Haldan let out a deep breath and leaned forward. “Look, Aidan, I didn’t mean. to yell like that,” he said. “Overseeing the safety and security of this city is a tiring job, and Lady Rowanmantle isn’t making it any easier. What I meant to say is that you should relax and enjoy your retirement. You’ve served Cormyr faithfully for many years and now its time for someone else to do it. Spend your time in peaceful pursuits; gods know you’ve earned it.”
Aidan looked closely at his old friend. The worry lines had increased around his eyes, and his face looked tired, almost haggard. Clearly, something was bothering Hal-dan. Damn you, Morgrim, he thought. He wanted to reassure his friend, but the face of the dark priest kept drawing him forward.
He stood up to leave and said, “Don’t worry, Haldan. You have my word.”
“Thank you, my friend” the commander said.
Aidan left the tower feeling lost and adrift, like a storm-damaged galley on the Trackless Sea. He had promised his obedience, gave his oath to a friend-an oath he never intended to keep.
How, he asked himself, have I changed so much in such a short time?
Such were his thoughts as he numbly exited the tower.
The Sow’s Ear had more connections to the underworld of Tilverton than Grimwald’s Revenge. Aidan looked around nervously as he approached the warped wooden door of the establishment. He had spent most of his career pursuing the very elements that made up the tavern’s clientele, and here he was walking into the dragon’s lair without a single weapon. Morgrim’s choice of meeting places left much to be desired.
He grimaced as he pushed open the door, walking into the establishment. Although it was midday, the inside of the Sow’s Ear was dark and shadowy. Aidan could see several figures lying scattered around the common room in various states of drunkenness. Those who could still sit up squinted against the tavern’s smoke-filled haze, playing traitor’s heads or swords and shields. The walls, floors, and tables of the place were chipped and rotting, and the place smelled of stale beer and urine.
As he approached the bar, a fat, gap-toothed man in a greasy apron flashed him a scowl and asked for his order. Not wishing to draw attention to himself, Aidan bought an ale and found an empty table in a deserted corner. He sipped the drink slowly, grimacing at the flat taste.
Where was Morgrim? The damned priest said he would meet him here at midday. He scanned the common room again, a queer feeling rising in his stomach. Despite the confusion he brought on, the captain found himself anxiously awaiting the priest.
The door suddenly crashed open, and he nearly dove to the ground as three men staggered drunkenly into the common area.
Torm’s Teeth, he thought, you’re as skittish as a cadet on review.
Aidan sniffed distastefully as he watched the three men swagger to the bar and bellow for some ale. He knew by the look of them that they were trouble. He sipped his own ale quietly and kept his eyes studiously away from the three braggarts, hoping they would ignore him.
He was wrong.
One of the oafs swayed toward his table and began to laugh. “What have we here,” he slurred. His companions must have heard the grizzly sound, for they turned their attention away from a full-figured barmaid and onto the object of their friend’s interest.
“I don’t see nuthin’, Durm,” replied the blondest, and fattest, of the toughs. “Nuthin’ but a graybeard taking up our fav’rit spot.”
Aidan rolled his eyes. Why did they always use that tired old excuse for a fight? Lack of imagination, he supposed.
As the rest of Durm’s friends approached, he stared intently into his beer. All he had wanted to do was wait quietly for the priest. Now it looked like there would be trouble. The three men surrounded him, blocking off any chance of escape.
“What’s wrong, old man,” taunted Durm. “Don’t ya remember how to talk?” He laughed again, a vulgar sound somewhat between a belch and a snort.
Aidan sighed. He knew how this would most likely end. If only Morgrim would arrive, he could walk away without a fight.
“I guess he can’t remember, Durm,” replied the fat one. “Maybe we should refresh his mem’ry”
They all laughed self-importantly. Suddenly, the last of the men, a giant, red-haired fellow with the build of a field ox, slammed his meaty hand on the table. Durm leaned forward.
“My friend here would like you to move so we could have our table.”
Aidan looked up at the three men. Smiling invitingly, he said, “There’s no need to get upset. Why don’t you and your friends sit down here and join me for a drink?”
As he finished the sentence, he threw the remainder of his drink at Dunn, then slammed the cheap metal goblet on the red-haired giant’s hand. Both of the men recoiled from the surprise attack. He took advantage of that opportunity and got to his feet.
As soon as Aidan stood up, the fat man charged in. Aidan quickly sidestepped the attack and grabbed the man’s arm. Raising it over his head, he pivoted his hips and watched with satisfaction as his attacker flipped in the air and landed with a whumpf on his back.
By this time, Durm and his companion were ready for another go-around. Aidan sized up his two opponents with a practiced eye. He could handle Durm easily enough, the man was all bluster and soft muscle. It was his companion, the ox, whom he worried about.
They moved forward and he braced for the attack. Before he could raise his arms, however, he felt a sharp blow to the back of his head. Someone had thrown a bottle. Aidan’s head spun and before he knew it, the giant had both of his hands locked behind his back. Durm strutted forward, producing a thin dagger from his belt.
“Not so fast now, are you old man,” Durm said. “I think I’ll gut you right here for what you did to me and my friends.”
Aidan shook his head, trying to recover from the thrown bottle. If he could just shift his weight a little, he’d be able to kick the gloating man in the face.
Before he could do this, however, a soft voice floated from the bar. “I think he’s had enough, don’t you.”
Durm spun to face the voice. Aidan looked over to see Morgrim, dressed in a simple brown robe. Even without his vestments, the man had a malignant air. Durm must have sensed this, for he chuckled nervously and said, “Yeah, sure. We was just havin’ a bit of fun, weren’t we boys.” He nodded to the giant. “Let the man go, and let’s be on our way.”
The mighty grip relaxed, and Aidan made his way toward Morgrim, rubbing his wrists to restore the circulation. The three men looked at Morgrim once and then quickly left the bar.
“What took you so long?” Aidan asked.
Morgrim flashed him a grin. “I was busy doing some research,” he replied. “Besides, you looked like you had everything under control. I especially liked the way you blocked the flying bottle with your head.”
“Demons take you, man!” Aidan nearly shouted. “Do you think this is some gods-blasted prank?” He was too angry and confused to deal with the priest’s newfound levity.
Morgrim’s smile vanished. “I see your meeting didn’t go so well. Come, let’s talk business if it’s a dark mood you’re having.” The priest pulled Aidan into a corner and whispered. “I found out a couple of things that might interest you. First, Alaslyn Rowanmantle did commission a blade for you from Khulgar’s weapon shop. You should lay a few inquiries up that tree and see if it yields fruit.”
Aidan nodded. “What’s the second thing?”
Morgrim looked about the room before continuing, “Apparently, there are rumors of some sort of transaction, purportedly over a dagger, that will take place tomorrow in the sewers. If we can witness that transaction it would be most beneficial.
At last, something constructive to do, Aidan thought.
It was early evening by the time Aidan found himself in front of Khulgar’s shop. Briefly, he stared at the evening sky, splashed pink with the last rays of the setting sun, and paused at the door. The air was still, poised as if the slightest breeze would shatter the twilight scene. He breathed deeply, gathering the stillness into himself. His life had changed so much in the last tenday that it took something as unfailingly regular as the coming of night to
