Tantras

If all else fails, we can always join up as crew on a merchant vessel, Kelemvor thought, though the idea repulsed him.

At length, Kelemvor investigated the warehouses, too, but after an hour of doors slamming in his face, the fighter gave up that line of inquiry. Instead, he walked south along the docks, gazing out at the waters of the Dragon Reach. On the horizon, a long patch of purple and blue rose toward the sky and gave way to a field of perfect blue. In all the other cities nearby, the sun was already fading.

'An odd sight isn't it?' a voice asked from behind the fighter. Kelemvor turned and faced a hazel-eyed man in a brightly colored uniform. The man was a few years younger than Kelemvor, and he sported a brownish blond beard that was immaculately trimmed. His eyebrow was a single continuous line that stretched across his face, and he had an odd, crooked smile.

'Odd? Not compared with others that I have seen recently,' Kelemvor told the hazel-eyed man. 'It's actually quite attractive, in a way.'

'Men have been driven mad by the eternal light,' the man sighed. 'To many, it's worse than the blackest, vilest darkness that night ever visited upon Faerun.'

The fighter smiled and thought of the horrors he had faced in the Shadow Gap, on the road to Shadowdale. 'When the hills of this city rise up to crush the residents between them, then you have cause to worry.'

The man laughed. 'You speak with the conviction of a man who's seen such terrible things.'

'That and much more,' Kelemvor said, a tinge of sadness in his deep voice.

'How incredible.' The hazel-eyed man held out his hand to the fighter. 'My name is Linal Alprin, harbormaster of Port Tantras.'

'Kelemvor Lyonsbane,' the fighter answered, and grasped the outstretched hand that had been offered to him.

The harbormaster shook his head and sighed. 'I've been stuck in Tantras ever since the gods came to Faerun, but I've seen things in the last few weeks that I wouldn't have believed possible a year ago.'

Alprin and Kelemvor stood on the dock for a while, trading stories about the magical chaos and instability in nature each man had witnessed since Arrival. After about an hour, the harbormaster turned to the fighter and asked if he had any plans for eveningfeast.

'Well,' Kelemvor told the hazel-eyed man, 'I was planning to go back to the inn.'

'I'll not hear of it,' Alprin snapped brightly. 'You're coming home to meet my wife and share a few stories over our meager table.' The harbormaster paused and smiled. 'That is, if you don't mind, of course.'

'That would be nice,' Kelemvor said. 'I'm grateful.'

Alprin looked around at the now-crowded docks. Two guards and a handful of sailors were staring at him. 'There are venders along the avenue,' he said hurriedly, pointing to the south. 'Follow that road until you find a stand that sells fancy hats. Wait for me there. I need to pick up a present for my wife on the way home.'

Then Alprin left the fighter and disappeared into the crowd. Kelemvor milled about the docks for ten minutes, then headed down the shop-lined avenue. The only stand that sold fine hats bore a sign that read 'Messina's Elegant Boutique.' The fighter felt somewhat strange standing outside the rows of beautiful women's clothing, and the occasional stare he received from the women who met in clusters near the shop to gossip made him even more uneasy.

Eventually, Kelemvor noticed a white-haired minstrel who busied himself at a nearby stand and occasionally glanced in the fighter's direction. Just as the fighter was about to walk to the man and question him, a beautiful, silver-haired woman stumbled into him. She seemed frightened, and a huge red welt covered the right side of her pretty face. Clinging to the fighter, she pleaded, 'Help me. He's gone crazy!'

Before Kelemvor could say a word, a young man approached the woman, his hands balled into fists.

'That's my property,' the man growled at Kelemvor. 'Take your hands off her.'

The fighter felt his lips curl back in disgust as he looked carefully at the man. Dressed in a simple brown felt outfit that bore several large stains, the man was small and mean. From his stench and his swagger, Kelemvor knew that he was also very drunk.

'Stand away,' Kelemvor said, although in his head a voice screamed, The curse! What if it's not really gone? He grimaced and drove the thoughts out of his mind. Now's as good a time as any to find out, the green-eyed fighter decided.

The grubby little man stood still for a moment, shocked at the fighter's words. 'You stand away,' the man said. 'That's my woman.'

'She seems to have other ideas,' Kelemvor snarled. He put his arm around the woman's waist and gently maneuvered her to his side. Then he drew his sword. The brightly polished steel blade glinted in the sunlight. 'But I'll tell you what. I'll fight you for her.'

The man's gaze took in the full measure of Kelemvor's blade, rose to the fighter's cold eyes, then moved to the frightened face of the silver-haired woman. The drunken man lowered his head, turned his back, and walked away. Once the little man was out of view, Kelemvor returned his sword to its sheath and faced the woman.

'I know his type,' the fighter muttered. 'He's frightened now, but he'll return for you.' The fighter pulled out his bag of gold. Taking the woman's soft hand, he spilled a fistful of gold into her palm then gently closed her fingers. 'Book passage on the next boat heading for Ravens Bluff. You can send for your things.'

A tear fell from the silver-haired woman's eye. She nodded, kissed the fighter then hurried north, vanishing into the crowd. Kelemvor felt a satisfaction that he had not known since he was a young boy, since before the Lyonsbane's curse first took hold of his life. If I am still cursed, the fighter thought, it's dormant… for now, at least.

Suddenly the minstrel was beside Kelemvor, leaning in close. 'Young love can be daunting,' the minstrel sighed. 'Still, that was a good thing you did. Not many would take an interest in the trials of a stranger.'

'Good deeds can be their own reward,' Kelemvor said quietly and turned to gaze at the minstrel. The old man's face was rimmed by a long, white beard and his eyes were surrounded by a patchwork of endless wrinkles.

'In Waterdeep, they tell a grand tragedy of young love and dark desire,' the old man said, looking into Kelemvor's eyes. 'Some call the tale's ending terribly sad. Others see the finale as gloriously happy. I could sing it to you, if you like.'

The minstrel strummed his harp and opened his mouth to begin his tale. However, before he uttered a single word or played a single note, the old man stopped suddenly and held out his empty hand.

The fighter smiled and put a gold piece into the open hand. 'Sing away, minstrel.'

'Kelemvor!' a voice sounded, and the fighter looked to his left to see Alprin emerge from the crowd. When Kelemvor turned back to the minstrel, he saw that the old man had vanished.

'You seem troubled,' Alprin noted sagely as he walked to Kelemvor's side.

The fighter frowned as he looked for the wandering minstrel in the crowd. 'Not troubled, my friend. Just annoyed. I wanted to hear the tale that the old man promised me. Now I never will.'

After purchasing a hat for Alprin's wife, Kelemvor and the harbormaster headed east, into the heart of the city, then took a winding road to the north, where the incline of the streets became quite sharp. A moderate one- story house was soon before the riders. Alprin placed the hat, a rose-colored bonnet with pink silk styling, behind his back then entered the dwelling.

'And how is my poor, neglected wife today?' Alprin called out from the front door.

'She'd be a damn shade better if her husband spent some time with her,' a voice cried in response. Moments later, the owner of the voice, a plain woman with straight black hair and a dark complexion, came into view. She uttered a little scream of delight when Alprin showed her the hat.

'For you, my love,' the harbormaster laughed as he rested the hat on his wife's head then kissed her.

'Who's this?' the woman said suspiciously, pointing to Kelemvor.

Alprin cleared his throat nervously. 'A dinner guest, dear,' the harbormaster said innocently.

'I might have known,' she huffed. Then a smile crossed her face and she reached out to take Kelemvor's hand. 'I'm Moira. You're welcome if you're a friend of my husband.'

An hour later, over the finest meal the fighter had tasted since he left Arabel, Kelemvor spoke of the many strange sights he had seen in his recent travels, although he was careful to leave out many of the reasons for his journeys through Faerun.

'Such madness you've witnessed,' Alprin gasped delightedly and turned to his wife. 'To think, Moira, you and