But the innkeeper reached under the bar and took out a thick envelope that he slapped down on its surface. “There,” he said with a grin. “Not Mehen, but for you all the same.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, reaching for the envelope. “He’s the only one who knows where-” She turned the note over and saw the black wax seal. The same as the one on the note with the ritual book. She set it on the bar, her blood running cold.
“That’s not for me,” she said.
“I’d say it is,” the innkeeper replied. “Fellow in livery, of all things, left it here. Said it was for the tiefling with the sun-and-moon eyes.”
The description made her stomach flip. “How did he know I was here?”
“Am I supposed to know that?” the innkeeper chuckled.
She picked the note back up. “Would you tell me if he comes back? Or anyone like him?”
“As long as you keep that sister of yours from leaving more gouges in my floor.”
Farideh nodded absently, tucking the concern for Havilar’s damages behind the nature of Master Rhand’s note. It was likely nothing: A letter to see if she’d gotten the book. Maybe another offer to show her the rituals she needed. A more forward request that she reply.
But, Farideh thought, climbing the stairs, no matter how innocuous it might be, it should not have found her here, and that knowledge made her stomach churn. She pushed open the door to her room. “Havi,” she started, “the innkeeper …” She looked up from the black seal. The room was empty. Havilar’s glaive leaned against the corner.
“Havi!” she cried, tearing back out into the hallway. She wouldn’t go anywhere without the glaive-she never did. Could Sairche have found them? Could she have lured Havilar away, or worse? She looked down at the envelope-karshoj, it couldn’t be about Havi, could it?
She met Tam coming up the top of the stairs, looking exhausted and rumpled. “I can’t find Havilar,” she said in a rush. “She’s left her glaive and-”
“Hang on,” Tam said, holding up a hand to stop her. “Have you checked with Brin?”
“No,” Farideh said, “but you don’t understand, if she’s left-”
“Check the room first,” Tam advised, maneuvering past her. “They’ve been in there most days when I come back.”
Farideh blinked at him. “In your room?”
Tam laughed at her. “Nothing so brazen. But what do you think she does while you’re out roaming the city looking for things your father doesn’t want you to buy?”
“He told me to buy a cloak,” she started. But a trill of laughter-Havilar’s laughter-cut her off and her attention turned toward the noise, from behind the door across the hallway.
“Well there you are,” Tam said. “Come find me if I’m wrong. Heavens know there’s a good enough chance she’s gotten into something.”
Farideh straightened as he passed her, feeling as if she’d been tossed into the wrong day. What did she think Havilar did? Drilled, mostly. Bothered the innkeeper. Went on errands with Brin. Or wandered herself, she thought.
Mehen was going to be furious she hadn’t kept them apart. Farideh went to the door-there were definitely voices beyond-and tapped gently on it.
“Come in!” Havilar’s voice called out. Farideh nudged the door open. Her sister sat on the floor in the narrow space between the wall and the bed, her pointed toes resting on the bedrails. Brin was cross-legged above her on the bed.
“Well met,” he said.
Havilar gave her a look that was somehow equal parts irritation and self-satisfaction. Good, you’re here to see this and When are you going to leave? Farideh bit back a reply to the unasked question. “I couldn’t find you,” she said.
“You were gone,” Havilar said, just shy of accusatory. “Where did you go?”
“Hey, you found a cloak,” Brin said. Farideh held it open: a plain, brown stormcloak, its half-dozen rents mended in dark thick thread like brutal scars.
Havilar winced. “That’s all you could find?”
“It was cheap,” Farideh said, bundling the cloak back up. “And it’s long enough. What are you two doing?”
Brin held up a fan of parchment. “Reading chapbooks.”
“Brin bought one of just about every title.” Havilar giggled. “Do the lonely widow’s voice again.”
“I said no,” Brin said, but he chuckled when he said it. He looked up at Farideh. “Did you need something?”
“No,” she said, “I just … I couldn’t find Havi.”
Havilar shook her head, as if that were such a strange thing to worry over. “I was right here. Better than sitting among Tam’s things, pretending we’re not curious.”
“Has he come back?” Brin asked. “I need to tell him I’ve moved over.”
“Oh, yes.” Farideh gestured at the open door and the hallway beyond with the envelope. “He’s just come in, I … ran into him,” she finished awkwardly. “He’s here.”
“What’s that?” Havilar asked, pointing to the envelope with her chin.
Farideh looked down at it. Whatever it was, she didn’t feel like opening it in front of Havi and Brin anymore. “Nothing,” she said. “Are you coming down to eat?”
“In a bit,” Havilar said. “We’ll see you there.”
Farideh slipped out and closed the door behind her, hardly sure what to think, but certain she wasn’t wanted in there. Hells, how long had she been in their way?
And how mad would Mehen be if she didn’t stay in their way?
Farideh sat down on the stairs to the taproom, considering the envelope again. With any luck, Mehen would be back soon and both her problems would be solved. They’d leave Waterdeep, and what to do about Master Rhand would be a question she didn’t need to answer. Mehen would see what was going on with Brin and Havilar and she wouldn’t be responsible for being his proxy-or better yet, Mehen would whisk them away after some new bounty, and no one would have to convince Havilar of anything before …
They’re just reading chapbooks, she thought. Even if she’s fond of him, it’s nothing she can’t walk away from.
Farideh shook her head-it wasn’t her problem anymore than the envelope was Havilar’s. She broke the seal and skimmed the note as quickly as she could, as if any word might be like a pressure trap, triggering if her eyes rested on it too long.
An invitation. But not, thank the gods, to come alone. A revel. A viewing for some new treasures. The statue from before. Some sort of painting. An artifact he was particularly proud to show off. And she should come and let him know how the ritual book was suiting her.
All innocent enough. But she couldn’t help but sense the vaguest menace in the way these things were phrased. He seemed, she thought, annoyed that she hadn’t sought him out to say thank you. Insistent that she should. And every word was laced with double meanings.
And now Master Rhand knew where she slept. Farideh folded the note back up, wishing even harder for Mehen to return so they could leave Waterdeep.
She called up enough of her Hellish powers to tint the veins on the backs of her hands, considering all the consequences of the alternative, should Master Rhand press his interests.
The sound of the door opening jerked Dahl out of a shallow sleep, spent hunched over the small table. He blinked, orienting himself. Then he focused on Tam, frozen beside the open door and looking at Dahl with open surprise.
“Good morning,” he said. “Have you been waiting long?”
Dahl swallowed a yawn. “All night. Where have you been?”
Tam unfastened his cloak and chuckled. “Whatever were you waiting for?”
“For my partner to tell me what by all the gods’ books is going on,” Dahl retorted. “Have you got the page?”
“No,” Tam said, piling the slender spiked chain on the floor. “I found it, but it’s been sold already.”
Dahl waited a moment for more information. “And so? You’re just letting it go?”