Chapter 10

"Well, my friends, the hour grows late and I must take my leave." Standing up from the table, Tarnesh dropped a key into Dorean's hand. "Enjoy the rest of your meal, Imoen." He paused, smiling down at the dwarf. "I wish you two a good night's rest."

Dorean did not miss a beat, returning the smile without hesitation. "And good luck to you as well."

"I told you, friend; I don't need luck." With a parting smirk, the young wizard turned and walked off in the direction of the exit.

"Tank yew ahn goo-buy!" said Imoen. Dorean closed his eyes and sighed.

"Please stop doing that."

"Doo-eng wat?" Imoen paused to swallow, then picked up her half-eaten pudding pie and held it out to him. "You want some?"

"No," replied Dorean, his head turned to the side and eyes still following Tarnesh out of the inn. He fingered the key in his left hand. "So I guess we got a noble-class room."

"Yep. Real nice of him to give it to us," Imoen replied, still holding out the pie. She waved it slightly at Dorean, who ignored the gesture.

"Yeah," said Dorean quietly. When Tarnesh had disappeared beyond the large front doors in a billow of black and green, he turned his gaze to the key in his hand. "Even though there were three people in front of us when we got to the counter."

Giving up, Imoen returned the pie to her side of the table and shrugged her shoulders. "We got lucky. Tymora's my god, after all."

Dorean frowned at the key in his hand, then stowed it in his pocket. "You might be right," he said distractedly. Placing his elbows on the table, the dwarf then steepled his fingers together and leaned his chin on them. Noticing this, Imoen tilted her head to the side.

"So," she said after a moment of silence. "Where do you think these friends of Mr. G could be?"

When Dorean did not answer, Imoen straightened, looking worriedly at him, and set down her knife and fork. "Little brother?"

The dwarf looked up at her, paused for a moment, then turned, hopped off his chair and headed for Montaron.

Without turning to look at or even glance at him, the halfling put down his quill and set aside his parchment as Dorean approached.

"Buy you a drink?"

After a moment of glancing at him sideways with a bored, aloof expression, Montaron jerked his chin at the empty stool next to him. "Elminster's Choice," he said as the dwarf took his seat. Dorean then waved over a gnomish barmaid and ordered the beer for Montaron and a fruit juice for himself, which elicited a titter from her.

"Sorry," she said when Dorean frowned and cocked his head at her. "I just realized that this is the first time I've ever taken a drink order from a dwarf that was anything other than the strongest stuff we have." Her good-natured laughter slowly died in the wake of Montaron's cold, one-eyed, sideways gaze. "Right, Elminster's Choice and fruit juice," she said quickly, then turned around and scurried away.

She returned a few minutes later, placed the drinks on the table while leaning away from Montaron, and scurried away again.

Wisely deciding to say nothing, Dorean sipped his own drink while Montaron took a draught of the beer with his left hand while the right covered the parchment. "What is it?"

"It's the people I'm supposed to meet," said Dorean, keeping his gaze on his own hands. "I believe I've located them."

"So meet them, then," replied the halfling dismissively. He took another draught of beer.

Dorean breathed deeply. Best not to be indirect with him. "I don't trust them."

"Then don't meet them," replied the halfling without hesitating. Dorean took another deep breath, managing not to grind his teeth.

"I want you to get close and eavesdrop on them."

"No."

Having expected the answer, Dorean kept his voice calm and his gaze on his own drink. "The meeting was meant to have them join me and my father. Wouldn't you want to learn more about the people you may be working with?" He paused. "They are Harpers, after all. It may help you to know something especially if you don't trust them."

Montaron paused with the tankard halfway to his lips. Dorean resisted the urge to hold his breath, breathing steadily and keeping his eyes on his own hands and drink. After a moment, the halfling set the tankard gently on the table and let go of its handle. Another moment passed in silence.

Eventually, Montaron picked up his tankard, drank slowly and then set it down.

"Ye got some mouth on ye, kid," he said quietly, looking straight ahead rather than glancing at the dwarf beside him. "Yer da taught ye to talk like that?"

Dorean's left hand clenched into a fist on the table and began to tremble. Staring intently at it, he closed his eyes and took another deep breath, exhaling loudly through his large, hooked nose. He then opened them as a thought occurred to him, then turned his head away from Montaron's side.

A few tables away, Imoen was watching them both from the corner of her eye while cutting up the rest of the pie. She paused upon noticing her roommate glancing at her. No one else around them seemed to have noticed the exchange between the dwarf and halfling.

As he looked at her, Dorean heard Xzar's voice in his mind, directed at Imoen.

I think he likes you.

He lowered his head, slowly turning back to his table.

He's refusing to help me because he doesn't want her out of his sight.

After a moment's pause, Dorean nodded. "I understand," he said quietly. "It was wrong of me to ask this of you. My apologies." He got off his seat. "Enjoy your drink, Montaron," he said without looking at the halfling.

Imoen's mouth opened to speak as Dorean approached, but he waved her into silence.

"I need to...look, just stay here, okay? Stay right here. Don't go anywhere." He wagged his finger once at her for emphasis.

The concern in Imoen's expression did not fade. "You're up to something."

Dorean took yet another deep breath. "Yeah, I am. I'll explain later. For now, just...stay here."

Imoen hesitated, then nodded.

"Hey," she said as he was turning to leave. "Did he say where Xzar was?"

Dorean paused, then simply shook his head at her and walked off.

Imoen watched him go, then mimicked his action in breathing deeply before being distracted by the arrival of her desert.

As she tucked into her large slice of strawberry-and-cream cake, Montaron sat unmoving, his eyes following Dorean across the common room, before turning back to his parchment and picking up his raven quill.

..

He awoke to a world of pain. His first conscious breath was like a knife in his side, and the mere effort of opening his eyes sent needles shooting through his head.

Everything hurt. Everything.

Slamming his eyes shut and tensing his muscles, he closed his hands into fists, riding the pain wracking his entire body. His teeth grinded together, and trickles of blood flowed from the corners of his lips.

Then it was over; the lightning coursing through him began to settle down. Keeping his eyes closed, he fought to control his breathing from a series of gasps to slow, steady heaves. As he did so, he realized from the moisture on his skin and the mattress that he was covered in sweat.

When the pain had lessened to a dull agony, Sarevok blearily opened his eyes to find the room spinning. He slowly closed and opened them again.

He then realized that he was not alone.

"You are awake," Xzar said quietly. "Good. I thought that you would surely pass out again."

Sarevok's first instinct was to reach out, grab hold of this stranger by the neck, and demand answers. However, his arms refused to move, and the mere mental command to his limbs sent waves of pain shooting through his body again.

"Paralytic agent," said Xzar smoothly, holding up a small glass vial half-full of yellowish fluid. "It renders the victim helpless for several minutes. Enough for the sea snake to devour its prey alive." Smiling pleasantly, he stowed it within his robes. "I had to make a few modifications. People are usually considerably larger than a fish." He paused. "Except for faeries, if they count," he added distractedly. He then blinked and looked back to Sarevok. "I am sorry for waking you," he went on, holding up another vial containing a light-blue liquid. "But I could not pass up the chance to speak with you. So...I woke you up." He paused again. "And yet, now that you are awake...I don't know where to start."

He put away the vial and lifted his gaze from Sarevok's face. "Do you know what this room was used for, before the Mirrorshades arrived?" His green eyes moved over the bare, undecorated walls. "No...no, I doubt it. It would have been before your time. How ironic, that one such as you would end up in it, and why."

"Who. Are. You?" Sarevok growled, pain coursing from his throat to his stomach with every word. His face contorted in rage when the wizard did not answer and instead continued to look around the room. He attempted again to sit up, and his chest nearly imploded in protest.

"I find it curious, the manner in which you targeted him," said Xzar, ignoring Sarevok's gasps and heaves as he struggled to steady his breathing again. "You could have easily hired someone else to do it, perhaps while he was in Candlekeep." He lowered his head, still looking at the wall across from Sarevok's bed.

"But you wanted...you needed...to do it yourself. You needed to look him in the eye." He then turned his gaze to Sarevok's torso. "Hence your current state." His eyes slowly travelled up to the man's face, and golden eyes narrowed slightly upon meeting green.

"You should not be ashamed," Xzar went on, his voice turning gentle. He patted Sarevok's arm. "You did not know. Or perhaps you did," he added, smirking. "But the man you killed was one of the most talented wizards of his generation. A shame that he joined the Harpers; he would have made a great Zhent. Before it all went wrong, of course..." He smiled at Sarevok blinking in confusion, and again looked away.

"I helped the dwarf to bury him," he whispered to the wall. "It was the least I could do for him, after all." He paused, his expression melancholic. "Part of me wishes I could have gotten to him sooner. The other parts, though..." he trailed off, smiling sadly.

"So," snarled Sarevok, biting back a cough. "You're with him. And you're here to...to kill me." His cheeks flushed red and his breathing intensified. "Sending you to...finish me off instead...of doing it himself. Coward."

For the next few minutes, Xzar stared pensively and silently at him, and there was no sound aside from Sarevok's breathing.

Xzar then reached out with his uninjured hand to Sarevok's torso, ignoring his grunts and snarls of outrage and pain. Long, thin fingers trailed along his abdomen to his chest, their touch soft and delicate, not unlike that of a lover, noting the numerous scars, burns and bruises.

He reached Sarevok's neck. His expression blank, Xzar then closed his fingers around his throat without applying pressure. He remained in place for a long time, staring into Sarevok's eyes.

When he spoke again, his voice was now so soft and audible that Sarevok barely heard him.

"This is nothing to you, isn't it?" he whispered.

After a moment, he lowered his face so close, inches apart from Sarevok's, that for one horrifying second the latter thought that Xzar was going to kiss him.

Instead, the wizard peered straight into the fighter's eyes, seeming to lose himself in the twin pools of glowing gold.

"Hate," he said, his voice slightly louder this time. "That is the answer. It is why you still live; what drove you then, and drives you now." He paused, still staring into Sarevok's eyes. "Vengeance. On the people who wronged you. On those who hurt you, those who used you. But not just them...no, not just them. You want vengeance on the world itself...and on your father."

Silence. He could feel the necromancer's breath on his lips; warm, in contrast to the cold fingers around his neck.

Then, after several seconds which seemed like minutes, Xzar leaned back and relinquished his hold on Sarevok. He returned his gaze to the opposite wall, hands resting on his lap.

"He does not know that you are here," he said softly. "If he did, It would likely be him in this room now, instead of me. No...I came here for just one thing."

Sarevok's breathing slowed, his fury replaced by confusion and then grim resignation. "Speak, then."

Xzar smiled, leaning backwards on the stool. "Some, I already know. The rest, I could guess. But there is one thing that I need, that I must have, here and now. And it cannot be a guess, it must be an answer. One that only you can provide."

Sarevok involuntarily held his breath as Xzar turned his gaze onto his face once again. When he spoke, his voice was once again a low, soft whisper.

"Why do you hate him?"

Sarevok paused, his face blank and fingers slackening on the mattress. Then, slowly, his lips tightened into a thin line and he glared coldly at the necromancer.

"You do not wish to answer." Xzar said lightly. "Then perhaps I should change the subject. How about your mother? Your real one, I mean, not Madam Anchev. She was your very first victim, if my information is accurate."

Sarevok's face slackened, losing all emotion.

In a split-second, he had risen off the bed with arms outstretched. He stopped suddenly with his fingers inches from Xzar's face, then fell back onto the bed. Spasms wracked his entire body, and he craned his neck upward, his chin pointed toward the ceiling. A low, guttural howl emitted from between his clenched teeth.

"Deep breaths," said Xzar, reaching over and rubbing the man's broad chest.

A few minutes later, Sarevok visibly relaxed, his breathing reduced to slow, ragged gasps.

"I am sorry," said Xzar, still rubbing Sarevok's chest. "I truly am. But I need my answer." He raised his hand slightly, leaving his fingers on the man's skin.

"You are a dead man." The five words from Sarevok's lips were not a threat made from rage, but a grim, solemn promise. He stared coldly into Xzar's eyes, forcing the necromancer's face into his memory. "You are dead," he said softly.

After a long moment, Sarevok slowly looked away towards the ceiling.

"He was my friend."

There was a long pause. When Sarevok spoke again, his voice was hushed and cracked.

"He said he loved me. Loved me like he would his own brother. And then barely an hour later..." he trailed off.

Silence fell upon the room. Xzar blinked at him silently for several seconds, then lowered his gaze to the floor. He nodded to himself a few times, then looked back up to the opposite wall again.

"His powers have awoken," he said, causing Sarevok to lift his head slightly to look at him. "Though they have only began to develop. It is odd that they should do so the day after his foster parent died." He paused for a long moment, then turned his gaze to Sarevok.

"And yet," he said slowly. "He has made far more progress than you."

The confusion and uncertainty left Sarevok's face, replaced by rage. For the first time, the emotion in Xzar's voice was clear to him now. The wizard was disappointed.

"He does not speak to you. You have no connection with him. None whatsoever." He shook his head and let out a sigh. "After everything Winski told me, I was expecting...something. More than this, at least."

Sarevok again tried to rise off the bed, but the immense pain of his wounds and the paralytic agent forced him back down, seething in fury. His eyes widened when Xzar lifted his uninjured hand and muttered a few words of Draconic, covering it in a bluish shimmer barely visible in the low lighting of the room.

"The man you killed in the Lion's Way had many friends; friends who now would very much want to see you dead."

Sarevok thrashed on the bed as Xzar reached out towards his throat.

"One simple touch...what was it she said? 'It would make everything easier for me, all-round," whispered Xzar, dragging out the last two syllables.

For ten seconds, he hovered over Sarevok, the deadly touch-spell inches from the man's neck, before closing his eyes, smiling and retracting his hand.

After a moment's silence, Sarevok could not contain himself. "Why?"

Xzar cocked his head, still smiling.

"Hmm. Good question. Maybe I want to see how things would play out between you and your 'friend'." He turned his gaze to Sarevok, and his grin widened, exposing his teeth. "Or maybe...maybe I am just mad." Without warning, he broke into a fit of giggles, hugging his chest as his body trembled on the stool.

"I am going to kill you," Sarevok growled. Xzar's grin widened further, stretching from ear to ear. Chortling to himself, he then took out a syringe from the sleeve of his robe and promptly jabbed it into Sarevok's arm.

"You will wake up a day from now," he said. "By then we will be far away, and you will have to hurry back to Baldur's Gate. Can't keep your foster father waiting after all, can you?"

As his eyelids grew heavy and the curtain of sleep fell upon him, Sarevok gave Xzar a look of pure hatred, silently promising him a slow and painful death. Then his head hit the pillow, and he was still.

Putting away the syringe, Xzar leaned back with his hands on his knees. His soft laughter abruptly died, though his smile did not. He spent the next few minutes gazing quietly at the sleeping man, then reached over and gently wiped beads of sweat off of his forehead.

Xzar then rose and made for the door. He paused upon the threshold for one more look at Sarevok. His eyes half-closed, Xzar's lips curled into a small, malevolent smile.

"Get well soon."

..

When Dorean returned to his seat at their table, Imoen hesitated before pushing a very large tankard towards him.

"Thanks, but no," he said distractedly, his head turned away as he discreetly looked around the common room.

"I ordered this for you," she said cheerfully. Dorean blinked and looked at her, then at the tankard.

He inhaled briefly and instantly recognized the beverage. "This is Evermead," he said blankly.

"Costs twenty gold, but worth every drop," she said, the cheeriness in her voice faltering very slightly. Slowly, Dorean lifted his eyes to her face.

"Imoen," he said slowly. "This is not a good time for me to get drunk."

The pink girl's face fell, and she slowly retracted her hand from the tankard. Suddenly feeling guilty, Dorean looked away from her.

"I was going to throw you a going-away party," said Imoen quietly, looking away from him as well. "Stuff your belly and pockets full of food and drink. Give you some presents." She paused. "I just thought you needed some cheering up after...what happened."

Dorean went very still, his expression slackening. Then he sighed, took the tankard and sipped.

The instant the liquor reached his tongue, an immediate warmth spread throughout his body, overwhelming his senses. He paused, momentarily lowering the tankard, then took a long draught.

When he lowered it again, he saw Imoen looking at him, the corners of her lips slowly curling upwards.

"It's nice to see you smile again."

"How do you know I'm smiling?" replied Dorean, pointing at his beard. Imoen's grin widened, stretching from ear-to-ear.

"You can't hide anything from me, little brother," she said wryly.

She waited for him to take another long draught of Evermead, then leaned forward with her elbows on the table and her hands cupping her cheeks.

"So, what were ya up to just now?"