Sorry I haven't been around to comment much, but RL has been a pain lately. Hopefully I'll catch up this weekend. But I did manage to carve out the time to work on AC a bit.
The party exited the temple of Lathander, grateful to be rid of the enthusiastic but irritating Lawrence Lilarcor. Jarran couldn't help but feel sorry for the young man. It still had not sunk in just how long he had existed as a sword, and the bard knew that the cheerfulness would wane as Lilarcor realized that everyone he had known was almost certainly dead.
As his eyes adjusted to the sunlight, Jarran saw a familiar figure lounging by the canal railing. The man pretended to be staring at the water, but it was obvious he had been waiting for them. Jarran swore under his breath.
Jaheira turned to see what had annoyed him, and gave an irritated snort. “Dermin,” she muttered under her breath. Her face hardened, but she did not turn away or try to avoid the Harper as he looked up in mock surprise.
“Why, Jaheira, fancy finding you in this place.”
“Spare me this ludicrous behavior, Dermin. The last time we spoke we did not part on friendly terms, so obviously you have sought me out. What is it you wish to say?”
“I certainly have not come for a social call. I am here to deliver a warning.” He straightened and spoke more formally. “It has been decided. You are a killer of Harpers and a traitor. You have collaborated with our known enemies. Your execution has been ordered.”
“What? I have never heard of Harpers doing such a thing! Who has ordered this?”
“That does not matter. You have faced Harpers in the past, Jaheira, but now they will come after you with a vengeance. You and your companions will face battle after battle unless you come with me now.”
“Come… come with you?”
“If you return to the Harper Hold with me and face justice, you will be sparing Jarran and your other friends a great deal of hardship… and bloodshed.”
Before Jaheira could say a word, Jarran put his hand on her shoulder and growled, “She's not going anywhere, Harper. I will not allow her to be the scapegoat for Galvarey's follies.”
Dermin glared at him. “I believe the decision is Jaheira's. She has the right to decide how she will remove herself from the difficulties that you created for her.”
Jarran started forward, an urge to see how well the man could swim beating in his temples, but Jaheira put out a restraining hand. “I will consider your words, Dermin.”
“You do that, Jaheira. There will be no other warnings.” The Harper strode away, losing himself in the crowd.
Jarran turned to Jaheira and said harshly, “You didn't actually pay any attention to that, did you?”
“Jarran… he did not lie. If I have been condemned, the Harpers will not rest until the… the traitor has been brought to justice.”
He threw up his hands in exasperation. “I don't understand, Jaheira. You and Khalid and Gorion… all people I love and respect, and yet you are mixed up with this bunch of…of… lunatics! I have come to the conclusion that everything I have heard about Harpers is just one big fairy tale!”
Jaheira tried to hold back her tears. “It was no fairy tale. It was the truth… once. I do not understand this. It goes against everything I was told when I joined them. Please, let us continue on. We will talk another time.”
They returned to the Copper Coronet to tell Hendak that the slaver nest had been destroyed. The former slave announced the news to the entire inn with a loud voice, and there was much cheering from most of the patrons. Most, but not all, Jarran noted.
The group decided to have their supper there, since the long battles had left them tired and hungry, but Jarran promised that they would finally be sleeping at the Five Flagons that night. During the meal, many of the freed children came over to whisper and giggle with Mazzy. They had evidently become attached to the halfling warrior.
Jarran had to laugh at the sight of round-eyed youngsters watching her every move. “You've developed quite a following, Mazzy.”
“Oh, it is nothing.”
Valygar rumbled, “One of your 'nothings' is trying to climb into my lap to get closer to you.” They laughed, because sure enough a small child had crawled under the table and had popped up from beneath it next to Valygar.
Mazzy tutted and pulled the girl into her lap. “Now, now, young one, you do not want to sit on my ranger friend, you will get your pretty new dress all dirty.”
“Dirty?” Valygar said indignantly.
“You have dried mud on your leathers and your trousers, and your cloak has weeds clinging to it. You really should attend to yourself more carefully, Valygar. Tonight when we reach the Five Flagons I believe Anomen should give you some lessons in the proper care of equipment.”
The ranger sat open-mouthed as his companions tried not to snicker. Finally he gave the halfling a slow smile and said, “Yes, Mamma Mazzy.”
“What did you call me?”
“Mamma Mazzy. You seem to have a skill for mothering these children, and now you're trying to mother me as well.”
Now it was her turn to look astonished, and this time the table could not restrain themselves. Jarran and his friends howled with laughter. “Mother you?! How have I done such a thing?”
Anomen said with a chuckle, “Last night you told me I wasn't eating enough vegetables.”
And Jarran chimed in, “And on the way back from Imnesvale you hemmed the edge of my cloak.”
“Well,” she said with a blush, “perhaps I do try to offer a bit of advice or help here or there….” Her discomfort only brought on a fresh wave of laughter. “Oh, you… let us go to the Five Flagons! Perhaps the evening air will clear the foolishness from your heads.”
Still smiling, the group left for the other inn. Jan said cheerfully, “Well, Valy, it looks like Mazzy has nominated herself your keeper.”
“Do not call me Valy, gnome.”
“I can't blame her, you sure could use one. Didn't your mother ever teach you how to clean yourself? Surely she showed you how to scrub behind your ears. Or was she prancing through the woods instead of teaching you how to look like a nobleman?”
“My mother is none of your concern, Jan. I do not want to discuss her.”
“Hmm. You know, this all reminds me of my dear old mother. Did I ever tell you of my mother, Valygar?”
The ranger's face darkened, and he obviously was no longer amused. “I've no interest in hearing about your mother, gnome.”
Oblivious as usual to the emotional currents around him, Jan continued, “Oh, come now, surely it can't all be that bad? Mothers are the most benevolent force in the world, cradling you and caring for you from birth until death. What could be wrong with a story about a dear old mother?”
Through narrowed eyes, the ranger glared at the gnome. “Let me tell you a story, Jan, about my mother. She fell to our family curse young, toying with magic, sinking half our fortune into ancient texts and scrolls. She was obsessed with it. Even my father could barely drag her away from her studies. She practically ignored me from the day I was born.” He leaned menacingly over Jan.
Jan slowly backed away, trying to stammer out a reply but failing. Valygar continued, “She didn't regret her neglect until after my father died. She became so anguished she reanimated him, and went insane trying to lavish attention on his zombie. Ultimately she entered undeath to join him, and I was forced to destroy them both lest they do more harm. I was crying as I did so. So how is that, gnome? Is that the kind of story you were thinking of? Does it compare to the wonderful story of your mother?”
“Ah, no, no. I think that is quite sufficient, thank you,” Jan said weakly. He edged away from the ranger as quickly as possible.
Anomen looked at Valygar in awe. “I never thought I would meet someone who could silence that gnome.”
Valygar did not reply. He quickened his step, striding away from the group. By the time they reached the Five Flagons, he was already seated in the corner nursing a drink, a scowl creasing his face.
Mazzy murmured something under her breath, and started towards him. She was stopped by a cheerful greeting.
“Hello, my good smilin' --- Mazzy! By Brandobaris' stealthy feet, I don't think I've seen you in ages!”
Jarran saw her turn in surprise. “Samuel? Samuel Thunderburp! Greatest fighter of Highdale and reknowned rapscallion. Yes, indeed, it has been a long time.”
“How have you been faring, then? Last I heard, you had hooked up with Patrick and his band up in... what? Trademeet? And I heard you two were awfully, ah, close. Surely you didn't part ways?”
The smile slowly sank from Mazzy's face. “Patrick is dead, Samuel. They all are. I would be, myself, if Jarran had not saved me.”
Samuel looked stricken. “Patrick gone? Your companions as well?” He shook his head in sorrow. “May the Black Hound watch over them, then, and guide them to their final peace.”
“Aye. May the Black Hound watch over them. They have been buried and honored, Samuel... for that, at least, I am thankful.”
“Who's calling the Black Hound in my place of business?” said a halfling woman, her face indignant.
“Be easy, Thalia,” the halfling said to his wife.
Thalia saw who he was conversing with and gasped, “Mazzy! I haven't seen you since we retired from the Life. Why this talk of death?”
Mazzy gave her a sad smile and said, “You and Samuel were far wiser than Patrick and I, Thalia. You have your Samuel, but I… I have lost my Patrick.”
“Oh, my old friend, I am so sorry.”
“Thank you. I will tell you more another time, but for now I need to speak to someone.”
“Don't be a stranger, Mazzy,” Samuel called out as she went to join Valygar.
Jarran got drinks for Jaheira and himself, and the two of them found a quiet table. “Where have Anomen and Jan disappeared to?”
The druid smiled. “Jan is once more trying to lose all of his worldly possessions at a game of chance, and Anomen went upstairs to polish his armor, or at least that was his excuse. He looked a bit tired.”
Jarran glanced over at Valygar and Mazzy, the pair deep in serious discussion. “I'm glad Valygar has someone to talk to. He obviously needs it.”
Jaheira chuckled, “I believe he had the right of it. Mazzy has become the, ah, mother of the group.”
With a grin, Jarran asked, “And who is the father?”
“Why, you are, of course.”
“Me? I'm the youngest person in this party. Even Anomen is older.”
“But it is you that we turn to for advice, for comfort… for leadership.”
Jarran felt himself blushing a bit. “But if I am the group father… shouldn't that make you the mother?”
She snorted derisively. “Me, a mother. What a ridiculous notion.”
“I don't find it that ridiculous, Jaheira.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. Finally Jarran said softly, “Did you and Khalid ever… talk about children?”
“We did occasionally. Khalid would sometimes say that we shouldn't wait too long. That we didn't owe the Harpers our entire lives. But perhaps it is just as well. I doubt I would have the patience for motherhood. And what of you?”
“I… don't know. Personally I would like nothing better than to settle down. I think I've had enough adventure to last me the rest of my life. But… with my heritage…”
“You fear that your children would inherit the essence?”
“I can't deny the possibility. Ah, why am I talking to you about this? My chances of living long enough to become a father are slim.”
“You should not speak that way, Jarran. I am sure you will do more than merely live. Your future will be the stuff of legend.”
“Jaheira,” he said slowly, “the only legend I want to hear about myself is the one about the Bhaalspawn who managed to avoid the prophecies.”
“And what if… if you truly are the one who was foretold? The one who will overshadow all of his kin?”
“I… I don't know. I don't want to be the one, but… at the same time I don't want to be another Bhaalspawn's stepping stone. There has to be another way.”
Jarran saw that Jaheira seemed on the edge of tears. She whispered, “If there is, I am sure you will find it. But I will see that nothing stands in the way of your destiny, no matter what that shall be.”
The bard forced a smile to his face. “Unless my destiny is to become the new Lord of Murder. Then you can feel free to stand in my way.”
“I am sure that is not your ultimate fate. You are too kind, too good-hearted, too…” She turned her face away from him.
“Jaheira?”
“I… I am overtired, I must go to bed. Just… kiss me, Jarran.”
He fervently obliged, but his heart was troubled by her strange mood. As she stood, she murmured, “Goodbye, Jarran.”
“You mean good night.”
“Of course. Good night.”
