Posted on: Sunday, 12 April 2009
Tenthday, ere Eleint (Day 3)
The City of Coin indeed. I have been made an offer of assistance. Some grand, unknown benefactor will help me to locate and rescue Imoen...for twenty thousand gold. How I'm supposed to raise such an amount I've no idea. Given a few years, doubtlessly I could. But I do not have years! I have days, maybe weeks. And short of robbing everyone I come across, I see no way to raise such an amount so quickly.
It galls me still that a price has been laid upon her life, even a high one. Jaheira and I discovered a nest of slavers in the grand City of Coin, and I am all too aware that Imoen could be destined for such a fate. I swear, if so much as one finger is laid on her, if so much as a single copper trades hands with her in the balance...
But enough talk, and enough worriful thinking. We have some leads, Jaheira and I. Doubtlessly breaking the slave ring is worth a healthy reward, and an insufferable noble girl has asked us to help liberate her lands from invading bandits. Where there are the rich, there are their riches.
“This is hopeless. Where in Faerûn am I supposed to find twenty thousand gold? There are kings who lack that much!”
Jaheira’s exotic elven eyes glanced over. “We will find a way.”
A small snort of frustration. “It’s hopeless,” she repeated.
“Only if you insist on such negativity.”
“Easy for you to say. You didn’t lose—“ Cassandra bit the words off with an audible click of her jaw. Didn’t lose someone you love, she’d been about to say.
One honey-brown eyebrow arched as Jaheira turned to face her. The druid’s lightly-accented words were casual enough, but Cass could hear her infamous temper gathering underneath. “Would you like to finish your sentence, Cassandra?”
“Ah... no. Sorry.”
Jaheira had lost someone. They’d found Khalid, her husband, when escaping from Irenicus’ underground lair. His body had been mutilated almost beyond recognition, dissected as if he were nothing more than a frog or toad. It wasn’t easy for her say, and doubtlessly she knew a much deeper pain than Cassandra did. At least Imoen was alive, for now. At least there was that hope. Jaheira had only memories.
“Good,” she responded sharply. “Let’s finish here.”
Cassandra followed the advice and returned her attention as best she could to the weapons rack before her. Several different sizes and shapes of swords rested against the oaken stand, points dug into the earthen floor; spears were propped against the wall; maces and flails hung from pinions. She could use most of them adequately – well enough not to injure herself, at least. The swords and spears were gaining most of her consideration, though.
