Chapter 6.a ; Initiation

Over the next few days, Chloe and Imoen kept low, listening to roomers and keeping up with local news. As Chloe had predicted, the Cowl wizards had offered a substantial bounty for the apprehension of a dangerous runaway deviant. Imoen's name had not been mentioned, but her description was accurate enough. Even so, Imoen felt that omitting her name from the bounty notice would not be enough to keep the roomers from spreading. Especially considering that she and Chloe had been spreading them. Oh, they did not mention Imoen's name just yet, but they did make sure to have the people make the connection between the bounty and the four publically humiliated Cowl Wizards at the docks the other day.

Similarly predictable were the news that Imoen's legion of cookie-bribed street kids had brought them. The inn had been watched by several people who had asked questions about the pair of them on occasion. Some were Roenal Bloodscalp's men, but there were also some who were unknown to the kids. Most likely spies for the dukes or the Cowls, the kids had said. Still, that was to be expected, and the two of them gave no hint of noticing that they were being watched. They did not try to hide their comings or goings from the inn and had made no effort to hide the fact that they were looking for mercenary work. By the second morning, most of the spies were gone, but the two of them did not let their guard down.

As an added precaution, they went through great pains to hide their magical equipment. That was more of a problem than anything else. Usually, Imoen would just magically shield their gear to bypass people's awareness, so everyone would ignore it even if she'd leave it lying all over the room, but using magic would expose them to the Cowl's guard dogs. So instead, the two of them scattered small hidden stashes of equipment all over town. They did it mostly by night, to better slip anyone who might have been following them. Since whoever would take interest in the two of them would make sure to search their accommodations, they keep only a part of it – the most useful part – on their person at all times.

On the second day, they publically took interest in the Cowls' bounty notice. Chloe had made a very good show of running back to the inn with the notice freshly torn from the wall, rolled up in her hand. An hour later, the two of them were well on their way to the government district for an audience with the Cowl Wizards.

" I think this is a bad idea. " Chloe told her as they walked the streets towards the Government district. " They might recognize you. "

Deep down Imoen had to agree, but not out loud. " I know Chloe. " She said. " But I have to see them for myself. I need to. "

As they walked, Chloe kept casting glances at her, to make sure Imoen's disguise was in order, which was sort of annoying, but understandable. If just one of the Cowls would suspect her true identity, they'd all come down upon the two of them like an avalanche. Still, this visit in itself was something no one in their situation would have tried in a thousand years, and that in itself was a measure of comfort. The second measure of comfort was that there were only a few of them left who could identify her even without the disguise.

After they had left Spellhold in charred ruins all those years ago, the Cowl Wizards were all but whipped out of Athkathla. At some point in the process of looking for her, her friends and family started to make a habit of brutally thinning out their numbers, basically declaring a war on the Cowl Wizards. One by one, ever patrol or group the Cowls sent to take care of this problem ended up destroyed. Not scattered, or broken, or maimed, but dead. Occasionally, one or two survivors were sent back to the Cowls with demands for Imoen's release, but the majority had been left for the crows and the undertaker.

So successful was this campaign, that the number of Cowl Wizards dropped by two thirds by the time Aran Linwale procured a ship. And by the time that ship had set sails for the island, what little remained of their order had fled the city like mice. Or more appropriately, like the poor unlicensed mages they had oppressed.

Imoen remembered the anger she'd felt, upon returning to Athkathla. She remembered how much she'd wanted to do that very same thing, and how angry she was to find them all gone. At that moment she had hated – actually hated – her companions from robbing her of her revenge like that. If she hadn't gotten her soul back, she didn't know what she might have done. That thought still kept her awake at night.

And she also remembered that particular day on the island when the representative of the Athkathla Cowls came to speak to her ; the day she told them what they were up against.

By that time, the Cowls were already well bloodied, but they were too proud or stubborn to simply let her go. Powerful organizations did not make exceptions, and the asylum was mostly cut off from the events on the mainland.

Those days had been very hazy for Imoen due to the treatment of the Wardens. It was like a strong drunken haze, but bad, rather than good, with the words of her captors ringing in her head constantly, eroding her mind. And it was breaking her, slowly and methodically. She was already half-way gone when they brought her to speak to the representative from Athkathla. She remembered the room tilting back and forth, and not being able to focus on anything steady, as things drifted in and out of her vision. They had to help her take a seat because she could not grab hold of the chair properly.

" What is your name ?" The man across the desk from her had asked her. She remembered that conversation clearly, because she held on to it in the days that followed like the last strands of hope that helped her endure. It had been a day or so before Irenicus had broken free.

" I asked you a question. " He said. Was there anger in his voice ? She tried to focus on the now, but it was difficult. Why were they doing this to her ? Because she was a Deviant ? No. No, she was not a Deviant. They said she was, but she wasn't.

" She is stubborn. " A second man spoke, a displeased whisper. " Her education is progressing slowly. "

They would be angry with her. They would invade her mind again. She could not go through that again. " Imoen. " She said, hating herself for doing so. She had to convince them that she was submitting to them, that she was good and not fighting any more… But giving in terrified her ; what if acting surrender was the first sign of actual surrender ?

" Someone in Athkathla is looking for you. " The first man had said. " I want you to tell me who that is. "

The words she spoke were the words they kept trying to put into her head. " I… am… alone… " She muttered. What was left of her writhed and screamed at those words passing her lips, but she forced them out. The other part of her, the part the wardens had been cultivating in her, was smiling in relief. " I… have… no one… No family… No friends… No one wants me… "

The first man grimaced. " Enough. " He said. " You aren't fooling me with this, girl. Tell me who is challenging us. What kind of a fool thinks they can stand up to the might of our order ?"

" I am a Deviant. " She spoke miserably. She was so tired. They were not allowing her enough sleep, always keeping her tired. " All alone… Useless…

Have no one… "

The first man stood up. He was breathing hard. Why was he angry ? She had been good. She told them what they wanted to hear. He composed himself swiftly enough and produced several pieces of paper, placing them on the desk in front of her. They were drawings of people. People she knew. She knew them ! She recognized them. She was not alone after all. They had lied to her. She was not alone. She started to laugh, and they had to slap her three times to make her calm down.

" Tell me. " The first man spoke. " By the gods you will tell me everything you know. Who is attacking us ? Who is killing our members ?"

" Your lies. " She said, and her words were different. They were what she remembered her voice had been before she was brought here. Not quite, but almost. " Somebody is in troubleeeee. A very big troubleeee. " She sing-songed.

The second man tried to step forward menacingly, but the first one held up his hand and stopped him in his tracks. She was talking now, and he would not let her be interrupted. She would not let it happen ether, not now. By the gods, they would hear her, for once.

" We are many and they are few. " The man said calmly. " They do not comprehend what they face in us. " She grinned at him, but he resumed unaffected. " Sooner or later, they will slip and fall, even if it takes a hundred Wizards. "

Conviction was hard as stone in his voice, but she knew better. He was not angry, but afraid, and she knew why. She gave him a wolfish smile.

" You are wrong. " She told him. " It does not matter what numbers you have. For you do not comprehend, that you have ticked off a Bhaalspawn. "

It had seemed like such a long time since Imoen felt true joy, but the bulging eyes of the both Cowel Wizards in the room with her that night, watching their convictions shatter like the rock they were made from, it brought the flavor of joy back to her, and she laughed. She laughed, because they were coming for her, and she was not alone.

" Imoen ?" Chloe asked her. " Are you alright ?"

Imoen snapped out of her recollections to see they were standing in the middle of the square, a small street garden with a marble fountain in its center. The government building stood before them, basking in the golden sunlight.

She had not thought about those things in a while, but all the same, she should not have let herself be distracted by them. A sharp sniff, and she brought herself back under control, nodding to Chloe. " Let's join the party. " She said.