Faking It

This place is a cesspool of dank corruption, Anomen thought, certainly not for the first time as he shifted from one foot to the other while watching the crowd in the Copper Coronet. At a nearby table, he saw the tavern's owner, Lehtinan, slyly look his way and say something to his patrons, making them laugh uproariously.

If the Coronet was not the one place in the Athkatla where the young squire of the Order of the Radiant Heart knew he would find worthy adventurers, he would never have stepped through its rusty-hinged doors. For much to his shame, Lenthian remembered Anomen's previous visits to the rooms upstairs. And he had not the grace to save Anomen's modesty by pretending that he had never seen him before. He had actually offered him a discount.

Anomen tried to remind himself that he should not feel so embarrassed; after all, the Order did not frown upon such things, so long as the individual involved remained discreet. And he was no different from the majority of Athkatla's nobles, who had received their first taste of a woman's arts as birthday gifts bought by their fathers.

He sighed. It seemed only the presence of the courtesans could keep his father from his abusive behavior toward his son. Inevitably, on the few occasions a year he and his father met, much to his shame, Anomen would arrange to meet him here.

A familiar courtesan shimmied through the crowd, tipping him a bawdy wink that he ignored. More laughter erupted from Lenthian's table, and the vile man called out, "Tell you what, squire, she's yours tonight if you bring your all your friends from the Order tomorrow."

"That will be quite enough!" Anomen growled. Now everyone in the Coronet was laughing at him, even the irritating de'Arnise girl who did nothing but weep and pester people about her father's fallen keep. "I did not come to this establishment to be ridiculed at every turn!"

"Then keep your trousers fastened, eh?" A burly dwarf nearby wheezed.

"Will you be included in the count when the gods smite us for our activities, or does attending temple services the day after a romp really keep the gods' wrath off you?" another voice called out.

Bright red from humiliation and rage, Anomen stalked away to a dark corner out of their sight, their laughter eating away at his heart. His mind ran in desperate circles as he leaned against the wall and knocked his head against it. He was so close to his final judgment and nothing he had done was good enough to please his superiors. Everything he had tried had failed. This place was his last chance. And he was failing again.

Heaving a sigh, Anomen dropped his head and opened his eyes. Suddenly, something blurred past him, hitting the wall with a solid thunk. Battle reflexes took hold of him, and he fumbled his mace from the loop at his belt and whirled about before he could even wonder what happened. The mace bounced off something hard. He looked down and saw a stunned human man in dark, drab clothing pinned to the wall by an arrow through the sleeve of his outstretched arm.

In the crowd, he saw a girl in rags lowering a longbow as she slowly approached him. He shook his mace at her and shouted, "I don't know this is, but you'll not catch me off guard, wench! You should take more caution when trying to acost a squire of the Order!"

Instead of being alarmed or even frightened, as he imagined a small female bandit would be when confronted by a superior foe, she looked annoyed. "Hey, Elminster," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "look behind you." When he did not turn, she rolled her eyes and shouldered her bow. "Don't worry, I wouldn't dream of accosting a squire. You're safe with me."

Behind him on the floor lay his coinpurse, its strings newly severed, and a dagger. Both had fallen from the hand of the pinned man, who was regaining his senses.

"By Helm!" Anomen exclaimed, so startled that all he could do was stare at the man and stutter, "What are you ... what did you... you..."

She nodded at the purse. "Are you going to pick that up, or do I have to do everything for you?"

"Little half-breed," the thief muttered, wiping the blood from his nose with his free hand. "Ugh... You're ... you're a fool to cross the Shadow Thieves."

The girl -- a half-elf, Anomen saw now -- shrugged. "Oh, don't take it personally. It's all business: You tried to pick his pocket; I caught you. Of course, if he doesn't get his purse before you get free, then I won't stop you again." She met Anomen's open-mouthed stare and said, "You've got your assignment, wonder boy, now get to it!" Under the crowd's noise, as she turned away, Anomen thought he heard her mutter, "I don't know why I ever bother."

"Wait!" Anomen caught her arm, then quickly released her when she arched her eyebrow at him. "I will call the guard! You will witness that this man tried to rob me!"

"I doubt you'll get a guard into this place."

"There is one." Anomen pointed to a guard sitting at a table near the door.

"That one? He's propositioned me twice since I walked in the door. He smells like the dregs of a beer barrel." She knocked her hand against his breastplate, making it ring dully. "Look, you've got your money back. Be glad for that. Let it go." Again she turned her back to him and headed toward the bar.

With a grunt, the thief freed himself from the wall. He looked at Anomen, then looked at where the purse still lay. "Don't even think about it," Anomen said, brandishing his weapon at the thief as he picked up the purse.

"Not at all, wonder boy. Not with that one around here to protect you." The thief laughed, the same patronizing laugh that Anomen had heard all night. It stayed with him as he crossed the room to follow the girl.

She was a complete mess, this girl who dared speak to him in such a way. Dirt and perhaps grease mottled her appearance. Her long dark hair hung limply in a loose, ragged braid. One sleeve of her tattered blouse was gone, and her skirt seemed to have been longer at one time but now its hem had been ripped off and wound around her left forearm. The loose sole of her right boot flapped as she walked.

An urchin. Bah. I know Lehtinan will let anyone in this place, but even one like her is below his bottom-feeding standards. Shame still burned in his heart. Would Helm never allow any incident to favor his priest? Perhaps she is in league with the Shadow Thief. Why else would she make such a display? A confidence artist, of course! I must use caution.

"I did not need for you to do that," Anomen said as he came into hear range of hearing.

She looked back at him. "Really." Irritation rather than curiosity laced her words, making it more of a statement of disbelief than a question.

"No. I did not."

"Really." Again, he heard the sarcasm in her voice, and it made him bristle. Before he could shout her down for her impertinent behavior, she tossed her head and said, "Fine. Give me your money then."

"I beg your pardon?!" Anomen clutched the purse tighter.

"I'll grant you that you didn't ask for my help, so I won't even expect a 'thank you' from you, which is what a civilized man would do when a girl helps him out." She stepped closer and looked him in the eye. Her finger pounded hard on his chest in time to her speech. "But, if I hadn't stepped in, that thief would have taken your money. Now, if you don't mind your money being taken, that means you don't need the money. I do. Hand it over, then."

"I knew it!" Anomen's voice scaled up with the accusation. "It was your plan all along! You're partnered with the thief!"

The girl rubbed her eyes with her fingers, then looked with disgust at her dirty hand. "I obviously should have shot more to the left," she muttered, then squared her shoulders. "Don't be a complete idiot. I was doing you a favor. But trust me, if I wanted your coin, I'd have it in my pocket right now."

"Really." He copied the derisive tone she had used on him. "My purse was taken from me only through a lapse of my attention. And believe you me, you have my full attention now."

Quick as lightning, the girl stomped hard on his foot, making him gasp and causing more pain than Anomen thought a small creature could. As he bent to grasp his foot, the purse fell from his hands, landing in her waiting hands.

When he looked up, he saw her rifling through it. "Get your hands..." he blustered, but just as quickly she tossed it to him, cutting off his demand as he fumbled to regain his balance and catch it. With a quick wave, she flagged down the bartender.

"What can I get for ye, love?" the rotund bartender asked, swiping a clean spot on the wood before her and giving Anomen an appraising look.

"Would you have any honeyed mead tonight?" She smiled at him as she settled comfortably on the barstool.

"Sorry, love, we've none o' that tonight. Wine, perhaps? Or a spot of ale."

"Ale it is, then." From the light tone in her voice, it did not seem Anomen's wicked glare affected her a bit.

The bartender, however, returned the glare, then leaned over to whisper loudly in the girl's ear: "He givin' you trouble?"

"Who, him? No, not a bit. Why, is he a bother?"

"He's been here days, going on about how the gods'll smite us all an' acting all holy. That's no way to be about in a place like this, if you know what I mean. What with him lookin' round for adventurin' types to run with an' all."

"I do. Terrible, isn't it, the way some people are. How about that ale?"

The bartender bustled off and returned smiling with her ale, exchanging it for the gold piece she took from Anomen's purse. She turned and looked hard at Anomen, then sighed and patted the stool next to her. Before he could speak, she held up a hand to stop him. "Peace, wonder boy. I will apologize for my show of temper, but really, don't you think you owe me a drink?"

"I owe you ..." His tangled thoughts also tied his tongue, and he could not complete his sentence. Finally he said, rather desperately, "Where's mine?"

She laughed then, a merry but tired trill instead of the cruel laughter he'd heard from everyone else this night. "You can buy your own. Unlike you, I'm not a noble out on a slum. What little I have is spoken for."

Anomen moved gingerly around her to sit on the stool beside her, though as far from her as he could. "What makes you think I'm nobility?"

"Let's see," she settled her elbows on the bar as he ordered a glass of wine. The bartender hardly looked at him as he set the dirty glass before him and took his coin. "The accent that sounds like it comes straight from a romance novel. The shield with the family standard." She rubbed again at her face. "And you look like you've bathed recently. What I'd give for a bath. Oh, and you didn't thank me for helping you. That's a habit of nobles everywhere."

Again, he muttered, "I did not need your assistance."

"All right." She shrugged, smiling into her cup. "Whatever you say."

Minutes ticked by in silence as they sat and sipped their drinks. Stewing at the girl's attitude, Anomen tried to think of a way to put her into her place. Several came to mind, but the Order would have expelled him if it was known he'd even thought them.

"So, you're looking for party of adventurers, eh?" The girl propped her head on her hand and looked at him.

"That is not your concern."

"I only ask because you really don't look like you belong in a place like this. I mean, doesn't this town have ... ah ... more fitting places for a man like you?"

"This one suits my purposes for the moment," Anomen snapped. Unfazed, the girl took another swallow of her ale. In the harshest voice Anomen could manage, he said, "You do not look as if you belong here either, though I would be hard-pressed to know where you should belong."

"You'd be surprised to know where I'm capable of belonging," she replied, then said somewhat absently, "It wasn't that long ago that I was being feted regularly by all the nobles of Baldur's Gate."

"I find that hard to believe." The likely story of a grifter, I'm sure, he thought. "I am sure I would have heard of such a woman. And what would you be doing here if that were the case?"

"Like I said, you'd be surprised. Listen." She leaned in and rapped his breastplate again. "You don't look like you should be out alone, and I'm feeling a wee bit protective tonight. Why don't you come along with me and my band? I need a strong arm, and you look like you've got one."

Anomen couldn't believe the girl's gall. So enraged was he that his breath came out in loud blustery gasps as he spoke. "I'll have you know that I am among the best of my regiment!"

"I'm sure you are." Her grin softened. "But you're not with your regiment, you're here seeking employment. And no one's offered you a place in their party, even though you've been here for days. And you obviously can't see an opportunity when stomps you on the foot."

"You know nothing." He looked away from her and swallowed hard. Her words stung his heart. Not her tone or her manner, but with the truth. She had known him for less than ten minutes, but she had named exactly what had occurred over the course of the last two days. If an urchin could see what he was, what would the Order see?

"You shot a Shadow Thief?!" A sharp voice behind them made them both jump, Anomen was glad to see. Behind the girl stood a half-elven woman, who was just as ragged and dirty as she. With her was a rather suspicious- looking foreign type.

The girl rolled her eyes. "I didn't shoot him, Jae. I only pinned him. Don't believe everything you hear. Are we ready?"

The woman sniffed. "I have asked about, but our opportunities are few. Here for hire tonight are only a dwarven berserker, a young woman seeking fighters to save her keep, and an arrogant knight that everyone has said would be a pain in our arses."

"Who said that?" Anomen snapped, looking toward Lehtinan's table. The men around it saw him looking and laughed again. When he turned back to the girl, he saw that she was smiling at him. And he noticed her eyes. They a color he could not place, so dark they seemed not a color at all. But above all, they were kind. Beneath the grime, she saw her potential for beauty, and again he found himself speechless.

"I think I've hired the knight," she said softly. "What do you say?"

"I'd rather we hire the berserker," the man muttered, but the woman elbowed him.

"It is Renai's decision," she said. To Anomen, she said, "To which order do you belong?"

Anomen blinked to clear his head. "I am ... " For a moment he forgot his name. "... I am Anomen Delryn, a squire with the Order of the Most Radiant Heart and a warrior priest of Helm."

The pair behind them groaned, and even the girl winced a bit, but she shrugged again and stood up. "Are you with us?"

"Is that the berserker?" The man pointed toward the far corner. Both women glared at him.

Slowly, Anomen said, "I have been seeking a party that would share my ideals of good and righteousness. If you are such a party, then I could be interested. "

"We're rescuing a friend from a dungeon. If you decide we share your ideals, and if we decide you share ours, we'll discuss it." She hopped off the barstool and waved him along as she walked. "Come on, wonder boy. We've not any more time to waste."