Chapter Fourteen: Stable Condition.

25th Mirtul, Year of Three Ships Sailing (1492 D.R.), perhaps an hour before high moon.

We find our friend on the flower-wreathed hill where we first met Aundra; at the monument to the Battle of Waterdeep. Vaikner has wisely chosen an elevated vantage point for his watch. And his guard must have been quiet. He has been able to work his Art, focusing on the ritual needed to summon his Familiar back to his side. The loyal owl returns just as we crest the top of the hill.

“Fukurou!” I whisper with happy relief.

I watch the quietly affectionate reunion between Vaikner and Fukurou. Then, stepping closer to my friends, I greet the owl with a gentle gust of the fresh-scented breeze that he so enjoyed in the past. It ruffles his feathers playfully and he blinks fiercely gleaming eyes at me in acknowledgement.

“What news?” Vaikner asks.

“The tracks wandered all over. Many grave sites were visited but none overtly disturbed. We lost the trail outside of the City, at the northern gate.” Eliana replies promptly, smiling at Fukurou.

“And you Vaikner?” I ask. “Did you and Saer Everrest encounter any more trouble?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I helped him gather up the bones left behind after the Restless souls were banished. It was a most interesting and pain-staking ritual. We first obtained some clean white cloth and various scented oils from the Doomguide’s stores. There is a house in the north of this cemetery where he stays. There are many books there and it is where the records of the City of the Dead are kept. I wished to remain longer but…well, I will have to return when there is more time for reading.”

Vaikner sighs and grows quiet, lost in dreamy musings. Curls twitching with interest, I gesture encouragingly for him to continue.

“Yes. Very well.” He frowns. “There was also a wooden chest, finely carved, containing many small vials and boxes. Saer Everrest took what he needed and we returned to the battle field. I picked up the bones and helped the knight anoint them and wrap them in fresh cloth. Then he placed all the Restful back in their mausoleum and we returned to his rooms. There I helped him divest himself of his armor. And scoured his sweat-soaked gear for him.” 

Vaikner pauses and looks at me, eyes unreadable and the tiniest of smiles playing at the corners of his mouth.

“That was very kind of you.” I say brightly.

‘Hmm. I was hoping that, thus refreshed, he would agree to get some rest. But he said he had one more task yet to complete.” Vaikner resumes his tale. “He wrote this letter. And asked me to give it to you. Then, finally, he went to his bed and I was able to come here and take a little time to call Fukurou back to me.”

Vaikner hands me a letter. Creamy paper, sealed with silver wax. I trace the symbol with my fingers. The seal is an image of a sapling sprouting from a skull. It seems very proper to the Doomguide: new life, holding all the promise of grace and strength, rising from something lost. 

“My letter for Saer Savra!” I exclaim to Vaikner. “Saer Everrest promised to write in support of my joining the Order of the Gauntlet. This seal here; this is very suitable. Do you not think so?”

Vaikner quietly agrees.

“Well, even though it seems that the Necromancer has left the City, I think it would be best if I remained here.” He continues. “I will patrol through the night. I have the Doomguide’s bell. If all goes well, I will return it to him in the morning. And then we should meet together to look into this Scarecrow mystery, yes?”

“Yes.” Eliana confirms. “How about you and I, Elodie, take a little detour on our way to our rest tonight? Let’s try to find Maxeen and complete Mirt’s second errand. And then yes, let’s plan to meet tomorrow. Maybe at one hour after highsun? Ready to head east to see the Snobeedle family in Undercliff.”

“That is a good plan.” I nod agreeably. “Tomorrow we can meet at my Temple, the Temple of the Seldarine.”

Once more bidding goodnight to Vaikner, Eliana and I turn our steps west and south, headed towards the Court of the White Bull. At this late hour, the Deep is quieter than I have ever seen it. The streets are full of shadows and the smell of the sea is strong in my air.

“Let’s stop by Curiosity and Satisfaction.” Eliana suggests. “It’s not much out of our way and Uza may be of help. She was a Harper. Maybe she’ll have some suggestions on how we go about gaining Maxeen’s trust.”

I silently agree, keeping my attention on the darkness around us. Uza’s street is particularly desolate; there is only a brief whisper-skitter of rat feet in a nearby alley and the slow drip of water from a rusted gutter above. There are no lights in Uza’s shop and the door is firmly closed. There is a large, hand-written sign hanging in the window that was not there before.

“Closed for Repairs.” I read. “Apologies for the Inconvenience.”

“That’s disappointing.” Eliana grumbles, leaning in to peer through the dark window.

“Yes.” I too squint into the gloom. “But I am pleased that Uza is moving ahead with fixing the damage in her home. And the source of her livelihood. I hope that she has found a safe place to stay until that hole in the back wall is sealed up.”

“Aye. And that she found someone reputable to do the work.” Eliana muses. “She seemed shrewd enough. When she wasn’t drinking herself silly over her cat.”

I confine my reply to a sage nod, preferring to avoid further reminders of Uza’s perceptiveness. Especially as regards bewitchingly lovely, pilfered scarves…

We walk the short distance to the Court of the White Bull in companionable silence. Before long, we stand in front of a coach yard, surrounded by a fence.

“This belongs to the Farrier’s Guild” Eliana explains quietly. “There are several stables here.”

A high gate blocks entrance to the yard but I am able to fit my arm between its bars. Carefully, I run questing fingers over the gate’s lock. It is a heavy but simple latch. No bolt or padlock. I need only to slowly and cautiously pry up the handle and the gate swings open. I grin proudly at Eliana as we step inside the coach yard. Just beyond the entrance sits a young Human. Slumps, really. Perhaps the property’s owners neglected to secure the gate because they chose to rely on a guard to watch over the stables. If so, their trust was misplaced. The man huffs out a gurgling snore, asleep at his post. Eliana grins back at me.

Examining our surroundings, I see that there are four large stables evenly spaced around the court. There are also storage and loading facilities. I learn much about the housing of horses and the hitching of carts from Eliana’s hurried whispers as she points to the various buildings around us.

“Well, we might as well start with the closest one.” She says. 

The door to the first stable barely creaks as we step into the dusty dimness. My senses are filled by the smells and sounds of beasts at peaceful rest. Gentle wickers and snores greet me as I rapidly pace past stalls, looking for Maxeen. Mirt had told us to search out a Paint mare that, while working, wears a hat with a purple flower. There are no mares of that color in this stable and we move on.

At the second stable, the horsey fug and contented resting noises are the same. This time however, we see two Paint mares. And, on a brass hook on the wall outside of one of the stalls, hangs the distinctive head wear that we were looking for! 

Maxeen is sleeping soundly. Eliana and I have a brief and furtive conversation, planning our best approach to the mare. We settle on a quietly polite greeting: bland, reassuring, and non-threatening.

“Good evening to you, Maxeen.” Eliana manages to speak loudly enough to wake the mare but not to startle her. “I’m sorry to disturb your rest. But Mirt sent us to speak to you.”

“Mirt? Mirt sent you?” Maxeen’s voice is eager and friendly, woven through with a welcoming whinny.

She is a tall and comfortably wide horse. Her coat, with its attractively irregular splotches of brown and white, is hazed with the same golden dust that is stirred up when we walk past the straw-lined stalls. Her breath smells of bread and apples. I want to touch her velvet nose.

“Hello. I am Maxeen. And who are you, friends of Mirt? How is Mirt?” The mare continues to chat, giving a little snort and clopping over to sniff at the hand that I have shyly stretched out to her face.

“Do not bite me.” I whisper.

“Mirt is well.” Eliana smiles. “I am Eliana Cooper and this is Elodie Skyshard. We met with Mirt the other night and he asked us to check on you. To have a nice talk, find out how you are and what news you may have for him.”

“Mirt is so kind!” Maxeen’s gentle brown eyes grow even softer. “And he always has the best cakes. Do you have any cakes?”

“Sadly, no.” Eliana says with genuine regret.

“We did try some of Mirt’s cakes.” I chime in.

I was right. Maxeen’s nose is as damask-soft as Pierogi’s tummy. 

“He shared some little round cakes with us when we visited him. Crumbly on the outside with a soft inside. And in all manner of jewel-like colors. They were delicious!” I continue.

The three of us take a little time to reminisce about Mirt’s excellent macaron selection. Maxeen, not at all disturbed to be awoken at such an odd hour, seems glad to converse with new friends.

“I have been here in the Deep for three springs.” She confides. “I came from Amphail, South of the Red Larch. My boy had work to do, hero’s work, for the Harpers. He left me in a fine stable, with a very pleasant keeper, while he and his girl, Lyrien, set forth to adventure!”

“Your boy?” I ask, confused. “Your young foal is a Harper?”

Maxeen laughs, chuffing out grain-rich breath.

“No! My boy, Davin.” She corrects me kindly. “He is my Human. My boy is the one who brought me to Lyrien who taught me to speak in your tongue. He is so brave and good! And, together with Lyrien, his girl, they determined to venture forth on a most noble quest. Only…it was not entirely safe for me. So my boy suggested that I would be more comfortable, stabled and waiting for him. I was in Amphail for a while. And then Mirt found me. He said he considered me a Harper by association!”

Maxeen puffs out a whicker-chuckle.

“And he asked me to remove to Waterdeep. Where he could continue to watch over me while I waited for my boy to return. I like to be busy. Mirt has made sure that I have a useful job to do. And provided me with this lovely place to stay. How is Mirt? I hope he is well?” The mare asks.

“He surely is.” Eliana says. “Thriving.”

“And you have been here, waiting for your boy, for three years?” I ask.

I look at Eliana. She returns my glance and her eyes are troubled.

“Yes. I can hardly believe it! But I have so much to do here. Time simply gallops past.” Maxeen declares happily.

“And you are content? Your job – ensuring safe travel through the Deep for its citizens – it is an important one, yes?” I question.

“It is!” Maxeen bumps her nose against my hand approvingly. “And it is not my only task. I help the Harpers. I keep watch! Most recently, Mirt has asked me to keep alert for the image of a black winged snake. He wants me to notify him if I see anyone using this symbol. I have been paying attention and I have seen many such people.”

I stare at Maxeen’s long, solemn face and feel angry dread wake within me. The noble mare has seen signs of the Zhentarim during her regular route through Waterdhavian streets!

“In fact, since you are Mirt’s friends and he asked you to come and see me, please pass on my latest news.” Maxeen continues guilelessly. “Please tell Mirt that, most recently, on more than one occasion, I have seen a Sun Elf, passing from the High Road onto Snail Street. He regularly sends and receives messages bearing these winged snakes. He then frequently meets a female Half-Orc and they head onto Rain Run Street together.”

I inhale sharply. The Yawning Portal is located on Rain Run Street. And did we not meet with a rather…strikingly memorable Half-Orc there? Yaghra was present during both of our visits to the tavern. And, she was talking intently with a Sun Elf the second time that I saw her. This cannot be a coincidence! 

I bite my lip. I should be feeling the triumph of a hunter closing in on their elusive prey. But, oddly, I seem to have developed a sick, sinking feeling in my chest instead. Perhaps this is how it would feel to devour one very large, heavy butterfly.

I remind myself that, at least, Mirt will be pleased to hear that we convinced Maxeen to talk to us. No matter how startling and oddly unwelcome the news she chose to share with us may be.

Eliana, a speculative frown her only response to Maxeen’s disturbing revelation, has been chatting with the mare. Trying to learn more about Maxeen’s past and present life as a talking horse. It is not going well. The mare sniffs suspiciously at Eliana’s snack bag and, when once again assured that no cakes will materialize from this deliciously-scented pouch, reverts to talking about her boy and her ever-hopeful expectation that he will soon return for her.

“I am certain that we will be meeting with Mirt again soon.” I try to distract Maxeen. “Do you have any further message that you would like us pass on to your friend?”

“Oh, yes!” Maxeen whinnies excitedly, causing a snorting stir amongst her drowsing neighbors. “Do please remind him that I am waiting for my boy to visit!”

Eliana and I affectionately wish the mare a good night. But I, at least, am left troubled by our time with Maxeen. 

I am surprised at the strength of my own dislike for Maxeen’s boy. Fulfilling one’s duty as a heroic Harper is a noble and demanding calling: I know this. But it is not an excuse for such a gross failure to care for his loyal beast! Especially one so clearly attached to him! And so unique in her ability to reason and speak! Because all good beasts feel, of course. Maxeen has simply been gifted with the ability to articulate those feelings more clearly than most. By her boy…

My eyes narrow and then, struck by an unfortunate thought, my irritably twitching hair droops. The explanation is clear: a terrible ill must have befallen this Davin during his adventures!

Eliana sighs as we step out of the stable.

“It’s likely that she was sold by her previous owner.” She mutters glumly. “And the stable she ended up in happened to belong to a Harper. Who, good soul, has tried his best to take care of her. He has spun her this tale of her past owner’s heroism for her comfort.” 

I stop in my tracks and stare at my companion, appalled. The conclusion she has drawn is even more grim than the thoughtless neglect that I had imagined! To believe that Maxeen was callously abandoned by her previous owner and, unsuspecting, is even now eagerly awaiting his return! 

“What’s wrong, Elodie?” Eliana whispers urgently. “Do you hear…or smell…something?”

“No! That is to say…no. I just…you have a dark view of the world, Eliana.” I say sadly. “But, in this instance, I begin to fear that you are right.”

Eliana shrugs, looking intently about the empty court. Melancholy weighs down my curls. I struggle to see past the quiet hopelessness of this cosy stable and of the endlessly patient horse that dwells here. I resolve to ask Mirt more about Maxeen. Surely he will wish to help me find a way to bring lasting happiness to the loyal mare!

We quietly re-cross the yard and flit out through the open gate into the shadowy street outside. I remain dissatisfied. To bear up under physical discomfort, to be surrounded by peril – these are a natural part of the path of a divine knight.  But, when heart-ache is added to these hardships…well, one’s burden becomes heavy indeed. I brood.

I do not wish that anyone else be made unhappy. Not through our actions. We are already safely outside of the stable yard. But have left the gate unlatched behind us. When this is discovered, the sleeping guard will be disciplined for neglecting his duties this night. I should have remembered the cautious advice of my Warden instructors during training.

“Do not let yourself become distracted! Emotions will cloud your decision-making. Do allow your judgement to be wafted about by feelings when you are on a mission. Remain focused on the task at hand!” I can still clearly hear their remonstrations.

And yet, I reach back for the latch because my foolish fancy to spare the Human guard his richly deserved reprimand overcomes my good sense. It is an awkward angle. I twist my arm through the bars and I immediately feel the heavy iron slip from my grasp. The latch falls with a loud clunk and the guard stirs. I wince.

Eliana takes time for only a quick glare in my direction, and then starts to briskly walk away. But the man has gone from slumber to alert suspicion irritatingly quickly. 

“Oy! You there! Halt! What are you doing?” His voice grows from raspy to loudly demanding.

Hair flicking furiously, I consider strategy. I have already set aside a measure of discomfort to complete our assignment this night: it has not been particularly enjoyable to sneak around like rogues through the stable’s shadows. Now, even as my fingers flex wistfully towards my swords, something even more distasteful awaits. I sigh heavily, preparing to be deceitful.

“Fresh milk! Would you care for some fresh morning milk?” I call out winningly.

My ploy was inspired by the frantic pace of commerce that I have been seeing in the Deep these past days. But, at one bell past high moon, I may have erred in my choice of tempting wares.

“Fresh milk..whaaa? Wait, it’s the middle of the night! Stop! Who are you?” cries the guard.

I curse his sudden competence.

“Milk! Milk!” I repeat, flustered but keeping the engaging smile firmly on my face.

“Follow my lead!” I hear an angry hiss.

 Eliana has returned to my side.

“Forgive my friend!” she speaks directly to the guard, voice rich with laughter. “We were out enjoying ourselves this night and she may have…enjoyed too much.”

“Aah, a ladies’ night, then?” enquires the guard.

“Yes.” Eliana allows a touch of wry exasperation to tint her words. “And I am the designated walker-home.”

The guard, his suspicions skillfully lulled and now quite friendly, continues to talk to Eliana. Judging by his frequent guffaws and Eliana’s hoots of mirth, they seem to understand each other very well. I find it a little difficult to follow their conversation, which is conducted in a series of significant looks and short, cryptic remarks. But I comprehend enough: Eliana is suggesting that I am inebriated! Impaired like Uza was when we first met! I cannot keep the sweet smile on my face any longer but the expression that replaces it is similar enough. At least in that my teeth are bared. So I do not think that anyone notices. Thankfully, the mortifying episode soon draws to a close and I scuttle away, humiliated, into the safety of dark streets. 

After her amicable chat with the stable-yard guard, Eliana shows no further inclination for talk. We quietly turn north east, passing once more past the City of the Dead. All is peaceful darkness; I neither hear nor scent any sign that Vaikner needs our assistance.

“Well, I think we’ve gotten into enough trouble for one night, don’t you? Time for bed.” Eliana says.

“Vaikner gave me Mirt’s messenger bird.” She adds with a yawn. “So I could send that off back to him if we managed to find Maxeen and have our chat with her. Which we did. I’ll just write him a quick note and then I’m ready to rest. How about you?”

“I am weary also.” I admit. “It has been a most interesting night. But yes, I would like to rest too. When you write to Mirt, would you please include a request for another meeting with him? In addition to informing him that we have completed our assigned tasks, I mean. I would like to talk to him again. I have some questions.”

Eliana nods agreeably and we part for that night. I enjoy my solitary walk home. My way is shadowy and silent. And I relish this chance for peaceful reflection after a rather overwhelming day. I see no one, neither in the Deep’s streets, nor in the moonlit Temple gardens. My own bed chamber is empty also. I perform hurried ablutions, washing face and hands and brushing teeth. Then I collapse onto my bed with a contented groan. I will rest here for just a little while before I change into my sleeping gown and settle in under the covers. Just for a little while…

Drifting into sleep turns seamlessly into drifting through swirling, scorching air. Dreaming. I hear the now familiar voice, silken and poisonous, caressing my mind. 

“Do not listen to your foolish Elders. Do not trust your ignorant Grand Heron. I heard my Name on her lips and she knows nothing. I will hold you up and let you soar. The ignorant in your temple will shackle you to the ground…”

The voice fades but I continue to fly effortlessly through the rest of the night.

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I hope that you enjoyed this chronicle of our party’s continuing escapades at the City of the Dead, as well as Eliana and Elodie’s meeting with Maxeen. It has been a while since these friends have ventured out to do good and get into trouble. That is entirely on me and on the recent challenges and stresses of life outside of The Realms. But I am going to try to get back on a regular posting schedule once again.

I have a song for Maxeen:

We’ll Meet Again, Johnny Cash cover.

Please also visit my playlist on Spotify. I will be populating this with all of our campaign tunes as we adventure onwards: