Indeed, Catti-brie, under the name once more of Delly Curtie, had similar arrangements with a tavern in Bryn Shander, and with Stokely’s dwarves under the mountain, and lesser relationships with innkeepers in all of the towns.
“They look like a Luskar crew,” Catti-brie remarked.
“Ship Rethnor, say the whispers,” Darby agreed.
Catti-brie nodded. “So why are you calling for me? Are you expecting a fight and hoping to sell out some healing spells?”
A surprised Darby turned fast on her, to see her wide grin, and he let out a burst of hearty laughter.
“No, lassie,” he replied. “I thought you might like to know that they’ve been asking about a friend of yours.”
Catti-brie’s grin disappeared. “A friend?”
“The little halfling friend you’ve been looking for, and found, so say the whispers, in Lonelywood.”
Catti-brie stared at him incredulously, then realized that she shouldn’t be surprised her search for Regis would take her to Lonelywood. “They know of him?” she asked.hat playthings we be,” an knew wellim
Darby shrugged. “I didn’t tell them, surely, but the little one’s easy to point out, with his dress and manners, from what I been hearing. My guess is that they’ll find him soon enough. Might be friends of his.”
Catti-brie studied the group of ruffians and found that she could not come to that conclusion.
“Be aware, Regis,” came a voice out of nowhere, and the halfling, reclining on the bank of the lake, opened wide a sleepy eye. He almost jumped up, but the mention of his real name gave him pause, as did the tone of the whisper, and a strange familiarity with the voice itself.
“I am here, beside you,” came another whisper. “Four from Ship Rethnor are in the woods, seeking you.”
“Catti?” the halfling whispered back, suddenly catching on. Regis couldn’t draw breath, and couldn’t begin to sort out the words-for what did they even matter to him in that glorious moment! This was Catti-brie, he knew it! She had survived the years; their crazy plan to meet up on Kelvin’s Cairn-one that had seemed incredible to Regis now that he had actually managed to return to Icewind Dale-might actually come to pass.
But here she was, after twenty-one years, standing beside him … invisibly?
“I will tell you when they near,” she replied, bringing Regis back to the matter at hand. “Feign your nap and draw them in.”
Regis shifted just a bit, moving his hand near to the crossbow handle in front of his right hip, and better angling himself for a quick leap and turn. That thought had him glancing down nervously at his one bare foot, though, and at the fishing line tied around his toe.
He felt a hand on that foot, then, and nearly jumped in surprise, as his invisible friend carefully removed the line.
“They are at the tree line,” Catti-brie quietly informed him, “coming forward cautiously.”
“Good to ‘see’ you,” Regis quietly greeted, wearing a sarcastic smile, for of course, he could not see the woman at all.
Catti-brie began a soft chant, and Regis felt warmth flowing through him. He put a hand to his rapier hilt as she began a second spell, and now felt his grip intensify, as if she had loaned him the physical strength of her goddess.
She was magically preparing him for battle, he understood, covering him with wards and magical energy. He woret didn’t last.
“A bow!” Catti-brie cried suddenly.
Up leaped the halfling, spinning around and drawing his hand crossbow as he went. As the invisible woman had informed him, four attackers came at him, three men brandishing swords and a woman, standing back with her bow leveled his way.
He heard Catti-brie chanting the words of another spell; he lifted his hand to fire, but saw the arrow speeding his way. It hit something, some magical shield perhaps, and flashed and deflected, but not harmlessly, diving down and driving hard into Regis’s thigh. He yelped and fired wildly, and none of the three men charging at him slowed.
The wounded halfling stubbornly fought to hold his balance and drew his blades, grimacing through th a grin, but i
CHAPTER 28
The Year of the Tasked Weasel (1483 DR) Icewind Dale
"The facial hair is quite becoming,” Catti-Brie said to Regis as they sat in his small house by the lake.
Regis couldn’t contain his smile, beaming wide and framed by his neatly trimmed mustache and the small goatee. He could hardly believe that he was looking at her again, at his dear friend Catti-brie, his companion through his previous life and in the days of his “death.”
“But I look the same, yes?” he asked.
“Different decorations, but you are surely Regis, yes,” Catti-brie teased, tugging at his long locks.
“I recognized you as soon as I heard your voice,” he replied. “And seeing you now … it puts me right back to the slopes of Kelvin’s Cairn when we were both much younger.” As he spoke, he found that he was quite glad that they had come back to look like their previous incarnations. How strange it would have been to see Catti-brie in the body of another woman. But no, this was her, with her auburn hair, long and thick, and those unmistakable blue eyes.
She paced before him to put another log on the fire. “Winter fast approaches,” she remarked.
“The gown,” Regis said{font-size: 0.75rem;Iesbla no less suddenly, and Catti-brie turned to regard him curiously.
“The gown you wear,” he explained. “Isn’t that the same one you wore in Iruladoon? How could that …?”
“Similar,” she admitted, twirling around and showing off the layered white dress. “I commissioned it from a dressmaker in Shade Enclave with that one from the forest in mind.”
“Shade Enclave?” Regis asked. “The heart of the Empire of Netheril?”
Catti-brie nodded.
“It would seem that we both have tales to tell!” Regis said with a laugh.
Catti-brie smiled in reply and gave a little twirl, holding the gown out wide at one hip. “When we were in Iruladoon, I was dressed by the goddess, was I not?”
“It is reasonable,” Regis agreed, “and beautiful.”
“Ever charming,” Catti-brie replied, and she did blush a bit, Regis noted. “You have done well, it would seem. The gems of your rapier, the design of your hand crossbow, the hat you wear-there is a tale to tell for each, I expect.”
“Winter descends. I will have time to tell you many stories, and listen to yours, of course. And yes, my life was … exciting.” And will be again, he thought, but did not say.
“Your dagger, though,” Catti-brie said haltingly. She had witnessed its dark magic, after all.
“It is an item, a tool and nothing more,” Regis assured her.
Catti-brie looked at him doubtfully, warily.
“It is not Khazid’hea,” he assured her. “It has no sentience. It is a tool.”
“A gruesome one, it would seem.”
“And my fine rapier pokes holes in hearts, and your spells burn the flesh from enemies.”
The woman smiled and seemed satisfied with that. Regis could understand her hesitance, of course, for he still hadn’t quite dismissed his own consternations regarding the dagger. Every time he used the garroting snakes and saw that cruel, undead specter, he found himself keenly reminded of the dirtiness of his actions, necessary or not.
He thought of the lich Ebonsoul then, and wondered if he should tell Catti-brie that perhaps he was being pursued by a powerful enemy, but he quickly dismissed the notion. It had been years since his departure from Delthuntle, and while it was possible that Ebonsoul continued to search for him, it seemed unlikely that the lich would ever actually find him. The trail was long dead, or so he hoped.