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Ches 1466
Baldur’s Gate
Many small tables have been set up in the grand entryway of the Gist manor. Each one is set with a lovely spread of bread, various jams and flavored butters, fruit, cheese, and a small assortment of meat. The late morning sun shines into the hall each time the door opens to admit another guest.
This oddly timed feast held at the end of each tenday has become something of a new tradition started by the new Lady Gist. It is too late for the mornfeast but too early for the highsunfeast. Lady Gist taken to calling it “lowthar” as it occurs at the opposite time of day as highthar. The term has yet to catch on.
Still, Eliwyn has come to enjoy these little gatherings. She rarely has time for the mornfeast what with her duties at the shrine. A bit of toast and maybe an apple is all she can manage as she helps the dawnmaster prepare for dawn service. By the time the final hymn is sung she is often quite starved. She fills her plate now full of honey-glazed ham, a biscuit and jelly, and fresh strawberries.
Next to her, Mara Whitburn tears her own biscuit into bits. “So? What have they all been saying about me?” she finally asks when her plate is filled with nothing but a pile of crumbs.
Eliwyn and Virle Caldwell exchange uneasy glances.
“Oh, please don’t be like this. Not you two. Tell me, or else I’ll go mad,” Mara says with a sigh of exasperation.
“It really wasn’t anything too awful,” says Virle. “Just…the normal sort of things you’d expect.”
Mara scoffs. “Everyone knows then, that I was jilted? And no doubt they thought I left because I was pregnant, too.” She scowls at the bowl of clotted cream before her.
Eliwyn and Virle wince at the truth of Mara’s words. After it became widely known of Ferdan Bormul’s pending betrothal, Mara decided it was time to visit a cousin up north. She’s only just arrived back in Baldur’s Gate. Naturally, rumors are once again swirling. Several curious and rather unkind eyes turn towards Mara every now and then, a telltale sign of stories being spun and shared.
“The gossip wasn’t long lived, though,” says Eliwyn. “You picked quite a good time to leave, given Valarken carried out his coup the next tenday. That was all anyone could talk about from then on.”
Mara gives Eliwyn and Virle a small and tired smile. She crushes the pile of crumbs with her spoon.
She truly has nothing to worry about. In the grand scheme of Upper City dramas hers is quite uninteresting. It is nothing compared to the recent rumors flying about. Word has it a patriar has started an affair with one of the house maids. A pair of brothers are currently entrenched in heated rivalry to be named as next in line to inherit their family’s wealth and title. This normally would be quite uninteresting as well, except for the fact that one of the brothers fell mysteriously and almost life-threateningly ill after being paid a visit by his sister.
Then, of course, there are the families that backed Valarken and his bid to become sole ruler of Baldur’s Gate. Each of them are being completely snubbed by the rest of society. The Dluskers have not been seen in public since the coup occurred back in autumn. No doubt by the time Lady Gist holds her next “lowthar” the rumors about Mara will be nothing but a forgotten whisper.
Eliwyn tells Mara as much and then quickly changes the subject. “So, how was Waterdeep? You must tell us everything!”
Mara immediately lights up. “Oh, it was such a distraction! It was precisely what I needed. If you ever have the chance to go you simply must. It truly is the City of Splendors…”
***
Eliwyn trudges up the uneven cobblestones of Main Citadel Street. The weight of her basket pinches her arm and makes her muscles scream. Her mother packed an unusually large amount of food today for her father’s highsunfeast.
The men and women of The Watch nod and smile as she passes by. They are on their way to their homes for better fare than what is offered in the dining hall of the Citadel. Who would want overly salted meat and mushy vegetables when a hot, homemade meal is waiting for them at home?
Eliwyn’s father is the exception these days. Ever since the attempted coup of Duke Valarken he has been spending every spare hour at the Citadel. The trespass of one of the rulers of this city against his own patriars and fellow council members has left the entire city quaking—some with fear and some with rage. It is to be expected that The Watch has been asked to re-double their efforts, hence giving her father even more work than usual.
Eliwyn knocks on the wooden door of his office.
“Enter,” comes his stern tone.
Here in the Citadel he is all seriousness, as befits one of the highest ranking generals in The Watch. It always amuses her to see him here, wearing what she calls “the Cloak of the Oversar,” and then to see him at home when he sheds that cloak and becomes simply her father.
“It’s just me,” she says as she slips into the office, dim now that the sun is at its zenith.
“Ah, my little bird.” His austerity is replaced immediately by softness. “How are you today?”
He beckons her in as he clears space on his desk. Papers shuffle into a thick stack. Ledgers climb into a small tower. Scrolls furl up into neat cylinders.
Her father stretches and passes a hand over his face as Eliwyn unburdens the basket. “Would you stay? I asked your mother to pack enough for us both.”
Well, that explains the heavy basket. But for what reason could he want her to stay?
As they eat they talk of this and that. Then, the conversation turns to the gossip of the patriars. Eliwyn chatters about all the rumors and petty dramas that circulate through the various drawing rooms and gardens of the nobility.
Soon, she takes notice of her father’s narrowed attention. He is fixed on every word she says. When he pulls out paper and quill and ink and starts to make notes Eliwyn stops. Her brow pinches as she watches him.
Glancing at her over his page, he shifts his jaw and drops his quill into the well with a clink. “Lord Portyr approached me not long after the coup. He’s given me a task so as to better ensure another situation like this does not occur again.”
Her father sits straight and folds his hands on the desk. “As he works to rebuild the council following the assassinations, he asked that I create a more formal method of compiling and understanding the information that reaches The Watch regarding any criminal activity within these walls.”
Eliwyn listens intently. She has a general understanding of her father’s duties, but she has never been made privy to such specific information about his role as this.
“I have worked out the plan for how to carry out this task, and I have even found a way to increase the amount of information collected so as to be more proactive in our protection of the Upper City. But there is one area that has given me no small amount of trouble. As we have learned now from Valarken, even the patriars are susceptible to subterfuge and treachery. If my protection of the Upper City is to be truly comprehensive I must have a way of knowing any possible danger arising from within the nobility.”
Eliwyn blinks at him. Why is he telling her all of this?
“The challenge I have been facing is finding someone who can move freely within the circles of the patriars without much notice.” His bold, green eyes lock pointedly onto her. “I think I have found my answer.”
“M-me?” Eliwyn balks. “You want me to do this? Father…I couldn’t possibly. I’m no spy. I—“
Her father shakes his head. “I do not need a spy for this. A spy would not be nearly as effective as you. The patriars are too wary of strangers. It would take years for an outsider to gain their trust. But you, Eliwyn, you have their trust already. You have demonstrated today that the patriars are comfortable enough around you so as not to worry about their wagging tongues.” He motions down to his notes. “So? What say you, little bird? Will you help me?”
Eliwyn’s jaw hangs. She stammers and stutters, unable to form a coherent thought let alone utter sensical words.
“I…I don’t know,” she finally manages. “What would I have to do—“
“I ask only that you continue as you have been. Attend your functions. Listen when the patriars speak to you. When you are assisting your mother and you find yourself in the servant spaces—as I know you often do—keep an ear out.”
“You want me to spy on the servants, as well?” Eliwyn is almost beyond flabbergasted now.
“I told you, it is not spying. You would be a…an intelligencer. I do not wish for you to seek information, only to pay attention to what information is already made available around you.”
“It sounds like I would be a glorified eavesdropper,” Eliwyn says, her eyes narrowed at her father.
He gives a small chuckle. “Yes. Yes I suppose that is exactly what you would be.” He leans forward. “Think about it. I do not need a decision now. And should you decide not to do this, have no fear about how this affects our relationship. You will always be my little bird. Yes?”
Eliwyn nods slowly, then takes up her basket and departs back home.
Some days later, Eliwyn’s mother retires early to her room for her reverie. Eliwyn reads by the light of the fire and her father whittles away in his chair. The door upstairs latches closed. She and her father are alone.
Eliwyn sets down her book and slides over to her mother’s empty seat. “Father,” she says in a whisper. “I’ve been thinking about our conversation.”
Her father sets aside the chunk of wood with which he is working.
“I’d like to help, if I can. If anything I hear can be of use to you and keep people safe then I should like you know of it. But…,” she bites her lip. “But some of the patriars do take me into their special confidence. I would not want to betray them…”
“Nor would I ask such a thing. I wish only to know what is spoken freely and in the general company of others. If it could not be reasonably heard by someone else who cared to listen, then I do not wish you to tell me.”
Eliwyn sighs with relief. She has thought long and hard on this. Had her father come to her any other time and asked this of her she likely would have said no. But Valarken’s treachery has changed everything. She does not wish to see more innocent lives taken. If she can help prevent that, while still maintaining some sense of her own integrity, then she will.
“I understand. I shall keep both ears open from now on.”
Her father smiles. “Thank you, little bird,” he says, covering her hand briefly with his own. Then, he returns to his whittling.