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…'
XII
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.'
Midnight stopped and stared at the black-haired boy. She was obviously angry.
'I'm just joking,' Quillian said quickly, holding his hand up to stop the mage from admonishing him. 'Still,' he added after they had started walking again, 'if you were a thief, I wouldn't mind helping you. This city's robbed me blind all my life.'
Midnight shook her head. 'You're a bit young to be that jaded.'
'Age has nothing to do with it,' Quillian noted bitterly. 'You saw the conditions in the poorhouse. If my father hadn't died a war hero and left a decent pension for us, my mother and I would be residents in that nasty hole, not just volunteers.'
The mage imagined Quillian dressed in a pauper's rags, the spark in his eyes drowned by hunger and want. The mage frowned and pushed the thoughts from her mind. 'I'm not a thief, but I'll pay you well. Just do your job and there'll be no problems between us.'
Quillian smiled and brushed a stray piece of hair from his eyes. 'Where do you want to start?' he asked.
'How about the city's temples,' Midnight answered as nonchalantly as possible. 'Any place of worship that you know about.'
'That's easy enough,' Quillian said. 'Let's start with the Temple of Torm. That's just — '
'I believe I can find that one without a guide,' the mage told the boy as she gestured toward the beautiful spires to the north.
