Tantras (33 page)

The cleric was sampling an odd-looking combination of bread, filleted meat, and a tangy red sauce topped with ground black peppers. “Delicious,” the cleric told the vender, then passed the wooden bowl on to Kelemvor, who also sampled the food.

“There’s an inn ten blocks from here that posted a vacancy sign this morning,” the vender told the heroes. “You should get there before all the rooms are taken.”

The cleric paid for the food and thanked the vender for the information. Then the heroes went in search of the inn. After becoming lost three times in the winding city streets and receiving directions that only led them deeper into the twisted city center, the heroes found the Lazy Moon Inn. As they entered, a young man wearing a red frock with gold trim appeared before the heroes.

“How long will you be staying?” the boy asked, his voice cold and efficient.

“We don’t know vet, but this should cover everything,” Kelemvor said gruffly and slapped a few coins into the boy’s hand. “We’ll take two rooms,” the fighter added. “At least until the end of the week.”

The inn was of a simplistic design, with a large taproom, kitchen, and storeroom on the ground floor, and guest rooms on the upper two floors. A shield bearing the symbol of Torm lay on its side in the corner, next to the boy.

The young man insisted on carrying the heroes’ travel bags, although he was clearly struggling to keep his balance as he led Kelemvor, Midnight, and Adon up a wooden, spiral stairway that led to the third floor of the inn. After dismissing the boy and checking over their rooms, the heroes met in the taproom. It was well before eveningfeast, so few other people were present.

“Here we are,” Kelemvor said. “Tantras.” A deep breath escaped the fighter. “Midnight, how will we recognize this tablet of yours? Better still, what are we going to do with it once we find it?”

“If we find it,” Adon said darkly, drumming his fingers nervously on the greasy, unwashed table.

“We will find it,” Midnight noted firmly, turning to look at the cleric. “The sphere of detection Lhaeo gave us will shatter when it’s near an object of great magical power, such as the missing Tablets of Fate.” The mage paused and turned to Kelemvor. “As to their appearance, Mystra’s final message to me at Castle Kilgrave contained an image of the tablets. They are made of clay and stand less than two feet high. Fiery blue-white runes line their surfaces. They radiate powerful magic.”

“But magic is unreliable,” Kelemvor grumbled, waving for the barmaid to bring him an ale. “Who’s to say this sphere of yours is even going to work? And where will we look? We can’t cover every square inch of this city on our own. It’s far too large.” The green-eyed fighter scowled and looked away from his friends. “Besides, we have to assume that Bane will send agents to find us. His people might even move the tablet before we can find it.”

Midnight ran her hands over her face and looked to the open doorway. The perfect sunlight from without had not changed since their arrival. “If we are to believe the men who greeted us at the dock, we’ll be able to search in daylight. That, at least, will work against many of Bane’s agents.”

The barmaid brought the fighter’s ale, and the heroes were silent until the pretty girl left them. As soon as she was out of earshot, though, Kelemvor pounded the table with his fist and hissed, “We can’t go completely without sleep. Do you want to leave yourself open to attack because you’re too tired to properly defend yourself? We need a better plan than just searching the city at random until we find the damned tablet.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Midnight snapped, the weariness in her soul bleeding through to darken the tone of her words.

The fighter sighed and closed his eyes. “First, we should split up,” Kelemvor said. “We can cover far more ground that way.”

The mage shook her head. “We have only one object capable of locating the tablet. If I take the sphere, what can you two possibly hope to accomplish on your own?”

Kelemvor ignored the edge in Midnight’s voice and tried to calm himself. “I tried to get Bane to tell me where the Tablet of Fate was hidden. He wouldn’t tell me directly, but he did say something about ‘having faith.’ I didn’t make anything of the remark at the time, but it could be an important clue.”

A thought shot into Adon’s mind, and the cleric smiled. “The temples,” he said simply. “Bane could have been plating off the word ‘faith.’ Not unusual for a god these days.” Adon ran his hand over his scar. “And Faulkner said there were a number of deserted temples in the city. The Tablet of Fate could be hidden in one of them.”

“Well, that’s a start anyway,” Midnight told Adon, then turned to the fighter. “As to your other question, Kel, there’s only one thing we can do with the Tablet of Fate when we find it. Elminster explained that there are Celestial Stairways - paths to the Planes - scattered throughout Faerun. Only gods or mages of Elminster’s class can see them and touch them. A mortal can walk through one of the stairways and not even know it’s there.”

Midnight paused and considered her next statement carefully. “I’ve seen two Celestial Stairways, and I think we should bring the Tablet of Fate to one of these paths and give it to Helm. But first, one of us must gain an audience with Torm. He’ll know where the closest stairway can be found.” The mage paused again and put her hand on Adon’s shoulder. “This should be your task. As an experienced cleric -“

Adon rose from the table, his chair falling away behind him. “I will not!” he shouted, and the few patrons in the taproom turned to stare at him. “I cannot speak with a god!”

A few murmurs ran through the room, and Midnight hardened her heart to the sight of the frightened, childlike cleric. “You must,” the raven-haired mage said at last. “Kelemvor is needed to look for safe passage for us, so we can leave ‘Tantras quickly - once we find the tablet.”

The fighter took a swig of ale. “Aye,” he grumbled. “We must assume the Celestial Stairway will be somewhere far from this city. If it’s not, all well and good. But if it is, we must be prepared.”

The cleric’s hands were trembling, and his flesh had gone pale. When he saw the inn’s patrons staring at him, though, Adon picked up his chair and seated himself at the table once more.

“I intend to return the Tablet of Fate to the Planes,” Midnight said with a finality that frightened Kelemvor, though he couldn’t tell why. “It’s the only chance we have of ending the madness that has infected Faerun. As for our immediate plans, we should start the search immediately, and meet back here in two days.”

“There’s only one thing you’re overlooking,” Adon noted softly, his hands covering his face as he spoke in a low, trembling voice.

“What’s that?” Midnight asked.

“There are two Tablets of Fate,” Adon answered bitterly. “What happens when you stand before the God of Guardians with only one of them and he demands to know what you’ve done with the other one?”

“I’ll tell him the truth,” Midnight said flatly. “Helm has no reason to harm me.”

Adon chuckled a strained, nervous laugh. “Strange,” the scarred cleric commented. “I remember Mystra trying to do the same thing you propose… before Helm tore her, limb from limb, that is.” Adon rose from the table and left his companions to ponder the observation alone in his room.

Eventually, though, Midnight and Kelemvor left the table to return to their rooms. The heroes had just reached the stairs, when a white-bearded minstrel carrying a harp entered the Lazy Moon and approached the bar.

“We do not perform charity work,” the innkeeper growled with a voice that reeked of snobbery. “If free lodgings are what you seek, I would advise the local poorhouse.”

The heroes turned away and walked up the stairs, and the minstrel watched them until they had moved from sight. Only then did the white-bearded man turn his attentions to the innkeeper.

“I have money, and I have very little patience,” the minstrel snapped as he opened his hand and displayed a fistful of gold pieces.

“How long will you be staying?” the innkeeper asked politely, his back straightening, his tone instantly changing.

The minstrel frowned deeply. “I don’t need lodgings. I need information. What can you tell me about the couple that just went upstairs?”

The innkeeper looked around to make sure that no one was listening. “That depends on what it’s worth to you, “he whispered slyly.

“It’s worth a great deal,” the minstrel said as he shook his fistful of gold pieces and stared at the stairway, just where the heroes had stood. The smile faded from the minstrel’s face. “More than you could ever imagine.”

Fingers greedily kneading the air, the innkeeper grinned “I have a great imagination.”

“Then tell me everything,” the minstrel said quietly as he handed the gold to the innkeeper. “For there is little time, and I have much to learn…”

Outside the Lazy Moon Inn, the heroes said their farewells. Midnight kissed Kelemvor for the fifth and final time then brushed the hair from his face. His strong, proud features were much more relaxed these days, now that the curse had been removed. Today, however, a shadow of worry and doubt had fallen upon him.

“Perhaps we should stay together after all,” Kelemvor told the mage. “I don’t like the idea of you risking your life -“

The mage placed her fingers to Kelemvor’s lips then calmly noted, “We’re all at risk. The best chance we have is to get what we came for and move on quickly. You know that we can cover more ground and accomplish our task faster this way.”

The fighter covered the mage’s hand with his own. “Aye,” he grumbled, and kissed her fingers. “Be careful.”

“You’re telling me to take care?” Midnight asked sarcastically and patted the side of the fighter’s face as she said goodbye to Adon and left the Lazy Moon Inn. She traveled south for two blocks until she came to a one-story, gray stone building with no visible windows. A sign had been placed above the ragged doorway, and it read, “The House of Meager Living.”

The mage pushed at the partially open door, but it wouldn’t open. At first she thought the door was simply stuck, then, through the door, she saw a man’s arm fall to the floor. There was a soft moan from inside the building and Midnight pushed harder at the door. The sound of a body sliding across the floor accompanied her efforts. Once the door was open far enough, Midnight slipped inside the dark building.

The interior of the House of Meager Living was lit by a handful of small torches set in metal braces attached to the main support beams. A dozen metal beds bereft of any covering were scattered throughout the room, and well over seventy men, women, and children crowded the single room that took up most of the building’s few hundred square feet. Volunteers moved among the poor, the homeless, and the sick, bringing food from an open kitchen at the rear.

Midnight looked down and saw the man who had been lying near the door. He was in his late forties, and he wore a tunic that might have once belonged to a guardsman, save that there were now holes where any official markings might have been. Sandals made from worn strips of leather hung on his feet, and his hands were pressed tightly to his chest.

“Can I help you?” Midnight asked softly as she took a step toward the man and bent down. Suddenly the man struck out, his movement surprisingly quick. Midnight fell back, avoiding the blow, and realized that the man held a large, rusted spike in his hand. The mage scrambled backward, moving out of the derelict’s range. But he didn’t try to strike her again. He merely hugged the spike to his chest and stared at the floor.

Midnight felt hands grip her arms then she was dragged to her feet. The mage turned to face a middle-aged woman and a boy who might have been her son. Both were dressed in the same clean, white clothes as the other volunteers.

“What’s your business here?” the woman asked gruffly, folding her arms across her chest.

“I needed a guide to take me around the city,” Midnight explained as she got to her feet. “I thought perhaps -“

“You thought you’d get some cheap labor,” the woman snapped. “The government has an office for hirelings on Hillier Way. You’d best go there.”

Midnight frowned at the woman. “I thought I could find some resident of the city who knew its lore and its customs better than some bored government worker.” She paused and pointed toward the roomful of indigents. “And I was trying to help.”

“Do you want to start a riot in here?” the woman hissed softly. “If you offer gold here, they’ll kill each other for it. Be off with you.”

“Wait! I’ll do it,” the young man said as Midnight turned to leave. “I work for the city government when I’m not here. They take a lot of what I earn, though. You think we can have an agreement just between the two of us?”

“That would be fine,” Midnight answered, looking at the excited boy through narrowed eyes. “Just as long as part of the arrangement is that you don’t chew my ear with a lot of questions along the way.”

“Well,” the boy said in mock outrage, his eyes wide. He’d lived for no more than sixteen winters, but he was tall and strong, with thick, black hair that curled at his shoulders. “Privacy, eh? I have no problem with that, as long as the price is agreeable.”

Midnight smiled, and the boy turned to the middle-aged woman at his side. “Can you spare me, mother?” he asked, practically panting with enthusiasm.

“Spare you? Would that I never had you,” she snapped. “Begone and good riddance. If any of the city’s men come by looking for you, I’ll tell them you’re busy visiting with your crazed aunt from the family’s bad side.”

A few minutes later, Midnight and the boy were on the street. “By the way,” the boy said brightly, “my name is Quillian. You didn’t tell me yours.”

“That’s true,” Midnight answered flatly.

Quillian whistled. “Well, if you’re not going to tell me your name, will it be all right if I call you ‘milady?”

Midnight sighed. “Under the circumstances, yes. Just remember our agreement. I’ll ask all the questions.”

One side of the boy’s mouth curled up in a wicked smile.” I bet you’re a thief, come to rob our city blind.”