R. Salvatore: The Companions

Regis just sat back and watched. Knowledge was his most important ally. In in his previous existence momentcreonformation would keep him alive.

He was no less careful that night, no less attentive the next day, and no less careful the third night at the inn.

The following morning, soon after breakfast, One-Eyed Jax filled with patrons, all milling around.

Regis dared to move to the bar, where Serena warmly greeted him.

“Ah, Master Spider, but you’ve found the gumption to come out of your corner,” she said. “I told you already, you need not be afraid in here, and will not be needing your weapons.”

“I have learned the hard way to be vigilant,” he said.

“Aye,” she agreed. “And that would do you well in most corners of Luskan, and surely in Ten-Towns, when you get there.”

He tipped his blue beret, surprised and quite impressed that she had bothered to remember that little fact about his intended destination. “Busy day,” he said.

“Postings,” she replied, nodding to the board. “For crews, mostly. Many boats putting out to sea in the next tenday.”

“Any heading north?”

Serena laughed. “Might be one or two planning a stop at Auckney, but not to the dale, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Only asking in jest,” Regis replied. “I have been there before, and know well the ice floes floating about to scuttle any who dare sail there.”

“You’ve been there?” Serena asked doubtfully. “And you’re from Aglarond, so you said.”

“Aye.”

“Quite the traveler, then. Have you even passed your teens?”

The halfling laughed and lifted his wine. “I am older than I look, I assure you.”

“Still, I would have thought that one of your … cut, would have gained some notice in coming through Luskan before, yet I’ve not heard tell of Master Spider Topolino until four days ago, nor have any that I’ve spoken to.”

“You have told others of me, have you?”

Serena shrugged. “Luskan’s full of eyes and full of ears. You made an entrance not often seen. If you hoped to escape notice, then know that you failed.”

Regis shrugged and lifted his glass once more. He hopped down from his seat and went to the board, waiting patiently for the taller folk perusing it to move aside, then took his place. Several postings had gone up that morning, mostly for crews, and only one for a caravan, but alas, to Mirabar and not to Icewind Dale.

“It will happen,” Serena consoled him when he returned to the bar.

Soon after, Regis was back in the corner, enjoying his lunch, the common room bristling with patrons. All seemed in a fine mood, and indeed, most of the groups within One-Eyed Jax that day were sharing parting drinks before putting back to sea. Regis enjoyed the spectacle and the many toasts, and found that he was more relaxed in the place now. Indeed, he spent most of his time looking out the window, and held his breath on several occasions when he noticed dark elves strolling by. At one point, a pair of drow came into One-Eyed Jax-and how the other patrons offered deference to them!

They took note of the finline-height: Icreonely outfitted halfling, their stares lingering on him, making him wish that he had dressed a little less colorfully and less richly this day. Indeed, one of the drow went to Serena and began a quiet discussion, and pointedly looked back his way as he did, making no effort to hide the fact that he was inquiring about Master Spider Topolino with the barkeep.

“Wonderful,” the halfling muttered under his breath, and he pondered going over to join the discussion openly.

Any thoughts of that went away almost immediately, however, when a tall red-haired man entered the room, flanked by several capable-looking brawlers. Clearly, given the parting crowd, men stumbling quickly to get out of the way, this was someone of importance.

The redhead moved to the bar and Serena rushed to serve him, and the dark elves toasted him and drained their drinks, then hastily departed.

Regis noted it all, trying to sort out the hidden relationships. When the redhead moved to the posting board by the stairway, Regis dared to return to the bar.

“High Captain Kurth,” Serena whispered to him, bringing him a drink. “I think you have found your caravan, little friend.”

Regis stared at the man, who held a posting in his hand, but hadn’t tacked it up yet, as he was reading the others recently placed. He was still focused there when the crowd in the common room went quiet once more, then gave a common “huzzah!” Regis looked all around in confusion, seeking the source of the cheer.

And then he nearly fell off his bar stool, for he realized that the patron of the establishment had entered. A drow, and not one-eyed, Regis knew, though this one did indeed wear an eyepatch.

“Jax,” he whispered under his breath. “Jarlaxle?”

He noted with concern that the drow turned to him sharply upon mention of the name, and Regis huddled over his drink, silently berating himself for forgetting how keen drow ears might be, and how much keener still, likely, Jarlaxle’s would be.

Regis held his breath and didn’t dare look up as he heard the magically amplified sound of hard boots striking the wooden floor coming toward him.

The Year of the Narthex Murders (1482 DR) Icewind Dale

Not a smile greeted Catti-Brie when she walked into the Lone inn in the town of Auckney, a windswept, salty village nestled among the southern shores and high rocks of the Spine of the World’s westernmost peaks, overlooking the great ocean.

She moved to the main table and surveyed the menu items. “Lots of fish,” she said lightly to a nearby man, whose apron identified him as the cook or owner, or likely both.

“You get that when you live on the edge of the sea,” another man not far away answered, and with no warmth in his tone. Catti-brie turned to regard him, to find him staring at her body and surely not looking into her eyes.

“Three pieces of gold and take your pick,” the man with the apron said.

Catti-brie started a bit at the exorbitant price. “Three?”

“You came in with a caravan?”

“No, alone.”

“Three pieces of gold and take your pick,” the man repeated gruffly.

“I am not that hungry.”

“Three for a nibble, three for a stuffing,” said a woman’s voice from the other end, and Catti-brie turned to regard the speaker, who seemed a fit in age and demeanor for the owner and was likely his wife.

“Are there rooms for rent?” Catti-brie asked.

“Anything’s for rent, if you’ve the gold,” said the other man. He winked at Catti-brie rather disgustingly. “Yes?”

“Five gold a night,” said the owner.

Catti-brie held her hands up, somewhere between surrender and disbelief.

“Not many visitors to Auckney,” the man replied.

“There’s a wonder for a mage to unwind,” Catti-brie replied with dripping sarcasm. “Is there another common room in town?”

“You think I’d tell you if there was?” the owner replied.

“There’s not,” said his wife.

“But there are rooms to rent,” said the other man. “Though you’d be sharing!” He ended with a dirty laugh that followed Catti-brie all the way back onto the street.

She looked around at the passersby, all huddled under heavy cloaks against the chill breeze sweeping in off the water. There loomed a dourness around this place, a cold chill as palpable as the burgeoning wintry weather. sensationIesgic no less

She moved to what seemed to be the town’s main avenue, a wide boulevard weaving around an open market. She meandered around that marketplace, inspecting the wares-late-season fruits and vegetables mostly, along with cartloads of fish. She pretended to be interested, but in truth, she could call upon her divine powers to magically create better food than she found before her. She had only inquired about a meal in the tavern to warm up the conversation in the place, for though she was only passing through Auckney, she held a lingering curiosity about the town.