"Great," Fred muttered. "A pocket-sized Mournblade."
"So, is it a demon?" Lada asked.
"No," Imoen said. "It's just a very evil weapon. Just the kind of thing Penelope would carry. I'm surprised she gave it to this nobody."
"He is a nobody," Louis said, after studying the intruder's hands and arms. "These tattoos tell me that he's Tricky Richard, a third-rate thief and second-story man. He's never done assassinations before, though."
"She probably has a recall spell on it," Lada said. "We probably need to hurry, if you want to do anything with it." She yawned. "Fred, you can go pray, by the way. Good night." She curled up on the floor and fell asleep within moments.
Aribeth shook her head, trying to make the ringing go away. Fred noticed, and laid his hands on her. She felt the healing energy flow into her, and the ringing went away.
"Sorry about that," Fred said. "We all wear special earplugs, so I don't injure our ears when I shoot."
"When you shoot?" Aribeth asked. "What are those things? Those wounds look like what you get when you use bullets of smiting."
"Something like that," Fred said. He slid one of his weapons into a pouch on his belt, then worked a sliding piece on top of the other weapon. A brass bullet popped out of a hole in the sliding piece, and Fred caught it. He held it up so Aribeth could see it. "I get these specially made by the temple of Gond in Lantan. They use smokepowder to throw a bullet, instead of muscle power."
"Kind of like an arquebus?" Aribeth asked.
"Exactly," Fred said. "These are just more convenient to use. And since they spin when they fire, I can have bullets made with holes in them, like this, so that when they hit something, they expand. That means the hole they make gets bigger when they go in."
"So you can use little bullets like this," Aribeth said, thoughtfully, "and end up with wounds like a hand cannon?"
"Exactly," Fred said. "When I shoot someone, I want them to go down, right now." He looked around, then added, "There's only one real drawback. Sorry about the mess."
"As if fighting him with a sword wouldn't have been just as messy?" Aribeth asked, with a laugh. Fred joined her in laughing. Meanwhile, Puff snorted, then said two words of Draconic. At the first, all the blood and bits of flesh from Tricky Richard's body vanished. At the second, the empty bullet casings flew into her hands, while all the little things, that Tricky Richard had knocked over when he fell, returned to where they had been before he knocked them over.
"Thank you, Puff," Aribeth said.
"Thanks Puff," Fred said, at the same moment. He and Aribeth looked at each other, laughed, then Fred asked Aribeth,"Do you have somewhere I can go to pray? I don't need a full temple, or even a shrine, although those would be nice. For tonight, I'd be happy with just a quiet, private room."
"I was going to offer the four of you rooms here," Aribeth said. "If you're interested, that is."
"Are you sure that won't be a problem?" Fred asked. Aribeth noted that he seemed to be the one to do the worrying when Lada was out, while Puff did all the happy squealing. He turned to Puff and said, in that debased form of Draconic that kobolds used, "No, sweetheart, I don't think she means, in her bed. Be good, be patient, and be her friend. If anything comes of that, you'll enjoy it all the more."
"Patient?" Imoen giggled. "I don't think that word is in her dictionary, Fred. In any language."
"It is, too," Puff humphed, stamping her foot. "Right next to 'pain-in-the-butt'. So there!"
Imoen stuck her tongue out at Puff, who returned the favor, and the two were lost to rational discourse.
"Thank you," Aribeth said, quietly enough that she hoped only Fred would hear. "She's cute, but she's so excitable, she can be scary."
"I know," Fred said, as he crouched to scoop up Lada. "The first six months she was with us, Lada would jump out of her skin every time Puff came near her. They eventually worked it out, but never told me how they did it."
Aribeth led the way to the rooms she had chosen for the quartet. Before the Plague, the rooms had been used as a combination barracks and general mess by one of the groups of paladins that had been assigned to the temple. Since the Plague, they had been empty. Now, at least for a short while, there would be people in them again. On the way, she noticed that Imoen and Puff both checked repeatedly on Lada, as if they both worried for her health after ... whatever it was she had done.
At the door to their quarters, Fred turned to Aribeth and said, "Frak! I didn't think!"
"What?" Aribeth asked, with Puff and Imoen repeating the question before she could finish.
"The dagger," Fred said. "Don't let your men touch it."
"I wasn't planning to," Aribeth said, "but why?"
"There's only two instances I can think of where Imoen can't get everything there is to know about something magical," Fred said. "Especially something that powerful."
"Ohshit," Imoen gasped. "It's either cursed, or it's an artifact."
"Either way, it's trouble," Fred said.
Puff didn't say anything. She just vanished, with the familiar crack of teleportation. A moment later, she re-appeared, holding Louis in her arms, in a position that looked potentially fatal to Louis, but which kept him from getting his hands anywhere near her.
"Remove curse!" Puff yelled. "NOW!"
Fred reached into his pouch and pulled out a small cube. He said something in Draconic and tossed the cube into the room. It swelled until it filled the room, leaving just a three foot wide passage near the door. When it was fully grown, a door appeared in the side of the cube.
Fred said another word in Draconic, then barked, "Get in," as the door popped open. Puff led the way, with Imoen right behind her. Fred followed at the rear, still carrying Lada. Aribeth hesitated, then followed, not quite sure what she was walking into.
Inside, Aribeth saw an enormous, majestic grand hall, with marble pillars and arches, walls covered in polished pink granite, and the floor covered in polished black granite. Two doors opened off the hall on this level, one on each side, just before the grand staircase that rose to a balcony, in two graceful, mirror-image arcs. Another door opened off the balcony. The whole room was suffused with a light that was bright enough to easily read by, but gentle enough to not hurt the eyes.
"My scroll cabinet!" Fred barked. "Top compartment, second row, should be three or four in from the right. Puff, can you keep him contained while I put Lada to bed?"
"I can do that," Puff said. "I'm just worried I'm going to injure him like this."
"Smart girl," Fred said, as he started for the stairs. "Aribeth, will you read the scroll when Imoen brings it?"
"Eh – Yes," Aribeth said. She looked around, stunned by her surroundings. All this was in that cube Fred had thrown on the floor? How? It must be in another plane, but which one?
By the time Imoen had found the scroll and retrieved it, Fred had disappeared through the balcony door. Aribeth took the scroll and saw a piece of yellow parchment fall to the floor. She unrolled the scroll, scanned the text, and nodded. Good. It was a scroll to remove curses.
"Any time you're ready," Puff said.
"Oh, right, sorry," Aribeth said. She held up the scroll and began to read. Louis began to scream and struggle against Puff, forcing her to apply more pressure to keep him contained. There was a sharp crack! as the scroll came to an end, and Louis hung lump in Puff's arms, his head at an unnatural angle.
"Ohgodohgodohgodfixhim!" Puff whimpered, her face a study in shock, guilt, and misery.
"Louis?" Aribeth asked, moving forward to take him from Puff's arms. There was no doubt about it. His neck was broken, and he was no longer breathing.
Puff clutched Imoen as she sobbed, "I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryIdidn'tmeantodoit...."
Imoen patted Puff's back as she held her. "It'll be ok, sweetie. Aribeth and Fred can fix it. I promise."
"You're sure?" Puff whimpered, looking at Aribeth and Louis.
Aribeth knelt, and gently lay Louis on the floor. She kicked the dagger away from Louis' body, then took a scroll from her belt pouch.
"I'm sure," Imoen whispered. "Watch."
As Aribeth read the scroll, the room brightened, the light centered on the space between Aribeth and Louis. For a moment, the light appeared to have Louis' form, then it sank into his body, and he sat up, coughing and rubbing the back of his neck.
"See?" Imoen whispered. "What Lada did worked!"
Puff bounded to her feet, ran across the room, and knelt to hug Louis. "I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry."
"Louis?" Aribeth asked, smiling, holding in her amusement at the expression of confusion on his face. "Why did you pick up the dagger?"
"Pshh," Louis said, finally giving up and returning Puff's hug. "'sallright, kid. No hard feelings, eh?"
Puff kissed Louis' cheek, then bounced back across the room to hug Imoen. "He said no hard feelings!"
Louis looked curiously at Puff, shook his head, then looked at Aribeth. "Picked up the dagger? Whattaya talkin' about, boss?"
"You don't remember?" Aribeth asked. "All right, what's the last thing you do remember?"
"We was talkin' 'bout the new crew," Louis said. "Gaston said he likes the way Fred respects you. Phillipe said he thinks we can work together OK. I was thinkin' we needed to lock the dagger away so you could use it as evidence."
Aribeth sighed. "That was a good thought, but we'll never be able to bring her to justice. Not in court, at least. Lord Nasher favors her, so the only way we could bring her up before him is if we caught her with blood on her hands from sacrificing someone to Velsharoon. Even then, there's likely to be a loophole he'd exploit."
"Oh yeah," Louis said, "but there's some courts as are higher, y'know?"
"Not when you serve Tyr," Aribeth said, firmly, but with a touch of regret. No, one could not violate the law as written, even in service of the greater good. Not when one serves Tyr. And should one violate the law, and his or her actions come to light, that person must be pursued vigorously, even if that violation is to the benefit of the greater good. But when the law is openly flouted, and the one responsible to enforce it openly turns a blind eye to the one flouting it, what can be done? While it was her duty to see that Penny was brought to justice, she already knew that Lord Nasher would declare that, as Lord of Neverwinter, he had the power and authority to pardon her. He had already done so, at least once, for every person in his faction of the Guard, for crimes ranging from petty vandalism to rape and murder.
Aribeth shut down that train of thought abruptly. She felt the old familiar rage threatening to return in full force, and knew that continuing consideration of Lord Nasher's behavior since the Plague would only give it food and strength. She hissed, through clenched teeth, "If I were to learn that she had been brought to justice by means other than those prescribed in the law, I would be forced to pursue the offender, no matter who he might be."
"So, it's in everyone's best interest that you never learn such a thing," Imoen said softly. "Louis, can you give me a hand? My dagger technique is getting a bit sloppy."
"Aye," Louis said, "that I can." He crossed the room to Imoen and Puff, leaving Aribeth alone with her thoughts.
Yes, it was in everyone's best interest that she never learn such a thing. Aribeth knew that the justice to be had in the court of Lord Nasher was tainted by whatever was tainting him, but as long as he kept to the strictures of the law, whatever he decided would be fully supported by Tyr – even if it were unconditional pardons, as long as the pardons were granted according to the procedures written in the law.
"Copper for your thoughts?" Fred asked, sitting beside her on the floor.
"I'm not sure they're worth that much," Aribeth said. She glanced at him, and saw he was studying her as if he were truly interested, not merely saying the words. "You really want to know, don't you? That's so strange."
"Why?" Fred asked. "Shouldn't people always want to know the answer before asking a question? Oh. Wait. Your answer doesn't involve the 'f' word, does it?"
"The 'f' word?" Aribeth asked, confused. What in the world was he talking about?
"Yeah," Fred said. "Feelings."
"Uh-oh!" Puff announced. "Fred's brought up the 'f' word!"
Imoen snorted and threw a pillow at Puff. Puff giggled and returned it, and the pillow fight was on.
Aribeth looked from Imoen and Puff to Fred, then asked, "Why should feelings be taboo?"
"I wish Lada were awake to translate for me," Fred muttered, then looked at Aribeth, with a look that made her feel as if she had his full attention, despite the battle going on just a few feet away, and said, "Imagine you were in a room, about the size of your office, with the walls, ceiling, and floor painted brilliant white." Aribeth thought for a moment, then nodded, and Fred continued. "Now, imagine that there's no way to get out. No doors, windows, or any other escape." Aribeth shuddered at the thought, and Fred continued again. "Finally, imagine that inside this room, someone has cast both a permanent Sound Burst spell and a permanent Dancing Lights spell." Aribeth imagined, and hugged herself as she imagined how horrible it would be to be trapped in that kind of place. "That's what emotions are like for me. Especially other people's emotions. One thing Lada, Imoen, and Puff can all do, to varying degrees, is translate for me, so I can, sometimes, understand emotions intellectually, even if I can't sort them out directly, because of all the flash and noise. Lada is the best at translating, partly because she has so much practice, but also because she seems to have an instinct for it. Maybe it's her psychic abilities that do it, maybe it's something else. I don't know, but whatever it is, she's the first person who was ever able to translate for me, and she's still the best at it. Imoen manages because she's so inherently good and has such a strong desire to help. I think Puff succeeds because her magic is all about emotions, and so she has to be able to translate them, the same way a bard has to be able to translate languages."
"So …," Aribeth said, slowly, as she sorted out her thoughts, "when you asked what I was thinking, you weren't just making meaningless noise … you didn't hesitate … until you thought it might involve feelings. Why?"
"Questions make more flash and noise," Fred said. "If I'm going to deal with more flash and noise, doesn't it stand to reason, I should have a good justification? And, if I'm going to endure the flash and noise, shouldn't I be getting everything I can out of it, in hopes of translating it to something I can understand? Asking a question I don't want the answer to … well, it just makes things uncomfortable for everyone."
Aribeth considered Fred's answer, then pondered what it said about him. It was clear there was more to it than he was saying – the way he looked at her made that patently obvious – but his answer was one that gave an explanation, as confusing as it was, while not pressuring her with things that she wasn't ready to think about right now. Obviously, even if emotions were as noisy and painful for him as he said, he understood well enough to give her that consideration.
"I suppose you could say it involves feelings," Aribeth said, "but the feelings have to do with my concerns about how the Plague has affected all of us – even those who weren't infected. Right now, for instance, I am trying to work out how to uphold justice in a city in which the ruler has all but abandoned any pretense of obeying the law."
"And I suppose he hasn't abandoned it in favor of obeying the law of non-aggression, right?" Fred asked.
"The … law of non-aggression?" Aribeth asked. That's one she'd never heard of before.
"Well, it's more a principle than a law," Fred said, "but still, it's the closest thing to a law that I respect."
"But you're a paladin!" Aribeth protested.
"And Kelemvor and I seem to see eye-to-eye on this point," Fred said. "After all, his primary concerns, regarding the living, are that no one should die before his or her time, and that anyone or anything that causes people to die before their time needs to be dealt with as quickly and effectively as possible."
"All right," Aribeth said. "Why don't you tell me about this law or principle, then?"
"It's really quite simple," Fred said. "No one, regardless of circumstances, has the right to initiate force against another person, or to delegate or advocate the initiation of force against another person. Because no one has the right to initiate force, every person has the right to use whatever force they deem proper, appropriate, and wise, to defend or retaliate against someone who has initiated force against them, or has advocated or delegated the initiation of force against them. Of course, because they have the right to defend themselves, or to retaliate, they have the right to delegate that to someone else, if they so choose."
"How do you define initiation of force?" Aribeth asked.
"That's easy," Fred said. "In any situation where force is used, the first person to use it, or threaten it in some way, is the one who initiated force. Sometimes the initiation goes back a long way, such as when you spend thirty years hunting down the man who killed your father, but the person who acted against someone who did nothing to justify defensive or retaliatory action is the person who initiated force." He paused, then added, "That reminds me. Have you begun getting complaints about the Elk Tribe rising up and massacring farmers?"
"I –" Aribeth stopped and stared at Fred. "How did you know?"
"Commander Damas somehow managed to get a wagonload of Plague-infected blankets," Fred said, "which he promptly gave to the Elk Tribe as a gift from Neverwinter. The people of the Elk Tribe, of course, believe that it was done with the blessings of the people of Neverwinter. You see, that's the way their government works, so they believe that's the way your government works. So, they're killing farmers because they believe the farmers approved of the gift of blankets, the same way their own people would have, if their tribe had made a gift to your people. They also believe that everyone in Neverwinter, from Lord Nasher on down to the lowliest turnip farmer, approved of the blankets being infected with the Plague. Nevermind that they wouldn't do something so evil, the principle is that the chief would never do something like that without the approval of the entire tribe."
Aribeth stared in shock. How could someone rise high enough in the ranks to command a major military installation like Fort Ilkard, yet still have that kind of treachery in his blood? Before the Plague, she would not have believed it. After … even Lord Nasher had shown – no, if what they were saying was true, Lord Nasher hadn't truly changed. It was whatever possessed him that was to blame. But Commander Dumas was not possessed. She would have to send investigators. Who could she trust, though?
"Aribeth?" Fred's voice penetrated her thoughts. "Are you OK?"
"Fred?" Aribeth asked, her eyes boring into him, hoping to get some sort of truth from what she saw. "How do you know this?"