Douglas Niles - The Druid Queen

The guard's eyes, much to Keane's satisfaction, widened slightly at the information. The man turned and started for the house at a trot while the other guard took pains to effect an absolutely rigid stance. A few minutes later the first guard returned, accompanied by a short, chubby man in a white clerical robe. The symbol of Helm, the All-Seeing Eye encircled by a ring of platinum, bobbed against the latter's ample belly.

"A royal ambassador… this is a signal honor! Come in, come in, my good lord!" The cleric beamed at Keane, waddling forward and gesturing imperiously to the guard who still stood rigidly at his station. "Open that gate, man-and be quick about it!"

"Thank you," Keane murmured as the priest bowed and smiled.

"You come from the court of the Kendricks? Your king's name is known far and wide, of course-an honorable man and a wise and beneficent ruler! But, of course, you know that already. Perhaps there is something that I can help you with? I am the bishou of this temple and shrine-Bishou Harmanius." The rank of bishou was not unknown to Keane. Harmanius was an influential man and a powerful cleric-but not powerful enough for the mage's needs.

"Actually, I'm afraid that my business must be conducted with the Exalted Inquisitor. Will he grant me the honor of an appointment?"

"Ahem… well, you see … he is a very busy person these days," the bishou demurred. "Perhaps if I could relay to him the nature of your business…?"

As they spoke, the pair passed between a pair of tall columns, climbing several large steps to approach the huge, ornately carved doors at the front of the manor. These swung open ponderously at their approach, and Keane saw another pair of scarlet-coated guards, images of immaculate tunics, obsidian-black boots, and buckles of gleaming silver, flanking the entrance.

"It concerns a matter of great importance to my king-a service he desires. Naturally it involves a sizable donation to the coffers of the church." Keane added the incentive on his own responsibility, suspecting from the opulence around him that it would be an effective inducement. He was not disappointed.

"Of course, the business of an esteemed monarch like King Kendrick must supersede lesser concerns," noted the cleric, without a hint of irony so far as Keane could tell. "I shall relay your request immediately. Would you be so kind as to wait in here?" Harmanius indicated a large parlor lined with marble walls, the floor buried beneath an array of lush, silken rugs.

"My pleasure," Keane replied. The cleric bustled into the temple while the magic-user walked slowly about the large chamber, dazzled by the wonders on display.

A large doorway of cut glass led into an enclosed garden, and from it sunlight spilled into the room. Paintings hung along the walls, mostly battle scenes, in which the banner of the All-Seeing Eye floated proudly above the victorious troops. One canvas made a mural along a good-sized wall, depicting the toppling of Maztican gods from their pyramid-shaped temples while the local peoples bestowed gifts of gold and silver on the bishou who had enlightened them. The mage spent several minutes studying the scene, noticing the strong flavor of righteous triumph tinged with bleak and abject conquest.

"Lord Ambassador?"

Keane turned suddenly, surprised that someone had entered the room without being heard. He felt a flash of guilt, as if he had been caught eavesdropping. "Ah, yes-forgive me. I was just admiring your artwork." He recovered smoothly from his surprise to bow formally to the man he knew must be the Exalted Inquisitor of Helm.

"Splendid, is it not? It commemorates the founding of Helmsport, on the coast of Maztica. Perhaps you know that it has become the major port on that savage shore?"

The cleric, Keane saw, was a very tall man-nearly as tall as the mage himself. He was stout, but not obese. Instead, the inquisitor carried the strong suggestion of a workman's strength in his barrel chest and large hands. A neatly trimmed beard of rust red framed the priest's chin, and his blue eyes sparkled with intensity and, perhaps, curiosity.

"I had heard something of that, yes," noted the mage as the cleric lead him to a pair of comfortable chairs arrayed before a currently unlighted hearth.

"Please, be seated. Allow me to introduce myself-Parell Hyath, Helm's inquisitor along this coast. Harmanius tells me you wish to discuss a matter of import to your king."

"That's correct." Keane had already decided that he wouldn't mention the unfortunate demise of Bakar Dalsoritan. No need to inform the inquisitor that he was the mage's second choice. Instead, he quickly launched into the explanation.

"His Majesty King Kendrick has recently been rescued from a dire imprisonment. His health is good, but his captors, in an act of sheer brutality, cut off one of his hands. He has commissioned me to … negotiate for the services of a devout man of the gods, a man such as yourself. I am prepared to offer generous inducements should you be willing to return to the isles with me and perform a spell of regeneration on the king."

Parell Hyath's blue eyes narrowed subtly, but his lips pursed tightly together.

"This is a worthy cause, to be sure-but I'm afraid that the matter of timing creates a bit of difficulty. My business here in Baldur's Gate is sure to occupy me for the rest of the year… though perhaps after that?"

Keane shook his head regretfully. He wondered if the cleric spoke the truth or simply raised the issue for negotiation purposes. "I'm sorry, Lord Inquisitor, but His Majesty was most insistent that I return as soon as possible. Isn't there a way that you could make the journey quickly, returning here to resume your business, and not incidentally earn a respectable fee for your good efforts?"

The magic-user knew that clerics did not possess the wizard's ability to teleport instantaneously from one place to another, which had been the means Keane used to reach Baldur's Gate from Corwell. But he also knew that other paths were open to the servants of the gods, such as gates through the astral planes and other-dimensional paths that allowed equally rapid transport.

For a moment, he wondered if the cleric really spoke the truth, for the man's lips remained locked in that firm position, causing his beard to twist into a tight circle around his mouth. But then he relaxed slightly.

"It just might be possible," he allowed, "though I can make no promises. By the way, what sort of, er, 'inducement' did your king have in mind?"

"I'm authorized to offer as much as fifty thousand pieces of gold or the equivalent in jewels, gems, or platinum." Keane knew the amount would put a significant dent in the royal treasury, but it was a fee he felt certain that the king would pay. In addition, he could see, with some satisfaction, that the offer had cut right to the core of the inquisitor's being. Hyath blinked, and this time he forgot to purse his lips. Keane saw his eyes slowly widen as he no doubt considered the charitable works that such a sum would allow him to accomplish.

"As I explained," the priest said after a few moments reflective silence, "my time is difficult to rearrange. But there is a possibility…."

"I truly hope so," Keane prodded. "Do you need a day to decide? I'm afraid I won't be able to linger much longer than that. I'll have to seek help in Waterdeep, or Amn…."

"Bah!" The cleric shook his head derisively. "Neither of them offers a cleric worthy of the title patriarch!"

"You'll forgive me"-Keane's voice was soft, precisely polite-"but I'll have to see that for myself."

The inquisitor smiled then, his expression surprisingly friendly. Nevertheless, the Ffolkman thought he detected a hint of craftiness in the cleric's visage.

"I'll do it," Hyath agreed suddenly. "Give me until tomorrow morning to make my arrangements. Then we can depart. We'll travel together, I hope."