Once Around the Realms (single books)

by Brian Thomsen

  "Fire! Fire!"

  "What in the…" the guard asked out loud, climbing up the stairs to take a peek, whereupon she/it was immediately hit over the head and fell down the stairs, coming to an unconscious rest on the cellar floor between Volo and Shurleen, legs and frock all akimbo.

  Her body was quickly followed by the heroic figures of Passepout and Curtis.

  "We saw you being taken down the alley and decided to follow. We waited until Khelben left to make our move," the rescuers explained.

  "That wasn't Khelben," Volo corrected. "It was a doppelganger, and this is all part of an insidious plot by the Unseen."

  The thespian and beachcomber quickly undid the bonds of their friends and surveyed the cellar scene.

  "We can't get out upstairs," Curtis announced. "The girls, uh, things were barring the door."

  "How about there?" Passepout asked, pointing to a loose sewer grate in the corner.

  Volo quickly surveyed the room and decided that no other options presented themselves.

  "Sounds good to me," the master traveler replied.

  Shurleen, her bonds undone and her gag removed, commented, "Well, I guess it isn't everyone who gets taken to a bards' club and given a tour of the Waterdeep sewer system by the master traveler of all Faerun."

  The rapid approach of footsteps to the cellar entrance hastened their resolve, and the four travelers dropped themselves down the sewer pipe, Volo last, replacing the grate to cover their tracks.

  Chapter 24

  Sewer amp; Undermountain or A Ghost Gives A Chance

  The drop down the sewer pipe was longer than any of them imagined it would be. The pipe was slick and situated at a slight tilt so that their fall was soon replaced by a slide, complete with a network of turns, hooks, and drops that threatened to make them dizzy.

  After what seemed like hours but was really only minutes, the pipe disappeared beneath them and the four escapees from the festhall formerly known as the Hanging Lantern were deposited into an underground canal about ten feet around, and filled with about three feet of water. The distinctive odors of garbage and excrement wafted around them.

  "Someone should package that ride for a fair," Passepout pointed out. "They would make a fortune, provided they supplied each customer with a nose clip to compensate for the smell."

  "I can just hear my little braddah saying, 'Oh, let's do it again!' " Curtis replied.

  "You have a brother?" Shurleen asked.

  "Several," Curtis replied. "I'm sure you'll meet them soon."

  "Wonderful," Passepout interjected, rolling his eyes.

  Volo concurred with the thespian's sentiments, if not his comments.

  "We can't stop now!" Volo said. "We have to get out of this sewer, then out of Waterdeep, and back to Suzail to tell Khelben and the War Wizards about Hlaavin's insidious plot."

  "Quickly, this way!" Passepout said, for no other reason than to get them moving again, and it was the way the water was flowing.

  The other three looked at each other and, seeing no better alternatives, shrugged in agreement and followed the path prescribed by Passepout.

  As they walked, the water level continued to go down and the water itself became clearer and cleaner. The travelers were soon able to cleanse themselves of the sewerage residue. Eventually the water was no more than a trickle that escaped through various cracks and grates, clouds of mist wafting upward. The air cleared, and the four companion's clothes dried on their backs, as the under- ground sewer canal took on more of the appearance of a tunnel, complete with forks, stairs upward and downward, and a requisite amount of dead ends.

  Their footsteps on the paved floors echoed through the tunnels, and they also began to hear various frightening noises in the distance, the owners of which none of them hoped to run into.

  After two rest stops, the group stopped for a third time, this time at a juncture point that went off in five directions in addition to the one from whence they came.

  "Undermountain," Volo murmured, louder than he had intended.

  "Say what?" Passepout asked.

  "Undermountain," the master traveler repeated. "Elminster called it the largest mass grave in all Faerun today."

  "Wonderful," Passepout replied in his familiar sarcastic manner.

  Volo walked around the brick-and-mortar-walled chamber, examining the passageways out as he filled in the rest of the group on a few more details. He wished that he had his magics at his disposal to help him find a way out. He concentrated for a moment to see if they had returned, accepted that they hadn't, and once again began his tour guide spiel.

  "It was constructed and designed by Halaster Blackcloak. Only one of his apprentices ever made it out alive. That was Jhesiyra Kestellharp, who later went on to Myth Drannor and adopted the moniker of the Magister."

  "Wonderful," Passepout repeated.

  "Meaning no offense, Mister Volo," Curtis interrupted, "the history lesson is nice and all, but do you have any idea of a way of finding the way out?

  "Many have tried," Volo continued, taking a torch down from the wall. "No one knows how far down it goes, or how far the network of tunnels stretches. Rumor has it that Halaster, a master of illusion, weaved an enchantment so that travelers could lose their way, thinking that they were going up when instead they were traveling farther down into the bowels of Mt. Waterdeep, down to the deepest levels of Undermountain."

  "Is this Halaster guy still around?" Shurleen asked.

  "No one knows," Volo replied. "He disappeared down here ages ago. Some say he still wanders around down here, leaving an occasional torch or message in a passage vestibule to lend some assistance to the wayward treasure-seeker."

  "That guy must have been crazy," Curtis said.

  "They called him the Mad Wizard," Volo said, a touch of finality to his voice signaling that the story was over.

  "Maybe he wasn't really mad," Passepout said. "Maybe he was just misunderstood."

  "I think I see a light down this way," Volo said, indicating the tunnel of his choice with his torch in hand. "Let's try this way."

  The group agreed and continued down the tunnel.

  Eventually they came to another juncture just like the other.

  A new torch was waiting in the exact same position as at the previous juncture.

  "Here we go again," Curtis replied, trying not to sound too pessimistic for Shurleen's sake, as she was obviously becoming frightened.

  "I want to get out of here," she whimpered.

  "We all do," Passepout answered gently, "and we will."

  An old gentlemen dressed in the robes of a wizard from years gone by stepped out of one of the walls as if it were no more than a cloud of fog.

  "You want to get out of here," the apparition said with a cackle. "Why didn't you say so? Just take the tunnel over there, you'll be on the surface and out of here in no time. And by the way, the chubby guy is right. I was just misunderstood."

  The apparition walked through the opposite wall and disappeared, though his continued cackling could still be heard off in the distance.

  Volo looked at the group, and then looked down the tunnel that had been indicated by Halaster.

  "Why not?" the master traveler replied. "It's not like he's ever lied to us or anything."

  An echoing voice was heard in the distance, repeating the statement, "I'm just misunderstood."

  "That settles it for me," Passepout replied with a sense of finality to his voice. "Always obey the directions of a ghost, particularly when he is the only one who knows the way out. Feet, do your stuff."

  Taking a torch down from its holder, Passepout started down the tunnel that had been indicated by the apparition.

  After an hour, the tunnel's incline steadily increased.

  In another hour, they were out, and the sun was high in the sky.

  Volo stopped a passing milkmaid for their location.

  "Why, you're in Baldur's Gate, of course," the maid replied, and continued on her way.
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  "Baldur's Gate," Curtis replied in disbelief, "but that's miles down the coast from Waterdeep. We couldn't have been walking for that long."

  "I guess Mad Monkey isn't the only immortal with a passion for portals," Volo replied.

  "Well," Shurleen commented, taking on the unlikely role of the optimist of the group, "at least we're closer to Suzail."

  "We'll go into town, hire some horses and head due east," Volo suggested.

  The group agreed, and they headed toward the outskirts of the city, though Volo noticed a certain sense of apprehension and reluctance on Passepout's part.

  The master traveler thought he heard the thespian mutter under his breath, "Baldur's Gate, where all the chickens come home to roost." Volo couldn't be sure if those were his exact words, but thought that it would be better not to ask him for clarification at the present time.

  Chapter 25

  Jailbreak! or Imagine Their Goal!

  As per usual, Volo took upon the role of tour guide as they approached the city, giving his fellow travelers a little background.

  "Known as 'the place that is halfway to everywhere,' " the master traveler began, "Baldur's Gate is actually two cities, one walled and the other, more recent, addition to its borders outside the wall. It seems that the city thrived like a sprouting child and had to burst its seams. It is ruled by the Four Grand Dukes who are also called the Council of Four. The city is renowned as one of the most tolerant but also quietly well policed places in the western Realms."

  Volo saw that he was beginning to lose his audience to wandering thoughts and decided to bring his spiel to an end. "From what I understand it also has a thriving thieves' guild, which has been known to work with the local authorities to crush illicit and illegal activities that they might consider unfair competition."

  "You can say that again," Passepout whispered under his breath.

  Volo paused for a moment, thinking that he had heard something. Curtis and Shurleen were quietly enjoying each other's company as if this were no more than a walk on a summer's day. Turning to the chubby thespian, he asked, "Did you say something, Passepout?"

  "No, Mister Volo," the thespian replied, resuming his distant silence.

  Volo's offhand comment about Baldur's Gate being well policed turned out to be true.

  Passepout was arrested within moments of his entering the city. The guards were well mannered but firm, and the chubby thespian did not put up a fight.

  "Passepout!" Volo demanded. "What's going on?"

  As the guards slipped a pair of shackles on him, he asked, "Can I just say good-bye to my friends?"

  "All right," the captain of the guard, whose name was Gehrard, replied, "but be quick about it."

  "I'm sorry, Mister Volo," the chubby thespian replied dolefully.

  "What is going on?" the master traveler demanded.

  "As I'm sure you know, acting is not always the most lucrative of professions. My dear parents Idle and Catinflas often had to occasionally pick pockets to help make ends meet, a trade they were all too willing to pass on to their son. We were performing to meager audiences on the outskirts of town and found that we once again had to supplement our earnings with a little unvolunteered gratuity from some of our audience. How were we to know that the thieves' Guildmaster Ravenscar was in the audience? He called out the city guard, and we were arrested. I managed to escape, but Mom and Dad are still in prison."

  Volo turned to Gehrard, and said, "Surely, we can work something out?"

  "Afraid not," the captain replied. "When this here fellow escaped, I was held to blame and demoted. On that day I swore out a magical warrant on the city gates that would let me know when, if ever, he returned to the city, because if he did I swore that I would once again bring this fugitive to justice."

  "It doesn't sound like justice to me," Shurleen interjected.

  "Doesn't matter," the captain stoically replied, beginning to escort the thespian to the jail. "A nice long prison stay is waiting for him, but cheer up, the last fellow I brought in was sentenced to have his arm hacked off before being sent to gallows, but then again he did murder the wife of one of the city's most famous clerics."

  Passepout looked back at his friends, and said, "Sorry."

  Hanging his head in shame, he was led off by the guards.

  "What can we do?" Shurleen asked. "We can't just leave him here."

  Volo was very aware of this. He had grown attached to his rotund companion and had no desire to see him left rotting in some dark prison cell. The fact that he and Passepout were still magically bound together was entirely secondary.

  "Well, if we're going to do something, we'd better do it fast," Curtis replied. "We have to get back to Suzail to inform Khelben and the War Wizards of Hlaavin's plans."

  Volo was torn.

  "You two go to Suzail," he decided. "I'll stay here and think of something."

  "We won't go without you and Passepout," Shurleen demanded. "Right, Curtis?"

  "Right," the beachcomber responded in agreement without thinking, which Volo always accepted as a necessary talent for any good husband.

  "I guess that leaves us no choice," the master traveler replied. "We have to arrange a jailbreak."

  Volo knew that the jail was one of the oldest buildings in the city, and that the holding cell for new prisoners was near an exterior wall on the surface level of the structure, the dungeon being reserved for serious criminals and killers. He was sure that Passepout would be classified as neither.

  "If I'm not mistaken, the salt air has been playing havoc with the external walls of many of the local structures that have been around a while, and since usually the first two buildings that are put up when one builds a city are the temple of the patron's choice and the prison, I'm sure that the prison's wall are the worse for the wear. I understand that the Council of Four has funded an extensive city renovation program to shore up the old structures, but I sincerely doubt that the prison is high on their list of priorities. All we have to do is break through the exterior wall into the cell Passepout is being held in, and get out of town before anyone is the wiser."

  "Not an easy trick, if you ask me," Curtis replied. "Don't you think we're going to need a little help?"

  "Sure," the master traveler replied. "I know this tavern not too far from here, where sell-swords of good standing and reputation have been known to frequent. I'm sure we'll find some willing assistance there."

  The Inn of the Bovine Lad catered to mercenaries and wranglers for hire of all types, and as usual it was packed to the seams with brawling and boisterous sell-swords looking for employment and/or trouble.

  Volo scanned the crowd as if looking for someone in particular.

  "Who are you looking for?" Shurleen asked.

  "A mercenary who is obviously not a local," the master traveler replied. "We can't afford to have our plan given away due to someone's personal loyalties. A newcomer to Baldur's Gate would be best, and I have to find one without appearing too obvious."

  "What should we do?" Curtis asked.

  "Stand around and try to look tough," Volo replied. Then, looking at Shurleen still clad in the water-stained remnants of her Maztican finery, he changed his mind. "On second thought, wait outside and, I know it's hard, but try to look inconspicuous."

  Curtis and Shurleen left, and Volo resumed surveying the crowd. He settled on a likely candidate, a reddish-haired warrior woman dressed in battleworn chain mail with a singularly opportunistic opening in the pectoral region that showed off her ample cleavage. A pair of azure tattoos adorned her arms, seeming almost to glow and move in the smoky tavern's interior. She appeared to he keeping company with a lizard man of some sort who sat across from her at a table for two. As lizard men were not indigenous to the Western Heartlands, Volo figured that they were a good bet.

  Volo approached the couple cautiously, hoping to eavesdrop on their conversation, but unfortunately could only make out an occasional growl or snort from the nonhuman member o
f the pair. Upon closer examination, the master traveler discerned that it was not a lizard man at all but a saurial with a blunted muzzle, green scales, and yellow eyes, with a single fin running down the back of its head.

  "Don't just eavesdrop," the warrior woman announced. "Drop in." With that she reached up and grabbed the master traveler by the collar, pulling him down to a place at the table.

  "Sorry," the master traveler said.

  "What do you want?"

  "I'm looking for a pair of mercenaries…" Volo began.

  "We're not mercenaries," she replied churlishly. "We're adventurers. What do you want?"

  "I need help to rescue a friend," Volo replied.

  The saurial snorted again, and Volo detected the distinct aroma of honeysuckle.

  "Dragonbait here seems to trust you," she said. "My name is Alias. What can we do for you?"

  Quickly and quietly, Volo told her the whole story, from the challenge in Suzail, through the trip to Kara-Tur and Maztica, and right up to

  Passepout's incarceration. For some reason he trusted this strange woman and her saurial companion, and he realized that they were his and Passepout's only hope.

  Dragonbait growled, and then snorted again.

  "Okay," Alias said. "We'll help you. What's the plan?"

  Volo and the two newly recruited adventurers left the tavern and rejoined Curtis and Shurleen, who were trying to look inconspicuous.

  "We're going to need at least eight horses," Alias said. "Two of the strongest draft horses we can find, and six of the swiftest steeds available. After the break, Dragonbait and I will draw the pursuers after us. My saurial friend here sticks out in a crowd, and we didn't plan on staying around here long, anyway. I know a place we can lose the guards in the mountains, and we'll be home free in no time. You, on the other hand, have to get to Suzail, as soon as possible. This doppelganger conspiracy can endanger the stability of all of the nations of Faerun, and beyond."

  The conspirators went off in different directions and rendezvoused at the rear of the prison where Passepout was being held. Alias and Dragonbait brought the horses with them, evidently obtained through a Harper contact.