Everything about the night before had been worthy of a headache. It was a storm of last minute preparations; of securing provisions and a reliable means of transport.

Valla hadn't really had time to consider anything else.

"The simple one is talking to the horses—no doubt instructing them to trample me at the first opportunity—and the priestess is already complaining that we have to travel in the sun. You would think fifty years on the surface would be time enough for even a drow to adjust to the light of day."

Valla didn't look up from her adjustments and her readjustments.

Her armor was a combination of chain and leather pieces, which Yoshimo had acquired for her and it fit well thanks to the armorer's attention to detail and Jaheira's merciless tightening of laces and fastenings.

And she felt like she was going mad all over again.

She wanted chew her fingers and pull her skin off—confined, she was being confined and weighed down, there was something inside screaming, there were hands on her wrists again—

"Valla."

The only hands, as it turned out, were on her shoulders and they belonged to a wizard, but not one she had any reason to fear. Well, not really.

For a mage, Edwin had a surprisingly bracing grip and it was enough to ground her amidst the swirl of her irrational anxieties. They stood together for a moment in silence; Valla attempting to gather her bearings and Edwin assessing her with dark eyes that shadowed by his deep cowl.

"This armor…" she began, her eyes fixed on a clasp on her side.

"You will wear it," he answered with the same bald practicality he addressed most everything. "The road is filled with more dangers than your average tavern brawl and it has been luck alone that has kept you safe thus far."

His hands fell back to his sides, slowly, as if he didn't quite trust her to remain standing once he released her; like she might float away if he let go.

She felt she might.

Valla twisted her head from one side to the other and rolled her shoulders. It was probably stupid to show this kind of vulnerability to a Thayan—that sounded like the kind of thing the Prelate or even Keldorn might tell her—but she had long ago stopped really thinking of Edwin like that. Besides, she couldn't think now anyway with so much weight bearing down on her and pressing. "Can't you cast something instead?" she asked.

"No."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both." Edwin was frowning at her, but there was something more than annoyance in the way his brow furrowed. "If the casting would fail, for whatever reason, or if I would be otherwise occupied in combat and unable to renew it, you would be engaging enemies unprotected."

Concern. He was worried about her.

That by itself was enough to stake her feet firmly to the ground.

Edwin was concerned enough to let it slip through his mask of affected apathy, which meant she was being completely insane, didn't it?

Valla took a breath and let it out.

Nothing changed, of course. The armor was still suffocating her and she felt panic lurking at the borders of her thoughts. She just didn't have any other choices, did she?

It was like standing on the Lion's Way again. Alone, she might have picked herself a tree, curled up, and waited for a passing beast to start finishing her off one toe at a time. But Imoen's presence—Imoen's hasty self-exile from the safety of Candlekeep's walls—had made the only way the way forward.

"If I am forced to lead, the ranger will obviously die."

Imoen. Amn. Thayan red and the smell of steel and leather; she braced herself in the present with these things. "Best leave it up to the competent among us then, Edwin."

"Keh, I will leave you as I find you next time."

There were raised voices outside on the cobbles, which was almost always a sure sign of something good happening, Valla had found.

At the center of the fray were Jaheira, Viconia, and a hooded third figure.

Also, always a good thing.

"We have been delayed too long in this sore of a city as it is. You know this already, elg'caress," the priestess was saying. "And it is curious that you are so cautious with the child's safety until it comes to these others you skulk about for. If another of us were to propose dragging her off to introduce her to our colleagues you would become quite violent indeed."

"The Harpers are not—" The hooded figure was promptly cut off.

"Silence, male! Until your input is requested, hold your tongue, or it will be taken from you."

Valla glanced at Edwin.

He shrugged. "I see no reason to intervene."

No, of course he didn't, but then he also wouldn't have to take part in the inevitable separating of hands from throats if a fight broke out. He'd probably oppose it, in fact, and instead spend the time encouraging the women to relocate to the nearest mud puddle.

"Can I help?"

Viconia and Jaheira turned at the same time to face her, as did the unknown man.

The druid spoke first. "Valla, I know you are eager to leave the city, but something has come up."

Oh yes, just so many good things.

"What something?"

She gestured to the man beside her. "This is Rylock. He is a fellow Harper. There are a handful of others here in the city."

"Ah, so they are who you have been sneaking off at all hours to meet. I suppose I ought to have guessed."

Three heads swiveled about to look at Edwin.

He was examining the state of his finely groomed nails and when he finally noted their stares he returned their scrutinizing looks with a wryly lifted eyebrow. "Your exits at night triggered my wards."

"You warded my room?" Jaheira demanded. "How dare you spy on me? You snake-tongued—!"

"Vanity, vanity! You are, of course, being ridiculous," the wizard scoffed. "I warded all of the rooms at the disposal of our group."

Viconia's brows lifted at this. "Druid, if you will hold him, I will do the cutting."

An ear-splitting whistle halted any creative wizard flaying-related activities that might have followed and Harpers, drow, and wizard looked quickly to the perpetrator. Satisfied with the results, Valla dropped the forefinger and thumb from her mouth and began to calmly refit her gauntlet. "So, what was this about the Harpers?" she asked.

Jaheira glanced at Rylock. "They have offered to help us," she said tentatively. "I have not disclosed all of the details, but I suggest putting off our departure to Trademeet long enough to see them. Rylock has come this morning to inform me that this quarter's leader has returned. His name is Galvarey and I know something of him. We have had disagreements in the past, but I trust the Harpers, as should you."

Valla wasn't sure about that.

Once upon a time, she had thought she could trust the Flaming Fist. Then, she had been extorted by them on the road, watched them manhandle their share of barmaids in Nashkel, and killed that particularly dense bloke to save Viconia.

People also trusted the Iron Throne.

And Elminster being Mystra's Chosen didn't mean Mystra herself micromanaged the affairs of every Harper. One or two were bound to slip through the cracks.

It was enough to seed some doubt.

Valla looked at Viconia. "And from the yelling, I take it that you object?"

The drow's eyes narrowed. "You do not know these people, abbil, no matter who they claim allegiance to," she said with vehemence. "The druid is quick to forget the importance of her own lessons when she speaks of her kind, but I will reiterate mine—trust is for the foolish and the dead."

On the other hand, if there were other Harpers in the city that might mean being able to avoid further association with the Shadow Thieves. Sure, Renal Bloodscalp and Gaelan Bayle had been perfectly fair and charming and so on in their dealings, but she knew exactly how far that solicitous attitude could be expected to extend. In the end, this was about Imoen and she needed to consider who was least likely to pull one over on her once she handed them the money and anyone who openly called themselves thieves…

"Not that you will listen—you never do—but I too advise caution when dealing with the ones who Harp."

Jaheira sneered at Edwin. "I would think you eager to get inside the walls of Harper compound."

"Oh, quite eager, wench. However, I have no interest in falling victim to their mutant sense of justice on their soil."

Valla, as she mulled over the situation, happened to look at Rylock and watched his tentative, sideways examination of Viconia and the prolonged attention he paid Edwin where his eyes fixed, in particular, on the wizard's robe.

"Staring is rude," she advised.

The man looked at her. He was non-descript himself, human, plainly dressed, wearing nice studded armor. In a crowd, he'd have vanished. "You should be more particular about the company you keep," he said.

The hairs lifted on her neck.

It was one thing when the Prelate had warned her not to trust them. It was another to hear this. It was too much like every reason she had ever thrown someone over the bars in the taverns up north, because of ignorant, errant demands to go back to the Underdark or Thay.

"I am, that's why they're here."

Jaheira's hand came to rest upon Valla's arm, warm and firm. "We do not have to talk long."

Right. Business. It couldn't hurt to see if the Harpers had a better bid than the thieves at least.

"Fine. I still mean to leave for Trademeet today, but we'll just get a later start. The others are waiting at the Crooked Crane with the wagon. We'll let them know the change of plans and then meet you in the hour."

The Docks smelled of salty sea air and were abuzz with the activity of mid-morning foot traffic and guardsmen. Sailors and toughs loitered about as street kids bolted through the streets out of alleyways.

Keldorn and Valla both walked on the outsides of the group with their swords drawn and resting on their shoulders, the show of blades warning off would-be predators. Edwin and Viconia were kept herded between them while Jaheira led and Haer'Dalis brought up the rear.

"This all worries me greatly."

"Everything worries you, old one."

"Silence yourself, brash one, or I will do it for you."

"Boys."

Edwin snorted something derisive and age-related about Keldorn and, in reprimand, Valla elbowed him.

Keldorn's lips pressed together tightly as he attempted to stifle a smile. He addressed the girl. "I have not heard of a Harper presence in Athkatla. They do not usually hide themselves from the Order."

Jaheira answered instead. "Operating in such proximity to the likes of Bloodscalp and the other Shadow Thieves, they might view the secrecy as a necessity. It is not a slight on the Order, Keldorn."

"No, I did not perceive it as such, but surely they do not think the Order would give away their identities? Certainly, the Order would be another layer of protection."

"The Harpers have no allies," Edwin interrupted. "They have tools and sources. Others are only useful to them so long as they have use. It is curiously, hm, what is the word? Ah… Thayan."

Jaheira pointed out a horse plop. "Speaking of Thay, an opportunity for you to reacquaint yourself with your kith."

Valla felt a tap-tap on her shoulder and turned her head. Haer'Dalis' presence was becoming an ever more familiar pull and tickle at the corner of her senses. "Hm?"

"This may not be the best time to bring this up…" Haer'Dalis sucked in a breath through his nose. "I have a feeling."

"A feeling?" She glanced at the others as they began filing down the seawall stairs. She lowered her voice. "What sort of feeling?"

"Anxiety?" he offered. "But redder."

She wasn't going to guess at what that meant.

"We are here."

The building was quite imposing and was obviously an estate of some kind. The stucco outside was old and cracked and the windows were foggy with dust. Rylock was waiting at the door.

Inside, the story was very different. With the vaulted ceilings and the spotless marble floors, it could have been a temple. A statue of Mystra even stood at the far end in the bow of a double staircase.

Immediately before them, however, waited a group led by a man in heavy plate. He was tallish with a thick build and fair, meticulously groomed hair, but there was something disagreeable about him and his presence. If Keldorn and his manners radiated the opened warmth of a paladin at his best, this man was the sneering, calculating opposite.

Jaheira herself took no obvious pleasure in seeing him. "Galvarey."

"Jaheira, I am glad you could come," he purred. "My sincerest condolences. I was just informed of Khalid's passing." He did not sound at all sincere, though he simpered for effect and offered his hands to take Jaheira's.

She did not accept.

With just a glance at the druid, Valla could tell that this man's apologies weren't even welcomed. She wondered what it was about their past that had left the woman so soured.

Galvarey's lip curled slightly at the rebuffing of his attentions. Then his eyes alighted upon Valla and something in them changed all together. "Ah, you must be Jaheira's ward. I have been waiting to meet you." He gestured to the stairs. "Come. Let us speak in private."

Valla felt Haer'Dalis' hand suddenly come to rest upon the center of her back, grasping, a gesture meant to stay her. Jaheira spoke before she could. "You will speak here," the druid said firmly. "I know well what happens to those you drag off into dark corners."

Galvarey raised a single eyebrow. Then he smiled. It was a joyless baring of teeth. "I see. Yes. Fine. This shan't take long at all. Some simple questions for the young woman, then, nothing too difficult. Firstly, Valla, do you know why you're here?"

"Not exactly," Valla said. She glanced at Jaheira. "I had some hope of gaining the Harpers' aid, which I think was also Jaheira's intent."

"Hm, yes. I've heard about your recent... troubles. May I ask, what is your earliest memory?"

She was put off immediatey. Her first memories were of Candlekeep and Gorion; time spent in quiet, household domesticity or study, when he attended all of her lessons himself and kept her corralled in their private rooms. She would have been barely five. Before that? Well, the details were nothing but a blur, but there had been a time before Candlekeep and what she did remember was a sense of confusion and danger. There was never safety prior to the shelter of the great library.

But...

"I don't think that's any of your business," she said at length. Her memories of Gorion were hers to hoard, not for some stranger to sift through.

"Answer the question, if you would please," he instructed in a voice just above a growl.

Armor. He was wearing armor. And the others around him were also dressed for war. It was one thing that she and the others traipsed about dressed as they did because they were, at any given time, expected to kill slavers or hike down to the sewers for a quick tussle with mad wizards. But no one was supposed to know these people were Harpers, so why were they dressed for battle?

"I was raised in Candlekeep. That's all you need know."

Galvarey's lip curled, but he looked satisfied enough. "Yes, I suppose one could expect a certain amount of stubborn resistance from one of your kind," he sniffed. "Tell me, do you feel any particular need for violence?"

He knew.

She felt rather than saw Viconia moving further away, positioning herself deeper in the shadows, and there was the whisper of Edwin's robes rustling as he too sought a more advantageous position with all the casualness a man in Thayan red could muster.

Haer'Dalis' palm still burned the center of her back.

"Violence is a part of our world. We live in a dangerous time."

"So you find violence unavoidable. Interesting, though not unexpected."

"Bastard, you are twisting her words!" The butt of Jaheira's quarterstaff meeting the tile floor echoed in the hall. "I will not let this go on!"

"You can and you will," Galvarey snapped back. "Just one question more and then we will put an end to this for good I think. Your… favorite color? I think that ought to do."

"What has that to do with anything?" Jaheira scoffed.

Edwin's head moved sharply to regard the man and his brows furrowed as if he was making some sort of quick calculation. Then he looked to Valla and their eyes met.

Lie, he mouthed.

The wizard's head tilted and the light caught his expression beneath his hood; the imperative look on his face and the tense set of his jaw.

It was important, but she couldn't fathom why.

"Yellow."

"Ha! Yes, of course! The color of sickness and infection."

"And of a daisy and the sun!" Jaheira sneered. "Enough of this farce, Galvarey! This is meaningless!"

"Agreed, her answers are all meaningless to some degree. It has been determined that she is a danger that cannot be left to roam, she cannot help it; it is in her nature to be thus." The man lifted his chin. "She must be contained. Humanely. Imprisonment, I think, will do."

Valla tightened her grip on her sword. "I hope I'll have a cell with a view."

"Not that sort of Imprisonment," Galvarey growled. "Jaheira—"

Three spells went off at once.

First, a growth of vines and tangled grasses punched through the marble of the floor and lashed around the ankles of Galvarey and his party, snaring them.

Secondly, Valla felt an arm brace itself around her middle and then she went blind as a thick cloud of viscous, inky blackness filled the air around both groups

And then a fireball exploded.

It was Haer'Dalis, Valla realized, that had grabbed her. The tiefling then pulled her out of the cloud to the cover of a pillar against the eastern wall. A moment later, they watched Jaheira, dragging Edwin, exit the cloud of black, inky tendrils trailing after them and grasping after their clothes. They found cover at the entrance of the hallway just to the south and were preparing their next spells.

The darkness cleared.

Valla moved instantly, closing in on Galvarey before he could gather his bearings and adjust again to the rapid change of lighting. She shoulder-checked him hard enough to uproot him from the magical vines that had survived Edwin's fireball.

Before she could press the attack, a magical impact seared her through her armor. Springing backwards, she avoided the next three missiles in the volley, and saw the wizard from the corner of her eye preparing for another spell: "Edwin! Keldorn!" Then Galvarey was on her.

She tried to count the bodies as she avoided Galvarey's swings. The archer was dead and so was the elven spellcaster. But there was a rogue missing and she didn't see Rylock anywhere.

A buffing spell hit and she felt protective magic weave itself around her—it smelled earthy, like newly turned soil. Jaheira's casting.

From the corner of her eye, a Dispel and a Remove Magic hit the Harper wizard at the same time and at least one worked because his shield fell. Keldorn lunged for the kill.

"El!"

Viconia. Valla didn't get a chance to look as she skated out of Galvarey's reach, but she imagined it was the thief. An unconscious thief, now, given the Command. Then, a dead one, if the dull thunk of a crossbow bolt that followed indicated anything.

Valla ducked and twisted under Galvarey's blade as it cut the air over her and came to her feet behind him. It ended the fight. With one hand gripping her blade at its middle and the other on the hilt, she managed to drive two murder-strokes into the exposed back of the man's skull. She felt the bone cave beneath the weight of the first blow alone.

He fell to the floor in a heap.

A mercy blow would ensure death..

A hit—like Minsc's fist but something even bigger—suddenly took the air out of Valla's lungs and she stumbled.

"Damn it!"

A shield crackled around her smelling of fire and smoke.

Valla glanced to the side and caught a glimpse of Rylock.

A glimpse was all she got before what happened next happened.

She had never had the privilege of watching Haer'Dalis really fight up until that moment, so she didn't have a good measure of the tiefling's skill. But it was in a stunningly casual move that the tiefling grabbed the Harper from behind—moving as quietly as any rogue—and doubled him over backwards. Then he drove one of his swords into the man's chest, rending bone and tissue with what looked like no effort at all. He withdrew it a moment later and discarded the body with a shove.

It was an impressive, terrible sight. Then things started to get blurry.

"I have her, where should I—?"

"Just here, on the floor."

"Harper—!"

"I had no idea what Galvarey intended! I would never let them hurt Valla, as you well know, Thayan! Viconia?"

"Her eyes are dilated and I smell poison. Abbil, be still. Paladin, remove the bolt at my word."

"Leave it, we must go now. Handle it after we leave the city."

"What are you—?"

"We have just slaughtered this outlet of Harpers, fool. As lovely as I might find this all, it will be anything but if we are caught here."

"They were going to Imprison her!"

"And if they ask why, what will we say? That she is a daughter of Bhaal? Pfeh! She will survive a bit of poison, but not the noose. Break off the shaft and cast something to contain the poison. Take care of the rest when we stop for camp—if we stop."

"Dare I ask why these others are trying to kill you?"

"I wish I knew." A pause. She had the workings of her old maille down to something of a science, but this half-plate was going to take some getting used to. "Gods, you aren't going to take up that bounty are you? I'll be really put out if I have to try to find another spellcaster as good as you are."

"Your vain attempts at flattery are noted and appreciated, however hollow. And no. I am, of course, above such menial labors and the prize is not worth the work involved."

Valla considered the Thayan on the opposite side of the room. He was not an ideal roommate, but this wasn't about comfort. It was about preventing gory murder and with Minsc and Dynaheir just across the hallway this was really all that would work. She was equally worried about Viconia and Imoen bunking up, but the girl had promised not to annoy the Drow and she trusted that more than she trusted her ability not to annoy the wizard. This proved quite true, since when they had last seen together, the priestess was, rather tolerantly, guiding the fledgling mage through a language lesson.

"I wish to simply understand our mutual enemy."

"Mutual enemy?" she asked, working off her gauntlets and then the clasps of her breastplate.

"What is this repeating? Yes, mutual enemy. We have been seen together; have killed one of their operatives together. This is not something that can now be undone but to rid ourselves of those responsible. Believe me, this is an ugly inconvenience, to be associated so closely with someone such as you."

"Excuse me, Red Wizard, but you aren't exactly my dream companion."

"Hm?" He stroked the opposite jaw with the blade of his finger. "Even though you have admitted to yourself that you would be loathed to lose me?"

Valla snorted as she, lastly, removed her thoroughly gross smelling shirt. Fair enough, she was pretty gross herself. She definitely needed a bath before bed. "You are talking me right out of your one merit, Thayan."

He muttered something in what was either Thayan or Mulhorandi, but soon fell silent. It was a silence that eventually became quite pressing and unusual for someone who enjoyed hearing the sound of his own voice so much.

"And for someone who is so inconvenienced by me, you could do less staring when I undress."

"Hold your vanity, Sunite. Mulani men do not engage in carnal activities with cows."

Ouch.

Half a dozen equally mean replies about being a spindly and gaunt and a typically cantankerous, self-aggrandizing wizard jumped to mind because him. She thought to throw in something about him looking like a spider or a praying mantis.

But she refrained.

"Well, for all the horrible things I know of Thay, it's a relief to know my honor is safe in your presence."

With that, Valla undid the knot in the band that pressed her breasts flat to her and tossed it atop her discarded shirt. Then she undid the braid of her hair and, stretching her arms back, she combed her fingers through the rust-colored locks. She finished with a shake of her head and bent to search her pack.

Edwin made some kind of hybrid coughing-choking sound.

Smiling despite her efforts not to, she retrieved a clean shirt from her pack and shook it out. "This cow is going to dinner. Join us if you wish."

When Valla came back to herself she was immediately aware of being outside. Campfire smoke burned in her sinuses, which meant that it was dark already, and when she shifted she felt the rough scrape of a wool blanket against her bare skin.

The bolt.

She moved her arm, but there was no pain. She tried to reach back to feel for a wound, but a hand stayed hers.

"It is gone."

Valla grunted and forced herself up, gathering the blanket close to cover herself as she did so.

The fire cast flickering golden light over Edwin's features, which were no longer hidden in the depths of his cowl. He sat back from where he had been knelt over her, draping an arm over his knee.

"Where are we?" she asked, her mouth dry and sandy

The wizard reached for a water skin resting by him and handed it to her. "We are two days or more from Trademeet,"

She glanced around the camp as she sipped at the water. She could see a spray of white hair visible in the nearby cart and a small, sleeping lump on the other side of the fire, which accounted for Viconia and Jan. Haer'Dalis was asleep in his roll some feet away. Propped against a tree nearby with his sword resting upright between his legs and against one shoulder was Keldorn. Under a tree on the opposite side of the clearing were Minsc and Yoshimo.

Jaheira was nowhere in sight.

"Securing the area. Or so she said."

"She threw the first spell," Valla replied.

"A good cover."

She smiled at his sardonic bitterness. "When Gorion knew the entire world would be trying to kill me, he trusted my life to Khalid and Jaheira. I trusted him. I trust her."

Edwin snorted. "The drow will be disappointed that you have learned nothing."

"Not relying on people can also get you killed. Viconia won't admit it, but she knows that too. So do you."

He made another guttural noise, but said nothing. His dark eyes, nearly black despite the firelight, searched hers. "You are pale."

"I feel fine. Was I poisoned?"

"Yes."

"Hm, my muscles are stiff." She rubbed at her neck for a long moment. Then she looked at Edwin. "Why did you tell me to lie about my favorite color?"

The wizard glanced at her and then at the fire. "No mage there was skilled enough to cast the spell, so they must have intended to use a ritual. Imprisonment is a spell of layers. The prison is not just the cocoon of suspended animation one is kept in beneath the earth, but one of the mind as well. It is a prolonged state of illusion. For one powerful enough to simply cast the spell, it is nothing to create these illusions from whole cloth so that the subject has seemingly lived another life entirely. For someone casting from a ritual, they would need to know a handful of things about the person to be Imprisoned and base them in truth so they relive memories."

Realization dawned quickly "That bastard," she whispered.

"You did well, avoiding details," Edwin went on. "But from basics, details can be divined. When he asked for your favorite color I realized that he was not inquiring about your heritage, but that his questions had to involve something else. Magic was my first guess."

"Okay, but… my favorite color? What great, illuminating details can be divined from that?"

He shrugged. "Assuming you did lie, what is your favorite color?"

"Red."

"The favored color of Sune's church?"

"Ah, hm, well… ugh, fine."

"Also, obviously, prolonged association with an exceptional individual such as—"

She grabbed his face and shoved him over backward into the dirt before he could finish the sentence and then got up to search for a shirt.

A murder-stroke is strike delivered with the pommel.

Holding the blade of a sword with one hand and the hilt with the other and using it as a sort of spear it called half-swording (I did not know you coud verb that noun). I've seen it done with long-swords. My assumption is that it could be done with bastard swords but shrug.

Watch Edwin Thay it up all over the place.

Obviously younger!Valla was a much brasher creature than she is at present. I have no explanation for this scene other than wanting to display how different things were when Edwin and Valla first met.