Chapter1

Deep Breath Before The Plunge

The world tumbled into chaos before any of them even began to anticipate such turn of events. She was sitting in Copper Coronet, absentmindedly drinking ale and watching the floor, when Imoen came crashing into the bar, causing the patrons to flinch and look genuinely alarmed. It was one of those days that once started, wouldn't end. All she felt was never ending ennui as the day drew on, heat rising and filling the streets of Athkatla with unbelievable stench.

She raised a tired faced and gave her sister a very void look.

'What is it?'

'Haven't you heard?' the blond mage nearly snared 'Laura, while you sit here and do nothing, the world's going to hell.'

'I thought' she said bitterly 'that it already is in hell.'

'How witty.' The mage was looking both angry and afraid.

The latter drew her attention. She put her mug on the table and stood up. The very familiar wave of pain once again swept over her, immersing her in immediate darkness. It was gone as soon as it came, she stretched and looked at her sister with forced attention.

'Well, what is it?'

'Can't talk here' the mage lowered her voice and threw a quick glance around the place. All the patrons, however, were busying themselves with liquors and women, waiting, for the day to end and for the heat to cease. Summer in Athkatla meant never ending nightmare of absolute decay.

'Let's go over to hers, all right?' Imoen whispered and looked her sister straight in the eye 'It is serious, really.'

'Fine.'

The Slums District during summer was the worst place in the world. Usually, the streets were littered with all sorts of dump. During the colder months, however, the stench kept at the minimal level, making one able to adjust themselves to it in few days' time. Summer released it in its full might. The stench of decay mixed with terrible odor of unwashed bodies, dirty clothes, slowly decaying walls, sweat and animals. High buildings, most of them made of clay and narrow streets trapped the heat, making the air stale.

She stepped out of the inn and momentarily covered her face. The flies were feasting on anything they could find, swarms of them were dancing and buzzing in the air. She heard her sister mutter something but paid no heed as they walked on. The main street was crowded, people and animals were slowly making their way, peasants pulled their carts and children cried.

'Shortcut, eh?' Imoen grimaced and gestured towards stairs leading to the rooftop of Copper Coronet. The roofs of the central buildings of the Slums District were joined together, sometimes using wood boards, creating a second street level. People were fewer there, as usually it was a residence of local thugs one could either hire or get mugged by.

They moved quickly. She glared at the sky: it was milky white, heavy with heat, yet showing absolutely no sign of any possible changes of weather. The world has been praying for rain for some time; she has heard of drying fields and dying crops. She could smell the immense stench and watch the heat-maddened people. It was all disturbing, yet she kept on finding herself beyond that, as if it couldn't matter anymore.

This probably was the truth. She had felt herself burn at the Tree Of Life, she had felt herself immerse in the darkest fibers of her mind as she ventured through Hell, and finally, slaying Irenicus had not freed her. She survived, yet she remained hollowed, empowered, but distanced to the world.

There were guards at the gate. The soldiers were sweaty and irritated. They leaned on their pikes and threw very disgusted glances at the crowd. One of them, probably an officer, was sitting on a pile of wooden boxes. Laura flared her nostrils, the man must have been quenching his thirst for a rather long time, as the smell of alcohol and vomit were hanging around him heavily. As if seeing her gaze, he lifted his head. His eyes were blurred and reddened on the edges, his face was sagging and bits of vomit were still hanging on his mustache. He raised a shaking hand and scratched his cheek, nails leaving bloody trails on the swollen flesh. He was dying, she realized, his liver slowly was being consumed by some disease and alcohol was slowly devouring his body from the inside. He wouldn't last the summer, either by sunstroke or by his disease, he'd perish. She felt a twinge of panic. Knowing such things was not meant for humans.

'What is your business?' one of the guards, a young and heavily spotted boy quirked his eyebrow.

'Mister' Imoen looked him haughtily in the eye 'I do believe a woman of my status does not need to be asked this question?'

'What?' the boy looked genuinely startled, but the crowd pushed them and soon they were outside the Slums.

They walked for another hour, passing through other districts before finally entering Government District which was located atop a hill. The guards knew them and the men saluted. Imoen nodded and her and Laura didn't react. She couldn't help but remember a fight that has, not a year ago, broke out just after they entered the district. Bandits, who at the time had nearly overruled the city, were freely roaming all the districts. They had finally got cocky enough to attack heavily armed travelling parties. Everyone desired loot: money and fancy weaponry, magical swords and enhanced shields. At that time, she pondered, the fight was bloody: first the guards were butchered, and then Edwin cast a fireball, setting all the nearby mansions on fire.

'We're here' Imoen snapped her out of her reverie. She smiled and nodded. They stood before a large mansion, surrounded by a very tall wall with gargoyles perched atop the gate. Not many knew, that these were magical guards, spelled by the owner of the house to attack if someone tried to force an entry. Imoen uncovered her face and lifted her face up at the gargoyles.

'Friendly.' She said casually 'Imoen and Laura.'

The gargoyles did not respond which was a good sign. As if on cue, the gate creaked open and they walked into a garden. It stretched vastly behind the mansion while the frontal section was rather small. Large doors led into an atrium, with a little fountain in the middle. It served also as the waiting hall, no visitor would venture further into the host's house without their invitation.

'Good morning.' The host, a very young looking and stunningly beautiful woman in white gown appeared through one of the doors. She had pale blond hair pulled back tightly and very regular features. As Imoen once said, she was beautiful in a very cold manner, like a perfect ice statue or the fable Snow Queen from the furthest North.

'Ithinia.' Imoen bowed her head 'Thank you for having us on such a short notice.'

'Of course.' The woman shifted her gaze and Laura found herself locking her eyes with icy cold and palely blue orbs.

'Laura.' She said softly 'I'm glad to see you again.'

'Yes.' She nodded curtly. She disliked talking much.

Actually, both of them did. She knew Ithinia well enough to understand that mage agreed that words meant nothing, and all that there was, were actions. They were the ultimate language both women knew.

'Come in.' the woman in white gestured slightly. They followed her through sets of doors and corridors until they found themselves on a marble terrace overlooking the sea. Laura narrowed her eyes, though shaded, it was still exposed to the vicious sunlight. The water, however, brought some fresher air, though tangled with salt.

There was another guest there. Sitting on a chair and drinking wine from a richly ornamented goblet, there was Coran. The blond half-elf greeted them with warm smile. Laura couldn't help but smile back. It was surprising to meet him in her house, she thought, and that realized that the news must have been truly dire.

XXX

It was later that evening, when Ithinia began talking about the subject. The four of them were still seated on the terrace, drinking wine and enjoying the slow sundown.

'I'm sorry I kept you waiting for this time' the woman in white began in a steady, cool voice 'but I had to make sure the news were truly valid. One of my employees' it was a very polite form by which Ithinia called her spies 'is currently residing south from Amn, in Tethyr. Just yesterday he messaged me about certain events that have been occurring for some time. Today, he confirmed them and expanded my knowledge. It seems' her eyes once again locked with Laura's 'that the people – and by this I mean masses – have learned of the Spawn Prophecy. Not only a panic starts to spread, but also the rulers of Tethyr have embraced a rather hard policy against the Spawns. It seems that they introduced a law which forces the Spawns to register. Those unwilling have been dispatched, some of them are being arrested, but, what is the worst, there have been few massacres, each conducted by the militia.'

There was a long silence, finally broken by Laura.

'It was obvious, that it'd eventually happen. I've myself had several unpleasant encounters with the Harpers, the last one resulting in a fight.'

'Yes, I know.' Ithinia nodded 'It's always been the organizations which were interested in some facts, now it seems, we have to deal with governmental orders, which is different.'

'Of course. Well, as far as I'm concerned, the prophecy, according to its text, is due to fulfill soon.' Imoen added 'We must, however, prevent anything drastic.'

'Once the panic reaches its climax and the rulers begin undertaking unreasonable actions, we might see a civil war.' She added after a while 'Ithinia, some must make them see sense.'

'I agree.' Ithinia nodded 'Laura' she said sharply 'it does concern you too, you know?'

'I do.' She shrugged her shoulders 'Once the Spawns realize their lives are hanging by a thread they'll go ballistics, create fractions to defend themselves or start fighting each other, the bloodshed that should result will be terrible, I know. So what?'

'When did you start believing in prophecies, Laura?' Imoen shot her an incredulous look. 'You're just like Alaundo: the world will bathe in blood and another Bhaal will arise.'

'No Bhaal will arise.' She said coldly 'They'll just butcher themselves, or using your nomenclature, they'll drown themselves in their own blood and that should be the end of it. I want no part in this madness.'

'Just because' Imoen slammed her goblet on the marble table 'the whole Bhaal business hasn't reached Amn yet, doesn't mean that it won't in the near future. What do you want, to be a fugitive?'

'All I want is a way out.' She said calmly 'As you know, I've never wanted to be a part of this. Neither do I want it now, ok? They can go and fuck themselves, I'm so not into it.'

Coran, who has kept silent for the whole time, cleared his throat.

'You know.' He said wistfully 'Always, when you want to be left in peace, the whole world falls upon your shoulders. Maybe' he smiled in a friendly manner 'if you claimed you are concerned, no one would give a damn about you? You know, the law of opposites.'

She felt disarmed and returned the smiled.

Her mask was sliding off, nonetheless, revealing things she kept burying deep inside.

'Ithinia' she forced her voice cool and composed her face 'what course of action would you suggest?'

'We need' her answer came fast as if she had already thought of it a long time ago 'a Spawn emissary.'

'Send them where?'

'I think Saradush. It's an important city, moreover ruled by a Spawn.' Ithinia spoke out.

'All right. Who's the scapegoat?' Laura raised an eyebrow. Before she ended the sentence, she felt a wave dread.

'I'll do it.' Imoen said.