Chains of Destiny 2:10 To begin the pilgrimage.

Curiosity over the strangely written scroll had burned its way into my heart.  I pored over it, thinking on the precepts that it put forth, and trying to understand the concept that all souls may be equal.

I had questions.
So many questions.

Just having them was new to me.  I had never considered belief too closely, since no one had ever before required me to do so.  The existence of Shar went without saying- and I found that I truly thought she would exist whether I or anyone else actively worshiped her or not- but the reality of any other god at all, much less a being who wielded power over death, fate and winter specifically, had simply never occurred to me.  Each day I tried to read more about the Raven Queen, and each night I heard the shimmering sound of the chains, pouring like water in some distant place.

"It was written in an obscure form of High Elven, I'm told," Aric answered, looking into his burning hearth.  "I guarded it, as other Shepherds had before me, unable to understand it, but a few Eladrin sisters and brothers at last pried it from my fingers long enough to render this translation.  It turns out that the dialect was wholly unfamiliar to all of them, which is extremely unusual.  While there are many dialects of their tongue, there are none so obscure that other Eladrin and Elves cannot completely understand it.  Or, at least there had not been, before."

"What would an Eladrin be doing in the Shadowfell at all?" I asked, kneeling before his desk with my eyes steadfastly gazing upon his back.  Once I'd finally learned that everyone here preferred me to look at them, I got about the business of training myself to do it.

"The Shadowfell, which you may still call the Plane of Shadow, is vast, my daughter," Aric sighed, turning slightly to look over his shoulder at me.  "It is an echo of this plane- a much bleaker one than the Feywild.  The Eladrin are known for their deep study of other cultures- it is no doubt that when the Plane expanded, they were among the first non-Netherese to dive right in, as it were.  Also, the Spellplague had terrible, time and space-warping ramifications, beyond that which we know, or probably can even conceive.  Whole villages, towns, nations were sucked into Shar's new domain as a result of magic gone terribly wrong.  And at last, there were some who lived around the Death Gates that had always been on the Plane of Shadow, and were even there to meet Shar, when she arrived.  We may never know their story, for as I hear it, they find it useless to speak to we who live on this plane."

"That's terrible," I mused, more to myself than to Aric.

"Why?" Aric said, instantly pouncing on my thought.  "We pass through the Gates so unwillingly; flailing, screaming, fighting our fate.  We are unreasonable."

"But surely some of us would listen, if they would speak," I replied.

"But why should they entertain such inferior creatures?" Aric prodded again, turning all the way around and crossing his arms, allowing more of his natural voice to fill the room.  It sounded like the clap of judgement, and sent a thrill of apprehension through me.

"Not all of us are made inferior,"  I insisted, reaching out my own arms.

"You beg me on someone else's behalf, I sense it.  Why do you plead for every soul but your own, daughter?"  Aric walked around his desk and reached out his hand to me.  "Come, let us walk from this place.  For many, the catacombs are just the place to meditate, away from the crash of daily hustle and bustle.  But perhaps you have been underground and in the dark long enough."

I took his hand gingerly and stood, bowing slightly when he moved my hand forward to indicate that he wished me to exit his study first.  We walked together through the halls and up the ascending path out of the place, and had quite nearly walked past Quilafae's post in silence until the shimmering sound of the chains caught my attention.  I stopped immediately and turned back over my shoulder, looking for the source of the sound.

"Yes, daughter?" Aric asked, seeming somewhat startled by my sudden movement.

"Did you hear something?" I asked meekly, not wanting to bother him any further.

"I have not heard anything out of the ordinary," Aric replied.  "But that does not mean that there is nothing to hear.  What caught your attention?"

"I- heard metal," I admitted very quietly.  "I have heard it here before."

Aric turned to walk back down the hall toward me.  "What type of metal?  Perhaps I have at last grown used to the warriors' sword games."

"No, no sword made the sound,"  I breathed, now very embarrassed.  "It was- more like chains.  I've heard them in the night, as well."

"Well, before I ask Svaentok a few unreasonable questions, let us try the most logical place to have heard chains," Aric stated, passing me and turning down a corridor whose path was unlit.   "We do have among us one fighter who tends to work at hours that we do not prefer.  He separates himself from us, but we do our best to accept his presence where we can."

The path downward was untouched by burial spaces, but seemed well kept.  Aric opened his hand and allowed a light cantrip to guide us, and it served to illuminate the various carvings on the walls.  I was particularly captivated by one isolated scene in which an apparently young woman knelt alone, covering her face, either merely haunted or tortured by spirits whose jaws opened wide- perhaps to devour her, or to scream.

"He was once a more prolific artist, and had carved the story of the Raven Queen into the walls here, for those who cannot read," Aric offered after I slowed down to look more closely at a few other scenes.  "I admit, I had not thought of such a problem.  I have never met any grown adult who could not at least make out their name and the laws posted on the tavern doors."

I said nothing, thinking of Mi'ishaen's inability to read any of the languages that came so easily to Bahlzair and I.

At the end of the pitch black corridor stood a cavern with four candles at the entrance.  Aric stepped into the cavern first, then opened his hand to invite me inside.  And there, sitting in a chair on the other side of the cavern, sat a pale-skinned, gaunt featured male.  He was blindfolded, and was sitting with his head bowed and his hands calmly resting on his thighs, until we came in.  He then slouched in his chair and crossed his arms like a defiant ruffian.

"And what brings the hare into the wolf's den today, eh, Aric?  Come to say a prayer, or to get away from your suckling children?"  With a sniff, however, the male sat up and smiled.  "No, you've brought one of them with you.  Female.  Chilled- very nice."

"This is Vhalan," Aric smirked, apparently taking the male's words as a joke.  "I am with you; please try not to fear him."

"No, indeed, let fear overtake your heart," Vhalan growled in an inhuman tone.  "I'd quite like to smell it- been so long since I've had visitors."

Aric stood back with a small nod, so I moved forward slowly.  As I did, I noticed a neatly coiled spiked chain about a yard away from the chair in which Vhalan sat.  I looked back toward Aric, unwilling to form the question myself.

"Were you fighting, or practicing recently?" Aric asked calmly.

Vhalan stood up, proving to be a head taller than I was.  His movement startled me and stopped me in my tracks.  "Closer," he beckoned.  "I won't bite- yet."

Again Aric allowed more of his natural tone of voice to shine through the reediness, lending a palpable weight to his words.  "Vhalan, she is not one of us.  Control yourself, and answer the question."

"It's not me that brought her in here, Aric," Vhalan hissed.   I got a glimpse of his fangs and caught my breath, much to his delight.  He continued moving slowly forward, as though he would take me in his arms like a lover.  "Ah, there it is- from you, it is not- pungent.  It's- lighter, sweeter.  Alluring. Your cowardice is- attractive- it begs for someone to take care of you- or perhaps just take you-"

"Vhalan!" Aric demanded, his voice reverberating and filling the cavern.  Although he wasn't speaking to me, I felt the almost irresistible urge to kneel.

"I was not; I have not moved that weapon in at least a fortnight," Vhalan answered at last, backing away from me and sitting down heavily.  "Your Queen sends her familiar after me, to flap its wings in my face and claw me when I try.  I have neither practiced nor hunted in that time, but you press my patience- we had an agreement.  Delay much longer, and your acolytes will belong to me."

"You are not a common, wicked thing, Vhalan.  There's little reason for either of our ravens to get upset with you other than divine direction," Aric reasoned.  "And in the meanwhile, you can avail yourself here."

"What can be wicked about honouring a contract?  We had an understanding, and it is being stretched to its limit," Vhalan insisted. "You are old, Aric, and I have fasted too many nights-"

"My lord only wishes to save his acolytes, of course," I interjected, nearing Vhalan's chair.  "If they may be spared, I will follow you."

"How interesting," Vhalan smiled, his fangs now clearly seen.  "Come, lamb, let me behold you."

"No, child," Aric commanded, the full force of his voice staying my feet like an anchor.  "I appreciate, and indeed applaud, your desire to help, but you will find yourself held to a contract that you know little about.  Vhalan has suffered much, and is not always himself, but fear not; I do not shirk my duty to anyone in this place.  I ask you please to turn away from him now."

"Go, then.  But you will return," Vhalan purred, crossing his arms and leaning back.  "You must.  It's in your nature to obey, and while Aric may ask you politely, I gave you a command."

And although the chain clearly sat still, I heard again the sound of it moving.  Confused and more than a little frightened, I turned and hurried back to Aric, who took me under one arm and began walking back toward the surface.

"You've begun to change," he counseled as we walked.  "Part of this journey you had already started before you came here, but hopefully you will be able to take a few more tentative steps with us.  You ask me of the Raven Queen's pilgrimage across the Shadowfell- how no one of your ancient leaders saw it.  I tell you this: even now, you are also on a pilgrimage.  You are travelling between the docile slave that you were and the wise young woman that you will be.  Very few will see this path.  Few will appreciate how difficult it may be.  But go forward, like the Queen."

When we came to the entrance, Aric released me and folded his arms into the sleeves of his robe.  "Your concern for others is, I sense, more natural to you than you may believe.  You hold within you a unique ability to desire the best for every creature, be they evil or good.  I ask you this: go.  Ponder the Queen's first few moments away from Nerull- when she had received his power, but not yet the full understanding of herself, or of freedom.  Open your spirit; question all things.  Yet, if you will do nothing, let your stillness be your own choice."

I curtsied deeply, allowing my knees to almost sink to the ground in deference.  I was in such awe of Aric, and his calm wisdom, that I thought I would burst with it.  But he only leaned forward to kiss the top of my head, like a father, and turned back into the path to the catacombs.  For a few minutes, I was not sure where to go.  The sun was high and brilliant, chasing almost every shadow into hiding.

I sat down, pulled out the scroll and began reading the passage that concerned the Raven Queen leaving Carceri for the first time since she had been promised to Nerull.  Previously, she had been a mortal sorceress so strong that she took within herself the spirit energy of all the tortured souls who wished to be free of Nerull's horrible experiments and tortures, and then used that energy to destroy the god himself.  But the moment she destroyed Nerull, according to the scroll, she died and was reborn in his power, prompting the other gods to blot her natural name from memory, exile her from their territories, and revoke her power over deceased souls.  For a few unspeakably awful years, the evolving demi-goddess remained, alone, in the territory of her former master, surrounded by terrified spirits that she could no longer control as they were whisked this way and that by other deities.

I found myself wondering why the other gods barred her from the souls she worked desperately to spare, when they did not lift a finger to throw down the oppressor whose actions had provoked her to kill him.  Could the gods who others agreed were "good" be truly good, if they allowed Nerull to go on mistreating the spirits in his dominion the way he did?  Could not the evil gods, whom one would expect to turn a blind eye to such cruelty, be called good for preventing the Raven Queen from sliding into Nerull's path by stripping the potentially tempting opportunity away from her?

But it seemed that the Raven Queen accepted the commands of the older immortals with calm dignity, if not joy.  She gained control over fate when she helped Corellon Larethian to tear it away from Lolth.  The Queen also demanded charge of one of the most soundly cursed seasons in anyone's calendar- winter- after she worked harder than any immortal to put down another goddess who had tried to rule over the natural world by freezing it.  Perhaps it was because she had taken on these powers, these cast-off charges that no other deity would tolerate, that even Shar herself turned her back and allowed this nameless goddess to make a home for herself in the plane that was originally created solely to kill a rival.  While Shar wasn't particularly cherished as a "good" goddess, she was the only one apparently content to share her plane with the outcast Queen.  True cruelty, it seemed to me, rested squarely in the hands of those gods who called themselves good while either ignoring or causing the suffering of others- even those who had helped and served them.

Noonday wore into twilight before I could tear my eyes away from the scroll, but when I did, I found a dry notch in the leaf-less tree from which Bahlzair had once thrown a stone at me.  Tearing a patch from my dress and wrapping the scroll in it, I left it safely hidden.  Beyond me, I could hear the distant cries of the birds and the crashing of waves- drawn somehow to the sound of the water, I walked toward it.  The simplicity of following the sound to the open coast was delightful- the dirt beneath my feet became more like clay after some time, then at last resorted to being warm sand.  The air hung heavy with a saltwater scent, and while there were a few boats that indicated that fishermen ought to be working somewhere nearby, there was not a body to be seen.  The water met the sand, and their love affair stretched on into an unmarred eternity, bringing an unexplained peace to me as the water pulled back, then returned in low, relatively consistent waves.  I walked right up, feeling the damp, thick sand and the water rushing over my feet.  Deciding that it would do me good to feel the rushing water all over me, I pulled the green make-shift frock off, balled it up and threw it as far away from the water as I could.  I sat for a few moments, watching the rising moon kiss my shoulders and my bare chest, then got up again and walked until the water was just high enough to touch the bottom of my breasts.  I ducked down a few times, getting all my hair wet and trying to rinse any grime out of it.  Unhurried by anyone who needed to go anywhere or do anything, I found I could spend as long as I wanted- and I wound up diving and playing in the water like a little girl.  Truly this is freedom, I thought.

I swam around and tested the tide for some time before my water-clogged ears caught the sound of a clutch of angry people.  I pulled my hair back and shook some of the water out of my ears, turning to catch sight of five males and a large sack that was moving and jerking frantically.  I could sense that the males were intending to kill whatever was in the sack, and also that the creature in the sack was absolutely pure of intention, like a small child or animal.

I thought briefly of my sisters, who had been separated and violated, one after the other, while my mother and her friend were forced to tearfully watch, unable to get away from the attackers' minions.

I ran right out of the water and over to the males, who stopped fighting the creature in the sack for a few moments to look at me.  It seemed they were all either Human or mostly so.

"By the gods, a Netherese witch," one of them breathed stupidly, backing away from me as though I had been inflicted with an obvious and grotesque disease.  I remembered, at that moment, that I hadn't stopped to find my dress.  Humans all seemed much more particular about their nakedness than most other cultures.

"Not at all," I counseled, finding that my voice would only come very quietly.  "I did not swear loyalty to Shade.  What is it, in this sack here?"

"You ought to know, witch," another male replied, his face bent into an ugly snarl.  " 'Tis such as you keep 'em around.  What've you, come to claim him?"

"I own nothing, my lord," I soothed.  "Is it a child?"

The male spat at me furiously.  "I'm not such as you, that would give a child over to the sea!  No!  'Tis a familiar, you hag, and when we're through pushing off this acursed beast, we'll take hold of you and have done with another!"  The other males shouted their agreement with this as they began to fight to hoist the animal above their shoulders again.

"I tell you the truth: this creature is honest, and pure," I argued.  "What has it done, that it deserves to die?"

"Sure!" the first Human guffawed.  "The Netherese tells us what's honest, yeah?  What's pure, yeah?  There's not a honest bone in your body, you siren-hag.  Where did this thing come from, but out of a witch's house?  They've got a society, they do, a clutch.  They defend each other's familiars, that's what."

They all pushed past me, two of them dragging the sack behind them toward the water.  Knocked to the ground, I quickly rolled over, bit my lips and hit the sand with my fists to push myself to my feet.

Surprisingly, all four males stumbled instantly, their voices drying up in their throats as though they had turned to stone.  The sack was also miraculously still, and I, concerned, got to my feet and wrested the thing open.  Inside lay a dog, looking back at me with large, confused eyes.

"Come on, little brother, let's go," I whispered.  "Let's get out of here before-"

The dog cut me off by leaping out of the sack and knocking me over again.  At first, he seemed unsteady, but as the men began rubbing their heads and commenting on a deafening roar that I hadn't heard, the dog ran off a few paces, ducked down into a menacing pose and began growling.  I rolled out from between the males and got to my feet, intending to simply run back toward my dress, which was tumbling toward the water in the breeze.

"Catch the Netherese!" came the cry from behind me.  "Stone her!  Stone the witch!"  At that shout, a few people farther up the land toward the town took up whatever rocks they could find and began to throw them at me.  I shrieked, trying to turn my back to them, and the males who had been running after me were able to catch up with me.  The stoning stopped, presumably because people realized that they probably would not hit just me if they continued, so I stood up and prepared to defend myself.  None of them seemed to have weapons, so I hoped to simply confuse them and send them away.  While it wasn't difficult to dodge their lumbering attacks, it became dangerous when they were joined by a two more males who had brought boning and skinning knives.  One of them had caught me in a jump and forced me to the ground when a flash of fur shot over my head.  I sat up on my elbows and saw that the dog had returned, and had gotten a killing lock on the Human male who'd been ready to slit my throat.  The other males stopped surrounding me and began to run after the dog, but one of them was caught by what at first seemed like a silver snake.  So fast did this creature move that it took me some time to realize that it was not an animal itself, but was a gleaming spiked chain, commanded by a surprisingly lithe, white-skinned male.

Vhalan.

Just the thought of those fangs shot me to my feet, but it was already too late.  The dog sat close to the water line, atop a torn shirt, watching Vhalan try to keep two of the men still with his chain.  He barked, drawing Vhalan's eventual attention, which then turned to me.  Vhalan smiled grimly to show his fangs, and I noticed that his cheeks did not seem as hollow as they had when I'd first seen him.

"Funny, isn't it?" he said quietly, his breath coming in pants.  "Save the dog from them.  Spare their lives when they attack you.  Only to have to save them from me.  That's what you're coming to do, isn't it, with all your beautiful flesh exposed for the world to see.  That dress?  I threw it in the water as soon as I saw it, just for this.  I should let them go and feed from you- drain you until you are mine."

I said nothing, but knelt down in the sand and lowered my eyes.  The dog got up and trotted over to me, and I realized at last that he was much larger than I'd thought.  Wide red tattoos swirled from his flanks up to the center of his back, where they formed a complicated knotwork pattern.  He pushed his foul-smelling face into mine, sniffing at me and nuzzling under me.

"And now the slave is an owner," Vhalan sighed with a note of wistfulness.  After he'd gotten up and dusted some sand off his clothing, he laid a few good kicks into the one man who was conscious.  "Get up, run.  Don't even think about that knife, leave your friend to me, and don't breathe a word about the girl or the hound.  They're mine, and you attacked them; call the guard, and I'll see you in court."  The fortunate escapee got to his feet dizzily and moved off with a confused shuffle, not seeming to have full control of his body yet.  The dog- or hound, I supposed- turned to notice them for a few seconds, then sat down and leaned on my lap.

"Thank you, little brother," I whispered to him.  "Those men would have-"

"Done nothing more to you than I'm capable of," Vhalan laughed.  "Make no mistake about it, I'll have you, in every way you can think of- and probably some ways you can't."  He strode over and traced my right shoulder with one pale finger.  "You move well.  I stood for some time before I felt I ought to chase the little snots off my quarry.  And, to your animal's credit, it was damned difficult to hold him back."

"He doesn't belong to me," I began tenuously.

"Oh no?" Vhalan retorted, sitting down in the sand next to me and watching the hound whine for my full attention.  "I think he has a different idea of the situation.  What's his name?"

As though he'd understood, the hound turned and put as much of his upper body on my lap as would fit, pushing his face up into mine for either a nuzzle or a kiss.  I put my forehead against his, trying to acclimatize myself to his horrible breath.

"I can't give you a naming tattoo, but it looks like someone has already marked you for battle or war," I murmured to him.  He panted and squirmed, whining slightly.  "But, if you want to stay with me, I'll call you Niku- first born."

"Why?"  Vhalan asked, reaching over to scratch Niku behind the ears.  "Shouldn't you save such a name for your actual children?"

"My lord will forgive me if I tell him that my reasons are my own, will he not?" I asked, scrunching up slightly and turning my head so that Niku's head was between myself and Vhalan.

"So he will," Vhalan replied with a note of admiration.  "And it is amazing how you give off a scent of cowardice while committing what is, for you, an act of bravery.  One day, my little morsel, one day soon, I will introduce you to true fear.  That which you've known before, under the hands of such as Svaentok- it will pale in comparison."  He got up to return to his one remaining host, but I caught the edge of his battered cloak.

"Why is it that when the chain moves in your hands, I do not hear it?" I asked, looking up into his faded red-brown eyes.

"First of all," he sighed, turning sharply away from me, "know better than to meet my gaze. Your pure faith in me is- tempting.  I always enjoyed simple, forgiving, loving women, even when I was alive.  Made it unduly difficult to be a cleric.  Too many faithful, open-hearted women- so genuine, so defenceless, so easily enthralled-"

" 'Was alive?' " I asked stupidly, completely confused.

"Your understanding of what I am is incomplete," Vhalan laughed gently.  "Fear without understanding is foolishness.  I know leaving is the hardest part, but you ought to let me go.  Unless you intend to attempt to deny me a meal, in which case I will require you to replace it."

I let go, dropped my gaze and put my hands in my lap, leaving Niku to nuzzle against me in an attempt to regain my attention.

"In all things, my master seems reasonable.  He has a weapon, and is covered.  Yet, if he thinks it fair to fight me, unarmed and naked, then I am for him."

Vhalan glanced back at me quickly, then walked away.  "Allow me to educate you concerning what precisely you are challenging, sweet lamb."  He sat down and pulled the Human who was entangled and partially impaled on his spiked chain toward him.  The male, now somewhat conscious, began to panic and struggle, but to no avail.  Vhalan wrapped his hand in the male's hair, pulled his head to one side, bared his fangs and sunk them directly into the side of his host's neck.

2.9 A loyalty to the disloyal.

"Turn to the right."

I faced the stone wall, looking up at the green tapestries that surrounded me in the attempt to feel less awkward in front of the magic worker who was staring at my naked body.

"Hmm- minor bruising, three small cuts on upper thigh, various scrape marks on lower legs and buttocks...I keep harping about those bushes... now the left."

I'd been in plenty of unpleasant situations, but this was the first time that I'd been this closely inspected by a healer.  This Urmlaspyr was an extremely strange place.

"Ye gods- hold out that hand, girl."

There was a tingling sensation, as though I'd stuck my crushed fingers into comfortably warm water.  I turned to look down at my hand, and received a sharp reprimand.

"Do you mind?  Stand straight!"  A couple of hmms and ahs later, I heard, "Face front and look straight up to the ceiling.  Were you lustfully touched by anyone during your stay?"

"What?" I spat, snapping my head down at once.

"Ceiling!" the mage screeched furiously.  "Just answer the question, and you'll be off."

"No, no one- touched me- lustfully," I managed, watching a spectral hand hover over me and feeling it rustle through my hair.  After a few seconds of that, it seemed to feel my skull.  "What're you checking for?"

"Young boy- orphan.  Maybe five.  Stole- what?- an apple?  Didn't see any damage.  He lived a day outside the walls, then dropped.  They brought him back to me.  Turned his head- pop.  Blood.  Everywhere.  Ran through my study.  Got on my robes.  Blasted apple."

Based on the clipped delivery and the tone, her robe hadn't been the only thing stained by that boy's blood.  I nodded slightly, making sure not to take my gaze from the ceiling, and didn't ask any more questions.

"Done," she said a few moments later, throwing a soft white peasant dress at me.  "Move along."

"Thank you," I replied, looking into the older woman's tired, wrinkled brown eyes.

"Hm?  Well- yes," she grunted.  "Don't come back."

After I'd gotten the dress on- thinking Silveredge would be happy to see it- I was escorted  down the narrow hall by two guards- one in front and one behind- and came to a young Eladrin male who was dressed simply, sitting at a desk with an open ledger.

"Fireblade- Mishka- Voyonov?" the Eladrin asked with a mocking tone, standing up and coming around the table to have a look at me.

"I'll take it," I replied with a shrug.

"And your patronymic?" he prodded, staring directly into my eyes.

I didn't like the flouncy elf getting so close to me, but I found when I tried to back up, there was a guard directly behind me.  "Patronymic?"

"Enough," the Eladrin nodded, turning away from me.  "Mi'ishaen Lucien-Azaroth.  That Dragonborn that saved your hide from public torture and the gallows is referring to you as though you're married to him.  You know anything about that?"

"You don't have all the answers, Daintyskirt?" I sneered, crossing my arms.  "Assume the worst."

"I am a highly trained divination wizard, Miss Lucien-Azaroth," the Eladrin replied calmly.  "I do not have to assume.  I know."  He scribbled for a few moments in his ledger, then turned it to face me and handed me his quill.  "Please sign."

"Where?" I asked, annoyed.

A wry smirk etched across his sallow face, which made me instantly loathe him.  "Here- don't worry; an X will do.  I'll write your name for you."

I flipped the quill over so that the tip would hit the paper, then pulled it across the entire line.  Behind me, the guard sighed his impatience.  "What?  Was that not what it was supposed to do?" I said with a thin smile.  "I'm afraid I don't write very often."

"I still know who you are," the Eladrin said smugly, crossing his slender arms.

"And I know who you are too- an arrogant birth-rag," I replied.  "Go on, write my name there."

"Do you want to go back in for disrespecting the court mages?" the guard behind me grumbled.  "Voyonov basically sold his sword arm to get you off the gallows, you know."

I shut up.
I did know.

When I finally did emerge from the stone walls, pushed out into brilliant, noon-day sunlight that forced my eyes to squint, I heard Aleksei talking to a guard with a horned helmet at the outer gate.

"Nyet, it is completely gone.  The healer who is working on me, he is saying that there is nothing he can do for me.  So he is scooping what is left out of my head, and sealing it shut; it is shut many years.  I am maybe living with it so long that I am not even thinking it is problem until someone is staring at me for long time."

He had been given pieces of chain mail armor that had been fitted to and around his shendyt, probably allowing for him to move easily while protecting what little of his body was indeed covered with leather-like skin instead of scuffed, hardened scale.  His own sword- or the sword that he'd claimed from the Dragonborn camp- had been sharpened and tempered so dramatically that I could tell even from a distance.  What had once been more of a crushing threat had morphed into a dangerous piercing and slicing one.  The leather-wrapped hilt had been replaced with a stronger metal one, but the glistening, black talon still remained.

"We need to talk," I charged, marching up to him right away.

"What, angry?" Aleksei relented, bowing his head to the soldier, who began shuffling off.

"You bet I'm angry!" I retorted as I stormed out of the courtyard.  "What do you think you were doing?  I could have gotten out of there- you belong to these idiots now."

"It is no strange place," Aleksei shrugged simply, turning calmly down an alleyway- probably to keep my rant out of the easy sight range of a patrolling guard.  "I am in army almost all of my life.  And you are not killer.  They are hurting you for no reason."

"So you JOIN the people who hurt people for no reason?  You don't say anything against them, you bend your back and let them stand on top of you to get what they want?!"

"It will not be easy thing, finding Bahlzair.  I am doing this three times before- you are seeing the third time, remember?"

A tricky shadow shifted on the side of a cottage wall- just enough to catch my eye.  It wavered, then disappeared, and I pushed it out of my mind.

"You didn't bring him back, Aleksei.  You brought back a half-done army that rained flaming arrows from the sky.  They put us on a smuggler's boat just so that we could get out of their sight- it didn't go well, in case you're missing my point," I huffed.  "We get here, here's the Drow, sitting on the dock, and we get attacked.  I'm not even convinced that Bahlzair actually cared who won."

"He does not," Aleksei said calmly, turning the corner to return to the inn.  "I know this."

Beyond him, on his blind side, I spotted that tricky shadow again.  Having a feeling in my bones, I let Aleksei walk one step beyond me as I moved behind him.  Sure enough, the shadow was a cutpurse, and made clean work of the small bag Aleksei had.  While I wasn't armored and couldn't risk a full on assault, I was in perfect position to simply grab the lithe thief's arm, twist it behind him and wretch the purse back out of his grasp.

"Go find an old lady to push, amateur," I snorted, watching the fleet footed creature tear away from me as though I'd been a guard myself.  "Aleksei, here.  Why would you keep that-"

"I am not bringing him back," Aleksei replied, having stopped and turned the eyeless side of his face toward me.  "Not once, though I am going out for this same Drow three times."  He reached out his hand- scarred on the inside, half green-scaled on the other side, with all the trust that he had once extended to a Tiefling child, sitting alone in the middle of the street.  "I am also not much fighting young thief, because I am older than her by an entire lifetime, and am seeing war face to face."

I wordlessly walked up to him, pressed the purse into his waiting hand and closed his fingers over it.  He turned fully toward me, laid his other hand over mine, and accepted it.  We turned and walked in silence all the way back to the tavern.  I found myself trying to figure out how Aleksei and Bahlzair must have related to each other- and how they could have communicated.  As far as I knew, Aleksei was as well-read as I was, so Common script appearing on the floor and the walls wouldn't have solved the Drow's inability to communicate verbally.

"You are silent now.  Are you seeing the Shadow Child anywhere?" Aleksei asked as we entered the tavern.  The Dwarf behind the bar fixed a penetrating stare on the Dragonborn, who was about as perceptive of it as a mole sleeping in a burrow.

"No, I haven't seen Silveredge- I figured she might be dancing somewhere, making a bit of coin, waiting for one or both of us to turn up, unless she decided to go elsewhere," I replied, sitting at the bar with him.  "Nothing for me, thanks."

"One peat beer, one blackwater and one frenzywater," Aleksei said, pulling two gold pieces from his purse and laying it quietly on the bar that seemed just slightly too small to accommodate him.

"Frenzywater?  I like my furniture where it is, thanks," the Dwarf warned, crossing his arms.

"You are just getting to know me, my friend," Aleksei replied affably.  "Right now, I am having only morning meal."

"You let me know when he tries to cut you off," I threw over my shoulder, having noticed a few candidates for alms.  I snatched a napkin, deciding to make a purse out of it, and pushed away from the bar, figuring that since I was in a ridiculously feminine get up at the moment, I ought to see what I could do with it.  Sure enough, about an hour later, I was five gold, ten silver and a few coppers richer.  Some of the money had been willingly donated for a smile and a bit of flirting, but most of it had been made by adventurous hands and quick fingers.  The tavern was just large enough for me to take my time with the hits, pacing each one by how many plates of unrecognizable food and mugs of brew were ordered.  I was just going to roll my way to another target when one of the bar maids nudged me and pointed over her shoulder.  Behind the bar, the Dwarf was crooking a finger at me.

"Yeah?" I said calmly when I made it back over to the bar.  Aleksei seemed to be meditating on his flagon, and I wasn't sure if it had anything in it or not, let alone which drink he was on.

"I thought you said you wasn't gonna remind 'im about that room," the Dwarf grumbled.  "He called on that bet soon's he started that frenzywater."

"I have no idea what a frenzywater is, but based on its name, I'd say you better make good on that room no matter how he came to remember it," I shrugged, turning and leaning on the bar backward.

"Half blind, yes, but not deaf.  I am telling people that my memory is good, but," Aleksei smirked, still looking into the cup.  "they are not believing me.  I do not know if it is me sleeping in this bed tonight, but whoever is sleeping in it, that will settle what is owing."

"Eh?" the Dwarf started, confused.  "Who'm I looking out for, then?"

"Maybe it is me, or maybe this female, or maybe a Shadow Child, a Tiefling male or a Drow male.  They will know my name if you say it.  Whichever of these is coming for that bed, that is the debt."

"So I'm supposed to ask every Tiefling, every Drow male and every Shadar-Kai female that walks through here if they know you or not?" the Dwarf scoffed.  "You think I got time for games like this?"

"Are you saying that you cannot handle this small task, that easily one of your young ladies is able to do?  Ah, this is my fault, I see.  I am thinking that a Dwarf would be remembering and settling his gambling debts."  Whatever was in his flagon, he drained it, then lightly tapped the table with the flagon before he got up.

"You'll catch a battleaxe to the head- keep talking!" the Dwarf retorted, getting red in the face almost instantly.

"You are thinking you are able to hit me?" Aleksei soothed quietly.  "Perhaps you are forgetting who is putting that Minotaur out for you."

The barmaids that were listening giggled quietly, and the Dwarf did reach down and get his battleaxe from beneath the bar.

"You come here and we'll see who's putting who out!"

"Torvold, you stop that this instant!"

The entire tavern- aside from the two combatants- turned to recognize this new voice, which came from the Dwarven female who was at the docks when we arrived.

"This is why I can't get any customers in here- I get them here and you take battleaxes to them?  Don't you see this Dragonborn is with the guard now?  You give him what he wants and shut up!"  She waddled her way up to Aleksei, who instantly drew himself to full height and nodded his respect to her.  "He promised you a room, eh?"

"Just a bed for the night," Aleksei responded.  "For myself or one who I am travelling with."

"Well, I know who you were travelling with.  I saw you all, and I'm not likely to forget you.  Messed up my port stall but good.  It was two day's work getting the rat guts off the crab barrels.  Now off with you- you're helping my stone-headed husband to create a disturbance."  The Dwarven female wasted no time in getting back behind the bar and smacking said husband behind the head.  "You want to have a fight, pick on someone your own size.  Put that toy down before you hurt yourself."

Aleksei and I turned our backs to that scene and walked out of the tavern.  The breeze caught the edges of my dress and sent it dancing around my ankles- I accidentally got one of my hooves caught as we walked down the stone stairs and began collapsing gracelessly to the ground.  Surprisingly enough, considering that I was on his left side, Aleksei got his arm out in time for me to catch it and get my balance back.

"But you didn't hear that sneak try to take your purse?" I joked, feeling ungainly and silly.

"Frenzywater," Aleksei shrugged.  "I am awake, now."

"Three times, huh?" I mused, thinking back to our previous conversation.

"Da," Aleksei replied, squinting up at the rooftops surrounding us.

"I'm not weak.  I could have taken you, even with all that experience you've got," I muttered, looking up along with him without knowing what we were searching for.  He ignored that comment, which I found to be more than just mildly annoying to me.  "How do you expect to make any good on this, anyway?  If you weren't able to find him the first two times, what makes you think that this time will be different?"

Aleksei stopped looking at the rooftops and instead looked at the cobblestones on the ground.  "I am not saying that I did not find Bahlzair.  I am saying it is difficult.  Maybe a little too difficult for those who want him now.  Maybe unfair."

I marched right in front of the Dragonborn and squatted a little so that I could look right into the one eye that worked.  "You're good.  Mostly honest.  Probably punishing yourself for things that you can't do anything about, no matter how much you want to.  So what do you think you owe the Drow?  Did something happen in the cave?"

Aleksei closed his eye and put a heavy, clawed hand on top of my head.  "Bahlzair is different.  I am, too."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.  "You're not like Bahlzair.  You don't just hurt people just to hurt them."

"Neither does he," Aleksei breathed.  "but he cannot tell you this.  We are different in the same way, he and I.  Believe me when I say this."

"What, do you have some sort of bond?" I demanded, trying to push his hand off my head and failing due to the weight of it.  I finally just turned myself out from under him, and as soon as I did, he turned and began to walk away.  "What you're saying makes no sense!  Bahlzair's most difficult choice was whether or not to kill just one of the surface Elves or all of them, because he didn't want to show any of them any mercy.  I don't know if there's a day I've known you that you haven't defended Bahamut and meditation and otherwise ridiculously good things!  Bahlzair attacked Silveredge, who wouldn't have done a thing to him if it would have saved her life!  You just put yourself in the way of my hanging-"

Aleksei stopped walking, looking down at a place in the street where one stone seemed somehow different than the others around it.  I growled my frustration at the whole situation, although I was a bit more angry at Aleksei's willingness to compare himself to Bahlzair than anything else.

"Here's Silveredge, trying to fight off ruffians and rats, and Bahlzair just makes it more difficult for her.  He indiscriminately spits that blasted acid wherever he feels like- he's likely to just kill you and be done with it, you know."

Aleksei looked up from the stone in a couple of different directions.  After a few moments of quiet contemplation, he turned toward a road that led out of the main town.  "I am neither afraid of him nor hateful toward him.  This is enough for him.  He would kill any other for my life, because he wishes to kill me on his own time frame.  This is enough for me," he said simply.

"So, you're completely comfortable with the idea that he might sneak up on you and, I dunno, spit in your drink?  Which, since it's him doing it, basically means that your flagon is lethal?"

And he stopped, turned over his shoulder and smiled.  "One day, maybe he will do this- but, that day is not today.  Today, he is expecting me to look for him.  This is why he is letting me know with his pact blade that it is him, instead of simply using spell.  In his way, he is more loyal than those I am growing up with.  One day, when he comes for you, you will see this for yourself."

"Aleksei, why did you sell your sword arm for me?" I asked, feeling ridiculous in my loaned dress and like an utter idiot for not understanding this strange male who seemed persistently and stubbornly accepting of a creature that would likely be his death.

"Not because I am thinking you are weak," Aleksei replied, turning back around.  "You are far from weak- I know this well.  If I am offending you, I am sorry for this."

I somehow sensed a tiredness from him- a weariness that at last betrayed the age that he was talking about.  I figured I'd keep my last question for him simple.  "Fireblade Mishka Voyonov?  As though I'd married you?"

There was a long pause between the question and the answer that couldn't be filled with the distant calls in the market place or the rushing of the dock water or the bustling of the kids, thieves and beggars in the streets.

"Fireblade Mishka Alekseyevna Voyonova," Aleksei corrected gently.  "You are missing patronymic."

2.8 Conscription.

Whatever Ntoru and Karth tried, it must have backfired.

My armor was stripped from me, and I received a tatty, sackcloth dress that made me remember that I did actually have feminine curvature.  I spent the next two nights chained through the bars to a guard.  Ntoru's conjured food was all that I received, and when I complained of hunger in the middle of the next day, I was laughed at.  The guard, although he was down one hand and apparently not allowed to leave me, took great pleasure in eating his rations- which had been doubled either for his inconvenience or to prolong my agony.  My bodily functions were entirely dependent upon his own- when he had to urinate, I was taken out and commanded to do the same, as it would be the only opportunity I would receive until he felt as though he needed to go again.  Concerned about the way I'd become used to the stench that I'd hardly been able to breathe in when I first arrived, I asked when he intended to bathe.

He didn't.

He snored when he slept, smacked when he ate, and broke wind at every opportunity.  I learned that while I had to shout at him to turn around when I needed privacy, there was little need for him to do the same, since he was incredibly hairy- everywhere.  He told me painfully awkward stories of the few times when he'd broken the law, and after a few of them, I realized that he was not at all truly attempting conversation.  He was touting his inability to complete a crime properly as proof that he was a better creature than I.

It wasn't very long after this realization that I at last cried out, "By Baator, you disease-pocked gnome-sack, cram it or I'll choke you!"

Not only did most of the guards and prisoners laugh, some even clapped.  But I got mine later that day- when the guard deigned to hand me his water flask, already more than half gone, he spat in it first.  When I paused before taking it, he decided to throw the water in my face instead.

I hadn't gotten much sleep the first two nights, but by the third, I was exhausted.  When I was unchained from that idiot, gagged, and brought into a room full of covered objects with my hands chained up in front of me, I barely had any energy left to object.  In the center of the covered objects sat the first town guard, armor-plated arms crossed over his chest.

"So are you ready to tell the truth?" he asked simply.  Of course, since I was gagged, I couldn't give any kind of smart answer.  So I shrugged.  "That's fine, fine," the guard replied.  "Bring him in."

And in walked Aleksei, easily towering over the three guards that were chained to his arms.  I tried to look alright when I caught his one functioning eye, but the attempt clearly failed, since the guards had a bit of trouble convincing him not to walk directly toward me.

"Glad you could join us, Voyonov," the guard said brightly, walking over to a table and throwing the cover off.  Various metal instruments gleamed as they caught the torchlight.  "Ever seen thumbscrews at work, old soldier?"

"Nyet," Aleksei replied simply.

"Didn't have use for these in Arkhosia?  Well, here's a primer."  The soldier picked up a set of thumbscrews that had small studs on the insides, where my fingers were supposed to go.  "These are my darlings- get things done twice as fast.  Most sets just crush the fingers, but these puncture them as well.  Pickpockets and lockpickers don't like these much, since it damages the goods, as it were.  They can't get things done like they used to."  He turned away from Aleksei, whose gaze had already begun to get icy, and crossed the room toward me with a slow stride.  "And the ladies especially dislike the scars caused.  Get that gag out of there."

The guard to which I'd been chained didn't untie the gag from the back, but instead ripped it upward, so that it caught on my horns and snapped my head back.  I stood, not moving a muscle as the thumbscrews were lightly brushed on my knuckles.

"You lied about being pregnant.  Lied about not knowing that girl.  Lied about your relationship with this Dragonborn.  So I've got very, very little reason to believe anything that comes out of your mouth," the guard began, tapping my knuckles lightly as he spoke.  "Let's start slow, get you used to honesty, shall we?"

"If you're going to hang me, do it," I grunted.  Across the room, Aleksei huffed his dissatisfaction.

"The fingers go into the apparatus like so," the guard began, forcing the first two fingers of my left hand into the thumbscrews.  "You went to the docks to find that boat, which was undoubtedly laden with illegal cargo of all kinds.  What was that poison?  Where did it go?"

"Go ask your mother.  It's what gets her through the bad nights, when no one will pay her," I snarled.

"And when the prisoner tells you something you don't like, you just turn these knobs here-"

"Why must you use such a thing?" Aleksei demanded, nearly dragging two guards behind him as he moved forward.  "Would not the innocents confess to things they are not doing, so that you will stop hurting them?"

"Watch," the guard replied.  "I ask you again, what poison was on that boat that you were looking for?"

"I don't know anything about it," I shrugged.  "You won't catch me opening an apothecary any time soon, if you hadn't guessed by now."

"You see?" the guard asked sweetly, turning over his shoulder to Aleksei, who'd crossed his arms over his chest.  "Perhaps innocents would avoid the pain, but toughened criminals like this one need a bit of- convincing, let's say."  And with this statement, he tightened the thumbscrews until the studs were pressing on the skin, but not yet tearing into it.  "I would think nothing, you filthy bloodrag, nothing at all of crushing your fingers until they were jelly for my bread.  My captain was killed with a black poison that stained his skin and  almost crippled the hands of the man who prepared the him for burial.  So tell me the truth- do you know what poison was on that boat?  Was that the substance used to kill the captain?  Did you use it?"

"Only one of us knows precisely what poison is in the boat that is leaving us," Aleksei responded.  "I do not know where he is, but he is good with healing, and is treating some Dragonborn for it.  It is not the same poison as is being on the captain, I swear to you."

"Now, now, Voyonov, you can't answer for her in the public court," the guard smiled grimly.  "This is only her left hand; what will you do when I get to her right?"

"I will defend her," Aleksei replied.  "because you are hurting her without reason.  She does not know of this poison.  It is this other male that I am telling you about that is telling all of us what the poison was.  And I swear to you, this is not the poison that is killing the captain."

"You do understand that since you were utterly out of your skull drunk that night that I can believe not one word of what you say, correct?" the guard sighed, standing away from me and crossing his arms.  "I couldn't even question you.  We put you in the first available cell, where you slept for more than half a day."

"It- is good night," Aleksei sighed, clearly fighting the urge to do something physical about this fool who was no smarter than his captain.  "But I remember everything, if it is this you are concerned for."

"It's how you got mixed up with this street scum that I'm concerned about," the guard spat back.  "It doesn't do wonders for your credibility."  He turned back to me and picked up the fingers that were snagged in the thumbscrews, jiggling them slightly.  "How about that wound in the back of the captain's neck?  We confiscated daggers from you whose tips might fit nicely.  And you have no qualms with admitting that you used those blades on those gang members.  So you didn't use them on the captain?"

"How could I have gotten around his sword, which had been at my shoulder, to plant a blade in the back of his neck?"

I felt the thumbscrews tighten and bite into flesh, and the fingers remembered that they had been crushed some time before, sending screams of pain that I could only stop from coming out of my mouth by biting my tongue.

"You know, I'm being inconsiderate," the guard managed through clenched teeth.  He turned away from me to rip another cloth off, revealing a chair completely lined with thin, long metal spikes.  "I shouldn't make you stand."

"Please,"  Aleksei began, moving forward again.  "What will stop this?"

The guard stood straight, lifting his head slightly, with his back to Aleksei.  "I want the murderer, of course.  People saw this creature walking away from the site of the crime.  Your kilij, be its wielder the worst of town idiots, would have taken his whole head off.  It's five or six times as heavy as it ought to be- so says the blacksmith, who nearly lost a toe trying to pick it up the first time.  My men tell me that the blue-hided female is a trembling slave who just barely put up resistance against an obvious request for traded favors- possibly only because a priest was standing by.  But this bitch- this blood-eyed, demonkin, bastard liar-"

"Enough," Aleksei growled, his word coming out with a puff of chilly air that even I felt from across the room.  "The killer you seek is not before you; let this female go, and I will find the true killer for you."

"So, let a drunk and a thief go to get, perchance, a murderer?" the guard laughed, turning over his shoulder.  He looked back at me, frowning slightly, then turned all the way around, throwing the cover back on the chair in a disheveled heap.  "How- precious.  Take the screws off and give her a good beating- take the nine-tails and go outside so everyone hears her scream.  And he will make you scream, bitch."

"There's not a male you command that could make me scream- not for pain, pleasure or money," I hissed to his back.

"The man's freedom will depend upon it," the guard answered simply, still looking right at Aleksei.

"She is right," Aleksei nodded, seeming to have understood a game that I didn't know was being played.  "His bones will be white in the cell if he is doing what you are saying, because he will not draw any thing from her but scorn.  But I am crushing those fingers before, and they still remember this pain I am causing.  It is I alone who knows how to hurt her.  Give her to me."

The guard tilted his head slightly, as though he hadn't heard properly.

"You know, I'm fascinated with you two," he said after a pause.  "I haven't even gotten started, and it seems as though you're the one in agony.  It's clear that you are not an evil creature, one whose conscience has been seared.  But this devilspit doesn't seem capable of obeying any law at all- not even natural law, which demands that women consort with men, not other women."

"It is many people calling her names about her people," Aleksei breathed slowly.  "Mishka is quite stubborn- perhaps they are thinking that she is so strong of will that she is even deciding about whether or not to be born Tiefling?"

The guard nodded seriously.  "You're very defensive indeed, even of a creature that doesn't deserve it.  I'll make you a deal.  Give me that dedication and your sword arm, and I will give you back your demon girl- healed completely, I swear it, by the court magician.  Gods only know what were doing with her, but if you will protect Urmlaspyr from her, which will in turn keep her out of my play garden here, then you can continue."

"Aleksei, I can handle this, I'm fine," I managed.  "They can't hang me just because of my race and some unproven rumors."

"They will try," Aleksei replied.  "But we can talk about that soon."

"Sounds like somebody needs some armor," the guard said in a grand tone, opening his arms.

"Is this uniform?" Aleksei smirked.  "I do not know if it will be fitting, and besides-" Taking a knee, he reached one arm over his shoulder and let his talons click on his scales.  "I am not having soft leather skin all over, as people are pretending.  Bahamut is giving me perfect armor from maybe three minutes since I am being born."

"Well, you can't stomp around the place depending on that and a towel between your legs," the guard said, crossing his arms.  "Maybe we can hang some chain mail with the city's crest somewhere on your arm."

2:7 Co-conspirators.

To say that my stay in my dank underground prison cell was uncomfortable would be like saying that the ninth hell is warm.

The combined smells of piss, blood and vomit hung palpably in the air, and the resulting stench was nearly catastrophic whether I used my mouth or my nose to breathe.  While the jailers were privileged enough to have small stools to sit on, I had to make do with a thin nest of straw covered by an old ratty fur.  I wasn't even sure which animal had provided the fur, as there really wasn't enough color or texture left to the skin for me to tell.  Not willing to give whatever vermin may have been living in it or under it an easy target, I slept sitting up, pressed as close onto the bars as I could push myself.  The only comforting part of the entire situation was that I knew upon arrival where Aleksei was, because I was marched right by his cell.  He reacted poorly, demanding at once in rumbling tones what I had done to deserve to be imprisoned.  I was pretty sure they wouldn't be keeping us anywhere near each other, but when I descended a wide stairway and marched all the way to the last cell, I almost considered it a complement.

When I awoke and found guards stirring, I stood up, leaning with my back on the wall to watch them move around, until a plate armored Human male without a helmet clanked his way down to me.  He pulled a bench close to the bars of the cell, smoothed back his thin, brown hair, and looked up at me.

"So you're with child?" he asked simply.

"Yeah," I replied, crossing my arms.  "Not too far along.  Time enough to save up a bit."

"Time indeed," the male replied, placing his hands on his knees.  "You helped to clean up that lot at the docks, I heard.  They weren't green.  You think you made it out of that scrape safely?"

"I hope so," I sighed.  "Don't know where they came from."

"That's what most of their targets say- if they're alive by the time we get to them," the male admitted, shaking his head for a few moments.  "You wanted a security job?  Supposed to be standing watch for the Hawkes Manse?"

I cast a casual glance down the hallway and wondered what had prompted the change of topic.  "I asked at the gate, but no one would show me to the owner of the place."

"With good reason," the Human huffed with a trace of bitterness.  "Lord Hawke is rarely home, and her mage husband-"

"Lord Hawke is a female?" I smirked.  "Wouldn't that make her a lady, instead?"

"I believe you're the one behind the bars, mate," the guard grumbled sitting up and crossing his arms.  "Now tell me, this was a job, wasn't it?  You're in with that crew what was on the boat.  You're not pregnant at all; you've got some scheme going on."

I withheld my answer, blinking at him angrily for a few moments.  "I can't believe you said that," I finally whispered fiercely when I allowed myself to speak.  "There's some black spots in my past, I'll admit.  But I know how I've felt these past weeks.  I had a mother, once.  I want some coin to rub together when the baby comes.  I'd like that baby not to have to do what I've done to get by. You don't think that's enough to think about?  You think I've got time, or patience, or even any energy to think up some damned scheme!?"

The guard nodded slowly, then looked down the hall where I'd looked just a few moments ago.  "That lizard- what's he to you?  He's not the father?"

"No," I said curtly.  "Some in Faerûn think the war's still on, in fact."

"But he sounded pretty protective of you, when he saw you, and I know what males like that are like when they've seen the bottom of their flagon a few times."  I must have given him a look, since he sadly said, "Got myself a wife that way- her father hates me.  But it's not the worst mistake I made."

"We've traveled together a bit, but that's all.  He doesn't know- it was hard enough to- look, I don't want to lose his trust too," I managed, moving forward and grabbing the bars.  "I swear to you, if you say anything-"

"I got it," the guard replied, raising a hand.  "Don't tell the lizard.  I don't know if it's lost trust you'll have to worry about, though.  Seems like the type that'd coddle you- that would defend you.  The type that might plant a dagger in a man's back, if he were threatening you?"

"Yes, if he'd had the chance," I laughed,  "but he didn't. He was sitting on the ground, head spinning, no doubt.  I was lucky not to have caught the edge of that kilij, in his condition."

"Barely moving forward, when he got here, but he was too heavy to carry, so we had to keep waking him up," the guard sighed gustily.  "I nearly put my shoulder out.  He knows he's got to pay up public drunkenness charges, but says he hasn't got a copper."

"He probably drank it all," I shrugged.  "He's not a rowdy sort, and probably feels awfully about being caught outside like that."  I paused and turned away, giving the moment meaning.  "It's my fault.  I'd taken that girl and gone out of the tavern.  I just wanted some quick fun.  If he weren't worried about why I hadn't come back, he'd never have left that bar.  Might've slept under it, but wouldn't have come outside like that.  Just let him go; he's damned docile, most of the time."

"But he's not the father," the guard scoffed.  "I never thought I'd see the day a Horn-head would defend a Leatherface, but it seems like these past few days have been the days of wonder."

"You wouldn't believe," I snorted bitterly, still turned around.

The bench creaked, and I turned to find that the guard had stood up.  "I'll be back," he said with a salutatory nod.  "I've got a few new questions for Leatherface."

"Call him that to his face and you'll have something to worry about," I warned with a low laugh.  "He's not the best disciplined Arkhosian, but he's a proud one."

The soldier gave a harumph and moved off.  I wasn't sure what to make of his reaction- whether he'd bought into my story or not- but I tried not to allow myself to become too worried about it.  I hadn't actually done anything serious yet, first of all, and even if they found that blue rune covered dagger, I wouldn't know the first thing about how to even pick it up.  Not that I'd try.  Having witnessed three people fall prey to whatever foul concoction was in Bahlzair's mouth- and running in his veins, if anyone asked Aleksei- I wouldn't have touched that blade even if doing so would spare me the gallows.  And who knew what that Elf did with that bloody drug-toting boat?

I was considering the look on the guard's face as he'd clutched his throat and clawed at my feet when a differently armored soldier walked in.  He had the strong stride and confidence of a well-seasoned warrior, and once he saw that I actually turned to look at his approach, made a small spectacle of drawing his broadsword and laying it on the ground some feet away from the bars between myself and him.  He took off his horned helmet, revealing a thick red bush of hair and sharp, sea green eyes.

This was no town idiot, and he wanted me to know it.  While it was clear that his armor wasn't light, it was well-made, fit well, and didn't clank as the town guards' issue had done.  And his broadsword carried the carved insignia of a dragon wrapping its way up the hilt.

" 'Tis a beau'iful piece, innit?" he purred, his accented Common so thick that I could hardly make out what he'd said.  "Ye looks upon a Purple Dragon of Cormyr, lass.  That were the first sword I carried for any country, and unless Pelor takes exception to't, 'twill be m' last."

I could only nod, having no idea what any of that meant to me.

"Y'know, dairlin', I hear ye owns a lass," the soldier said, finding the bench that the last guard had used and sitting upon it with  a sigh.  "A right peaceful Shadar-Kai beauty."

"What I own was on me when I was brought here," I replied, genuinely offended.  "Go check in the confiscation chest.  You see a girl in there, you let me meet her."

"Good, good," the soldier nodded, taking off his gloves and crossing his hairy arms.  "I likes the insult ye takes to't- fits ye well, so't does.  Tell me now, does ye know any magicks?"

It was my turn to sigh at that point, turning and leaning my head on the wall.  "I don't know any magic, no.  But apparently my blood does.  Not long ago, a scholar told me that my- infernal heritage, let's say- has gifted me with a couple of abilities that I don't know the first thing about.  They just happen in battle.  I can't turn it on and off like a mage."

"I ken the type," came the response.  "Nothing but bale fire and the force of yer anger, eh?  No cantrips or orisons, no matter how innocent or innocuous they seems to ye?"

"No."

"Well, well- 'tis a fine mess ye got yerself inta, then, messin' about with a Shadar Kai what's clearly been a slave sometime in the nigh past," the soldier laughed- it was a strange sound, somehow without humor, as though he were about to give me bitter news.  "This here land's been well scourged by magic.  Mark well what ye says, and I'll give ye a chance to stick to't."

"I know nothing of magic, or about that girl," I said in a low tone, closing my eyes.  "I know that I'm in a cell for a murder that I didn't commit, starving to death and scared to lay down on that mess in the back corner.  Instead of me being asked the same questions two or three more times, could all the questioners just be in the same place at once?"

"Just answer as many times as we asks, and ye'll be put right. 'Twas poison, from the look of him when he were drug in here," the soldier explained.  "And a couple brave souls put enough acid tests down to figure out that a kind of unrefined poison was sitting in the docks where ye were killing a rack of other people."

"Poor luck. I wouldn't know the first thing to do with an unrefined poison," I breathed to myself.  "You'll note that there wasn't any poison used on any of those rat bastards.  I'm no alchemist."

"Netheril, the Shadowfell, Shar, shades- none of this makes ye think, eh?"

I rolled my head on the wall so that I looked toward him and opened my eyes.  "I was taught that Netheril was a piece of Toril that got dragged into Shar's arms against the will of its people, and that was cursed and poisoned by her unnatural love for it.  I didn't believe that when I was small, and I don't believe it now.  I didn't realize that the Shadowfell really existed until I met her.  And from what little she talked about the place, there's no goddess that could have loved it."

"Ye doesn't know the first thing about Shar, to be saying a thing like that," the soldier nodded approvingly.  "The Shadowfell was indeed her doing, although love may be stretching her feelings for Netheril a wee bit too far."

"Your opinion is biased, Karth," came a voice from down the corridor.  "As are most Human opinions on that particular subject.  This poor creature cannot possibly have been reliably educated, but must have subsisted on the twisted tall tales that were heaved up like vomit by the puppets of Vor Kragal.  May I remind you that leaders more brilliant than you led her entire race astray with just drops, mere drops, of misinformation concerning magic pacts and the fulfillment of their terms?  The history of Shar and the creation of the Shadowfell is tenuously remembered  as it is, without having outsiders attempt to water it down for their children."

For a few moments, it seemed as though the soldier- Karth, apparently- was just as concerned as I was about precisely where this voice was coming from.  He sat back and discretely cast his eyes about, but I leaned off the wall and actually peered down the hall way.

"Don't strain yourself, dear child," the voice began again- smoothly, calmly, full of genuine care.  When I turned around, there stood an alabaster-white skinned woman, slender framed and copper-eyed, clothed in a black hooded dress that left her pallid, heavily tattooed shoulders bare, but wrapped around her chest in an empire-waisted style and then fell straight from the bottom of her bust to the floor.  Her upper body was filled with illustrations and scars, swirling and blending together as though each slice mark had been intended.  On the right side, a brilliant red ivy illustration climbed up her neck and spread across the side of her face.  She also sported one piercing through the bridge of her nose, another in the nostril and three or four over each of her cheekbones- with all this, it took me some time to realize that she probably was of the same race as the comparatively unadorned Silveredge.

"Ah, yes, my glory can be shocking for others," the woman smiled warmly.  "I welcome you into my presence.  I, born to a descendant of Netherese nobility by one of his women, survived every grueling test of the mages of Thultanthar- not only am I an accomplished worker of magics, familiar with every type of incantation and ritual, I'm also a natural commander, born to rule without question.  But let calm fill you- though neither of you could possibly be a match for me, I mean you no harm.  I know that may be hard for you to believe, Karth, so here's another surprise for you- I'm here to help.  Young female, you may take the pleasure of calling me Ntoru.  What are you called?"

"Is it being recorded?" I asked out of force of habit.

Ntoru laughed lightly, allowing her head- which was shaved bald save for a bleached forelock and one impossibly long black braid that sprung up like a geyser from the very crown- to roll slightly to one side.  "What an experienced question!  If you're talking about my memory, then yes, I promise you that I will remember your name for as long as I live.  It is my way, and I find it useful.  But if you're wondering if your name is going to fester at the bottom of someone's paperwork, well, don't credit the town guard here so highly!  They can hardly deal with petty protesters, quibbling religious fanatics and loud fish wives, let alone get any real work done with an artist like you.  Your way with words is why I'm here; my dear rogue, you've at last met a true superior."

I wasn't sure what to make of her or anything she said.  I simply stared, jarred by her appearance and wondering how both she and Silveredge could ever be of the same race.

"Now, you say you know very little about the female with which you were consorting, hmm?  That's what you told this fine example of Cormyran justice?"  Ntoru stood away from the bars and smilingly perched herself on Karth's lap, which he clearly disliked, but didn't move a muscle to do anything about.

"Cormite," Karth corrected sourly, his face the picture of annoyance.

"Nothing, but what she told me about herself," I replied.  "It wasn't much."

"True enough- well played," Ntoru nodded, crossing her arms.  "I see I'll have to be specific with you- I like it.  Come, let's play.  You did know she was a slave, correct?"

"Yes," I said slowly.  "I got that much."

"Had you thought of binding her to yourself?"  Karth began to protest, but Ntoru raised  a single finger to hush him.  "No, I want to hear it myself.  Have faith in me; I'm here only to help."

"I'd never enslave anyone, no matter what you all call it," I exclaimed.  "Why does everyone keep asking me that?  Just because she was a slave, I have to be a slave master?  I thought I was being suspected of murder, not participation in the skin trade."

"Is there then absolutely no bond between you and her?" Ntoru continued, now laying the hand that had just silenced Karth on his shoulder.  "You're just as much a stranger to her as I am to this dear Human?"

"Ntoru," Karth managed at last, turning to up at her, "None of this will be admissible in court.  We can't rely on magic-"

"But you shouldn't rely on torture, which will be the next move," Ntoru contended.  "You don't need the benefit of GoddessSight to know that."

"I won't allow that," Karth grunted, leaning away from Ntoru's embrace.

"Do you have a real say in how this young female will be treated?" Ntoru asked tenderly, turning her head to one side as a mother might have done.  "You can strongly urge them to consider other methods, but we both know how this can end.  And I know that we can prevent it.  Should we not try?"

"Yer ends are- admirable," Karth sighed heavily.  "But 'tis the means what'll confound us.  Yer attempts to avoid whatever end ye sees will be all in vain."

"If you admit that I can see the end of this situation, you must then concede that I can also see how to change that end," Ntoru counseled, sitting all the way up and putting both hands in her lap.  "I tell you, you must place greater faith in me.  I see within you the understanding of my words- they strike your discerning spirit as truth, and I beg you to 'go with your gut' now, just as you have before.  Now please- our time grows short, and I can only get a bit more out of her."

Karth, shaking his head and shifting on the bench slightly, waved a permissive hand and then crossed his arms.

"Our discourse must interest you," Ntoru smirked wearily, the previous conversation seeming to have taken more out of her than she would have liked to admit.  "You've given us your undivided attention for some time now."

With crossed arms, I shrugged, not feeling any need to give any more of an answer than that.

"I won't try your patience; just your honesty," Ntoru began quietly.  "Again, is there no bond at all between you and this female you were found with?"

"I don't know or care anything about you and him, and there's nothing between me and that female, now can we please move on?  I'll starve to death before my execution at this rate."

Ntoru leaned her head on top of Karth's head, which he rolled his eyes and bore with strained patience, and smiled wisely.  "Oh no, no, my dear.  I see that your spirit doesn't completely agree with you.  There is indeed a bond between you and that female.  Let's try again, shall we?  Tell me, how long have you fostered this connection- be it the slave-master connection or no- with your sweet girl?"

"Around two and a half months, maybe more," I admitted after a long pause.  "I can't say I appreciate being questioned by a living scrying stone."

Karth nodded.  "Nobody likes it, but there we have it.  Closer to the Dragonborn's word, that were."

"Now, leaving that topic, the mysterious missing boat and the closed case of murder alone," Ntoru began.

"If you know I didn't murder that man, then why am I still here?" I cried, frustrated.

"Because there is the little matter of the pick pocketing complaints from the area near a certain tavern," Ntoru purred sweetly.  "Tell me, are you a good thief?"

"Oh, please.  Any dying cleric could have ransacked that whole place.  It was out of control all night that night and probably for most of the next morning.  The owner was asleep on top of his own bar!"

"Ah, indeed- well, don't be so hard on yourself," Ntoru replied, getting up from Karth's lap at last.  "And if it makes you feel better, I almost had to pay complete attention to you to watch your aura changing.  You'd probably have gotten away with it, if the guard had called upon that dried up court prankster that they call a mage."

"One more thing-" Karth inserted, taking tender hold of Ntoru's arm.  She looked at him, leaned her head back slightly as though she had heard bad news, then took a sharp breath of understanding and shook her head.  "Enough," Karth grunted, picking up his gear and making his way down the hall.

"Or at least it is for us, so far," Ntoru breathed, seeming to simply melt into the shadows between the torches.  "Look behind you, dear.  A token of thanks."

When I didn't hear foot steps anymore, I dared to turn behind me.  There, on the floor, sat a clean bone-white plate filled with cooked rice and stew beans.  Next to it stood an absolutely clear glass with water in it.  Frustrated but still hungry, I flopped down to the floor ungraciously.