"If you've made an enemy of the Black Lord, then you've made an ally of all of Tantras. My name's Faulkner," the middle-aged man told them happily.
As he stepped onto the dock, Kelemvor turned to Faulkner and asked, "What causes that odd light in the sky at night around here? We could see it from our ship when we were just halfway across the Dragon Reach!"
"Night?" Faulkner asked and snorted. "Night doesn't come to Tantras anymore. Not since the time of Arrival, when Lord Torm, the God of Loyalty, revealed himself to us."
"No night? It must be confusing," Kelemvor muttered.
"Tantras is the city of eternal light," Faulkner added and shrugged. "Our god sets the hours of the day for us; he puts loyalty in our hearts and reason in our heads. There is nothing confusing about it."
Midnight realized that Adon was trembling slightly. Whether it was fear or rage that had been locked within the scarred young man, his emotions had been stirred by Faulkner's words. Then the cleric turned and walked from the delegation in silence.
"You must excuse Adon," Midnight told them desperately, her fear of insulting the soldiers evident in her voice. One of the other members of the delegation stepped forward.
"There's no need to worry," a young soldier named Sian said. He was a younger man, with thin black eyebrows and curly, black hair. "It's rather obvious your friend was a cleric. How long has it been since he lost the way?"
As they slowly followed Adon's path along the dock, Midnight explained how Adon had been scarred at the hands of the Gond worshipers in Tilverton, how he had lost his faith in himself and the Goddess of Beauty, whom he had worshiped most of his young life.
Sian nodded. "Many have lost their faith now that the gods walk in Faerun instead of the Planes. Perhaps your friend will find the peace he so requires in our fair city."
Midnight felt Elminster's sphere of detection resting against her back, through her backpack. "I'm afraid we won't have much time for rest," the mage said in a low voice as she turned and walked with Kelemvor and the delegation to the main buildings of the Port of Tantras. Adon was waiting with the watchmen when they got there.
In the next few hours, the heroes purchased fresh clothing and were given a brief description of the city's layout. Tantras, like most cities, was protected by a wall. In this case, the wall encompassed the vast port city, stretching in a winding path to the rocky shore. A series of towers lined the northern ridge, where the Citadel of Tantras was located. The Temple of Torm — the focus of the city ever since the god himself arrived there — was located in the northern section of town, and most of the streets that led to it were on a sharp incline. A huge bell tower lay at the southern end of the city, with a military complex close by, making the area off limits to civilians. There were several abandoned temples in the area, and a shrine to Mystra in the far south, near the bell tower.
"Other than these landmarks, Tantras is quite unremarkable," Sian concluded.
"Not completely unremarkable," Adon noted, his voice completely flat. "It looks as if you're preparing for war."
Sian narrowed his eyes and stared at the cleric for a moment. "You've just come from Scardale, haven't you? We've had several reports that confirm your description of the city's condition. If Zhentil Keep and Lord Bane are trying to annex new territories and expand their evil empire, what makes you think they'll settle for controlling only half of the Dragon Reach?"
"It was just an observation," Adon replied coldly. "Besides, I would have expected Torm to protect you."
"The city wasn't built with the idea of a resident deity," Sian said. "Torm's arrival is fairly recent. The presence of our god should be a deterrent to any enemy, but the people are prepared to fight for themselves anyway."
"I notice a number of refugee camps in the area," Midnight noted, changing the subject as quickly as she could.
"The chaos in the Realms has driven some of our neighbors to seek the protection of our city," Sian replied. "Others have fled south to Ravens Bluff or north to Calaunt. Hlintar has been practically deserted since an unnatural windstorm tore through the town and unearthed the graves of a few thousand of the town's former residents. The skeletons came to life, and now the dead rule the city."
Ten minutes later, the heroes were alone on an avenue that paralleled the harbor then stretched off toward the business district to the south. A wandering band of mimes and showmen passed the heroes and performed snippets of a half dozen different stories that ranged from bawdy, ribald comedy, to dark tragedy. The heroes tried to ignore the performers, but they had to part with a few gold pieces before the artists left them alone.
Merchants also lined the street, hawking their wares at the tops of their lungs. From the looks of many of the tradesmen, the chaos in the Realms was affecting business for the worst. Kelemvor simply browsed, though, and Midnight found a new braid for her hair. Adon wandered to an outdoor eatery.
The cleric was sampling an odd-looking combination of bread, filleted meat, and a tangy red sauce topped with ground black peppers. "Delicious," the cleric told the vender, then passed the wooden bowl on to Kelemvor, who also sampled the food.
"There's an inn ten blocks from here that posted a vacancy sign this morning," the vender told the heroes. "You should get there before all the rooms are taken."
The cleric paid for the food and thanked the vender for the information. Then the heroes went in search of the inn. After becoming lost three times in the winding city streets and receiving directions that only led them deeper into the twisted city center, the heroes found the Lazy Moon Inn. As they entered, a young man wearing a red frock with gold trim appeared before the heroes.
"How long will you be staying?" the boy asked, his voice cold and efficient.
"We don't know yet, but this should cover everything," Kelemvor said gruffly and slapped a few coins into the boy's hand. "We'll take two rooms," the fighter added. "At least until the end of the week."
The inn was of a simplistic design, with a large taproom, kitchen, and storeroom on the ground floor, and guest rooms on the upper two floors. A shield bearing the symbol of Torm lay on its side in the corner, next to the boy.
The young man insisted on carrying the heroes' travel bags, although he was clearly struggling to keep his balance as he led Kelemvor, Midnight, and Adon up a wooden, spiral stairway that led to the third floor of the inn. After dismissing the boy and checking over their rooms, the heroes met in the taproom. It was well before eveningfeast, so few other people were present.
"Here we are," Kelemvor said. "Tantras." A deep breath escaped the fighter. "Midnight, how will we recognize this tablet of yours? Better still, what are we going to do with it once we find it?"
"If we find it," Adon said darkly, drumming his fingers nervously on the greasy, unwashed table.
"We will find it," Midnight noted firmly, turning to look at the cleric. "The sphere of detection Lhaeo gave us will shatter when it's near an object of great magical power, such as the missing Tablets of Fate." The mage paused and turned to Kelemvor. "As to their appearance, Mystra's final message to me at Castle Kilgrave contained an image of the tablets. They are made of clay and stand less than two feet high. Fiery blue-white runes line their surfaces. They radiate powerful magic."
"But magic is unreliable," Kelemvor grumbled, waving for the barmaid to bring him an ale. "Who's to say this sphere of yours is even going to work? And where will we look? We can't cover every square inch of this city on our own. It's far too large." The green-eyed fighter scowled and looked away from his friends. "Besides, we have to assume that Bane will send agents to find us. His people might even move the tablet before we can find it."