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.