead by Jarran of Candlekeep, a very famous bard.”
Jarran grinned, because he doubted any of the children had heard of him before, but they all looked suitably impressed. While they giggled and stared at the adventurers, Valygar came to Jarran's side. “You'll want to look at these,” the ranger said, handing him a stack of papers.
The bard shuffled through them. “Well, well. It would seem they kept excellent records. A lovely list of people they have sold slaves to, and… what's this? It would seem this is not the slavers' headquarters. The leaders live and do business in a home here in Athkatla. Do any of you recognize the name of this house?” He passed around one of the papers.
Anomen's jaw clenched when he saw the record sheet. “I know of this place. A palatial and luxurious estate, mere steps from the Order and the Temple. They dare to operate amongst the very gods themselves.”
“Well then,” Jarran said grimly. “We know where to go next. After we take care of these children, of course.”
They took the youngsters to the Copper Coronet, where a meeting was already in progress among the slaves who had been held there. Some wished to find their way to their homelands, and others wanted to make a life in Amn.
Hendak was thrilled to see them. “So, my friends, you bring us more who now breathe free. We will see to these children and ensure that they are properly cared for.”
Jarran smiled as he quietly passed Hendak a bag of gold. “Some of them are old enough to apprenticed somewhere, and I'm sure some of the adults would be willing to adopt a number of them after they have established themselves. The ones who want to return to their native countries might find caretakers among the adults who are going home. If you need more gold to care for them, let me know. I can be reached through the Five Flagons Playhouse.”
“Ah, you are too kind.”
“Not at all. Let's just say… I know what it's like to be in a cage.”
As they walked through the city to the slaver estate, Jarran found Mazzy at his side. The halfling said softly, “You have not spoken much of your time in the wizard's laboratory.”
“To tell the truth, I don't remember much beyond pain and fear.”
“I understand. The helplessness, the rage, the terrors of an uncertain future… it leaves a wound.”
“I suppose you would know.”
“I must say, in the time that I have traveled with you, you have proven yourself to be a person of good heart, Jarran. What you have done for those poor slaves assures me that I have found the right person to travel with.”
“Thank you, Mazzy. Thank you for judging me for who I am rather than what people think I am.”
“I could say the same. You treat me with respect and dignity, and I appreciate that. Many would find a halfling knight laughable, but you do not.”
“Well, there are all sorts of knights in the world, and who says they all have to be paladins?”
“Ah, but halflings do not usually take part in such things.”
“Then start your own order of knighthood.”
Mazzy looked startled. “Begin… my own?”
“Why not? Every order in existence had to be started by someone.”
“It is an attractive idea, my friend. An order of knighthood open to all races and all types of adventurers, but all with a dedication to that which is good and just.” She thought silently for a few minutes, then said, “It would be quite an undertaking. I would need to train squires so that they could go forward to train their own. It would take time, but it could be done.”
Jarran laughed. “I can see the plans forming in your mind as we speak.”
Mazzy smiled as she said, “I am merely considering who would be a suitable candidate for my first squire.” Her eyes seemed to linger on Valygar, who did not appear aware that he was being scrutinized.
They reached the slaver mansion, and Anomen looked at it in disgust. “A lovely home, surrounded by the holiest of temples, bought and paid for with the blood and tears of slaves. Such vermin must pay for their crimes.”
They were met just inside the door by two rude inhabitants, but Jarran put them off guard by pretending to have entered the wrong home. He was just about to signal an attack when they used magic to whisk themselves away.
He growled in irritation, “Let's be careful here. They obviously have a lot of power.” They crept through the large lavishly decorated room, when suddenly the swirling of magic alerted them to danger. None could mistake the signs of someone or something being magically transported into the room. They ran towards a corner of the room, hoping to gain time to see what foes they faced.
A fearsome array of creatures appeared. A huge hulking glabrezu, an efreeti, an ogre and a handful of ettercaps stepped from the portals, along with a shadowy figure that Jarran did not recognize.
“A nishruu!” Jan gasped. “They're magic eaters!”
While the bard's mind raced to form a strategy, the glabrezu slashed at the nishruu with an angry howl. In seconds, a fight had broken out among the summoned creatures. Without a word, Anomen began to chant, and Jarran felt a rush of serenity. “What did you cast?”
“A spell to protect us from creatures of evil. The demon appears to be the greatest threat, and now he will ignore us until we are ready to strike.”
They watched in amusement as the glabrezu slaughtered all the other summoned creatures. They used the time to arm themselves with their most powerful missile weapons, and when the demon had finished venting its rage, they sent a deadly rain its way. It charged them, but was dead before it came within striking distance.
As they readied themselves to go up the sweeping staircase, Jarran heard a faint whine. “Don't leave me out of all the fun. I was in a sewer forever and ever, and now you keep me cooped up in this thing.”
The bard sighed. “I'll give you one last chance, Lilarcor. You keep your mouth…or whatever it is you use shut, and I'll let you out.”
“All right! It's killin' time!”
“I said be quiet!”
“Oops.”
They crept up the stairs, then peered into the large room at the top. A group of people and creatures appeared to be huddled in a discussion. “Jan, we should toss a couple of fireballs their way while they aren't paying attention,” Jarran whispered.
Suddenly a loud voice rang out, “Awww! Spells? You promised I'd get to have some fun!”
The slavers turned and immediately attacked. It was a hard battle against fierce and skilled foes, but finally they defeated them. Jaheira and Anomen cast healing spells again and again, trying to ease the pain of the many wounds the party had received.
Jarran was shaking with anger. His error in judgment could have cost lives. “Sword, you are going straight to the Adventurer's Mart. Though I'll be lucky to get more than a shaved copper for your sorry self!”
“But I'm a great sword! I'm the mighty Lilarcor! Aww, I should have known a pansy bard couldn't handle power like mine. Sell me, then, maybe a real warrior will buy me!”
Feeling a surge of icy rage welling up from the pit of his stomach, Jarran roared. He swung the sword with all his might against the wall. He was not prepared for the results of his temper.
The world seemed to slow as his eyes widened. The blade shattered into tiny silver shards, and in his shock he dropped the hilt. It bounced once, then clattered to the floor among the slivers. The party froze, startled by the sight.
The shards began to glow, and a figure took shape. Suddenly a young man was sitting where the sword had been. The man looked around in wonder and said, “Where am I?”
Jarran finally found his voice. “Who are you?”
“I'm Lawrence Lilarcor. What… what has happened? Why am I here?”
“I… I had a sword named Lilarcor and it, um, got broken, and suddenly you appeared.”
“A sword? That's funny… the last thing I remember was telling this uppity wizard in a tavern that a good sword could beat his spells any day, and then I asked this pretty little thing to go up to my room… the wizard started yelling, something about the girl being his daughter…that's all I can remember.”
“I'd say he trapped you in the sword.”
“Wow. Was I good sword? Powerful and sharp?”
“Um, yes, a very good sword. There is a temple of Lathander just across the way, why don't we take you there and the priests will help you get home.”
“All right. Gee, this is even better than beating that evil treant. I was a mighty sword!”
Jarran left the young man to his happy thoughts as the group finished exploring the home. Valygar was pleased when Jarran presented him with a katana of obvious power.
Jaheira joined him as they collected their equipment. “It would seem that for once your temper had a positive result.”
“Yes, though… I don't understand how the blade could have shattered so easily.”
“Jarran, when you swung the sword, did you feel… different?”
“Well, I was angry… I remember a cold sensation. Why?”
“Did you enjoy the battle? The destruction that surrounded us? Did you attack the sword because you did not wish the violence to end?
“Of course not! I was angry at the stupid thing for almost getting us all killed. Jaheira, these questions sound a lot like Galvarey's.”
Jaheira looked shocked. She stammered, “I… I am sorry. But your eyes were so strange and… I must know! I must know that you are more human than not! I must know that your... your poison blood has not taken your senses!”
“Poison blood? Jaheira, I thought we had sorted this out. I thought you trusted me.”
“I do, but… but…I must know that the Child of Bhaal in front of me is as sincere as he seems, so I do not get myself... I mean, get anyone else hurt... pursuing your company.”
Jarran lifted her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. “You have been with me for a long time, Jaheira. If what you have seen me say and do hasn't convinced you yet, then I don't know what else I can do. What do you want me to say?”
She stared into his eyes for a long moment, then sighed. “You have an uncanny knack, Jarran, for holding a mirror up to my soul. I am... I am looking for excuses to avoid you... and what I feel. What is it about you that makes my resolve melt like butter in the sun? I suppose I have come to a crossroads. I must decide which direction to go, and never look back.”
Jarran took her hands and said gently, “And I will still be there to help you, no matter what you decide.”