Aestith consulted a map of the city, and in a bookcase in the common room, there happened to be a book about how to identify trees and other surface foliage. Probably from the wood elf.
Tim sat at a table in the common room, balancing the accounting ledger. His imp perched on his shoulder.
“Tim? Can I borrow your imp?”
Tim looked up. “Oh, Impy really only does what I tell him to. He’s a fiend.” He shrugged noncommittally and looked back at the ledger.
The imp’s tail swished in curiosity. Aestith said, “Of course.” He strolled over to Tim’s table, casting a shadow over the ledger. Aestith smiled. “Tim. I’ll pay you twenty gold to use Impy to pick up something.”
Tim’s eyes narrowed, then he shrugged. “Impy, go with Aestith. Do what she says.”
Impy snorted indignantly, but fluttered off of Tim’s shoulder to land on the windowsill by the door.
Aestith stacked ten gold next to Tim. “I’ll bring the rest later.”
Tim raised an eyebrow. “Mhm.”
Aestith opened the door. The imp sailed out of the door, turning invisible as he passed. Aestith felt it alight on his shoulder when he reached the street.
He walked to the Castle Ward and found the noble’s house. Of course, he wasn’t fortunate enough to see a suspicious servant, but he followed the road from the house all the way to the temple looking for one. The drops didn’t occur at any specific time, probably because the servant had a schedule of their own to adhere to. The paladin, too, had a schedule, and picked it up just before supper though, so Aestith had to intercept it beforehand. Which is why the imp would be useful.
The drop point was at a park nearby the temple. It took him several minutes to find the right pond, and a bit longer to coordinate which side it was supposed to be on--he had trouble with cardinal directions.Off the path, toward the pond, there was a little hollow in what the book identified as an oak tree.
The tree stood on the other side of the pond. His eyes shifted toward the imp, despite that he couldn’t see it. “Imp, fly over to that tree and look for a hollow. If there’s a letter inside, tell me.”
The imp heaved a sigh and took off of Aestith’s shoulder. Aestith could hear a faint flap of leathery wings, then waited while the imp looked. The task took three minutes, and it came back to remark upon the empty hollow. Aestith had suspected that it wouldn’t be that easy. If he stayed here, the servant would never approach the hollow. Aestith moved away, and found an empty park bench. The imp rested on his shoulder, invisible and probably bored.
Aestith removed the novella from his pocket and flipped it open. He liked his odd collection of terrible romance novels--the worse they were written, the better--but what he really liked was a good horror novel. Something subtly creepy, but not with a lot of gore because that reminded him too much of real life. He had not had time to sit down and read this one yet, so he did not especially mind having some time by himself to finish it.
Sometimes, someone stared, or a couple walking by quickened their step. Once or twice, a child pointed, but their minders kept them away, allowing Aestith to read uninterrupted.
He sent the imp to check the tree about every twenty minutes or so. He was just about to reach the penultimate chapter when the imp came back and whispered, “There’s something there.”
Aestith was almost annoyed, but he finished the paragraph he was on and flipped the book closed. He tucked it into his pocket and moved unhurriedly toward the pond. He pretended to watch the water for a time while a child threw rocks on the other side, but his presence alone made the child run off. Aestith went over to the tree. The hollow was well above his head and he had to stand on tiptoe and could only just reach it. It wasn’t very deep, and he touched the paper with the tips of his fingers. He was too short to grab it.
He cursed. He could levitate to it, but that seemed wasteful. He remembered the imp and settled back on his feet. “Imp, fetch the letter from the hollow, if you please.”
“I don’t,” it said, but did it anyway. A letter seemed to float to Aestith. He plucked it from the imp. He looked at the two dummy letters. Which one had Zanisernix said was which? He looked for the seal on the letter, but of course there wasn’t one. He looked at the dummy letters. He should have kept them in a different pocket. He ran a thumb over the real letter and shoved it into his pocket with his book. He tested the quality of the paper of each letter, searching for differences.
He had said…
The ink! He pinched a letter so it squished partway open. He tilted his head to see the ink, then shoved that one into his opposite pocket. He double-checked the other, and then dropped the one with iron-gall ink into the hollow.
He wandered off to the market for a late lunch, did a bit of browsing, and came back to the park. He had the imp check to see if the letters had swapped. They hadn’t, so Aestith found another park bench to finish the novella. He sent the imp out again. The imp took longer than he had the last time, but it came back.
“Swapped,” it said, its small talons digging into Aestith’s shoulder.
Aestith’s eyes narrowed. “What took so long?” he whispered, shielding the movement of his mouth with the open book.
The imp paused, as if weighing how much he actually had to tell Aestith, considering that Aestith was not its master. Its tail twitched against the drow’s back. “Paladin.”
He stilled. “Did it sense you?”
The imp huffed indignantly. “I saw him from the air.”
Aestith watched a couple pass, then said, “Are you certain? Paladins can be quite tricky.”
“Not trickier than an imp.”
“Certainly.” Aestith rose and put back the book. He checked both letters, then moved toward the drop point. He stopped, then sent the imp again, to be sure the paladin had moved away. The imp sighed, went to look, then returned with an affirmative.
Tim had only said that the imp had to obey Aestith, not that it couldn’t lie.
Still, Aestith wandered down to the pond. He used a spell to detect magic as he walked. The only things that he sensed were on himself, but the spell had a limited range. He wished there was something more he could do.
He stopped at the other end of the pond, and removed the letter from his pocket. He handed it to the imp. “Swap this letter for the one in the tree.”
It grumbled, but flew off. Invisible, Aestith could only see the letter. The imp flew lazily, using the meager wind to carry it as much as it was able. The result was that the letter seemed to mostly float about the area, then zip up suddenly into the hollow, where it stuffed itself inside, then a second, nearly identical, letter was removed and it floated back to Aestith. He shoved that into his pocket.
“Thank you,” Aestith told the imp. It seemed to preen itself. Aestith walked away from the pond, feeling as if he was somehow getting away with something. He didn’t like it.
He checked the letters, then ducked behind a tree to peer at the ink and the writing. The wax was different, even if the paper was the same, and the writing was dissimilar to that of the dummy letters.
He shoved them back into his inner jacket pocket, and went back to the brothel in time for it to open.
Tim asked, “What were you doing all day?”
Aestith glanced at the imp. “Delivering letters.”
Tim shrugged, as if uninterested. “What did you need Impy for, then?”
Aestith said, “I couldn’t reach one of the letter slots.”
“I would have gone with you.”
He shook his head. “This is fine. I’m going to get ready for opening, if you don’t mind.”
After the brothel opened, Aestith found Hogpen in the kitchen. He said, “That drow that came in. Did he ask for me specifically?”
She shook her head. “No. Just asked for one of the owners.”
And of course Hogpen had gotten Aestith. He couldn’t tell if she were lying or not.
Later in the evening, a human in a hat approached Aestith at the bar. “Were you successful?” Aestith recognized the voice as Zanisernix.
Aestith smiled, then glanced around the bar, full of patrons, his associates, the courtesans. His eyes flicked to the door and he signed, Outside.
The other nodded, drifted away from Aestith. He pretended to browse the menu, glance over the courtesans. He spoke briefly with one, seemed to lose interest, and wandered outside. Aestith left through the kitchen, went around the alley, and down the street.
The “human” cut into another alley. Aestith followed him. It was narrow, barely wide enough for one person. The disguise dropped as he turned around. Zanisernix signed, Were you successful? Out loud, “Did you see the match the other day?”
Aestith handed him the letters. Zanisernix glanced them over and smiled. He shoved them into a pouch on his belt. Aloud, Aestith said, “Yes, but I left early. Who won?”
To Aestith, he handed a satchel. It was heavier than he anticipated. We appreciate what you’ve done. “Oh, I thought I saw you there.”
Aestith dropped the satchel into a pocket for later examination. It was simple enough. “You should have paid me a visit. It’s not like I don’t stand out, you know.”
Zanisernix said, I’ll be in touch. “True. I’ll keep that in mind next time.” An old pleasure welled in Aestith’s chest. He missed this--being near other drow, someone who actually understood him. Arcedi tried, but Arcedi was so estranged from drow culture that Aestith wondered if he could ever properly teach him it.
They moved into the street. Aestith strolled back to the Traveler’s Club without any pretense that he hadn’t been gone. He mingled briefly, then stole away to his quarters. The money Zanisernix had given him was disproportionate to the job.
He definitely wanted something else, and this was barely a stepping stone. Aestith wondered what the crux would be.
Aestith saw the paperboy delivering the next morning. After the boy had left, Aestith walked over to one of the neighbor’s houses and flipped briefly through the paper to the gossip. Sure enough, the story alluded to the affair. There were no names mentioned, and fewer details, but it would put both of them on edge. Aestith dropped the paper back where he had found it.
He should go see Adam. It had been a while. He looked for him briefly at the docks, couldn’t find him, so went to the orphanage. The infected boy was the same as he had left him, but he was able to attend the other children. He found Adam on his walk back through the docks. Adam had since acquired a coat that didn’t quite fit him. They did a brief candy and money exchange before Aestith started on his way back north.
Aestith listened to the footfalls behind him. Arcedi sometimes stalked him for a while before he caught up to Aestith, mostly to ensure that Aestith was truly alone and not just lagging behind the guild members or something. Arcedi’s footfalls were lighter than that though. That was the sound of a boot.
Aestith turned and looked back. His shoulders relaxed by degrees. “Zanisernix. Don’t stalk me.”
He smiled and strolled right up to Aestith. All a human guise of lies. “I was on my way to see you.”
“Explains why you’ve been following me instead of just walking up to me.”
He shrugged. “It may have been easier to have this conversation in privacy. I wanted to ensure you were alone.”
The cleric’s eyes narrowed. “I have some time to spare. Would you prefer to meet me later, or should we discuss business now?”
He glanced down one way, then another. He tilted his head and they walked toward the nearest bar. They sat down and Zanisernix ordered. He inspected a mug of ale, then looked at Aestith. “Did you see the paper?”
He smirked. “What a scandal.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “For some.” A pause. “Could you accommodate a house guest for a few days?”
Aestith raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
He picked up the ale, made as if he had planned on drinking it, then thought better of it and set it back down. “Yes. He’ll be arriving tomorrow afternoon, and I’m afraid our accommodations are hasty as we only recently arrived ourselves, so are not properly furnished to safely secure him.”
“Ah. I see.” Aestith considered. “This houseguest. What are they visiting for?”
The other’s eyes slid slowly around the room, then settled again on Aestith. He looked past Aestith, not directly at Aestith’s face, but too long from home to remember to look down, or grown too arrogant. “He’ll be in town a few days. He just needs a place to stay. I’m afraid we fell a bit behind on our preparations and he arrived early.”
Aestith hated the human guise. It even hid his eye color, and the facial features seemed distorted. Not to mention that it was repulsive. He longed to knock the hat off of his head. He didn’t. He tried again, “What brings them to Waterdeep?”
“Business.”
Aestith was silent a long moment. “I suppose I can work something out.”
He smiled. Even the teeth were disguised. “Excellent. I’ll have him drop by this evening then. Do you have a room ready?”
Aestith considered the Skullport room in the basement with all of its toys and restraints, which amused him. Instead, he said, “Yes. In the attic, there’s a safe-room. It’s empty right now.”
“Perfect.”
Aestith almost wanted to say more, but he had some preparations to do. To his co-owners, he offered to pay a meager sum to use the room for three days. When they asked him why, he was nearly honest. “I’m having a guest over for a few days.”
“Don’t you have your own room?”
“I’m afraid that I need the open space in the storage room, unless you think I could borrow the Skullport room for a few days?”
That ended the discussion and for good measure, he brought up a few things from the Skullport room. They gave him their keys and he kept the master key with him.
In the evening, Tim conducted tours of the rooms, as he was wont to do if a guest seemed bored. Dee went with him, as he had three people on the tour. The fourth sat at the bar humming and hawing. The four of them had acted nothing short of suspicious since they got here. They acted like they were casing the place to rob it, and barely pretended that they weren’t.
Aestith wanted to just get Boartusk, the half-orc bouncer, to throw them out, but could think of little pretense beyond “I don’t like you” to do it. The man suggested a tour, and wanted specifically to see the Skullport Dungeon. Aestith volunteered to take him. The man looked about the room, but seemed to be studying the walls. He opened the trunk, peered in the cage. He looked at the door opposite the Skullport room. “What’s in there?”
“Employees only,” Aestith said.
“Yes, but what’s in it?” He had a very slight lisp.
“It’s for employees only,” Aestith repeated.
The man’s mouth drew into a tight, thin line. “I see.” He looked at the room again. “I think I’d like an hour here.”
Aestith nodded, not at all believing him. “Of course. Would you like to select your courtesan?”
“Oh, no. Whoever you send will be fine.”
Aestith raised an eyebrow. “Male or female?”
“Either.”
Aestith nodded once, smiling with gritted teeth. He used a Sending spell to summon one of the courtesans, who wandered down the stairs. As soon as the courtesan appeared, the guest lost interest, said nevermind, and went with Aestith up the stairs. He said he’d like to see the rest of the house. Aestith brought him up the stairs with the other three. The three of them seemed bored out of their wits but trying to act engaged as Tim led them from room to room, giving them the entire history of the room, and a brief history of the cities they were named after. He explained the choices in color and theme, the subtle braidwork on the curtain cords, the small origins of each decorative piece and their stories.
Aestith showed the fourth guest to the others and stood in the doorway, watching them. Each time they moved to another room, they inspected it thoroughly and tried to disperse. One of them pointed at the stairs, asking when they would see the upstairs. They wouldn’t. This was met with disgruntlement, then a resigned sigh as Tim showed them the next room.
The guests moved about the room, touching things, lifting them. It was all Aestith could do to keep taking the objects away from them. Dee’s eyes widened. Aestith set the china bowl down and went to her. He whispered, “What?”
“How many were there?”
He glanced back, and the blood drained from his face. He whispered the adage they had trained Gil with, “Be ready.”
He moved past Dee. The door to the stairs was closed, but not locked as it should have been. He crept up the stairs. He heard a lock click open, hinges creak. It closed, then the click and tink of a lockpick. A lock jiggled.
Power spiraled around Aestith’s fingertips in an indignant anger. He cast out a hand. Radiant energy crackled down his arm, shot through the air, and hit the man square in the back. He seemed to glow for a moment, then fell. His lockpicks clinked on the floor after him. The body made a dull thumping sound.
Aestith stomped toward the body, his eyes red with rage.
He kicked it onto its side, then jerked back. “Shit,” he whispered. He turned and raced down the stairs. The tour was just leaving the Luskan Rough and Tumble room. The power lanced through him again, and speared the first one he saw. The other two jumped. Both tried to run.
Dee said, “What the hell?” Then she saw the dead one’s face. She turned and pointed a finger at the remaining. Tim followed suit. Their spells brought down the third but the fourth raced down the stairs. Dee shouted. There was yelling, a door downstairs slammed shut. Kairon stomped up the stairs.
“What the—” He stopped, staring at the bodies. “What the fuck?”
The door to the Neverwinter Suite opened hesitantly. A man stared at the bodies, went pale, and slammed the door. In the Waterdeep Suite, the other guest looked at the bodies, grabbed something behind him and said, “I was never here.” He dashed past.
Eilora came down from her room. “Why is there a dead blue person upstairs?”
“It’s a doppelganger.” Aestith glowered. “Do you know what doppelgangers do?” By their silence, they didn’t. He sneered and said, “They kidnap people, keep them alive, sometimes for years while they garner what information they can from them, drain their resources dry, then move on. They’re parasites.” He pointed. “And these ones were trying to break into Kairon’s room.”
“I’m getting the guard,” Kairon said sourly.
Both the suite doors opened. The courtesans looked at the bodies, paled, and rushed downstairs in near-hysterics. Tim and Kairon had to run damage control with the courtesans. They closed while the guard came in. Aestith refused to let them inspect the premises, insisting that they didn’t need to search the entire house when the bodies were only in hallways.
“But they might have been looking for something. Maybe something you didn’t know you have, or that they know you have,” the guard offered.
Aestith scowled. “That doesn’t make any sense! Just take the bodies, file your report, and be done with it. And see it doesn’t happen again. We barely defended ourselves.”
The guards carted away the bodies.
Aestith wasn’t certain how Zanisernix planned on getting his “guest” inside, but he was past due for arrival. On a whim, he checked the storage room, surprised but not exactly shocked to find the guest.
Aestith shut and locked the door behind him.
It was a human man. A scraggly beard hid a weak chin. Unconsciousness smoothed some of the fine wrinkles on his brow and eyes. Aestith cast Dancing Lights while he inspected him for any tattoos or markings. His clothing was fairly nondescript, and told him little about the man. He was quite drugged, but Aestith didn’t expect that to last all three days. He looked for jewelry that might tell him anything, the man’s pockets. Even his boots were plain, but on a second search, he found a handkerchief. It was dirty and stained, some lady’s favor from long ago, Aestith assumed. He tilted it and looked for the initials.
It was, instead, a stitching of a triangle within a circle. The tick marks were faded and some had come loose, but he was fairly certain this was a symbol for Desmaduke--he had been inclined to do some research after seeing Zanisernix last. Aestith frowned. Who was this guy?
He stuffed the handkerchief back, then picked up the ballgag he had brought. Gingerly, he cut off the cloth gag and replaced it with the ballgag. He checked the fit and picked up the stretcher bar. He locked it in place. Before he opened the door, he cast Detect Magic. Finding nothing of importance, he left the room. He locked it behind him, checked the lock, and went to his room.
The courtesans were sent home early with hazard pay, and given the circumstances and how shaken they were, Boartusk went with them. Kairon donned his plate mail. Hogpen and Stoutbrew cleaned up and readied to close while Tim went over the night’s meager earnings, after having to compensate the guests’ stays.
“Whatever this bull shit is, it’s interfering with our business,” Kairon muttered before he shut the door to stand guard outside.
Aestith didn’t know if he was the cause, or if it were coincidental. He supposed that he or any of the others had done plenty to anger enough factions around the city, hadn’t they? Besides, the “guest” in the attic was here specifically to hide. If someone had found him already, well--someone had fucked up, and it couldn’t be Aestith. Not yet anyway.
Being inside, and heading to his room, Aestith was unaware of the fighting until, probably the entire neighborhood was aware of it. His head jerked up and he ran down the stairs. Kairon was facing off against a group of bugbears as they attempted to get past him to the doors. Aestith moved to halt their advance, and shouted for Eilora. He didn’t see her, but an arrow zipped down from the roof. She had been in her room, and climbed onto the roof to get a good shot.
Tim was bloodied and clutching his side, trying to hold ground. Aestith pushed past him, shoving himself between the warlock and the bugbear.
Bugbears weren’t particularly intelligent. In Enainsi, they were slaves, and smart enough to scheme and plan, strong enough to work, but mostly they were useful to employ as less-than-reliable mercenaries.
Aestith mulled that over as they drug the bugbear bodies out onto the street. After Kairon healed Tim, Tim and Eilora went to fetch the guard while Kairon, his tail lashing in rage, shouted at the street and to anyone that would listen about the incompetence of the guard.
When they finally showed up, Aestith watched from the porch, terribly amused, as the tiefling bitched about how the streets clearly weren’t safe, how the brothel had been attacked twice in the same night, and that the guards were not doing their job. The guards took everyone’s statement with the tired, bored air of one who is much-used to belligerent drunkards. Dee pretended to cry as if she were a child and Tim demanded an appointment with the guard captain in the morning.
Come morning, Aestith force fed the captive a bit of water and a fair bit of vodka. The human had pissed himself. Aestith’s nose wrinkled and he replaced the gag. He did all of his checks and went downstairs. He stayed near the Traveler’s Club during the day, as he had little else to do. The others went out.
Aestith was suspicious that the doppelgangers had been looking for the human upstairs, but he wasn’t sure what they would want with some follower of Desmaduke. Hard to say, really. If he let the human come to enough to ask, he might find out, but Aestith didn’t trust the man not to scream. Then he would have a lot of explaining to do. He could use a spell to silence the room, have a light, and write down his questions, but it might be more complicated than yes or no, and Aestith didn’t want to risk letting the man’s hands free to write, and couldn’t risk him speaking either. He supposed it didn’t really matter.
Doppelgangers, from what limited information Aestith had of them, were by habit social climbers. He wanted to say that they may have been trying to take his or one of the others’ place. He was almost irritated they had called the guard, because he could have cast a spell so the body would be compelled to speak. One of the doppelgangers had escaped, but there would be no finding it now.
What if they had been after that man?
If they were, someone had botched a covert operation, and he knew, roughly, who to blame.
Or someone was Scrying and had seen Aestith. Aestith was fairly recognizable, a far cry from the gangly youth he had been. Perhaps he should have been more discreet about his appearance when he came and went into the room.
He frowned. But if the church had been looking for him, and made the connection to Aestith, they would have searched this place immediately with the guard, not sent doppelgangers. Someone else was looking. Or was this about the bloodmoss?
Assuming it wasn’t a coincidence!
He reminded himself that things like this happened all the time--coincidences that seemed connected, but weren’t. He thought, briefly, of that body he had found when he was 14. He had thought it looked a bit like hepatoscopy at the time, and that it was likely Jaalie’s doing. All the events after that--he’d never know what half of them had really meant.
He wanted to. It would mean he was back home. On the surface, he was so far removed that it could not affect him anyway.
He shook off the homesickness and focused on his work. The candy making took time and effort, but he enjoyed it. He had to make small batches, and it left him smelling of peppermint, which he actually liked even if he didn’t eat it. He thought that sugar was too sweet.
He had occasionally hinted to the others that there was money to be made by going to Skullport, even mentioned his sisters willing to meet them, and dropped a hint that his family were wealthy. They didn’t ask why--most people didn’t. Even to them, it had recently begun to look more attractive, considering the recent murders.
They needed a reason to skip town.
Aestith wasn’t sure what he expected. He stretched and got up from his table to open a window for the fresh air. The brief glimpse turned into shocked horror. Tim.
Idiot Tim, walking with a guard officer, and a dozen guardsmen.
Straight to the damned house.
Aestith stared for a precious handful of seconds longer, then shut the window. He raced down the stairs, taking the time to lock the doors behind him. He ran to the storage room but stopped on the stairs. What could he do?
He grabbed the master key from the lockbox on the main floor and stuffed it into his pocket. He ran up the stairs again, locking doors as he went. He had just gotten to the last flight of stairs to Eilora’s and the attic room when he heard the front door open.
Sweat beaded between his shoulder blades. He would kill Tim. String him from the rafters and cut off pieces until he died.
He took a deep, calming breath, waited for his eyes to cool to their natural gray. Guards in heavy boots filtered around the downstairs, streamed into the basement. Aestith reminded himself that he had the only master key. Tim was letting them into the rentable rooms in their search.
Aestith heard the third floor door unlock with a click. Sedately, he walked down the stairs.
“Drow!” one of the guards shouted.
Aestith stared down the pointed tip of a crossbow bolt from across the hall. He frowned. “I live here.”
“Prove it!” the officer demanded.
Aestith gave him a sour expression. “I’m one of the owners of the brothel. If you bothered to look at the deed before you ransacked my business, you’d find ‘Aestith'Rix’ on it.”
“Tim, is that true?” the second guard called down.
“Yeah, that’s just Aestith,” Tim yelled from below.
Aestith smiled pleasantly while the guards, with reluctance, put their crossbows away. “May I ask you to keep your voices down, please?” Aestith purred.
The guards grumbled. The first looked at the doors. “We need to get into these rooms, ma’am.”
Aestith’s back went rigid. “Whatever for?”
“Tim was very insistent that we do a thorough search, make sure we find any clues as to why the doppelgangers were here.”
“Their nature should reveal why they are here. You’re the guard. You should be questioning why they were in the city.” His tone could freeze wine.
The officer frowned. “We’re looking into it. Now, please cooperate with our investigation.”
“You may search the basement and the first and second floor, but for my privacy and the privacy of my associates, I must request that you keep your business confined to the places we actually saw the doppelgangers.”
“In your statement, you said they were trying to get into these rooms? We’d like to have a look inside.”
Aestith’s eyes narrowed. “You seemed surprised to see a drow earlier. Are you certain you recall the report so clearly?”
“I remember your name, ma’am. The guard doesn’t record race for witness statements.”
Aestith flinched internally, painfully aware that his name denoted him as male. He should alter it somehow, in case someone who knew better ever saw it written--it would give him away immediately to any Enainsine drow. He was glad it was all the way on the other coast. He snorted. “Indeed.”
Cold silence hung in the air like mist. The guard said, “Do you have the keys, ma’am? Tim doesn’t.”
They felt heavy in Aestith’s pocket. “It matters not. I cannot allow you to enter mine or my associate’s private quarters without a warrant.”
“We don’t need a warrant. We have permission.”
The fine hair on the back of Aestith’s neck rose. “From only one of six owners.”
“We only need one.”
“Then you are free to search his quarters.” Aestith gestured to Tim’s room.
The guard looked at Kairon’s door. “You said he was getting into this room in the report.”
“Yes.”
Another silence. The guard said, “Ma’am, I really must insist you allow us a thorough search of the premises.”
He shook his head. “No.” His will to keep up this conversation seemed to weaken with every exchange, but wearing down the other was the only chance he had. He didn’t know what else to say!
“You got something to hide?”
Aestith’s lips curled. “Do you have a warrant, officer?”
The man glowered.
Aestith raised an eyebrow. “Then am I to understand that this is an unwarranted and unprovoked invasion of mine and my business partners’ privacy?”
“We have permission.”
A pleasant smile spread over Aestith’s features. A sense of calm flowed through him and he bolstered himself with resolve. “Sir, we’ll never quite see eye to eye.” He flashed a grin at his own bad joke; the guard was nearly a foot taller than he. The guard was unimpressed. “And that, of course, is fine. But I really must insist you respect a citizen’s privacy.”
“Citizen?” he demanded. “Where are you from?”
Aestith tilted his head. “I own property here. I pay taxes. I thought Waterdeep was welcoming to everyone, or are there particular exceptions?”
He forged ahead. “Where are your papers? Do they even have that in the Underdark?”
Aestith raised an eyebrow. “Why do you assume I’m from there?” He sighed. “Sir, if this is just to become a needless attack on my race, I must ask you to leave.” He paused. “So please see yourself out.”
The guard slunk back, but not without completing a search of what few areas Aestith permitted. Aestith sat on the stairs to the attic, watching them quietly disperse. He followed them out, counting each one as they left. When they were out of sight down the road, he turned on Tim, eyes red with rage.
Tim jumped.
Aestith’s fingers curled into fists. “Do you know how dangerous that many guards are for me? They almost shot me in my own house!”
“They didn’t.”
“I had a damned crossbow pointed at me.” He inclined his head. “And I have a shrine to Lolth in my room.” While it wasn’t strictly illegal, it was certainly grounds for suspicion, as well as bias.
“Do you have anything here the guards shouldn’t see?” His wide eyes screamed their innocence.
Aestith glowered. “It hardly matters! I’m guilty by virtue of my birth.”
“But if you don’t have anything bad, it’s okay, right?”
“So that means it’s okay for government officials to snoop through all of our belongings? It’s not!” He stomped past him, toward the stairs.
Tim said, “Hey, Aestith. What were those letters about?”
He stilled and glanced back at Tim. “Just love notes. Gossip.” He couldn’t make his eyes go back to gray by the wanting. “You know I love a bad romance novel.”
“You do?” he said, surprised.
Aestith sighed. “You really know nothing about me.” He went to his room, shaking with relief, and with anger. His anger passed sooner than the relief. Lolth frowned upon revenge; it clouded judgment. As much as he’d like to murder Tim, he couldn’t.
Then he only felt relief. He had been prepared to have to flee, or to die fighting, because the alternative would be prison. When he stopped shaking, he got up and went upstairs. The man was where he had left him.
Two more days.
Kairon patrolled around the brothel and down the street, vigilant for attacks. Tim kept to his podium, and Aestith stayed in his room, but he kept a window open so he could see the goings-on.
Predictably, when everyone was expecting another attack, it did not come. Aestith suspiciously checked the attic room, but everything was in place. He checked for any magic as he went to leave, and stilled. Outside the room, thinking she was hiding, was the halfling.
Aestith’s eyes narrowed. Dee was a warlock, but she was also quite good with lockpicks. Aestith backed up, and cast Silence as a ritual. It took some time to do, and he randomly feigned a giggle or made some knocking sound for Dee’s benefit while he did it.
He took his time force-feeding the man his dose of water, vodka, and beef stock. When the man had swallowed it, he replaced the gag, and checked for Dee again. She was still there. Not coincidental.
Aestith settled in to wait.
When she had been still a long time, Aestith opened the door, carefully, and approached her. She had fallen asleep. By her breathing, she wasn’t pretending either. Aestith brought a chair up from the second floor and placed it in front of the attic door. He sat, and waited.
Drow didn’t require sleep, and Aestith had already meditated while he waited for Dee to fall asleep. She blearily opened her eyes with Aestith smiling at her, and she snorted awake, startled. Aestith’s smile widened to a grin. “Did you sleep well?” he asked.
She shuffled nervously. “Yep.”
“That looked uncomfortable.”
“Yeah… Well, you know me. I can fall asleep anywhere.” She forced a cheerful grin. “Hey, Aestith, I heard you giggling last night. It’s nice that you’re having a good time.”
Aestith nodded. “Yes? Thank you, I suppose, though I don’t appreciate you trying to spy on me.” The smile remained fixed.
Dee stared at Aestith for a long moment, then scampered away. Aestith snorted, picked up the chair, and followed her down the stairs. He put the chair away, and worked on assembling breakfast. He ate, then took some water back upstairs again. He stayed in that day, mostly to watch Dee, but she went out. Allegedly--she could be sneaky when she wanted to.
The attack that came that night was thwarted by Tim yelling in surprise. He had gone into the back alley, for whatever reason, and stumbled upon a pair of humans trying to set the brothel on fire.
They had run away, and Tim fetched the guard again, and showed them the pile of sticks and the lamp oil. It was a shame they had gotten away; Aestith would have liked to question them.
Setting fire to the brothel was an excellent way to get the inhabitants to leave, and with the right spells or items, you could walk through the fire and smoke unscathed to search the house at your leisure. It wouldn’t work in Enainsi--too much stone--but here, it wasn’t a bad idea.
Aestith was grateful that this was the last night.
The human male was gone by sundown, inexplicably, and seemingly without needing to use the lock--which annoyed Aestith.
Arcedi hadn’t been by in a while. He wondered what the male was up to. He used a Sending spell to contact him. Arcedi said he’d happily swing by that evening, and Aestith felt strangely relieved. He had worried…
Well. Maybe he wasn’t entirely pleasing to Arcedi’s palate.
Arcedi laid that fear to rest quite quickly when he came in through the window. By the time Aestith was feeling confident of himself, it was late into evening, and the house was quiet. The cleric asked, “Could you assist me with something?” He spoke to Arcedi only in Undercommon, so that the other would gain a better grasp of the language.
He slid into a short silk nightdress and Arcedi put on his rather sparing underclothes. Aestith brought him upstairs to the attic room and asked, “How might you break in, considering you had to lock it behind you, or keep it locked?”
Arcedi inspected the interior. No windows, no other doors, a solid ceiling. Arcedi paced as he considered. “Your roof is tile. You could saw through it. You’d notice the moment it rained, but it’s a possibility.” He frowned. “Spells probably, but that’s risky if you don’t know the interior.”
Aestith nodded. “Imagine you have to carry something. An unconscious person, say, that you wish to leave here, then get out again yourself.”
The other raised an eyebrow and looked around again. “Throw the person into a bag of holding and use a spell to get in, drop them, spell to get out.” He peered at Aestith. “Why?”
He was silent for a moment, then shut the door behind him. He signed, It may have recently been relevant.
Arcedi paused, then signed back, What happened?
He shook his head. I was paid to hold someone for a few bells. Aestith naturally fell into using Enainsi mannerisms and slang when using Undercommon or Deep Drow; Arcedi had the most difficult time with that. Arcedi knew only a few words in Deep Drow; Aestith thought it would be easiest for him to pick up Undercommon and sign first.
How much? That one with a grin.
They left a box of gold in my quarters.
Your room isn’t hard to break into at all. Your tower, a bit more difficult. He shrugged.
“What in my room makes it easy to break into?”
Arcedi followed him out the door. “The windows. Three stories up, a bit more difficult, but doable obviously. Then there’s the washroom window, break in through the door. Or the chimney, if you’re skinny enough.”
Aestith had one of the few rooms with a fireplace. He nodded in thought and made a mental note to put a grate over the fireplace. “Arcedi? Can you direct a bit of special attention to a noble house?”
He made a face. “I don’t much like messing with nobles. They’re vindictive, and have a few too many resources.”
“Yes, I understand.” He paused. “But I think this one will become important relatively soon.”
Arcedi tilted his head. “Oh?”
Aestith did not mention Zanisernix, but he mentioned the affair. “I know there’s something going on, but I’m curious who it is exactly. It may be useful.”
The leucistic drow agreed to look. Arcedi stayed a while longer before Aestith insisted he leave before anyone else woke.
#
Aestith had Adam investigate the temple. Adam could more easily spy on those sorts of places than Aestith could. He thought about what he knew of Zanisernix. Almost nothing, really. He had come to Aestith, but had found him once by happenstance in the docks, not that this meant much; he was pretending to be human at the time.
Guild 534 seemed slow after he had left, not that it was running out of business, but most of the jobs seemed to be about lifting heavy objects or cleaning out dung. The only one mildly interesting was getting a job guarding a caravan. The brothel was barely staying in the black. Doing this could fill the coffers a bit and gain some advertisement funds.
He stopped on his way back to the brothel and changed course for the Piece. He ran into the same problem he initially ran into of not being part of their guild, that reluctance to share information. He was half-tempted to join if only for that, except that a tattoo was non-optional.
“Aestith, look. If you want us to share information, you’re going to have to join, or do something for us,” the bartender said.
Aestith made a face, looking at the tattoo on the other’s arm. Were there ways of getting rid of it later? Probably, but he’d prefer to know before he went slapping something permanent on his skin when he, theoretically, still had centuries left to live. He’d rather not live several centuries with a tattooed puzzle piece on him. Especially not just to sate his own curiosity. There had to be a better way. He didn’t even know if they knew anything.
“What do you want me to do?” Aestith said.
He shrugged, and looked back at the glasses. “You’d have to talk to the guildmaster.”
Aestith frowned. “I’d have to know that you know anything.”
“Then we’re both going to have to trust one another.” An arched brow. “And maybe you’ll still need some ink.”
Aestith’s fingers clenched. “Then I want to see the guildmaster. Please.”
“I’ll see if Ned is busy.”
Aestith was made to wait for several minutes, then brought back down the stairs. When Aestith asked, the tattoos were, in fact, required. They claimed it was because it made them identifiable. Aestith told them that was stupid, because a second-rate warlock could duplicate the effects with simple cantrips.
“No guard would get the mark, but it also weeds out members who are potentially troublesome over something trivial.”
Aestith stilled.
“We’ve worked together a few times. I think you’re relatively trustworthy. But I need to know it.” He frowned in thought. “You get the mark, and do something for me, and I’ll tell you what you need to know.”
The drow’s spine went rigid in indignation. “How am I to know you know anything at all?”
A silence grew thick between them. “You’re looking for a drow named Zanisernix.” Aestith had only inquired about the human guise. Zanisernix must reuse the same one. Ned cocked an eyebrow. “Thought so.” Another pause. “So. Do we have an agreement?”
His fingers clenched. “What’s the task? I’ll get the mark later.”
He smiled. “There’s a caravan headed south we were planning to hit.”
“You mostly deal in smuggling.”
He raised his eyebrows innocently. “But, Aestith, that’s why I’m asking you.”
He snorted. “By myself?”
“Of course not.”
He stared down at the table between them. He didn’t have time for this shit. He could pull Arcedi from spying. He could probably have everything he could carry quickly stolen before anyone noticed but he needed him doing what he already was.
He could just ignore the whole thing. It really had nothing to do with him, but he felt as if he were getting pulled into something he didn’t want to be a part of, not without knowing anything anyway. There had to be a better way. Aestith sighed. “I don’t have the time, but I can tell you an easy way to infiltrate the caravan.”
Ned leaned forward. “Oh?”
Aestith nodded. “The caravan. Is the shipment for Jacob Mallor?”
The human’s face was unreadable.
Aestith continued, “There’s a contract for extra guards for it at Guild 534. They took me in, so they’re bound to take in a few of yours.” He smiled. “You’ll remove the possibility of extra guards, and already have some men to infiltrate.” He tilted his head. “Now, to further complicate the subject matter, I have some hallucinogenic drugs. I’ll give you a bit of the raw material. It tastes and smells like a mushroom, so this should go unnoticed in a savory dish. When you’re finished with them, they’ll be easy marks.”
Ned scratched the stubble on his chin as he thought. “You manufacture hallucinogens?”
“It’s a hobby.”
He was quiet a moment. “Aestith, I think we can have an understanding.” He tilted his head. “If you start supplying the Piece, we can sell.”
“And my information?”
He grinned and they made agreements for the drug shipments, discussed prices. After that was in order, Aestith gave him a clouded glass vial of the drugs. Ned looked at the quality of the glass, commented he could give Aestith a payout of the caravan for his help, or he could upgrade the lab. Aestith took the upgrade.
Aestith settled into his chair. “So tell me about Zanisernix.”
Ned lifted a mug of ale and sipped. “He’s an envoy at most. We’ve had some dealings with him in the past. His faction, if you will, is based out of Neverwinter, but they come to Waterdeep every so often.” He examined the ale. “I won’t ask why you want to know.” He raised his head and his eyes lingered on Aestith’s face. He might have guessed the reasons. “They mostly deal in smuggling, but I imagine they have their hands in more than that.”
“Do you know the names of any of the others involved?”
“No, but I imagine they…” His voice trailed. “Aren’t too different from the envoy.”
He frowned. “Not even the leader of the faction?”
Ned made a face. “They just call him ‘the Huntsman’.”
Like the huntsman spider, Aestith had no doubt. “What is their faction called?”
“Dark Carnival.”
It was like a cruel joke. Aestith laughed all the way out of the tavern, without joy. Amalette had named all of the caravans, basing many of them off of novels and story references that no one else understood. Aestith had never gotten around to reading the book Dark Carnival was named from.
He went to the library, and discussed it with a librarian briefly, actually being honest for once, that he couldn’t remember the author or what it was about, but he knew that one bit of information about it.
Drow ordinarily didn’t write things down; you had to have a light to do that, and most didn’t care for that. Wizards tolerated light to read, but they typically limited their reading to spells and the like. Nier’s family had a library of stolen books of medicine, poison, anatomy, and so forth. Amalette had collected works of fiction and poetry or wartime tactics, and the occasional recipe book had found its way in. Not a one of them were written by drow. Paper made from lichen was difficult to construct, and vellum was valuable enough without wasting it on trivialities. Written words can be taken and used against the writer. Enainsi drow, when they told stories, did so verbally in one way or another.
The librarian showed him a few books, but he said it was likely fiction, and the librarian suddenly knew precisely what he was after. Aestith curled up in a chair with the short novella, finding with some delight that it was precisely the kind of book he liked; well-written and to the point, with plenty of subtle horror.
No wonder Amalette had named the caravan after it. And no wonder this faction had named themselves after it. The world was small, and whoever had founded their faction was at least as well-read as Amalette.
He returned the book and went back to the brothel.
#
The cleric’s first test would arise soon.
It must be misdirected.
The sava board was set and the dice rolled.