XII

Escape. They had escaped. They were alone, the two of them. Among other things, Aliana had demanded the djinni heal them of their wounds, and her body no longer ached. In a moment of vanity, she had insisted her scars be mended, and in an act of spite, ordered three powerful dragons be sent after Irenicus. A geas, she declared, they would attack the first masked person they see, and they be blinded until they saw Irenicus. Then she had added that the dragons must never know who ordered this.

The djinni tried to explain that wishes didn't work that way, that there were rules…

Sarevok's glowing eyes convinced him. Together, they had watched through the flask as three dragons, a silver, red and a black, attacked a large wooden house on an island. Irenicus appeared outside and no amount of sorcery could overcome three dragons all at once. They watched as their masked captor was burned to ash.

"Heh."

Aliana clung to Sarevok's arm, "Where to now, brother?"

"Saradush. It is there we must go." He regarded her coolly, "Do you not know the prophecies?"

"I do." She smiled brilliantly at him, "but I wanted to hear what you thought."

He grunted.

"I got us back our things." Tapping her lip, she mused, "Perhaps I should have asked for an army." Then she swung from his arm and spun giddily, "I'm so glad to have my robe back! And my rings! Doesn't it feel nice to have your armour back?" She sniffed critically, "It still stinks."

A low growl.

"You're not a dog," Aliana noted. She still hated him, but she could overlook that now she was herself again. At least momentarily. In light green embroidered with gold over inner robes of white, grey leggings and sandy brown boots, she stood in start contrast to his black plate and its spikes.

Idly, she traced the runes across the edge and hem, and the chain holding her spellbook, and her small leather pack. Along the strap were her potions, and her long hair was braided just the way she liked it: a crown that kept it free from her face while the rest fell loose. After a bath, courtesy of the djinni, she finally felt human.

Numerous daggers tucked themselves away; one strapped to each thigh, one in each boot, one to each forearm, three in her belt, one down the front of her chest and one between her shoulders. It was something she and Imoen worked out.

"You know," she added after thinking for a bit, "What were you going to do once you plunged the Sword Coast into war? Baldur's Gate would have lost against Amn, wouldn't it? Amn's bigger, richer, and has more mages."

"I wouldn't have lost."

"Well, I suppose, but when you won, what then?"

"Hunt down the rest."

"Oh." She tilted her head to one side, "but why go to war in the first place? The prophecies say our brothers and sisters will raise their own armies; as Grand Duke, couldn't you have just responded to that?"

"Enough."

"What's wrong, Brother? Don't like hearing the truth?" Defiantly, she leaned forwards, "Do you regret sacrificing everyone close to you?"

He stepped in; she darted backwards.

"Oh no Brother, we have an agreement. You heard what the djinni said. There are five of them. You need me."

"Then be still."

"Or what? You're not a wilful child, are you? Throw a fit when you don't get your way?"

His hand snatched her; she laughed, her eyes cruel.

"I'm not scared of you."

"Good." His smile was chilling, "When I drive my sword through you, you'll remember this day."

"Is that what you told Tamoko?" She asked, stroking his mailed fingers, "She's gone, Brother. You killed her."

He pulled her to his face; she kissed him. His eyes widened and he dropped her.

"We're even now."

He turned and walked towards Saradush.