Chapter Three Plan Faster
Chapter Three
Plan Faster
Wherein We Learn Neither Saeldian nor Kell Handles Surprises with Aplomb
Saeldian and Kell, back when the two of them had been the Silver Cat of Baldur’s Gate, had once fleeced a con artist who had been selling bogus cargo shares for a sailing ship.
He was touching people on their turf, and the marks had bragged enough that someone was going to figure out there were more investors than holds if Saeldian and Kell didn’t act fast. Baldur’s Gate on high alert for scoundrels would mean moving, and by then they’d built a comfortable living from eight years of careful work.
Taking Rodanthe Highsail down had been easy exactly because he had thought that knowing the scam meant he couldn’t be fooled by one.
They fed him gossip about a ship at bargain prices after planting the best battered journals and letters the two of them could forge inside the captain’s quarters.
Put together, the documents told the tale of how three partners had found more treasure than they could store in the cargo hold after sailing a dangerous strait on the coast of the Great Sea.
They’d taken care of every detail and let Highsail believe that he was swindling them when he stole the papers and sailed off to take the treasure for himself.
They had laughed about that particular interloper’s fate for months afterward. Now here Saeldian was, humbled by their own expertise. Humiliating! Embarrassing! They could never tell anyone how easily they’d been fooled.
And to make it worse, Saeldian was stuck with Kell Redsong. Of all people! What vicious fate was this? Mistakes really were forever.
That breeze blowing in off the ocean was cold, and Saeldian let it slide into the gaps of their ensemble. The cold touched the tips of their ears. It wore down their annoyance at him being here in Waterdeep, walking on Saeldian’s streets.
Saeldian had fled Baldur’s Gate on the first ship south, fearing that there was nowhere far enough that Kell couldn’t find them.
He could always find Saeldian, and he had come to their rescue more than once with that knack.
They spent a year dreading detection, but Kell hadn’t come to Velen or the City of Coin after that.
Saeldian stopped rehearsing the explanation they’d need at their lips when Kell, who had found them, held a dagger to their throat—or worse, simply wanted to know why.
But he never came, and after some years, Saeldian didn’t think of him that often.
But now Kell was here on a sunny, cheerful street bustling with people set on their own errands while the two of them kept a rigid arm’s length apart.
The breeze carried a clean and salty air, and the cloudless sky foretold the warmth coming to visit Waterdeep for its celebrated summer—on the bright side, it was perfect weather for Bastion to finally hire people to fix the roof.
Enough daydreaming. They couldn’t escape Kell, so the faster this job was done, the better. Saeldian pinched a bit of fleece between their fingers and cast an illusion once the four of them were out on the street. It shimmered around the group, but only to Saeldian’s sight.
“Gather close. We need to talk.”
Kell fell into step on their left, the same way he had when they moved through the meaner parts of Baldur’s Gate and he defended Saeldian’s weak side. He didn’t realize what he had done for a few steps, then scowled and fell back to walk beside Lorzok.
“I don’t like it, but we’re in this with no way out,” Saeldian said. “I can’t believe I got fooled by a cantrip.”
“It’s not your fault,” Lorzok said.
“I don’t need soothing. I need to keep my eyes open.” That was mean. But Saeldian was rolling downhill already, and no brake stopped their complaints. “For fey trickery, especially.”
“You mustn’t blame yourself—”
“Don’t worry, Lorzok.” Kell would have sounded jocular to anyone else, but it was meant to sting. “Saeldian’s just nursing injured pride over being deceived. Hard to believe you’re the best liar there is when you get fleeced into a fey vow by a Prestidigitation spell.”
“Big talk, Kell Redsong. She had your measure so exactly I bet she didn’t even need to fool you.”
“She offered our hearts’ desire,” Kell said. “Hard to resist what you yearn for most in the world.”
And all Saeldian ever cared about was gold? “Surprised you haven’t made it there already,” Saeldian said. “Almost feels like it didn’t want you back.”
The cruel rush of pleasure at the insult crashed into Kell’s flinch. He covered it over with frost and a delicate, contemptuous flare of his nostrils, as if he smelled something bad.
“Hey,” Jubilee said. “We have to work together.”
Lorzok barely stopped himself from putting a finger to his lips. “People might hear you.”
“We’re fine. We’re in one of Charmhand’s favorite spells,” Kell said. “Nobody outside can quite catch what we say.”
“What do you mean, they can’t hear us?”
“They can’t understand us,” Saeldian said. “We sound like mumbling. Keep your voice normal and no one will think twice.”
Kell Redsong. Here, in Saeldian’s city, on Saeldian’s team. Of all the awkward jobs whispering along the peace-kept streets of Waterdeep, how did they wind up in one with him?
A shopkeeper in a pristine apron waved tickets at them. “Take one, and have an extra five percent off our Goldenight prices tonight! We’ve vellum and parchment and rag, all grades suitable for your pen or your scrolls!”
Saeldian smiled, shook their head, and kept walking, with Kell glowering at their back.
Saeldian had never planned to catch up with Kell again, but now they knew: On the same morning Saeldian had left Baldur’s Gate, Kell had landed in trouble with the law. Had it been while the storm harp they’d stolen from House Hullhollyn was stashed on his person?
Had to be. If the Flaming Fist had pinched him for stealing an apple and then discovered the harp, that would have been bad luck, not betrayal.
Maybe the Silver Cat hadn’t been as clever as they believed.
Maybe they got sloppy somewhere. It didn’t matter.
Kell took the fall; the Zhentarim got him out.
Saeldian didn’t know the how or the why of that, but that didn’t matter either.
Kell owed them his freedom and his life, and in all these years, they’d never called to collect.
“How did this happen? My head’s still spinning,” Jubilee said.
“The smartest grifter in Faer?n was bested by a novice’s cantrip,” Kell said. “Quite the mistake.”
“Go to Hell, Redsong. Pick the one you like.”
Jubilee took the blow of those mocking words, though. “Sheld, I’m sorry. I was so scared, I wasn’t paying attention.”
“I’m just mad.” Saeldian reached over to pat Jubilee’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t have let all that gold distract me. Now we’ve got to pull a jewel theft in the middle of a party, improvising the whole time since there’s not enough time for a plan, all because I took the misdirection.”
“Misdirection?” Jubilee asked. “What do you mean?”
Some mistakes really were forever, as Osalor said. But why was Saeldian tangled in this one? Did the Zhentarim call Kell and Saeldian on the same job by coincidence?
Not a chance. But Saeldian answered as if their scheme-spotting mind weren’t running on full sail. “Both Briona and her bravo, Mariel, had illusions on them. I noticed. So while I tried to subtly figure out what they were hiding, they got me with the spell they didn’t want me to see.”
“Classic misdirection,” Kell said.
And Saeldian shouldn’t have fallen for it, that syrupy tone shouted.
They ignored him. Using that cantrip had been clever, and the vowstone was fey magic.
Saeldian should have figured out that those vowstones were fey magic from a mile away.
Why would the Zhentarim be dealing in that?
“There isn’t enough time to bicker. We have to case the location—”
“Saer Briona gave us the floor plans,” Kell said.
Think. They had to think! “We need cover identities, something that wouldn’t be a disgrace to wear to a party this exclusive—”
But why was this scheme so perfectly timed for when Kell just happened to be in town? That was obvious—they wanted Saeldian and Kell. But why?
“I only wore that starlight gown once, and it’s perfect,” Jubilee said. “It’s just the lads we have to worry about.”
“No time to get us into lord’s garb,” Kell said. “Front door, servant side, then. Any objections from our expert grifter?”
Ass. “Won’t work. The Tarms only use temporary staff vetted by their own servants.
You couldn’t blend in the way you could with someone less careful.
If we could figure out who those temporary servants were, then find out where they live, and then get them out of the way for the night, so you two could impersonate them—”
“But then they wouldn’t be paid,” Lorzok said. “They didn’t do anything wrong; why should they suffer?”
“You’re right,” Jubilee said. “It wouldn’t be fair to them.”
Saeldian huffed out an exasperated sigh. “It’s also too complicated. We can’t waste all that time trying to find a couple of servants.”
Zhentarim didn’t hire deserters. They took care of them—for good. If Saeldian was smart, they should be walking out the gate of Waterdeep with only the coin in their pockets right now.
No. They’d need a moment unseen to slip away. They kept a pack stowed in the trunk under the window in their room in Righthoof Manor.
“We’re not vagabonds,” Lorzok objected. “We came for the celebrations, and we brought festival garb.”
They all moved to the left to let a carter pass them, her cargo sealed with bright tags from the dockmaster.
The sacks smelled like sweet dried herbs.
Kell waved in answer to the carter’s nod of thanks.
“It’s easy to get into a Goldenight party.
The whole point is to show off how extravagantly generous you can be.
If I can’t charm my way in, even a little underdressed, then the door’s guarded by automatons. ”