ZHENTIL KEEP
Apart from encounters with an amorous half-orc, a few wheedling harlots, and assorted bootlickers and toadies in search of meal-tickets, no one bothers the adventurers during the party’s brief stay in Zhentil Keep. No pickpockets or muggers, no guards demanding bribes. But certain strangers do seem to be watching them rather too closely for comfort, before vanishing...
That night at the Barrowhill Inn the travelers sleep two to a room for safety and economy. Distant screams and less describable noises drift up from the streets below now and again during the night, but otherwise the long night passes without incident.
After settling with the innkeeper (they had to pay half up front) the adventurers are free to depart the city. And they all do, except Klokulf and his hanger-on
Alwina. The Lawgiver’s priest has elected to remain behind for
"further research." Phlan being less than eighty miles distant, he assures his companions he will join them soon.
Supplied with provisions bought in Thargate Market, the party crosses one of the two great bridges that connects the bluffs on either side of the deep, swirling mouth of the River Tesh.
Tonio hikes behind Sir Clive’s horse, looking less grim than yesterday, though hardly cheerful.
The heroes’ route leads them through narrow, crowded, noisy streets that run between high rows of stone buildings and then out a gate in the eastern wall and onto the hardpacked earthen road that leads to Phlan.
The Moonsea's blue expanse passes in and out of sight to the south, the right-side, as the trail runs past hills and curves further north or south in its easterly course.
Rain starts by highsun, but lasts only long enough to create small mud puddles and dampen the road-grit.
The travellers make excellent time the first day and camp that night out of sight of the walls of Zhentil Keep, in the lee of a big hill north of the road screened from the chill winds by a copse of scraggly pines.
Tonio seems to take some pleasure in caring for the donkeys and horses, whispering to the beasts and combing their hair with his fingers and feeding one, a piebald donkey that has taking a liking to him, bits of dried apples and hard bread.
As night falls, the winds drive away the clouds, uncovering the fat gold-silver half-moon and the array of twinkling lesser silvery lights that hang near it outshining the myriad stars.
Beyond the camp, wild dogs howl, hidden by darkness and distance.
END OF CHAPTER