R. Salvatore: The Companions

One compound on the riverbank just south of the Upstream Span caught his eye, and he breathed a sigh of relief to learn that Baliver’s House of Horses was still, apparently, in operation. He walked his pony over to where a pair of young men and a woman loaded hay into the back of a wagon.

“Well met,” he greeted, dismounting, and he was glad to see the three smiling-and was surprised at how much a little thing like a smile could brighten up this thoroughly miserable ruin posing as a city.

“And to you, goodsir,” said the young woman, a handsome lass of less than twenty years. “Stabling or renting, or both, perhaps?”

“Stabling,” Regis replied, and he handed the reins to one of the men who came forward. “Name’s Rumble, or Rumblebelly to his friends. Handle him well, I beg. He’s been a good and loyal pony.” He pulled his saddlebags from Rumble’s back and flipped them over his shoulder, then dug into his pouch. “Three silver a night?” he asked and offered.

“Aye, that’ll do.”

“Then here’s a tenday, though I doubt I’ll be in town that long, and a bit of extra for special care to my always hungry pony.” He handed the young man four pieces of gold. “And a bit more when I collect him,” he added as the happy man led Rumble away.

“I’ll need to find an inn, and a caravan to Icewind Dale,” Regis added, turning back to the woman. He looked to the north, to the structures along the northern bank, and pointed. “Is the Red Dragon Trading Post still in operation?”

It was clear that they had no idea what he was talking about.

“Might mean One-Eyed Jax,” the remaining young man remarked.

“There is a tavern over on the north bank,” the woman explained. “Comfortable enough, so I’ve heard.”

“He’d be better sleeping in our hayloft,” said the man. “Well, which is it?” Regis demanded.

“Comfortable,” the woman replied. “And the place you’d best find any news of caravans to the North, surely, but …” She looked to her doubting companion.

“I see you wear a sword,” he said. “Can you use it?”

“Will I have to?”

The young man just shrugged.

“It’s the safest place and bed he’ll find,” the woman told her companion, and she turned to Spider. “Drow are not uncommon about One-Eyed Jax,” she explained. “But Ship Kurth claims ownership of the place, and none in the city are about to cross Ship Kurth. One-Eyed Jax is as safe a bed as you’ll find in Luskan.”

“Not saying much,” said the man.

“I was not expecting mu a long while to realize ees Regisonch,” Regis assured him. He looked to the bridge, the Upstream Span. “Will it fall out from under my feet?”

“They are repairing it,” the man replied. “Have been since before I was born. Safe enough if you’re careful where you step, but if there’s a gang working it, they’ll ask you to reach into your purse for a toll.”

Spider of the Grinning Ponies just smiled and shook his head. That grin hid a true sorrow, though, for what might have been in once-proud Luskan. For he, Regis, had been here in 1377, when Captain Deudermont had tried to wrest control of the city from the Arcane Brotherhood and the High Captains. If Deudermont had won, Luskan might now stand as a smaller version of mighty Waterdeep, a shining jewel on a coast full of thriving ports. But alas, Deudermont had failed, and had fallen.

And so had begun the fall of Luskan.

The halfling flipped a silver piece to the woman, thanked her for the information with a tip of his beautiful hat, and then started off toward the bridge.

He picked his path carefully as he stepped out onto the Upstream Span, for the stones were crumbling all around it, and in places he could see down through it to the filthy waters of the River Mirar. More than filthy, he realized, for they shone inky black and their foul smell drifted up to assail him. So focused was Regis on carefully marking his steps that he was more than a third of the way across before he even noticed that there were indeed others on the bridge, a trio of dirty men sitting beside a pile of stones and wooden planks, wearing the colors of a Ship’s crew he did not know.

The group stood as he neared, each reaching for a shovel or pick, and a fourth appearing from behind the pile.

Regis fought his instincts, reminding himself not to slow, not to show any concern.

“Now, what’ve we got here?” asked the nearest of the group.

“A visitor to your fair city, bound for One-Eyed Jack in search of a room,” Spider answered pleasantly.

“Jax, you mean,” the man corrected. “Jacks, then,” the halfling agreed.

A second man came up beside the first, holding his shovel like a battle-axe diagonally across his chest.

“Have ye enough coin, then?” the first asked. “Would I seek a room if I did not?”

“Enough for the room and for the toll?” asked one from the back, and only then, at the sound of her voice, did Regis realize that it was a woman.

“I see no signs for any toll, nor was any mentioned by the guards at the southern gate,” the halfling answered casually.

“Don’t need no signs and don’t see no guards, eh,” the first man said, and he hoisted his pick-axe up over his shoulder, and moved near enough to bring it down onto Regis’s head.

“Aye little one, open yer purse and we’ll let ye know if it’s enough to get you across,” said the brute with the shovel.

“Hmm,” Regis mumbled as he considered his options. He had some coins in his pouch, and many more in the secret compartment below it, which this crew would never find. It probably wouldn’t cost him more than a few silver to get across.

A few silver and more than a bit of his self-respect.

“No,” he said. “I do not think a long while to realize ees Regison I will pay any toll.”

“Wrong answer,” said the woman from behind.

“Kindly move aside,” Regis said, and he lifted his left arm, throwing his cloak back over his left shoulder and revealing his fabulous rapier. “Ah, ye runt!” said the first, moving to strike with his pick-axe.

But Regis was quicker, his right hand sweeping across to grab his rapier and draw it in one fluid motion, and his left hand coming across the other way right behind the lifting blade, moving just under the right fold of his cloak, where his third weapon sat ready just in front of his right hip, the holster angled back toward his center for an easy and quick draw.

Out went the rapier and out came the hand crossbow, unfolding as it went, and as Regis’s rapier tip went against the throat of the man with the pick-axe, just under the chin, his hand crossbow aimed out perfectly toward the man with the shovel, leveled for his face.

“Once I politely asked, but now I insist,” Regis said. “Move aside.”

The two men glanced to each other. Regis prodded with the rapier, drawing a bit of blood.

“Ye know what Ship ye’re threatening, do ye?” the woman protested.

“I know that one High Captain might find his crew short three men and a woman,” Regis answered. “Unless any of you survive the fall, of course, and the swim in those most-unappetizing waters below.”

That last part seemed to have a great effect, he noted, with the blood draining from the woman’s face.

“I’ll not ask you again,” Regis assured them.

They moved aside and Regis crossed the river, his grin from ear to ear.

Bolstered by his bravery, the halfling confidently strode into the tavern known as One-Eyed Jax a short while later. He was surprised by the spelling of the name, thinking, of course, that the place had been named after the two particular cards in a standard deck, but he just shrugged it off, realizing that few up here could even properly spell, likely, and fewer still would understand the difference between “Jacks” and “Jax.”