In a far corner of the Purple Dragon Inn's darkened common
room, so named to honor Cormyr's military since the inn occupies
the site of its first fortified garrison, a lone figure lit by
flickering candle light, sits upon a plain wooden stool. His
flowing snow white mane flows down past his shoulders, the tone
in stark contrast to the multiple hues that adorn his attire.
His audience is held captive before him, spellbound by his
beautiful voice and intricate playing.
Kolas' hand strummed across the silver strings of his oaken
lyre, releasing the final chords of his ballad for the crowd to
hear. The silent audience sat awestruck, their faces filled
with grief and sorrow as the ancient tale reached down and
touched them deep within their souls. He gracefully stepped
down from the small stage and painstakingly made his way toward
a small empty table prepared for him in the front section of the
inn. Many moments passed as the patrons gathered their emotions
back into place and slowly made their way past Kolas out into
the cool evening air, dropping silver and gold coins into an
empty flagon perched at the edge of his table.
A tall figure made his way methodically through the
departing crowd toward the table where Kolas was seated. He
stood a full head taller than any of the patrons who passed him.
His footfalls were slow and deliberate, as though every
component of his being held purpose. The man was clad in a drab
brown cloak, the hood of which was drawn up, obscuring his face
in shadow. He was covered from head to toe in mud, presumably
from a long hard ride.
'Greetings to thee Kolas, from an old friend', the
mysterious figure addressed the seated minstrel, 'I bring
pressing news, from Waterdeep.'
'Waterdeep is an enormous city with enough subterfuge and
intrigue to occupy any man for the better portion of his
lifetime. To what end do you speak stranger?' Kolas responded
coyly.
The man slowly pulled back the hood of his cloak, revealing
a pair of brilliant ocean blue eyes, blood-shot from travel,
framed by a mane of grey-streaked auburn hair. His face held
the passage of time across it, wrinkles cut deep about those
piercing blue orbs. Many day's stubble painted the man's face
and a pair of thin scars ran from just below his left eye to the
edge of his cheek.
He allowed Kolas a moment to gain his bearings before he
spoke.
'Surely not enough winters have passed to dull that keen
memory of yours that you do not know who stands before you', the
stranger stated calmly.
Kolas' hazel eyes peered across the table into the
stranger's visage, intently straining for some glimmer of
recognition. A memory flash soon placed the rugged warrior who
stood before him. Gradually, Kolas's grim expression gave way
to a smile, spreading from cheek to cheek as he greeted the man
he knew was no longer a stranger.
'Saro...', Kolas said slowly, '...is that you?'
The man's own face now beamed with friendship as he quickly
stretched a hand across the small table to grasp the one the
bard was extending just as fast.
'Why you flea-bitten, weather soaked, dog of the wilds, sit
down, sit down.' Even before the words were entirely out of
Kolas' mouth, the ranger was pulling out a chair and seating
himself with the bard.
'Ollie!', Kolas called out as he turned towards the burly
balding man washing glasses behind the bar, 'Two flagons of your
finest please, spare no expense!'
Kolas turned back to Saro. 'It must be nearly fifteen
years since I saw you last, it ...', the bard began.
'Thirty', Saro interrupted.
'Thirty, nay, that would make you...', Kolas' voice trailed
off as he did some internal addition.
'Fifty-five winters my longer lived, half-elven friend.
Have you forgotten that we humans age much quicker than you
pointy-eared devils, even only partially pointed ones like
yourself?'
'I am sorry, I tend to forget that fact, many of the close
human friends I keep are the 'long-lived' variety', Kolas
explained.
'Mages, you mean', Saro stated flatly.
'Yes, you are right, but that is beside the point. It is
good to see you again after so long. I kept track of you over
the years, but lost all trace of you after your fiasco with the
Maastril the Mad and his Ogre Legion near the Fell Pass.'
'Well that is an interesting...', Saro's voice trailed off
as Ollie arrived with their foaming tankards.
'I'll be puttin' it on yer tab Kolas, will ye be needin'
anythin' else?', Ollie inquired.
'We'll let you know.' Saro said sharply as he began to
rise while Ollie departed. Grabbing his tankard, he gestured
towards a darker, secluded booth were they would be speak more
privately.
'That was rather blunt of you, Ollie is a ...', Kolas began.
'I am sorry if have offended your friend, but you will
remember tact has never been one of my strong suits. As much as
I'd like to chat about old times, I have an agenda that I must
address first, so bear with me for a few moments.'
Saro's faded and his features turned more serious again as
he continued.
'I am sure if you have followed my life after our
separation as closely as you claim then you are aware I am a
member of the Harpers, as I know you to be yourself.'
Saro grimmaced as he spoke again.
'You know you risk much by opening displaying your badge
upon your brow, pinned to that ridiculously huge beret you still
wear after all these years. Although you attempt to obscure it
amidst other baubles and symbols, it is easily spotted by those
who know it's significance. I, as most of our order, choose to
wear mine in a more traditional and safer location, here, over
my heart.'
Saro's hand pulls back his drab cloak and gestures to the
small silver harp and crescent moon pin, attached to his tunic,
hidden by a worn grey vest, proclaiming his allegiance in the
maverick organization that is dedicated to safeguarding Faerun
from evil in its various forms.
'It is an informal badge of our 'order', if you will and it
is Harper business of which I am here to speak with you about.'
The ranger falls silent. Kolas appears preoccupied for a
few moments, absorbing the ranger's criticism of his disregard
for their organization's secrecy, but his eye soon focus on the
grim warrior and he speaks.
'I hope you didn't track me all the way to Cormyr so you
could chastise me about my badge', Kolas stated slowly.
Saro shook his head no as the bard continued.
'You are correct, I do know of our mutual connection to the
Harpers, although I am only marginally aware of your
involvement. As I said, I haven't been able to follow your
actions too closely since we parted. You have managed to cover
your involvement in our organization's activities well. Which
leads me to conclude two things; first, your role in the overall
scheme of things is quite peripheral in nature and thus rather
unnoteworthy or more likely, it is incredibly involved and your
role in the Harpers is obscured purposefully, because it is
quite important and that knowledge could be dangerous for you
and others.'
Kolas paused purposefully for a moment, making deliberate
eye contact with the ranger and then continued.
'Judging from our past history, I know your loyalties
aren't given lightly, so my conclusion is your role is an
important one.'
Kolas stopped for a moment, took a long draw from his
foaming tankard and calmly asked, with a bit of a smirk, 'So
then given that assumption, my question to you is, which of the
mages sent you to find me, Khelben or Elminster?'
'Both actually', was Saro's dry response,'they would
contact you by more expedient magical means, but they continue
to rue your continued possession of the 'damn amulet', as
Elminster calls it. An Amulet of Proof against Detection and
Location makes one difficult to find. They knew that if anyone
one could track you across Faerun, it would be me.'
'That's typical of El, complain about how well a magical
device, he created, works.' Kolas responded.
'The situation they have sent me to brief you on is quite
dire though, do you have a room here at the inn,' Saro inquired,
'this isn't information I wish to be speaking of in an inn's
common room.'
'Yes, upstairs', Kolas began as he rose from the table,
'follow me.'
Kolas led the road weary ranger through the half-filled
common room, past a number of tables, which still had many
patrons drinking ale raucously or peacefully consuming their
evening meal. Kolas motioned Saro towards the bar area, where
they passed through an open archway that revealed a staircase
leading upstairs. They quickly ascended the creaky wooden
stairs, turning left at the landing and preceded down the hall
past a number of doors. Kolas made a quick arcane gesture as
they stopped at the last door and it swung open slowly.
'You can never be 'too careful' has always been your motto,
eh Kolas', remarked Saro, referring to Kolas' use of a Knock
spell to open his magically locked door.
'Ever an observant companion', responded Kolas as they
entered the room.
Kolas made another set of quick gestures towards the door,
magically re-locking it and proceeded across the spartan room to
sit in a medium-sized chair, adorned plainly in green and blue
tones. He motioned for Saro to pull a smaller burgundy and gold
chair from the corner, where it sat pushed under a small wooden
table, which was covered with many sheets of parchment, writing
quills and a half-filled ink well.