The Druid Queen - Douglas Niles [8]
"You look like a farmer who just planted his beans in the wrong field," observed Miles wryly. "What'll it be?"
"Make it an ale," Keane said, feeling the truth of the halfling's words. Yet even in his disappointment, his mind had begun to move forward. His original mission remained: to find a cleric who could heal his king. If he couldn't gain the services of his original target, he would have to go about finding somebody else.
"On the house," replied Miles. "Sophtie tells me you're all right, though we wouldn't know that down here, as much as you've kept to yourself."
Sophtie, Keane knew, was the young barmaid who had kept him supplied with tea. He was suddenly glad that he had tipped her well for each trip up and down the flights of stairs.
"Your rooms are just too comfortable," Keane gibed, gratefully accepting a tall, foaming mug. "But tonight perhaps I can share the pleasure of your company."
Miles looked around. The rest of the bar was quiet, the few customers readily handled by two diminutive barmaids. "I'm yours until the dinner rush," noted the halfling, drawing himself a small glass and settling across the bar from Keane.
"Tell me," asked the mage, "what are the major temples in Baldur's Gate?"
Miles sipped at his ale, wiping the foam from his lip while he thought. "Well, there's two big shrines-temples, really-to Oghma and Helm. Right in the center of the Upper City, they are, across the square from each other. Lots of little shrines, too. Seems that just about every god this side of the Trackless Sea has a few followers in Baldur's Gate."
"Oghma and Helm, eh?" Keane knew of both gods-the former, patron of bards, lover of music and knowledge; the latter, hailed as an alert guardian and stern arbiter of justice.
Both of them valued the forces of virtue over evil, and thus a cleric of either faith might fulfill the minimum requirements of Keane's mission.
"Does either have a patriarch-a high priest or priestess?" he inquired.
Here Miles shook his head sympathetically. "None so mighty as Bakar Dalsoritan. Weren't you trying to get in touch with him?"
A tingle of alarm alerted Keane. "How did you know that?" he inquired, trying to keep his voice level.
If Miles thought anything was out of the ordinary, he didn't display it in his manner. "Everyone did," he said with a shrug. "Three nights ago, after you hired that fellow Gapsar to ride out to the shrine, he came in here to spend some of his advance payment. Didn't leave until the morning, you know. From what I understand, he visited half the taverns in the Lower City. Made no secret about your generosity, either. I'd think you'd be flattered."
"No… not really." Keane strained to keep his voice neutral as he silently cursed his own stupidity. He'd been obligated to pay the man an advance, but he could have offered it in the morning, before his departure! Instead, he had given it to him as they closed the deal, just after sunset. Apparently Gapsar had wasted no time in spreading the word of his good fortune.
"You tell me there's no high priest at either temple. Do you know of any of the smaller shrines that might have a cleric of note in attendance?"
Miles screwed up his plump face in thought, sipping long and deep from his glass in an apparent attempt to jog his memory. "Nope-but there's one thing, though."
"What?" asked Keane, trying not to snap in his desperation.
"I seem to recall there was an Exalted Inquisitor of Helm touring the temples on the Sword Coast, what with the new trade routes opening up-to Maztica and the like. Some of the clerks were arrested-failure to pay import duties to the church or something. I guess they needed a high-ranking churchman to conduct the trial."
"Yes, yes, of course. When was this 'Exalted Inquisitor' here?"
"Well, he might still be here-that's