Chapter Text
Gale wanted to enquire with the librarian, to see if there was any information to be had about the Netherese Crown. Sorcha felt that they had other priorities, and so they left Gale to bore the ears off whomever and returned to camp just long enough to collect Jaheira before heading to warn the next victim on the Bhaalist's list.
Sorcha had thought that she remembered the Blushing Mermaid well, but was somewhat peturbed to find that it was far shabbier than the glittering nautical palace of childhood impression. It was built in the style of a beached ship, or possibly was a beached ship. The planks that made up the walls were rotting, mildewed, with patches nailed haphazardly every which way, still dotted with the occasional stray barnacle. It had seemed far grander in her youth, infused with piratical glamour.
Unfortunately, she did remember the overwhelming stench of the vomit that seemed to mark the grubbier corners around back. An inebriated Flaming Fist was being dragged by another, ranting about how he was due on shift. Small groups talked in low voices, skulking in the doorways.
"I do hope you're not thinking of actually going in, darling?" asked Astarion with a worried look. "They might not remember me here, but I certainly remember that both the ambiance and the wine were sorely lacking. I only got my victims from here if I was totally desparate."
Sorcha pulled out the bloodstained paper. "We're looking for a 'Nesha Leesha' but no further clue," she said.
A blonde human woman was looking around nervously, just outside the main entrance to the bar. "I'll start with asking her, everyone else spread out and see if anyone knows them" Karlach said, striding up to her target.
"'Scuse, do you know a Nesha?" she asked, and the woman jumped in alarm at being addressed by a flaming tiefling
"I'm Nesha - did Geryn send you? She was supposed to meet me here an hour past."
"No, look, I came to warn you. Your name's on a list of murder targets. You should go, get yourself hidden away in safety," Karlach insisted.
"Oh, don't be silly, who'd want to murder me? Is this some joke?" Nesha made as if to step away, but Sorcha put out a hand and pointed to her name on the list.
"Look. Here." She waved the bloodstained scrap.
Nesha gave a frightened squeak. "I'd… I'd better go pay my tab then. Thank you, I guess." She scurried off.
"Right, who's next?" asked Shadowheart.
Sorcha consulted the list once more. "A Figaro Pennygood, Facemaker's Boutique - some kind of mask maker?"
A sour look marred Astarion's face. "He's a high class tailor, makes fancy expensive clothes. Cazador used to send us to him to be fitted occasionally. If I recall aright, he's related to Carmen from Carm's Garms."
"We need to walk up towards the actual Baldur's Gate then, I believe," Jaheira advised. Sorcha summoned Nimbus as backup before setting off.
Sorcha walked beside Karlach as they made their way through the narrow alleyways of The Steeps, childhood memories nipping at her heels, a swarm of hungry rats.
"What's on your mind, soldier? You look kind of lost." the tiefling asked.
"Used to live here," she said shortly, before taking a breath and deciding to let a little of the pain out. "My past, it eats away at me if I think on it, makes me bitter, makes me smaller with the misery of it all. But all that amounts to nothing compared to the horrors inflicted upon you. Yet there you are, radiant, positive, making life better all around you. I'm in awe at how you just embrace the whole of life. You're incredible."
Karlach squirmed with an embarrassed grin. "Aw, soldier!"
"I'd love to be like that, to throw off the weight of my childhood, to use my fire instead of always damping it down. But I'm too afraid of losing control, of causing more harm than good," Sorcha admitted.
"Yeah, control isn't really an issue for me, I just don't," laughed Karlach. "The rage takes over and I just go for it and deal with the consequences later. Nothing to lose and everything to gain!"
"I guess there's no time for second guessing in the Hells?" she asked.
"No time at all - some of those demons are sneaky fuckers," the tiefling agreed.
There was a small queue outside the tailor's shop when they arrived. Apparently, according to one annoyed prospective customer, they were conducting a private fitting and wouldn't let anyone in to browse.
That sounded like an excuse to get a victim alone, Sorcha thought, barging in anyway.
"Excuse me, madam!" a flustered flunky protested. Sorcha paid him no heed, muttering "Don't call me madam!" before pushing open the inner shop doors. The red clad dwarf could be seen, murmuring to another dwarf who seemed to be paralysed, stuck to his chair.
"It's unusual for prey to supply the tools of its own butchery," the assassin cooed, running his fingers over an assortment of sharp tools. Sorcha could see Devella, the Fist who was investigating these murders, paralysed on the floor behind him.
"Stop right there!" she demanded, springing forth with lightning already coalescing in her hands.
"A challenger!" the Bhaalist said. "You will bear witness to my Becoming, as you take your final breath!"
Sorcha flung her lightning, momentarily shocking the assassin before he recovered enough to charge towards her.
Shadowheart threw a protection spell over the paralysed dwarf before hitting one of his accomplices with some green necromantic spell.
The shop staff ran towards them, one of them morphing into a shapechanger as they reached Karlach. The tiefling swung her axe in a great arc, slicing into the doppelgänger and the man next to it.
An arrow thunked past Sorcha's ear, embedding itself into the assassin's neck, tendrils of poison leaving the wound. Jaheira's panther shape leapt past him, latching onto an archer who was aiming for Devella, ripping into their throat with a satisfied growl. Karlach didn't have room to throw her hammer within the confines of a clothing boutique, so she reverted to swinging her axe in heavy arcs, knocking foes to the floor before stamping on them. Just as effective, Sorcha thought, stepping over the crushed head of Karlach's first kill.
The doppelgängers had a nasty habit of making a sudden burst of quick attacks once in their own hideous forms. She called up Nimbus in the hopes that he could pin a few down with shadow vines while she concentrated on the assassin. Hells, the dwarf was so quick. In a blink, Astarion was behind the dwarf, a quick one-two into the kidneys causing an 'oof' of pain as Astarion drew the assassin's attention. Sorcha grabbed the dwarf's throat with a Blight spell and he crumbled to the floor, all life force drained.
With a roar of fury, Karlach ripped the arm from one shapeshifter and used it to beat another around the head. A mean faced woman raised her greatsword above the paralysed Fist, but the panther launched at her, biting deep into the thigh and causing the woman to morph back to her true form.
Sorcha cast a second Blight spell on the archer held by Nimbus' vines. As he morphed, Nimbus lunged for his throat. She made a quick tally - only two left, and one of those was armless. Correction, only one left; Astarion had just ripped the throat from the armless man.
Jaheira reverted back to herself and sliced the remaining shapeshifter across their preexisting thigh wound, neatly severing the artery and spraying blood across Pennygood's showcased collection.
Bespoke arterial spray effect looked likely to be next season's big thing.
The Flaming Fist, Devella, shook off the lingering effects of paralysis, followed by Pennygood himself.
"God's blood, that was close," Devella muttered to herself, before speaking louder. "I should have known it would be you, and I'm very glad of it. I wanted a closer look, so I guess I got what I asked for - but it's not often one escapes from Bhaalists. Thank you."
"What now?" Sorcha asked, rifling through the assassin's belongings, extracting a damp pouch full of severed hands. "And can I keep these?"
Grimacing, Devella nodded. "I'm not even going to ask. As for me, I was on my way to warn the Upper City patriars; I'd better get back to it. Look me up at Basilisk Gate guardhouse if you get more information."
The dwarf bustled over. "I honestly don't know what I'd have done if you hadn't showed up," Pennygood said. "And imagine the horror, to dress entirely in red!"
"Do I feel a deserving discount coming on?" asked Astarion hopefully.
Pennygood stared at him. "Astarion, isn't it? Thought you only went out after dark?"
With a sour look, Astarion muttered, "You thought wrong."
"So, a discount?" Sorcha pushed.
Generous discount secured, they returned to camp, and Sorcha sought out Aylin to pass on the information gleaned earlier from Sorcerous Sundries.
"Ally mine! Your face bears grave tidings - what ails you so?" asked Aylin.
"A wizard named Lorroakan is looking for you. I suspect he means to trap you as Balthazaar did," Sorcha explained.
"The villain! Hie we to this Lorroakan to teach him the error of his ways!" exclaimed the aasimar.
Sorcha put out a hand. "Wait up - I convinced him that you were dead. It upset him a great deal, but it does mean that he will stop looking for you now," she admitted.
"The fox outfoxed! But Dame Aylin's deeds are legendary - we could not hope to remain hidden for long. Best we cut out the source of the villainy," Aylin insisted. "Will you accompany me?"
Smiling, Sorcha agreed. "But in the morning. Not all of us are immortal beings, some of us need our rest!"
She walked slowly towards her bed, deep in thoughts of strategy she could use against Lorroakan. A wizard who was not a wizard, Gale had implied.
Astarion came up to her, running a finger down her spine, making her shudder with pleasure and hope.
"I don't think I can trance tonight, so I'll just sit next to you and read, if you don't mind?" he asked.
"Of course," she said brightly, not letting disappointment colour her reply. She's kept her frustration tucked away - the last thing she wanted to do is was pressure him, force him to perform. That would just be another form of slavery.
But Sorcha had been aching for him so long now that it seemed like an eternity ...
Months ago, long before the nautiloid, the theoretical thought of being made to wait by a lover held a certain frisson, the idea of the slowly building tension leading inexorably to release. Each small gesture invested with a wealth of meaning, a featherlight touch weighing anchor-heavy on her skin. Yet now, bound only by ropes of honour, she kept desire chained since the Shadowed Lands, awaiting pardon or parole.
Alone, she cycled through want and need, frustration, desire. Self-control beyond previous imaginings, barely daring to think of an end for fear of snapping her fragile restraint.
When finally the walls could safely crumble, all at once, an entire tower would be washed away by the flood. She would be left standing, unguarded, naked, defenseless - open and unafraid before the torrent of her need.
Next morning, after a breakfast of eggs and mushrooms, they made their way back to Sorcerous Sundries. In order to cover a wide spread of attack types, she took Gale, Wyll, Karlach, Shadowheart and Astarion, and made doubly sure that both Wyll and Gale had their Counterspell prepared.
There was no sign of Rolan on the front desk today, just another fuzzy projection of the red haired wizard. She engaged the simulacrum in a trading conversation whilst Astarion slipped round the back, using his Cloak of Cunning Brume to cloud himself and pickpocketing the wares on offer. He tipped Sorcha a saucy wink as he returned, and she wound up the trade, successfully selling a load of junk while buying only a few handy scrolls of Thunderwave and Magic Missile to supplement their spells.
Ascending the grand staircase, she saw that the portals were still active. "Did you get anything good?" she whispered to Astarion, and he surreptitiously handed her a scroll of Chain Lightning and one of Globe of Invulnerability.
Turning to the rest of the party, she opened her pack and handed out a few Elixirs - protection from Lightning for Gale and Karlach, from Fire for Shadowheart and herself, while Wyll and Astarion both had an Elixir of Psychic Resistance.
"I hope that covers a wide enough range," she fretted.
"I'm just relieved that you're taking my warning seriously," Gale added as they stepped through.
Lorroakan was sat reading, looking up as they entered. Aylin swooped in from one of the high arched windows and then paced towards him, every inch the predator on the prowl.
"What have we here? A wizard, hiding in a tower?" the aasimar goaded. "What are you so scared of, magus? Surely not the Nightsong?"
"Nightsong is a person?" Rolan said, mouth gaping.
"By my honour! It's you! My dear, I thought you were -" Lorroakan began.
The aasimar glared at the gibbering mage. "You will address me with due deference. I am Dame Aylin. And you are a whelp without honour, without pride, with nothing but a tower full of trinkets."
With an oily smile, Lorroakan inclined his head. "My apologies, Dame Aylin. I meant no disrespect. I merely wished for an introduction, that I might get to meet the famed daughter of Selûne. Forgive me for that impudence." Turning back to Sorcha, he continued, "Perhaps our friend can bridge the gap, and do what I believe they came here to do?"
Sorcha snickered. "You seriously think I'm here to sell her out? I thought wizards were supposed to be clever?"
"Ah, but Lorroakan's no wizard, are you, warlock?" Gale interjected.
"Give me one good reason, magus, why I should not strike you down where you stand?" the aasimar bellowed, unsheathing her sword in readiness.
Lorroakan held up a cautioning hand. "Dame Aylin, I have discovered a device that would allow your immortality to be shared. It would cause you no harm, no pain of any kind."
"You dare?" Aylin roared. "You do not seek to share my gifts. You seek to poach them."
A sneer crossed Lorroakan's face. "I had hoped to appeal to your better nature. Perhaps I overestimated you. But it is of no relevance, I have an arsenal of implements capable of convincing you to see reason."
"It's over for you,Lorroakan. You can't overpower all of us," Sorcha insisted.
With an irritated tut, Lorroakan looked back at Sorcha. "A pity you didn't prove a more reliable ally. You could've reaped the rewards of my good favour. Instead it seems you're determined to make this as difficult as possible, but it is no matter."
Lorroakan pointed at a rune circle prepared on the floor."Boy! At the ready! Prepare to secure her once I give the word," he ordered.
"No, Master Lorroakan! I would never have helped if I knew that the Nightsong was a person!" Rolan retorted.
"Wretched boy! I'll make it so no wizard will touch you if you stand against me!" Lorroakan hissed.
"If they're all like you, I'll be glad of it," snarled the tiefling, stepping across to the party, casting Mage Armour on himself as he did so.
"Ha! Face us, wizard, we who detest you so!" goaded Aylin, wings emerging resplendent from behind her.
"Myrmidons! Imperator!" yelled Lorroakan, and four elementals sprang into being, one for each element.
Precisely at that moment, Sorcha used the Globe of Invulnerability scroll, covering the party in a glowing light. Rolan scuttled over to get under cover, too. Gale aimed a spell at the nearest elemental, turning the fire myrmidon from foe to ally. Shadowheart did the same to the air myrmidon, who immediately went and electrocuted the construct.
Wyll used Eldritch Blast to force the halfling servant backwards over a railing, hearing a panicked scream followed by a gentle 'splat'.
Kalrach threw her hammer at the earth mymidon, which was trying to fight Aylin. The aasimar was raining smites down on the creature, putting a significant dent into its steel shell. Astarion aimed an arrow of arcane interferance at Lorroakan. It hit, but somehow a blast of elemental force issued from the man in retaliation.
Thankfully Astarion was under cover of the dome, but the blast still sent him flying out of it, ricocheting from the balustrade behind him. The vampire quickly scurried back into cover, only his pride damaged.
The water elemental blasted a huge swatch of icy air across the entire party, causing Shadowheart and Gale to slip on the treacherous ground. Gale kept his spell focus, but Shadowheart hit her head, releasing the air myrmidon from her control. Luckily, the fire spirit attacked its erstwhile colleague, and a stream of magic missiles issued from Rolan at the same time, reducing that myrmidon to ash.
Sorcha kept her focus on the dome, but was trying to work out what caused Lorroakan's protection - she couldn't see a shield of any kind. She quickly conjured up Nimbus and sent him over to attack. Lorroakan immediately blasted her poor hellhound with what looked to be fire, poison and ice spells, making him pop out of existence again.
I'm not having that! Let's see how the bastard does against Chain Lightning.
She read the scroll, so handily purloined earlier, and watched smugly as Lorroakan dropped, a tendril of smoke floating from the top of his head. It also hit the water and earth elementals, damaging the former and destroying the latter. Aylin's sword cleaved through the icy creature at her side.
That only left the fire elemental, who thought it was their ally for the moment. Gale cast a Hold Monster spell on it, destroying that illusion, and Karlach and Wyll double teamed the myrmidon until it dissipated.
Aylin flew to Lorroakan's unconscious body and broke his spine over her knee in fury. Obviously she still hadn't worked out all of her anger from a hundred years of captivity - Sorcha was glad she was on her side!
Rolan was stood looking slightly dazed. "Lorroakan is dead. The bastard is dead."
"Are you all right?" asked Sorcha.
Rolan nodded. "I am - now that the bastard's in bits. Lorroakan was a cruel and vicious man. By day, I'd tend the shop, but at night - he'd fire the most nonsensical questions at me. For every one I answered 'wrong', he'd beat me. I kept thinking it was all a test. It had to be. I thought it was the price I had to pay to become a true wizard. I realise now he was just a sick, sick man."
"Now I know that, I only wish I could kill Lorroakan all over again," said Gale with an uncharacteristic vehemence.
"I see things clearly now. If I wish to master the Weave, I must do it myself. Thankfully, I have everything I need - right here," Rolan gestured at the mass of books the Tower held.
"I am always happy to give pointers if you should find yourself slowed by some tricky incantation," offered Gale.
"All hail Rolan, master of Ramazith's Tower," said Sorcha with a grin.
"Oh, I like the sound of that! I do indeed! I'll move Cal and Lia in as soon as possible," Rolan said, smiling broadly. "But what can I do to repay you?" he asked.
"Two things - the citizens of the Gate will need someone to protect them during the illithid battle to come - can you do that?" Sorcha asked.
"Of course," Rolan agreed. "What's the second thing?"
"Erm, well, don't mind us as we loot the vault?" Sorcha said with a wink, following Astarion as he leapt over the railing onto the floating furniture below.
Karlach and Shadowheart also leapt, but Gale and Wyll peered down, shook their heads and each cast Misty Step for a far more elegant arrival on the lower floor.
The lower area was another set of balconies, lined with bookshevles and dotted with transport buttons. None of them had any indication of destination though, they could lead anywhere.
"Shall I try one?" Sorcha asked, frustrated that their progress had stopped.
"Don't risk it!" warned Gale. "But if you've got a scroll of See Invisibility or True Seeing in your pack, that might work," he suggested.
Sorcha dug to the bottom of her pack before managing to find an elixir of See Invisibility. She drank the ever changing potion in one gulp and looked at the nearest pedestal. A plaque read 'Security' and she felt a wash of embarassment flood over her. That was the one she had almost touched.
"Not that one," she instructed, moving around to the next. "This one says 'Below', do we think it goes down there?" She pointed to a circular platform down a couple of levels without any obvious stair.
"I'll try it" volunteered Gale, "then you should be able to see me arrive."
Sure enough, the wizard popped into existence on the platform. Everyone else followed, emerging beside Gale. Sorcha could see two domes of force, one each over a robe and a staff, with a lever out in front.
"Gale, there's an invisible lever here - can you try feeling out the Weave around it, see if you can work out what it does?" she asked.
A look of intense concentration settled over Gale's face as he felt out the arcane wards surrounding the staff. Sorcha finally saw the glowing force bubble collapse with a pop.
"You've got it! Now how about the other one?"
"Give me a minute!" Gale snapped. "It's not just a case of me snapping my fingers, you know?"
"Sorry," Sorcha said sheepishly. She went to examine the staff - it was obviously very valuable and powerful, if it was warded like that. Astarion opened a case and a chest, retrieving a couple of keys, which he pocketed.
After a moment of rest, Gale released the wards on the other dome, collecting a fancy cream and brown robe. Using the Weave button they returned to the floor above.
Sorcha walked past one marked 'Clean-up' before coming to a button labelled 'Vaults'. "This is it, this could be the score of a lifetime," she noted with barely suppressed glee. One by one they were teleported somewhere else entirely, emerging on a circular platform surrounded by doors, but with no obvious means to reach them.
"Allow me," offered Gale, grabbing a water bottle from his pack and throwing it into the empty space. The bottle shattered - on nothing - and water spread out across the path. "Illusory floor," Gale explained. "A cheap trick that doesn't require much magic to set up."
There were a couple of chests and a locked display case on the central area. Astarion picked the lock on the case while Sorcha raided the chests. He pulled out a heavy tome.
"The Red Knight's Final Stratagem," he read, before flicking through the book. "Ooh, someone's a treasure trove of wicked spells! Look here, Gale, could you learn this one?"
Gale perused the page, his eyes widening at every line. "Oh yes, this could be most satisfactory! Most satisfactory," he repeated, stowing the book in his pack.
"What does it do?" asked Sorcha. "Could I learn it too?"
"It brings forth six massive bursts of force, using the chant 'Pario'. I'm happy to try to teach it to you, too, and to you, Wyll, but it might be a little advanced. That's not to say that with study you couldn't get the hang of it of course, and two, or even three casters with this would be significantly fearsome."
Karlach was occupying herself by jumping on the invisible floor, then doing cartwheels, with Shadowheart watching in amusement. "If I was setting up an invisible floor, I'd be sure to riddle it with holes to catch thieves out," she noted, laughing at the tiefling's antics.
"We should probably move on," Sorcha said, unlocking the door ahead with the key they'd found earlier.
A narrow path led forward to the next wooden door. Two chests were on either side of this room, with another illusory floor. Sorcha didn't see the point of these repeating safeguards. Surely anyone getting this far would have already worked it out?
Astarion unlocked one chest, then moved to the other. Karlach leaned against the wall to watch him work. Or tried to - she fell bodily into a hidden room. The others crowded in to examine it, seeing empty stone walls, a raised dais and a table at the end. A lamp stood alone there, and Sorcha could see Astarion's fingers twitch as he moved towards it.
"Stop, Astarion!" warned Gale. "That would seem to be a magic lamp, best not to touch the thing."
"But what if it contains a Djinni who will give us three wishes?" Sorcha asked.
Gale shook his head. "Welcome though that would be in our current predicament, think on this: Lorroakan had this in his possession, yet he did not use it to get the immortality he so desperately pursued. Why would that be?"
Sorcha considered the wizard's words, a realisation dawning. "It's a trap - touching it could release some horror, or drag the presumed thief into the lamp."
"How would we ever share three wishes between us anyway? We've got far more than three life threatening problems," mused Astarion as they left the chamber empty-handed.
The next room was lined with a circular set of bookcases, extending to a balcony above. In the centre was an open portal, possibly the real access point to the vaults. They left it alone for now and continued forward into another antechamber, with another two chests. Sorcha prodded cautiously at the walls until she found an arch which led to a study. Papers and trinkets were spread across a grand desk.
A scroll was pinned open across the desk and Sorcha found herself reading it aloud.
Lorroakan,
We see you, and we always will. Do take care to maintain utmost respect for the Art, and our purposes need not cross.
Signed by the Collective, The Cowled Wizards of Amn
"Told you he wasn't a real wizard!" crowed Gale. "All wizards have to be licensed in Amn, and if he practiced magic without a license then he'd have been incarcerated - so they wouldn't just warn if that was the case."
"I wonder who or what he was pacted to in order to get those spells then?" murmured Wyll.
"This one's a letter from Ketheric Thorm, refusing to give Lorroakan details of the Nightsong ." Sorcha laughed. "The arrogance of the man - as if Ketheric would give up information about what was keeping him alive!"
The next door led into a circular chamber with three other doors, marked Elminster, Silverhand and Karsus. Gas traps guarded each door, but Astarion found it easy to disarm them.
"No damed keyholes though, how's any self respecting rogue supposed to get in here?" whined Astarion.
Gale rolled his eyes at the tetchy vampire and cast Knock on each of the doors, then strode towards the one marked 'Karsus'. A passageway led into a room containing several useful scrolls and a book, 'The Annals of Karsus'.
Gale picked it up reverently. "This is it," he whispered, reading through the pages. He sat down suddenly in shock.
"Gale? Is something the matter?" asked Wyll, traces of worry evident in his voice.
"The orb. It's not just some renegade piece of malicious Netherese magic, it's the orb of Karsus himself, one of his three great artefacts. How did I not see it?" Gale seemed to be nearly lost for words.
"The artefacts of a failed god, still plaguing the world long after their creator has gone," Sorcha reminded him.
"First the Crown, and now this Orb - legends seem to be gathering around us," added Wyll.
"Can we move on now?" asked Astarion. "This place is making me itch, I keep expecting some magical death trap to trigger."
They walked back to the vault marked 'Elminster'. This one contained another book, necrotic magic seeping from its pages. Before Sorcha could warn him, Astarion had picked it up, reeling as if punched.
"What happened to caution?" Sorcha asked, although she was concerned at the visible change in the vampire.
"The idiot's gone and got himself cursed," snarked Shadowheart, sighing and casting a curse removal spell. "And with that, my magic is fully depleted, Astarion, so you'd better hope that we don't suddenly run into a horde of undead."
Sorcha elbowed Astarion until he looked up from the book, and remembered his manners. "Thank you, Shadowheart, that was very kind of you," he said.
The 'Silverhand' door just seemed to lead in circles so they retreated through the portal, finding themselves back in Sorcerous Sundries.
That afternoon, leaving Gale, Wyll and Shadowheart to recover from their spell drain, Sorcha set out to find the Guildhall. Jaheira had an inkling of the route, down through Eastway, tucked behind Low Lantern. With Jaheira leading the way, guarded by Karlach, Sorcha hung back, chatting to Lae'zel, answering the gith's curious questions about the city. Astarion prowled the shadows, sometimes behind, sometimes in front.
The streets devolved into alleyways, narrower and more shadowed the further they went. Eventually a once grand columned building loomed ahead, festooned with ancient salt-rotted banners.
A pale green half orc stood guard, noticing their approach.
"Shouldn't go wandering in dark alleys, very dangerous hobby. Gets people killed," he warned.
"Oh, really? What if I was very very careful?" Sorcha asked, with a cheeky grin.
A slow smile spread across the guards face. "Wait, you're Farlin's friend, yes? She said to let you in."
"That's very kind of you," Sorcha said. "What's your name anyway? I always like to remember helpful people."
"I'm Tusgront," the half orc said, grinning happily as he opened a hidden door.
Walking into the notorious Guildhall, all Sorcha could see was a tatterdemalion meeting hall, with faded banners of past glories hanging from the ceilings, moth eaten and spider bedecked. A swampy central area gave off the scent of mould, rot and silkroot.
The area was accessed by sets of wooden stairs, damp, salt-encrusted planks bowing under weight, barely holding it together.
Coming out onto a wide balcony, she could see a small boy hawking wares, and beside him, vigilant and wary, surely that was Mol? No eyepatch, but still the same scraggly little form and bright, inquisitive eyes.
"Look who it is!" the girl said, smiling broadly.
"Good to see you safe, Mol. How's business?" Sorcha asked.
"Oh, you know, give it a few months and I'll be running the place," Mol boasted.
Sorcha laughed. "Careful that Nine-Fingers doesn't hear you running your mouth off like that. I saw Mattis and the other kids out in Rivington, want me to pass on any messages?"
Mol's face creased a little. "Ah, no, he's got his patch and I've got mine. Best we don't mix them up, but it's good that he's safe."
"It's hardly safe out there - someone's going around murdering refugees. Sure the kids can't join you here?" Sorcha asked, concerned.
"No way for them to get in, past those Watchers. I promised to get them safe to the city and I did, now I have to look out for myself," Mol replied. If Sorcha wanted to save the kids, there was no help coming from this quarter. Maybe she should ask Halsin if he had suggestions?
A slightly more stable stair led up to a bar area and a guarded door. Jaheira stepped forward, nodding to the guard. "We're here to see Nine-Fingers," she informed them, striding forward into a large room. A masked man was arguing with a small slight woman, something regarding an orphanage.
This wasn't the first time that Sorcha had met Nine Fingers. The Guildleader once had a fling with Nareen, may indeed still be having one, when distance and duties allowed. The woman dismissed the masked man and turned to Jaheira.
"I'm going to have to discipline my information suppliers," Nine-Fingers said. "I was informed that you'd died out in the Shadow Lands. I even made an offering in your name at Kelemvor's well."
"Of gold? I did not know I meant so much to you, guildmaster," said Jaheira, unimpressed.
"Oh, I'm terribly sentimental. Case in point - I've just let a Harper walk through my Guildhall, noticeably unholed," the Guildmaster said. "Because I'm curious. About why you're here - and why you've brought one of The Hand with you?"
"Good to see you again, Guildmaster," Sorcha said politely. "But I'm not here on Hand business, I'm just trying to keep Jaheira out of trouble."
The Harper gave a humourless chuckle. "We will have words, cub, you and I. Something about respecting your elders perhaps?" Jaheira turned back to Nine-Fingers. "We won't tax your hospitality too long. I'm searching for Minsc of Rashemen."
Nine-Fingers raised an eyebrow. "Such information does not come cheap, High Harper. Not in normal times. Of course... seeing as these are not normal times, and we're all such good friends... I'm bringing him here as we speak. Or - parts of him, at least. I gave no orders about the condition of his corpse."
Jaheira hissed, reaching for her scimitars. "What treachery is this, Nine-Fingers? Have you thrown in with the Absolute, too?"
Nine-Fingers arched a disbelieving eyebrow. "Against my own city? Careful - you're in very real danger of hurting my feelings. It's Minsc who's found his faith with Faerûn's newest god. And a new name with it - the Stone Lord. "
"Lies!" Jaheira insisted.
"The Stone Lord? The new boss your people are so afraid of?" asked Sorcha.
"Exactly the one. Guild crews may be prone to exaggeration, but... not in this case." She looked rather crestfallen.
"It makes sense, Jaheira. The Absolute would want to destroy any cohesive group in the city, and the Guild is certainly that," mused Sorcha.
"In his short reign, the Stone Lord has earned a reputation for pure brutality. No survivors. And where he mows my people down, this ripe little cult takes root. But not for much longer. We have word on where he plans to hit next - and he'll find us ready to hit back this time," the Guild Leader said confidently.
"Nine-Fingers - Astele. Call off your ambush. Tell us where he is, and we'll handle this," begged Jaheira.
"Back off, Harper. I will handle any and all threats to my Guild. I won't need your assistance."
As Jaheira stomped out, barely keeping her temper, Nine-Fingers turned to Sorcha.
"So why are you here? Why would Nareen send one of her people down south without coming herself?" Keene wondered.
"Ah, well, this wasn't exactly planned," Sorcha explained. "I got an unwelcome lift on a squid, as did my friends." She detailed the illithid problem and its links to the Absolute, causing Nine-Fingers' frown to deepen.
"I'm definitely not getting the best from my rumour-brokers. Good luck with that, you'll certainly need it. But if you can keep the old woman alive, I'd appreciate it. Don't ever tell her, but I have a certain fondness for that harridan." With that, Sorcha was dismissed and scurried to join her companions.