Amor Vincit Omnia

(Love Conquers All)

Part Two: The Fragile Heart

"Guinnevere drew pentagrams
Like yours, my lady, like yours
Late at night, when she thought
That no one was watching at all
On the wall."
- Crosby, Stills, and Nash
"Guinnevere"

Chapter Ten: Adria the Witch

The woman smiled. It was a lovely smile, and it softened her marble features into a glowing feminity, a warm maternal expression.

"Leah," she said. "Leah, my daughter. My child. I did not dare to hope you would know me by sight."

"I have a - a drawing," replied the girl in a choked voice. "Uncle Deckard did it years ago. It's one of the only things I brought with me from home. But … I don't understand. How did you find me?"

"Darling, I have watched over you all the years of your life."

Saiya watched in sympathy as Leah's eyes filled with tears that rapidly overflowed and ran uncontrollably down her fair cheeks. "B-but if you knew … all that time …" she stammered out between sobs, "w-why did you never - never come and s-see me? Or even send a letter? I d-d-didn't even know if you were al-alive or not!" Ghor stepped up behind her and put comforting hands on her shoulders. Her jet-black eyes were fixed on Leah's mother with unmistakable dislike.

"I had my reasons," the older woman said, casting her gaze downwards as if in shame. "My tale is a long one, and while I would gladly tell it to you, this is neither the time nor the place. I see that several of your friends are wounded. Let me teleport you to a safer place, and we may discuss anything you wish."

"Be wary, Leah," said Baal in an undertone. "This could be a trap. Do you even know for sure that this is really Adria? You said you had never met her before."

"I think I would know my own mother!" Leah retorted hotly. Saiya felt her sympathetic feelings draining away in the cold realization that Baal, out of all of them, appeared to be the only one who knew anything about the present situation.

When did she take him into her confidence? the young monk wondered. And if he knows such intimate details about her background, what does she know about his? Did he tell her about his family?

The Hunter was saying, "It would not be difficult for a skilled sorceress – this Ilandili you told us about, perhaps – to imitate another shape. I'm only saying that it would be wise for us to be sure of her identity before we allow her to warp us wherever she pleases."

"It's alright, Baal," Eirena interjected. "There's no magic at work here. I'd be able to tell."

"Baal?" said Adria. "That is a very interesting name. Not the one your parents gave you, I should imagine."

Every muscle in his body was taut, like a rope stretched to the breaking point, and Saiya thought he might snap, but he only said, "No," in a curt tone.

Leah quickly introduced the rest of the group, though she blundered a little over Tyrael's name and eventually presented him as Najmah, with a slightly guilty glance at her mother. If Adria suspected a deception, however, she showed no sign of it.

"Well," said Baal, "it seems we have little choice but to accept your help, Adria. But if you're going to take us somewhere, it'll be a place of our choosing."

She nodded. "Very well. Where would you like to go?"

"Fahkri's house?" suggested Saiya. "We could retrieve our things."

Baal shook his head. "Too risky. The Imperial Guard may be there already to inform Madam Fahkri of her husband's arrest."

"What about the Khasim Outpost, then?" said Kormac. "This would be the perfect opportunity to get the support that we wanted from Davyd and the other Wolves, plus it's a good distance from the city."

"Almost too far, I'd say," replied Baal. "I think the Hidden Camp would be our best bet." To Adria, he said, "In the cliffs above Caldeum lives a group of outlaws. We have friends among them. Take us there."

"Their existence is known to me," said the witch. "I will do as you ask." With a sweeping gesture of her hand, she opened a shimmering portal in the air. The unspoken question hovered on the air: Who will be the first to go through it?

Baal broke the momentary stillness by picking up Caesar (as cavalierly as if the mage were a sack full of potatoes) and approaching the magical rift. Looking at Saiya, he winked and said, "Wish me luck. At least if I die, this sorry bastard will die with me." Then, before she could think of anything to say in reply, he stepped forward and disappeared.

Saiya found herself torn between two equally strong desires: to know that Baal was alright, and to remain behind to see that all of her companions made it through. While she was agonizing over this decision, Kormac helped first Eirena and then Lyndon into the portal, and then went through himself. Now Saiya was the next in line, and it seemed like everyone else was waiting for her. Closing her eyes tight, she took a deep breath and walked into the glowing circle.

It was the most bizarre feeling, as if she had plunged into a shallow pool of warm water, only to fall through the bottom and emerge dry and clean on the other side. Her ears were assailed by a sudden blast of voices jabbering in Kehjistani; reassuringly, Baal's steady tones cut through the turmoil. She picked out the word hekim, which she knew meant 'healer'.

Her eyes, having grown used to the meager light in the sewers, burned in the harsh afternoon sun when she tried to open them, and she threw her arm over her face, blinking rapidly until her sight had adjusted itself again. By the time she could see clearly again, all her companions were standing beside her, including Adria.

The next hour or so was pure confusion, but it was sort of confusion in which things get done by other people while those who are on the receiving end sit placidly and do what they're told. The camp healer was located, an elderly, practically deaf, almost senile man by the name of Ghaine. He spent some time examining Baal and pronouncing him in perfect health before he could be convinced that he had the wrong patient in hand.

The group fragmented. Eirena went to lie down and sleep, while Kormac gazed longingly after her. Lyndon and Caesar were removed to Ghaine's tent, and Ghor accompanied them to lend her assistance to the ancient healer. Leah remained by her mother's side, unwilling to be parted from her, as if worried that she would disintegrate if not kept under close watch. Saiya, whose top priority soon became bathing, went off to the latrines. The water in the showers had been heated by the sun on the metal pipes, and she stood for a while under the cascade, allowing the pleasant warmth to soak into her bones. Her wet hair fell down over her eyes, and she reflected that it really was high time she had it cut.

When it came time to wash her wounds, the water softened the scabs, causing fresh blood to stream from the wounds. Remembering that the runoff would be used for the garden or given to the animals, she finished quickly and dried her hands. Only then did it occur to her that she had neglected to bring clean clothes or fresh bandages with her. The thought of putting her filthy rags back on over scrubbed and shining skin was abhorrent, but she could see no other option. She could hardly go out into the camp naked.

A tap on the tent door startled her, and she yelped, "Someone's in here!"

"I know," replied Baal's voice. "May I come in?"

"Ah … um … sure. I'm not-" The last few words shriveled on her tongue as he ducked inside, scrupulously tying the door closed after him. "-dressed, though."

"I can see that." His voice had deepened several notches, a rough and needy growl. But his eyes stayed fixed on her face, and his steps when he approached her were tentative, like a man approaching a spooked animal. He carried a bundle in his arms.

"My armor!" Saiya exclaimed, reaching out to take it and then stopping when she noticed that her palms were still dripping blood. "Where did you find it?"

"Squirt had it," he replied. "Apparently a group of Fahkri's servants arrived about an hour ago to deliver our belongings, as well as a message from Madam Fahkri: that we are welcome in her home again any time, and that she does not hold us accountable for her husband's imprisonment. They're calling it an 'attempted coup', by the way, and security at the palace has tightened tenfold. The Imperial Guard is searching every house in the city looking for us, so we'll have to be careful when we go down to get supplies." There was a slight pause, and then he said, "May I see your hands?"

Mutely, she held them out, palms upwards. Setting down her clothes, Baal pulled some bandages and ointment out of the pile and redressed the wounds. When he was finished, he placed a tender kiss on each fingertip. Saiya tried to pull them back, but he kept them captive in a gentle grip, leaning in to kiss her lips. She caught a whiff of his natural musk, interwoven with the stench of the sewers that still drifted about his clothes.

When his palm brushed her naked side, slicking the droplets of water on her skin, she twitched in surprise and stepped back onto the shower lever, soaking them both in a lukewarm spray.

"Sorry!" she gasped. Baal chuckled warmly and moved closer to her, apparently unbothered by being drenched with all his clothes on. He kissed her again, hungrily, and she felt her whole body respond with a dizzying rush of lust that left her clinging to him, breathless, her body molded to his own. One of his hands cupped her bottom, fingers digging into the supple flesh, while his other combed through her dripping hair. Saiya moaned.

"Baal, we shouldn't … what if someone walks in on us?"

"They'd regret it," he growled, nipping at her neck. His lips sealed over the gentle bite, leaving a rosy spot on her soft skin. He brushed his thumb over it, admiring his handiwork, proud of having marked his territory.

"But-"

The Hunter dropped slowly to his knees, trailing kisses down her abdomen as he went, until he was at face-level with the pale, downy hair that crowned her loins. She gasped as he nuzzled her before flicking out his tongue to trace the inside of her thigh. He looked up, eyes half-closed against the droplets still falling from the water spigot.

"Please, nuur il'-en," he murmured throatily. "I want you so badly."

It was fortunate, Saiya thought, that there was a central post supporting the top of the tent; without something to hold on to, she would never have been able to keep standing under the onslaught of his mouth. His ministrations were fierce, bold – almost desperate – and in very little time she whimpered, bit back a scream, and bent over, clutching his shoulders as a wave of ecstasy swept her away.

"Will you let me do that for you?" she asked once she could speak again.

Baal's smile had an element of self-consciousness in it. "I'd rather make love to you," he said.

She gaped at him. "What, right here? But the floor's all dirty."

"You can sit on my lap." He began to peel off his wet clothes while Saiya considered the surprised fact that apparently there was more than one position to have sex in. She wondered what else she was ignorant about and felt a sudden paralyzing stab of fear. How long would Baal be satisfied with a novice like herself before he longed for the attentions of a woman who knew how to properly please him? Suppose he was only playing around with her because she was willing – had practically thrown herself on him, really – and was just biding his time until a better opportunity came his way?

Immediately she recalled the raw passion in his eyes and was ashamed by her weakness in doubting him. Surely he had proved his devotion to her by now, in deed if not in word.

I must stop this pessimistic attitude towards him, she thought. It's not fair.

He was as bare as she by this time, shivering a little as the last bit of sun-warmth faded from the water. Kneeling on the floor with his legs tucked back underneath him and his knees spread, he grasped her hands and pulled her down to him. She straddled him carefully, trying to position herself over him for an easy entry. The first couple attempts resulted in awkward partial penetrations, and at last Baal removed a hand from her waist and helped guide himself inside her. Like the first time, the uncomfortable stretching sensation quickly wore off, but unlike her previous experience, the movement in this position was entirely up to her. The most Baal could do was subtly raise his hips to meet her as she rocked back and forth.

Saiya found herself enjoying the control she had very much, and experimented with different angles to find the one that kindled her inner fire the most. The dying pangs of her orgasm reverberated in each thrust, magnifying her pleasure. Baal groaned thickly, head rolling limply back and forth, eyes closed.

"I love you," Saiya whispered in his ear. His hands tightened on the curve of her waist in response. Encouraged, she kissed along his stubbled jawline until she reached his mouth. He opened it, and taking this as an invitation, she pushed her tongue inside. He made a muffled, urgent sound, and at the same time, tried to push her off his lap. But it was too late: he shuddered, arching his back, and she felt a spurt of something hot deep inside her core. Sliding off him, she put a hand between her legs and drew her fingers away sticky.

"Fuck!" Baal hissed. "I'm sorry, Saiya – I was careless … I should have controlled myself better."

The realization of what had happened was slowly dawning on her, and with it came a sinking feeling akin to being submerged in icy water.

I could get pregnant.

She splashed herself with water, washing off the thick, pearly fluid that rolled down her inner thighs, but in the back of her mind she knew it was a useless endeavor. Panic seized her – she wasn't ready to be a mother! – but catching a glimpse of Baal's stricken expression she forced it down and attempted a shaky smile.

"I think it'll be okay," she said, as much to convince herself as to reassure him. "I should be due for a menstrual cycle within the next few days. My last one happened while we were on the ship coming here, and I'm usually fairly regular."

Baal nodded, biting his lip. He looked so unsure of himself, so painfully young, that her heart ached. "If … if you do-" he began. "I want you to know that I won't … well, abandon you or anything. I'll take responsibility."

Saiya wasn't certain if she found that statement comforting or not. It was nice to know that she wouldn't be left alone with a child to raise, but at the same time, the mere fact that he had to promise such a thing meant that not staying with her was a possibility in his mind. 'If', he had said. Was that meant to be 'if and only if'? That might almost be worse, to have him reluctantly bound to her.

"Saiya?" He was watching her with worried eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." She nodded violently, sending droplets flying everywhere.

"Don't worry about it too much," he advised. "It's not a sure thing, you know."

"I know." Jijamae had told her that – poor Jija, who had always wanted a child but whose body would not sustain any pregnancy for longer than a few months. The young monk was suddenly overwhelmed with shame at the horror she had felt at the prospect of having a baby.

In silence, she finished cleaning herself, dried off, and dressed in her armored robe. It was an regrettable end to an otherwise enjoyable encounter, and she hoped that Baal was not too distressed about it. He was certainly quiet and withdrawn, but he did not broach the topic again. Once they'd left the bathing tent, he went to change into a dry set of clothes while Saiya repaired to the bonfire in search of a hot meal.

Her hunger sated by an excellent curry of goat meat and yams, she paid a visit to the healer to see how her wounded friends were doing. Lyndon occupied the sole cot, and was sleeping peacefully, so she did not linger. Caesar, said the malnourished woman who was washing the bedding, had regained consciousness half an hour previously and wandered off. According to the washer-woman, he had spoken curtly to everyone and acted in a generally disagreeable and sullen manner.

For the first time in weeks, Saiya was free to do as she pleased. There was no crisis, no immediate danger, no one in need of rescuing, no enemies to fight. Feeling somewhat lost, she meandered around the camp with no particular destination in mind, and eventually ended up back at the corner that seemed to be reserved for her group. Squirt was there, playing a rather vicious game of tug-of-war with Gawahir, who had apparently accompanied the servants from Fahkri's house. Eirena slumbered in Kormac's protective shadow. Ghor was sitting crosslegged, doing something interesting to a freshly killed snake.

Saiya crouched down beside her, watching the sangoma work with wordless fascination. She had slit the snake open from throat to tail along the belly, removed the vital organs, and was now in the process of stuffing it with some sort of pulpy red concoction.

"What are you doing?" Saiya inquired at last, her natural curiosity outweighing her discretion. Ghor looked up, flashed her a brief smile, and returned to her task.

"I am making a new mojo," she explained. "The guards at the palace confiscated my old one, along with Caesar's wand. I have taken a cobra, see – an extremely poisonous and deadly serpent, and I have killed it with its own venom. Now I am filling it with mandrake root that I purchased from Maksai, who is a witch doctor like myself. When I have buried it in the sand for three days and let it sit for three nights under the moon, it will be ready to host a spirit who will assist me in performing my magic."

"That's amazing!" said Saiya, privately reflecting that it was high time she acquired some new weaponry as well. Her brass knuckles had been a gift from the head monk, and she would always treasure them, but while they were very effective against human foes and rotting corpses, they simply weren't capable of doing enough damage to the demons she was encountering in this land. Something with spikes would be good, or perhaps some sort of blade.

"I got some new stuff in," said Squirt, as if she had read Saiya's mind. Maybe she had, thought the young monk, observing the child's cunning gaze.

"Oh, yeah?" she replied, keeping her tone purposefully disinterested. "What sort of stuff?"

Squirt grinned. "Why don't you take a look? I guarantee you'll find something you like. Everybody does."

Amused, Saiya followed the girl over to a corner of the camp where the thorny desert bushes grew thickly. Getting down on her hands and knees, Squirt vanished into a tunnel through the scrub just barely wide enough to fit her, and returned less than a minute later with dragging a burlap sack. She dumped the contents out onto the sand at Saiya's feet: a confusing jumble of gemstones and jewelry, shoes, knives, bits of paper, and other odds and ends. The first thing that caught Saiya's eye was a little golden bell inscribed with mystical-looking characters. She picked it up and rang it, smiling at the clear tone that filled the air.

"How much is this?" she asked, fully intending to buy it as a keepsake.

"Twenty-five," said Squirt.

Saiya brought out her purse and counted the coins. She had gotten her Khanduran money changed for Kehjistani dracham upon their arrival in Gea Kul. Twenty-five was quite a bit, more than a quarter of her entire fortune, but she really had taken quite a liking to the trinket, and besides, she liked the idea of helping Squirt out by purchasing some of her wares. Carefully she sorted out two tens and a five and held them out.

Squirt grinned. "Oops. I meant twenty-five thousand. I guess I should have specified that."

Saiya gaped at her. "You can't be serious! Twenty-five thousand for this? It's only a little bell!"

"My father gave me this bell," said the girl. "He was a merchant like me, and it was the most expensive item in his shop. He was never able to sell it. I won't charge a dracham less for it than he did, and it's worth every bit of it and more. It's a very special bell, you see. If you ring it correctly, it will open a portal to a magical kingdom."

Poor kid, Saiya thought. It's obvious that her father is dead, and that the reason the bell is so pricy is that she doesn't want to sell it. It's probably her only keepsake of him.

"Oh," she said, "well, I'm afraid that I don't have quite enough money to buy that. Do you have anything that's a little cheaper?"

"I think I have just the thing." Squirt moved aside a pair of leather leggings to reveal a pair of knuckles that were so perfectly what Saiya had envisioned that she wondered for a second if she was dreaming. They were slightly larger than her current ones, made to fit a man's hands rather than a woman's, but that did not concern her. The design was simple but extremely effective: a thick blade, marvelously sharp, rising to a elegant tip and curving down on either side of the handle to protect her fingers. At its longest point, she would have five inches of steel to work with. She picked them up, testing the weight, throwing a few experimental punches. The balance was different – it would take some getting used to – but the quality was superb.

"How much?" she asked, praying that it would be an affordable sum.

Squirt made a great show of considering. "Weeell … normally I would ask about a forty each, considering the trouble I went through to get them, but since it's you, I'll let them go at thirty for the pair."

Saiya bought them without hesitation and carried them back to her corner of the camp to examine them closely. She had already decided to name them individually. The blade of one had a reddish tinge when the light struck it at a certain angle, and she decided to call it Tsubaki – the ancient name of the crimson camellia flowers that graced the slopes of her homeland in the summer. The other gave her some difficulty, but eventually she settled on Jyujin, meaning 'free spirit'.

Having accomplished this, she began looking for a quiet, out-of-the-way place where she could practice some techniques. Finding a little goat-track, she followed it up through the rocks to the flat stretch of desert above the camp. The ground here was hard and bare with lots of room, perfect for what she had in mind.

She had just kicked off her boots and taken a fighting stance when she became aware that she was not alone. Caesar rose up from where he'd been sitting on the other side of a boulder, nearly invisible from the pathway. The mage gave her a wary look from bloodshot eyes. The manacles on his wrists had been removed, as well as the ugly collar around his neck, but they had left the skin chafed and bruised.

"I can leave if you'd like," he said.

Saiya shook her head. "No, stay. I just came up here to test out my new knuckles. I don't mind if you watch."

"Alright." He sat back down, facing her, but Saiya could tell that his mind was elsewhere. She stretched out her body – touching her toes, arching her back as far as it would go, swinging her arms in increasingly wider circles – and winced at how stiff and sore she was. Out of practice, she thought bitterly. My body feels like a gate whose hinges have rusted up.

Dropping into a low crouch, she began the routine of osoi kawa, the Slowly-Flowing River. By the time she was halfway through, her arms were trembling under the unaccustomed strain of her new weapons, but she persevered, finishing the dance with a thin sheen of sweat covering her forehead and back. Slipping off the knuckles, she sat down to take a breather, drinking deeply from the waterskin she'd brought along, and dumping the rest over her head.

"That was extraordinary," remarked Caesar.

Saiya snorted. "That was my worst practice in years."

"If that was your worst, then the heavens themselves should be afraid of you," said the mage. Saiya rolled her eyes, though she couldn't help feeling flattered by his obsequious praise.

"How are things with Baal?" he asked abruptly. Caught off guard by the sudden change of tone and topic, she answered with much more honesty than she'd intended.

"Slow. Why do you ask?"

"Because I care about you and have an interest in your wellbeing," said Caesar. "Is he treating you well?"

"Baal always treats me well," she said, allowing a touch of sharpness to creep into her voice. Caesar had never brought up her relationship with the Hunter so blatantly before, and it made her feel uncomfortable and defensive.

"Really? That's good to hear."

Saiya narrowed her eyes. "Is there something you want to say to me, Caesar? If so, go ahead and say it."

"No," he sighed, looking far older than his thirty-odd years. "There's nothing I want to say. Would you mind leaving me alone? I'd rather not have any company at the moment."

Ordinarily, Saiya would have instantly respected his wishes, but there was something dark in the mage's eyes that made her afraid – not for her own safety, but for what he might do to himself if left unattended. She rose to her feet, but instead of returning to camp she came and sat down beside him. He tensed, every muscle taught like an animal about to flee.

"Caesar, we're friends, aren't we? Let me help you," Saiya murmured. "Whatever's hurting you, you can talk to me about it."

"They took my wand away," he said.

"Yes, I know. Ghor told me."

"And my hat," he added glumly.

Saiya couldn't help it. Her lips twitched. It was only a tiny movement, but Caesar noticed, and his eyes blazed with a sudden flare of temper. The air around them crackled with frost. Saiya was startled and (though she would never have admitted it) rather frightened by the dramatic change, but the wizard mastered himself after a moment, and the heat of the day returned full force.

But there was no warmth in Caesar's eyes. They looked like chips of grey flint. "What's there to talk about?" he said. "You want to hear how they put me in chains and forced me to dance like a jester for the amusement of the court? Day after day, they never tired of it. I can still hear their laughter ringing in my ears. I didn't mind being stuck in a prison cell, I didn't mind the whipping and the drugged food and the hard stone floor to sleep on. It's the damned laughter. I can't get it out of my head!"

Saiya could think of nothing to say. She did not fully understand Caesar's reaction – after all, the cultists had taunted her while she'd been a prisoner in Alcarnus, and it had not overly bothered her – but she could tell that the whole ordeal had been seriously damaging to his psyche. Feeling useless, she placed a hand on his knee and squeezed in silent comfort.

"The worst part of it is," Caesar continued, drawing in a ragged breath, "I don't even know what they were saying. Leah understood, but she refused to tell me. I have no idea why they singled me out."

Saiya had a fairly good idea, but there was no way she was going to reveal that information. The mage disliked Baal enough as it was without blaming him for the mockery he had endured.

"Does it really matter what they were saying?" she asked instead. "It's just words, Caesar – empty, cruel words without any meaning to them. You wouldn't be offended by a dog barking at you, would you?"

"Easy for you to say!" he snarled. "You weren't the one they were laughing at. Can you even imagine how it feel to be so helpless, dragged around like a - like a - an ass being taken to market, made a fool of in front of hundreds of people, unable to do anything about it … do you have any idea what that feels like?"

"Actually, I do," she said icily. "You want to talk about helpless? Try being pinned down by a pair of men who are going to rape you, men who are bigger and stronger than you, men who get pleasure out of the fact that you're bleeding and crying, and the more you cry, the more they like it. I still dream about them sometimes, and what would have happened if Lyndon hadn't been there–" She trailed off, unable to continue. The wrath had drained from Caesar's expression; he looked mortified.

"Saiya, I'm so sorry," he said. "I - I didn't think. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Of course." She replaced the hand she had removed from his knee. "I'm not trying to diminish your suffering, Caesar, merely because I suffered as well. I just wanted you to know that I understand what you're going through. But I also know that it doesn't have to change you as a person. It was a horrible thing, but it's over, and life moves on. By tormenting yourself with memories, you're only helping the people who wanted to hurt you."

"I think I get what you're saying," said the mage, slowly. "I'm not sure it'll be that easy for me, but I appreciate your advice … and I'm grateful that you took the time to listen to me."

"Anytime." She hesitated for a moment. "Caesar? There's something else I wanted to ask you. Feel free to tell me if it's a subject you don't feel comfortable discussing, but I was wondering why it upset you so much to learn that Tyrael is an angel."

To her complete and utter horror, Caesar began to cry. He turned away from her, hiding his face in his hands, shoulders heaving with pent-up sobs. At a loss, she put her arms around him in an awkward embrace.

"I'm afraid, Saiya," he mumbled after a while. "I'm more afraid than I've ever been in my life."

"Of Tyrael?" she gasped, shocked. "Why? Because he's an angel?"

The wizard shook his head. "No. Not entirely, anyway. It's true that I don't like angels. I have my reasons. But it's because of what angel he is that I'm afraid of him."

"I don't understand."

"He's the Archangel of Justice, Saiya."

Still she was baffled, fumbling around in the dark, feeling the contours of a shadowy shape of knowledge. She stared blankly at him, and he sighed, taking her hand in both of his.

"His purpose in life is to judge the guilty," he said.

"But surely you have nothing to fear from him." When he didn't answer, a cold shiver of realization ran down her spine. "Caesar, what have you done?"

"Something terrible," he replied. "Something … unforgivable. And Tyrael knows; I can see it in his eyes when he looks at me. I'm a dead man, Saiya. My only choice is to leave, now, before he kills me."

"I won't let him!" Saiya exclaimed, instinctively tightening her grip on the mage's hands. "None of us will. Even Baal would defend you, if it came down to it."

"Not if he knew the truth about me." His voice was low and broken, and her heart throbbed upon hearing it.

"Whatever you did, it can't be as bad as you say," she insisted. "I know you, Caesar. You're a good man."

He smiled wearily, reaching up to wipe away the teary smudges from his cheeks with the back of his hand. "Thanks, love. That means-" His voice stopped as if ripped from his throat; his expression became suddenly guarded. Dropping Saiya's hand like a hot rock, he bolted to his feet, wincing as his weight came down on his sprained ankle. Curious what the fuss was about, she turned her head to see Baal coming up over the rise from camp. Her lover's face was impassive, but she felt a surge of alarm and swallowed down the explanations that sprang to her lips.

It's not what it looks like. We were just talking. There's nothing between us, truly.

Baal stopped about ten feet away from them. "I've been looking for you, Saiya," he said. The words, while calmly spoken, seemed to have an accusing ring.

"I came up here to test out the new knuckles I got from Squirt," she said, too quickly. "Caesar just happened to be here, so we were talking-"

"About what happened while I was unconscious," the wizard cut in smoothly. "I asked Saiya to fill in the blanks for me. Thanks, by the way. I heard that you saved my life in the sewers after I fell in."

"Don't mention it," said Baal. "Saiya, I'm heading down to the city. Want to come along?"

"Sure," she replied. "I'll join you in a minute or so."

"Fine." He turned to leave and then stopped and swung back around. "Do you need anything, ma- … uh, Caesar?"

"I beg your pardon?" said the mage, raising his eyebrows.

"From the market, I mean. Is there anything you want me to pick up for you, while I'm there?"

Saiya made a strangled sound as an irrepressible laugh fought to free itself from her mouth. She couldn't tell which of the two men had the funnier expression: Caesar, who looked completely pole-axed, or Baal, whose face had twisted itself into an almost painful simulation of friendliness.

"No, thanks," Caesar managed after an ungainly pause. "Good of you to ask, but I'm fine, really."

The Hunter shrugged and strode away, leaving them alone. Caesar stared after him. "I take it back," he muttered.

Saiya blinked. "What?"

"What I said back at the palace. You know, 'same old irritating Baal'? I was wrong: he's an entirely new brand of irritating Baal, only this one is harder to understand. Do you know that's the first time he's ever called me by name? To my face, anyway. It's kind of disturbing. I hope he doesn't want to be best friends with me now, or anything like that."

"I wouldn't worry too much about that, if I were you," replied Saiya, wiping the last traces of amusement from her face. Baal was taking a risk, she thought, altering his attitude towards his rival. If he wasn't careful, Caesar might begin to suspect the guilty feelings that lurked behind his attempts to behave decently.

"Hmm," grunted the wizard. "It's unnatural, like seeing the sun shining in the middle of the night. Well, you've wasted enough time on me. Go on. And keep a close eye on your temperamental suitor. I'm not entirely sure he hasn't been possessed."

Remembering his ankle, she offered to help him back down to the camp, but he waved her away, saying that he preferred his own company at the moment, thank you very much. As she headed back down the hill, the young monk brooded on their conversation, and the dark implications it had brought to mind. She felt certain that Caesar had not done anything that she would consider unforgivable: he had not raped a woman or abused a child. The worst she could imagine him capable of was murder if he was provoked and lost control of his magic. If that was what weighed on his conscience, she could understand his fear of Tyrael in his angelic capacity as judge, jury, and executioner. But she also knew that Tyrael no longer identified with that role, and she highly doubted that he would choose to avenge a crime long past.

But Caesar didn't know, and that was what troubled her. In his current fragile state, she was concerned that he would try to leave, or worse, do himself some injury. If he was driven far enough, he might even decide that it was better to carry out justice on himself than wait around to have his deeds exposed. She decided to set up a surreptitious watch on the mage, manned by herself and one or two others who she felt she could trust to keep their mouths closed about the situation. Ghor, for certain. Kormac as well. And – counterintuitive thought it seemed – Baal. Besides the fact that she believed she could rely on him, she didn't want to hide something as serious as Caesar's condition from her dearest friend and lover.

Figuring that there was no time like the present, she stopped to see Ghor and strongly hinted that Caesar would benefit from some non-intrusive company. The umbaru woman thanked her and got up, padding off on silent feet in the direction of her friend. Secure in the knowledge that she had done her duty, Saiya continued on to where Baal was waiting for her by the narrow cleft in the stone wall that led to the Caldeum path, Gawahir perched proudly in his customary spot.

"I've asked around," he called out as she approached, "but no one seems to want to accompany us, so I guess we're on our own."

"That's good," Saiya replied. "I wanted to talk with you."

"Likewise," he said, and her heart sank like a stone in water.

He's going to interrogate me about what I was doing with Caesar. Even after that serious talk we had, he still doesn't trust me.

Sure enough, as soon as they were out of earshot of the camp, Baal said, "So? What were you and the mage really talking about?"

"Oh, he's 'the mage' again, is he?" Saiya scowled, with a lot more tension than she'd intended. "Just a minute ago it was 'anything I can get you, Caesar?'"

"I was trying to be nice," he grumbled. "Thought you would appreciate it."

"Not when it's so blatantly false! Baal, I know that the only reason you're treating him like a human being now is because you feel guilty that he was tortured because you gave him that stupid name."

"I do not feel guilty!" he retorted stubbornly. "Anyway, this isn't about how I feel about the mage, it's about what you were saying to him. Or rather, what he was saying to you."

"I'm not sure that's any of your business," Saiya snapped, forgetting that she had been intending to tell him all along. To her great surprise, the irritation dissipated from his face, leaving acceptance it its wake.

"You're right," he agreed. "It isn't."

Silence, filled will hasty footsteps and sideways glances.

"I asked him why he had acted so strangely towards Tyrael," she said at last. Baal glanced at her with sharp interest.

"And?"

"He told me that he had done something terrible and that he was afraid Tyrael would punish him for it. I'm … I'm worried about him, Baal. He actually broke down and cried."

The Hunter let out a low whistle. "Did he say what he'd done that was so horrendous?"

"No, I couldn't get him to confess. But I can't imagine … I mean, it's Caesar for Ytar's sake. How bad could it be?"

"You'd be surprised what people are capable of when they think no one's watching them," said Baal, darkly. "And desperation can drive a man to lengths he'd never normally consider. I wouldn't rule anything out."

"Will you help me keep an eye on him?" Saiya pleaded, ignoring his pessimism. "He talked about running, but I want to make sure he doesn't do something more … drastic."

Thankfully, Baal appeared to treat this request with the seriousness that it deserved, and agreed to do what he could – though he did draw the line at listening to weepy-eyed confessions. Saiya informed him that she didn't think that would be a problem, reasoning that the Hunter was probably the absolute last person Caesar would ever open up to emotionally.

They had come to a particularly steep and treacherous part of the path, and all conversation temporarily ceased while they navigated it. Reaching safer ground, Baal said, "What did you think of Adria?"

Saiya pursed her lips. "Not sure, really. It all happened so fast, I barely got to see her, let alone form an impression. Ghor seemed to dislike her, though; I noticed that right away."

"Yes," said Baal. "Her appearance was rather … opportune … wasn't it? I'm very curious as to exactly how she knew where we were, not to mention that we were in trouble."

"If she really has been watching over Leah like she said," Saiya began, thinking of Leena's mirror. There was no reason to assume that an enchantment like that could not be duplicated.

"Yes, but why wait until now to step in? Why not when Maghda kidnapped her daughter? Or when Deckard was about to be killed?"

Saiya stumbled in her tracks at the mention of Deckard Cain. The familiar old guilt rushed over her, receded, and washed back in again like an evil tide as she realized she hadn't thought of him in weeks. She felt sick.

Baal's hand caught her elbow, steadying her, and he was suddenly standing very close. Her mind suddenly flashed back to earlier that day when they had made love in the bathing tent, flooding her body with the sensation of his touch. Dazed, she realized he was speaking to her.

"Saiya? What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," she stammered. "I just felt dizzy for a second there. I'm better now."

He released her, but hovered anxiously by her side as they made they way across the dried-up creekbed and through the scrub to the city's Eastern Gate, stopping only to put on the hijabs that Baal had brought with him as disguises. There was a guard on duty, but he was arguing with a stout elderly woman who was apparently bringing a cartload of cured meat in to sell at the market, and Baal and Saiya were able to stroll casually past him without any difficulties.

Once inside the walls, they headed directly for the bazaar. The Hunter spent a ludicrous amount on restocking his supply of bolts, which had begun to deplete after the last few battles had left him no time to gather stray arrows. Meanwhile, Saiya browsed from stall to stall, gradually straying away from her companion. She was intrigued by the differences in culture which were plainly on display: rather than the wood or clay pipes favored by Khandurans, the people of Kehjistan smoked their tabacco out of bizarre water-filled vases with long flexible straws attached.

She was examining a tray of velvet house-slippers when one of the merchants crossed the crowded street and tapped her on the shoulder. He was a corpulent man with a balding head and an ingratiating smile, but what really set him apart from his brethren was that he was speaking to her in her own language.

"Excuse me, miss, but I could not help but notice the monotone color of your raiment. Would you care to look over my stock of fine dyes? I have Royal Purple, Mariner Blue, and a very beautiful Aquamarine, of which only a few bottles remain."

"No, thank you," Saiya replied. "I don't really care what color my clothes are, as long as they fit right."

Evidently, it was the wrong thing to say. The merchant's broad face contorted in a heavy scowl, and he shook a fat finger at her. "In Caldeum, color means wealth!" he declared. "You don't want to be mistaken for a peasant, do you?"

Saiya was nonplussed by his rudeness. "A ... a peasant?"

"Quite so, my dear young lady. Everyone who's anyone in Caldeum known the importance of a good dye."

"I'm fine, really," she said firmly, and moved away before the man could insult her any further. A faint cry of 'Peasant!' echoed after her.

Rejoining Baal, her eye was caught by two of the refugee children – a boy and a girl, obviously siblings – running through the marketplace, chasing after a long-eared, long-legged desert hare. The children were skinny, dirty, decrepit in every way, but their laughter still rang clear and pure over the sordid clamor of people haggling over money. Saiya watched them in fascination, amazed that such indomitable spirits could thrive even amidst the squalor of refugee life.

She turned to point them out to Baal, and the little girl screamed. Whipping around, Saiya saw the child crouching at the foot of an Imperial Guardsman. Her brother was standing beside her with hands balled into fists, yelling at the man. Thinking that the youngsters had been assaulted, the monk started quickly forward.

Then she saw the little brown body, which only seconds ago had been so full of life, darting between legs and under stalls, lying limply on its side. One of the hind feet kicked feebly at the air – once, twice – and was still. Appalled, Saiya broke into a sprint just as the soldier reached out to shove the boy away, a cruel smile hanging on his lips.

"Hey!" she shouted, striding between the distraught children to confront the surprised guard. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He took a step backwards, glancing uncertainly between her and the two kids. "Are these your brats?" he asked.

"I asked you what the hell you were doing," Saiya repeated, putting as much menace into her tone as she could. "You'd better give me an answer before I decide to break your face."

Sneering, the man went to draw his sword and she caught his wrist in a grip hard enough to bruise bone. Her other hand found a secure hold in the loose fabric at his collar, and wrenched his head down so that they were eye-to-eye, mere inches apart.

"Listen well," she snarled. "I don't know what the fuck's wrong with you, but I'm going to report you to Commander Asheara. I doubt she'll take kindly to a bastard like you terrorizing children and slaughtering animals."

Baal called her name in an urgent voice, but she ignored him. "If I were you, I'd be preparing to find myself another job … that is, if you don't spend the next few months rotting in jail, which is far better than you deserve, by the way. If I were in command here, I'd have you executed on the spot."

A pair of strong hands descended upon her shoulders from behind, wresting her forcefully away from the soldier she was threatening. She turned around, expecting to see Baal, and instead found herself looking up into the steely features of Asheara herself. The Hunter was nearby, struggling furiously between two brawny Wolves. A third had Gawahir by the feet and was dangling him upside down, preventing the angry bird from pecking.

"Well?" said Asheara. "You wanted to report something to me? Here I am. Speak quickly before I haul you off to jail on charges of high treason against the Emperor."

"Hang on a minute!" Saiya objected. "Here me out, please! We did nothing to harm the Emperor; we only acted to save our friends. The Imperial Court has been overrun by demons! You're the only one who can do something about this, Asheara. You have to help us!"

"Menim görme bu xainler alin," Asheara said curtly to the woman standing beside her. "Merkezi onlari almaq. And as for you, Jasim, you sadistic little shit-" She jabbed a stiff finger into the soldier's chest. "-I'm sick of getting complaints about your heavy-handed methods of dealing with people."

"They are only refugees," Jasim muttered sullenly. "They are scum, is heyvanlar, worth no more than the dirt we step on. They crowd up our streets, pollute our water with their piss, eat our food, steal our money. If they are not kept in line-"

He was cut short by a brutal blow across his mouth from the back of Asheara's gauntleted hand. Choking and spluttering, a thin stream of blood and drool dangling from his lips, he stared up at her with poisonous hate.

"Fahise!" he spat. "Men sizin reisleri, onlarin arxa cevrilmisdir zaman ne bilirik!"

"Arrest him as well," Asheara ordered, her expression weary. "Strip him of his rank and confiscate his uniform and sword. He'll face trial like any common man." Kneeling down, she wrapped her arms around the little girl, who was still crying inconsolably while her brother cradled the body of their pet.

Saiya tried several more times to get the Commander to listen to her as she was escorted away, but eventually she had to give up. Baal was being carried along beside her; at some point, one of the men holding him had struck him hard enough on the temple to knock him unconscious. A sharp current of anger and fear ran through her chest when she saw blood sliding down from a cut in his eyebrow, and she restrained the urge to lash out with a powerful technique. There were too many innocent people around for her to safely use the bell.

It was not far from the marketplace to the derelict old bunker that served as headquarters for the Iron Wolves. Jasim – still ranting and screaming about how the refugees were destroying Caldeum – was thrown into one of the two cells, while Baal and Saiya were placed together in the other. After yelling herself hoarse and exercising all her strength in an attempt to break down the door, the young monk eventually concluded that for the time being there was nothing more she could do except wait. She sat down with her back against the wall, pillowed Baal's head on her lap, and closed her eyes.

My deepest apologies for the long wait, but this chapter was extremely difficult to write. I'm still not quite satisfied with it, particularly the ending ... oh well. I didn't want to keep you all waiting any longer. Thanks so much for all the reviews last chapter - I can't express how grateful I am for all your kind words! I'll try to update sooner next time! :)

* Asheara said: "Get these traitors out of my sight. Take them to the Central."

* 'Is heyvanlar' means 'pack animals' - the sort that might be used for heavy drudge work.

* Jasim said: "Whore! I know what you do when your superiors have their backs turned!"