Jaheira stared at the Zhent hard, trying to burn a hole into his thick skull as he fiddled with the frying pan beside her.
He was lingering for a reason, and it wasn't to flirt and cause troubling.
Anyone with half a sense left in their brain wouldn't come to the shadow cursed lands, and most certainly wouldn't linger long.
“Maybe,” he said finally, almost grudgingly, “maybe I'm just old and tired.”
“Perhaps.”
“Or maybe I'm putting off a death sentence,” he went on.
“Aren't we all?” She asked. “Stalked by time and death.”
“One and the same,” he pointed out.
Jaheira glanced up as a motion caught her attention. A figure walking through the gate. A solitary, tall figure, huddled over, stooping in defeat emerged from the darkness, lit only by a torch. The slump to the Tiefling wizard’s wide shoulders indicated his unsuccessful attempt to traverse the darkness on the trail of his sibling’s kidnappers.
As she spied him, she noticed the Zhent look up as well, eyes narrowing in study as Rolan slumped by them.
The nerve was open, raw for the tall wizard and it was something Jaheira avoided at all costs. Given the Tiefling’s propensity for snapping and snarling like a wounded animal at those who attempted to comfort him, she had kept a wide berth.
Nothing could be said or done for him and his family, she wouldn’t even try. Though, she wasn’t without her pity. To her knowledge these survivors from Elturel were put through so much shit before they even dared crossing through Reithwin, she could only imagine Rolan was on the edge of it all.
“We caught so many fish!” Umi greeted as the two Tiefling children scurried towards them, Mirkon holding a line of fish.
“I caught the most,” Mirkon stated proudly.
“Only because you wouldn’t share the pole!” Umi declared.
Rugan motioned to the area for the children to begin cleaning the fish, and Jaheira smirked to herself. She had used that tactic with Rion when she was young, to avoid arguing or fighting, just point at where you wanted her to focus her energy.
And it worked this time as well, both children settling down to begin their task, halting all bickering to work together on gutting and de-boning the fish.
She looked over at the Zhent. Did he have children? He didn’t seem the type. But he had the tactics of a man who did. Or at the very least, he had the instincts of a man who worked with younger people, or raised younger siblings.
Focusing on the rice, which was ready and steaming, she began to prepare it for serving.
She was at her table later, listening to the reports of Harper Branthos, when she noticed Tav return with their group. The quiet, steady Drow walked into the room where the Flaming Fist had set up their operations, just off to the side of the entrance.
Jaheira had to curl her hand into a fist. Her impatience over getting word from the Drow about Moonrise had her wanting so badly to head over and ask him if they had been to the tower yet. But she controlled the impatient urge, balled it up in her fist and focused on the report. Nodding to Branthos, she dismissed him wordlessly and turned sharp eyes onto the door to the other room.
To her left, she noticed the Zhent had seated himself at the bar, sitting beside an oddly quiet and miserable looking wizard. The two men weren’t conversing from what she saw, but they sat shoulder to shoulder, drinking sullenly and quietly.
The side room door opened and Tav walked out, followed by his companions.
Jaheira inhaled, ready to ask Tav about the status of their mission, when the Drow made straight for her, shaking his head.
“Not yet,” he said. “Come morning. My companions and I need to rest up. The shadows in this place are hungry.”
Jaheira nodded. She wanted to tell them to hells with the shadows, but she knew it was just her impatience. “Have a rest, have some drinks, there’s cold fish and rice we put behind the bar for those who are hungry.”
Tav nodded once. “Thank you.”
The Drow and his companions moved towards the bar, where at once Tav greeted Rugan with a soft laugh, clearly recognizing him.
The Zhent, as only he would, greeted the Drow with a sultry, almost seductive rasp and shifted on this stool, eyes shining in the darkness of the inn.
Was there a creature he didn’t flirt shamelessly with? She wondered with a mild furrow to her brow. The man was infuriating, really. Did he just throw charm and that rasping voice of his at anything with a heartbeat and hoped it would stick?
She shifted on her feet and returned her gaze to the world straight ahead of her, ears perked to the hushed conversation and grumbling snarls that came from the bar as Tav chatted with Rugan and Rolan both, amiable for a Drow.
Ridiculous how much she cared about what was happening at the bar without her. She had more important things to do, and they would certainly be moving if Tav would get to Moonrise and report back.
She huffed and moved from her table, heading out into the dark of the world outside.
Finishing her patrol, she returned to the inn, finding Tav and his companions gone, finding Rugan and Rolan still bellied up to the bar.
She headed for them, finally giving in to the urge to see just what Rugan was doing that kept Rolan from snarling at the man and pushing him away in his pain and grief, as he did to everyone else.
To her confusion, they weren’t saying anything. As she walked behind them, playing up her patrol, she realized the two were just sitting in silence, drinking. She did note, with a small sense of relief, that Rolan seemed to be pacing himself better, the Tiefling wasn’t belligerent or drunk, but just sullen and silent.
Rugan, for his part, was chatting idly now and then with a curious Ide, who was asking him a plethora of random questions, curious as all children were, and seemingly grateful to have those questions answered by a fairly patient and measured adult.
“Not teaching her any tricks to con people?” Jaheira asked as she passed by for the second time, on her way back to her table.
She nearly fell flat on her face as the hem of her tunic was caught, and she was yanked to a stop by a smirking Zhent.
Jaheira turned, ready to shove the man to the ground and defend her dignity, her anger rising fast and scalding into her chest, to her cheeks, up to the tips of her pointed ears.
He chuckled. “Sorry, lass, you were breezing by so quickly I thought it would be the easiest way to get you to stop for a moment.”
She growled lowly. “You must have a desire to lose that hand, I cannot see any other reason why you’d risk it like that.”
Rugan released her hem and sat back a little, hands up. “Aye, fair. My head is a little fogged from keeping up with this one.”
“You both are on very thin ice,” she snarled, still wound up from being stopped as she had been.
“Nobody asked you to come over here,” Rolan grumbled darkly.
She was about to snap back at the Tiefling, when she realized he was talking to Rugan, golden eyes flashing irritation in the direction of the man.
“Bar is a public space,” Rugan replied easily, taking a sip of his pint.
Jaheira reached over and snatched the pint from his lips. “Ide, no more for either one! I’m sick of dealing with these barflies.”
Rolan managed to fight her off one armed as he downed the last of his drink, his arm longer than her reach as he batted her off too easily for Jaheira's liking. The wizard chugged the last of his drink down, before sullenly clacking the empty pewter mug on the bartop.
“I mean it,” she stated firmly to the two young Tieflings who were tending the bar. “I want these two to dry up or get the hells out.” Storming back to her table, she quelled the rage that rose inside her guts, the rage that made her want to take wild form and tear something apart with her claws.
“There now,” Rugan protested, following her. “You shouldn’t take it out on the poor bastard for my hellish hand.”
She ignored him, standing at her table, eyes forward.
Rugan eased up beside her. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you, lass. But that poor bastard…”
“You’re both bastards,” she snapped. “We’re all miserable, we don’t need you both adding to the tension.”
“Aye,” Rugan agreed, sliding his hip against her table in order to ease up onto it. He sat facing her, angled to look directly at Jaheira. “I am a bastard, and there’s no contesting that fact, but…have a heart.”
“Rolan can wallow in his misery just as easy sober as he can drunk. And weren’t you supposed to be gone by now?” She turned and eyed him, hard eyes glittering. If she could cast thunderwave to blow the man all the way back to Baldurs Gate, she would, but instead she glared at him.
He smiled at her then, offering up a look that would have melted a lesser woman’s heart. “I’m sorry.”
Jaheira glanced over her shoulder, worried more for the state of the Tiefling, than for the man at her side.
Rolan sat, eyes on the bar, head bent.
She had noticed he was gone when she got up for the day, but she assumed he had gone for good, walked off into the shadows to die, when he returned, dejected and quiet, she knew it was a failed rescue attempt.
They couldn’t go on like this, not knowing, waiting for the Drow to make it through the shadows.
She couldn’t even blame anyone but herself.
If this didn’t come to a head by morning, she would go herself, deep into the shadows to recon for them, if she died, she died with a purpose. Because something had to give, something had to be done.
Rugan’s eyes were on her the entire time she worked through this, she could feel him studying her, his slightly glazed eyes not once wavering from their study.
Finally, she turned back, meeting his eyes.
There was something akin to an understanding, though she wasn’t certain of it, Zhent’s had a way of betraying their intentions through greed or sheer deception, but for a moment she knew Rugan knew exactly what she was thinking. It was as though he were a part of her for a single breath in time.
She hadn’t made a connection like that with another being in a very long time, she had avoided that sort of personal connection.
“Rolan needs someone to calm him down and reassure him,” she said finally. “Not drown him in enough Arabellan Dry to drown an Orc.”
“Fair play,” Rugan said. “Let’s give him something to do then. In my experience a wizard just needs research or a task that stimulates the brain.”
Jaheira smiled to herself. It was caught by Rugan who also smiled. “Rolan doesn’t seem like the research or task minded type.”
“Then give him something to blast with his fire sparkles.”
Jaheira inhaled. “Why don’t you take him on some recon for me?”
“What? Into the shadows?”
“Are you scared?” She challenged.
“Getting rid of both of us in one fell swoop? Clever little kitty-cat, aren’t you?” He teased, standing up. “Guess I’ll think something up right sharp.”
Jaheira scowled, at the thought, before she voiced it, “be careful. I don’t want to lose the Tiefling.” At Rugan’s glance, she added quickly. “He’s a very talented wizard from what I’ve heard.”
“Try not to miss me, lass,” Rugan returned easily, heading towards Rolan at the bar.
Blissfully alone, Jaheira sighed and fidgeted with the hem of her tunic, plucking a string from it before stilling herself. Her brow furrowed.
Did the Zhent just trick her into giving him something to do? It hadn’t been her idea, but it was a sound one.
She didn’t know just what the hell was going on, but she didn’t care for it. Something was shifting, slipping easily in through a crack she didn’t know she had. And it had to do with that bastard Zhent. Was he getting some kind of sick pleasure out of poking a sleeping bear? Did he often dig into a battleground like a tick just to stir the pot?
It only took Rugan a handful of words murmured to the Tiefling wizard, before the taller male was pushing to his feet and sighing in agreement and leaving behind the bar to trudge after him and Jaheira watched it all in mild shock. Was he some kind of spellcaster? Part siren or harpy? Lulling people to like him with just his words?
She recalled the situation, shaking the fog Rugan had spread across her senses away, and managed to reach out as the two men passed by her, grabbing hold of Rugan’s sleeve and holding him fast.
She smirked in retribution as he jerked to a short stop and turned around to face her, his blue eyes shining with delight.
“Get a blessing from Isobel if you’re going into the shadows,” she ordered.
The Zhent nodded once. “Aye, and whose that now?”
“God-botherer upstairs,” Rolan grumbled.
“Tell her I sent you both for a blessing,” Jaheira stated firmly.
“I’m good, lass.”
“Get the blessing,” she insisted. “It’s not for your soul. And don’t go into the deeper shadows!” She called after them as they both trudged towards the stairs.
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