=S=

After a half-day of practicing and a marvelously hot bath, exhaustion oozed out from Sajantha's muscles to seep into her very bones and left all her limbs watery; she nearly collapsed upon the couch, its plush cushions welcoming her with an embrace too soft to escape from.

Anomen had dropped her off at the Coronet an hour before, though he'd left reluctantly, and not before remarking how ill-suited such a place was for her. At the same time as such concern felt condescending, it was difficult to disagree. Yet where would she feel more comfortable, exactly? The Flagons had been lovely, but 'twas a place of laughter and bright cheer, and that was even less appropriate while Imoen suffered; Sajantha belonged nowhere else.

With the seat all to herself, she had plenty of room to spread out, or even lie down—'twas infinitely more comfortable than her lumpy thin mattress!—yet the thought of doing so threatened to tighten her loose muscles with… tension? Was the thought of letting her guard down alone in public so frightening?

Perhaps Edwin was getting to her.

She'd barely had time to soak up much relaxation before Minsc and Yoshimo entered the hallway, but she managed to haul herself back to her feet to greet them. "You're back! How did everything go?"

With his usual enthusiasm, Minsc explained their day, telling of local highwaymen who preyed upon merchants departing the Promenade. With their coffers full after selling goods, they made for tempting targets. "The trader hired us to protect him, but heroes do more than this; heroes must protect everyone! So Minsc agreed, only to stop them once and for all."

"We hid in a wagon to draw them out," the ranger continued with a grin, "then the full wrath of Minsc-and-Boo justice fell upon them!" Some wild delight lit his face, a reminder of his unleashed berserker fury, and imagining the aftermath almost made her wince.

Yoshimo must have noticed her expression. "A few survivors," he offered. "Now languishing in the jail awaiting judgment." Then, with a dexterity reminiscent of his martial skills, he smoothly redirected the conversation and asked her of her own day.

"Footwork?" He grinned with mock indignation once she'd explained. "But this is my very own area of expertise! Have you not heard I can dance on the head of a pin?"

Sajantha had to smile. "I hope you are offering such impressive skills and not merely flaunting them."

"Bragging is the boon of the mighty and heroic!" Minsc cut in. "All must know of our strengths so that evil fears to raise its most ugly head!"

"If evil is hiding from you," Yoshimo raised his eyebrows, "how will you know to vanquish it?"

"Evil is always outed." Certainty filled Minsc's reply, one he'd tolerate no rebuttal to. Unless it came from his hamster, surely.

Yoshimo turned back to her. "Are you finding the warrior-cleric to be an adequate instructor? For you need only say the word…"

"I'm sure there's so much I can learn from you both! If you're up for it, of course. The least I can do for repayment is offerings of admiration and allowing you the chance to show off your abilities." And—oh!—the peaches! She'd have to grab them from her room.

He gave a chuckle. "No, this Yoshimo is of course too humble to ever suggest such a thing! Was that how you ensnared the knightling?"

'Ensnared!' A frown pulled at her mouth. Surely that was far too brash a word! "He needs someone to believe in him, that's all. I don't think people take him so seriously as he wishes." All because of his father, feeling like he had so much to prove. "But it's not as if I have to pretend! He's quite knowledgeable—I've learned a lot already—and skilled, as well; he moves so quickly!"

Yoshimo's inscrutable face left little clue as to his thoughts. "Is that so?"

"Aye! You couldn't have seen him without his armor before, though," such a thing couldn't help but weigh down his movements, "but truly."

"I see." And then a smile quirked at his lips. "Perhaps it is the knightling who has you ensnared, eh?"

"Yoshimo!" She tried to hold in a laugh and gave his arm a half-smack, half-shove. "You'd best not suggest such a thing around him; he's dreadfully easy to tease. We picked up socks and talked about family—I remind him of his sister—and I managed to commit several slips of etiquette, all before getting ripe and sweaty out in the sun." Just as well she'd acquiesced to their suggestions of soap.

"I planned it to the last lovely detail, you see. If anyone's ensnaring anyone, it shan't involve me." More than a few embarrassing moments on both their sides! Though she always seemed to come out ahead. Yet Anomen never seemed to hold it against her. Of course he'd treat her so kindly, though, endeavoring to be a knight of worth with a sister who'd further fostered his desire to be a protector.

"Ah. Who can be so certain of their future? Ashita no koto o iu to tenjou no nezumi ga warau." Yoshimo gave a wink. " 'If you speak of tomorrow, the rats in the ceiling will laugh.' "

"I…" And just like that, the light flashed out inside her as the spark of humor lightening her went cold. "I know enough of my future to know what's not in it." What did he think? That she might magically be whisked away from all this by a handsome knight and live happily ever after? As if her heart had crawled into her throat, it became difficult to swallow.

Anomen… he hadn't been mistaken about her, not really; she wasn't cut out for this—wasn't anything—not some princess in a story, nor the hero of it. Heroes battled with their enemies, not with the urge to quit; they didn't want to run back home so much it hurt. They didn't cry themselves to sleep at night.

She gave her head a shake. "Life's not a fancy-tale."

"Sajantha…" But her name hung in the air, for there was nothing Yoshimo could really say, was there, nothing anyone could do.

She kept shaking her head 'til she'd forced down the lump in her throat. "Anyway. What I need to worry about is…" Not being left behind again. Proving herself. (Not waiting helpless in the dark.)

Goosebumps prickled along her arms, a chill reminder of the creeping magic at the skinners, but she shook it off. "Building up my strength." Physically—not magically—no need to think about its slippery crawling across her skin. A sigh fell out of her. "I should probably be running laps about the practice yard like the novices."

Another set of footsteps entered the hall. "It would not hurt." Jaheira. However neutral the Harper's agreement, it still felt like accusation of unfitness when none could disagree Sajantha had always been the least experienced, the least capable, of them all.

Spine stiff, 'twas hard to turn to greet her, but Sajantha gave a nod. As if holding to an indifferent expression hadn't been hard enough already, her stomach sank as she met the druid's eyes: it looked as if the woman wished to talk. And if she did, she would surely get her way.

'Nowhere to hide,' Sarevok reminded her.

A single firm gesture had Minsc and Yoshimo heading one way and Sajantha the other; she fell into step behind the druid, who slowed to glance over her shoulder. "Enjoying your time with the Order members, then?"

But for the lack of actually accomplishing anything of note? If only one lesson could feel more productive! It would surely take days—tendays—to see results. "Aye." For the most part. For all the parts that didn't make her feel worse.

After turning a corner, they were the only two standing in the side hall. Now it would come. Whatever it was. Apprehension knotted Sajantha's lower back.

"Do you believe Keldorn can be trusted? Given your… quest."

'Quest?' No, that hadn't been the word Jaheira wanted, for it hovered unspoken between them, the truth only once voiced aloud. (But the rest of them had long suspected, hadn't they?) Sajantha's eyes squeezed shut.

But she couldn't hold onto any sort of resentment when the question brought to mind Keldorn's steadfast kindness wavering not at all in the face of her revelation. She gave a nod. "I've no doubt." Strange, to feel so absolutely certain for the first time without her magic there to confirm it. "We can trust him."

"I am glad to hear it. Without your magic, it would help to find the right path for you. You, more than many, must tread carefully."

'Carefully.' That word again. But the worst part was that she wasn't at all wrong.

"You think Keldorn will help me find my path?" Did such a thing even exist? 'You are your own choices,' he'd said, but when was the last time she'd had a choice in anything?

"If not he, then simply help in introducing you to new options. 'Tis an opportunity to expose yourself to skills, to vocations. To… gods."

Sajantha swallowed. Even thinking Oghma's name made her skin itch and her belly twist as if she might dislodge it. A twisted mass of feelings wrapped her in knots of grief and wrath and pain if she dared to remember: he'd abandoned her, not the other way 'round. A betrayal, a hurt that went too deep for words and welled sorrow from the center of her.

Yet what good would a different deity do? There really wasn't much of a point, after all, when one already laid claim to her soul.

"Have you some problem with him?"

"Keldorn? No." But her pause had taken too long for Jaheira to quite believe her. Sajantha cleared her throat and tried again. "It's easy to talk to him. He's a good listener. A good person." And just the thought of the wrinkles of his smiling eyes loosened her chest. A fine man in his own right, but, "I suppose he reminds me of… my father." As if the words needed saying, as if it couldn't be guessed.

But Jaheira's expression relaxed a bit at the admission. "I can see it. I do think Gorion would approve." A hint of a smile struggled onto her face. "Khalid, as well."

Sajantha glanced away. "You're not just saying this to make sure I'm out of the way?"

But Jaheira's astounded tone answered for her. "Out of the way of what, exactly? None of this is aught you can hope to hide from." Her lips twisted. "I would never have had it so, but you are a part of this."

'Where do you think you are running to?' Irenicus's voice lingered in the air, overlaid with Sarevok's mocking laughter, and Sajantha rubbed at her ears as if they would go quiet, as if this was a sound outside her head and not already invading it.

'A part of this.' And they wanted her to be a part of the Order, too? Sajantha scuffed the grimy tile with her shoe. "Won't I be bothering them? They've surely quite important things to see to." Especially after what they'd endured recently!

" 'Twas Keldorn himself requested your presence. Whatever such tasks as he has, he wishes your aid."

"Me?" 'Twas Sajantha's turn to be taken aback. More of the tightness in her chest eased, enough that she could take in a deep breath.

"You," Jaheira agreed.

"Oh." Her hand went to her mouth. "Really?" At the druid's nod, a glowing warmth unfurled inside her, a frail feeling that hadn't been indulged since Edwin had agreed to accompany them.

Hope.

Yoshimo and Minsc had left the main hall when she returned to it, but it wasn't empty.

A red-robed figure had claimed the couch. Would anyone else have dared to? One long leg crossed in an 'L' over the other, which would assuredly reveal shapely dark boots if she should allow her gaze to settle upon them. Not that she'd any reason to do so.

As if in agreement, the leg joined its partner on the floor as Edwin straightened, having spotted her. The gaze that ran over her almost looked pleased, but that couldn't be right, could it? Yet… he'd been the one to arrange the armor, hadn't he? Pleased, indeed—with himself, no doubt!—but his eyes narrowed as his gaze lifted. "Your hair. What have you done with your hair?"

Her hair? Who cared about her hair!—especially with so much else to worry over—yet heat flushed through her face. What was wrong with it now?

Sajantha ran her fingers through to smooth it back. A trifle damp from her earlier bath, but perhaps it appeared still oily. But why should it matter! "I thought we were past that. You've not given up teasing me over it?"

"A Red Wizard does not 'tease.' " His expression hovered somewhere between incredulous and insulted.

"Making fun, then. Or do Red Wizards have naught to do with 'fun' either?"

That tipped the scale to 'insulted.' "Red Wizards do not have patience for such impudence!" Yet he followed it up with nothing rude or dismissive—nor aught at all!—as if it had simply been reflex, and he was resigned to examining her a moment more. "Your hair is… sufficient, that is all. You appear presentable enough now that few should dismiss you on sight."

Did that deserve a laugh or a sigh? "Wow, Edwin. You really oughtn't so strain yourself with compliments."

"It is most taxing," he agreed, with enough dourness to rather doubt it.

She smiled and lowered herself to the empty seat.

He grumbled a bit more, shifting away, but 'twas only for the better angle to face her, and her heart jumped a moment to her throat as she scrambled for something to say with his focus so intently upon her.

"So. Jaheira said you were abed all morning? I hope you're feeling better."

"Oh?" One side of Edwin's mouth twitched, though whether 'twas a hint of a grin or a grimace was impossible to tell as he turned his head away. "I cannot imagine that is what she said."

Just what was that supposed to mean? And the confusion must have sat with far too much obviousness upon her face, for now his expression could only be amused. As if he were laughing at her—was he?—gods damn it, her face was turning red again, wasn't it?

Sajantha frowned down at her gloves, picking at the fingers. "I thought you probably needed some sleep, at any rate. It couldn't be easy to ignore the Scroll so long as you did, so I thought maybe it had been keeping you up at night, if that's the only time you've had for it." Who could blame him for that, really.

He gave a shrug. "I have made do."

Mayhap he'd been getting as little sleep as she, though. Even if he'd be sitting at his desk working and not lying on his back staring up at the ceiling. Sajantha swallowed away the dryness in her mouth. "Do you… do you ever have trouble sleeping? Just staying awake, thinking about…" Whatever did he think about? "In the dark, all by yourself."

"Not since I was a child." He waved a dismissive hand, then shook his head at her. "Always needing others around, aren't you. I am sure one snoring bunkmate or another could be arranged if you are unable to grow out of it."

"That's…" Heat crept up the back of her neck. "That's not what I meant." 'Not since I was a child.' She cleared her throat. "How did you get past it?"

"There is nothing else for it: you must gather strength from your solitude, shape it into independence. Know that there will be no relief but what you create yourself."

When he'd said his parents had played no part in his childhood, and for all the times he'd told them, 'Red Wizards have no friends…' "Gods, Edwin… You must have been so lonely."

This time his expression was unmistakable as a sneer curled his lips. "And what would anyone have offered me? You cannot rely on anyone else to do anything for you. If you should come to depend upon them, they will only weaken you from finding your strength."

'Twas impossible to miss the tension that had straightened his back, though, that had widened the space between them; the extra inches dug in like miles. She hugged her arms to herself. Too hard, this was all far too hard on her own. "Maybe I'm already weak. I don't think I can keep going. Not alone."

"You can," the words sounded more a declaration—a command—than an assurance, "but you have never had to before. Stop trying to attach yourself to these paladins whose sense of 'honor' will not allow them to turn you away! You think you can manipulate others into taking care of you? You are the one who needs to take care of yourself—and the only one who should."

'Manipulating!' Her head shot up. "Is that really how you see me?"

"Someone who believes they are drowning will clutch at anything to stay afloat. But you are not drowning."

"It feels like it." So dark, so turbulent, so hard to breathe, to stay on her feet. "It feels just like I'm drowning."

"Yet you do not try to learn to swim? Focus on what you can do for your own self."

She bit down on her lip. Was that the only solution left to her? "Does that make it hurt less? Being alone?"

Edwin's eyes narrowed.

"I can't." She shook her head. "Mock me all you like, but I just don't work like that." What was the solution? If only being around other people could help keep the shadows at bay? 'Twas not as if she could demand company every night, not when Jaheira had so very carefully never offered to share a room with her. Who would want to suffer her nightmares secondhand?

No one. The answer was as clear as the frustration on Edwin's face, as sharp as the (knives) sudden pain wrenching through her chest.

He rose, taking an entire step away as if the tears threatening her eyes somehow might threaten him as well. "There are potions which will aid your sleep. Drug yourself then, if you can face nothing."

"Edwin." The ache had seized her lungs, strangled her voice into a gasp. "Please don't—please don't walk away from me. I—I need help. I'm sorry I'm not like you. I can't do this by myself. Please."

He glanced around the hall, nostrils flaring, and glared at the corners as if they each offended him. "What is it you expect me to do?"

Anything anything anything. "I don't know. I don't…" She took in a shaky breath. Don't leave don't let him leave. "Tell me a story." The words felt hollow, lacking Imoen's voice.

Had he taken a step forward? 'Twas difficult to focus on anything other than his gaze locked on hers.

Unfazed, Edwin approached the challenge as straightforwardly as he did any other: "There was a boy. A school empty of faces he knew. A room empty of all but a bed and a desk. He realized that his troubles meant naught to anyone but himself, and no one was going to come; no one was going to aid him. If he wished anything to be different, he must take care of it himself. He must take care of himself."

The ache squeezed harder, and heat flared up to her nose, her eyes.

Edwin's serious stare lessened for but a moment as he saw her face, "Wh—these are not tears?" He switched to a scowl. "Gods! Do not cry over a child who no longer exists. This is a tale of perseverance, not one of self-pity!"

"N-no." She blinked as discreetly as she could manage. "Why would I cry? Why would it be sad, thinking of you all by yourself with no one to turn to?"

"Do not read into this—!" His finger pointed with all the accusation he couldn't verbalize. "It is a straightforward story of recognizing the need for self-reliance. How do you not understand this? It is obvious: if you wish change, you are your own catalyst."

Lessons he had learned long ago. "How old were you? When they took you for training."

Edwin's shoulders lowered a bit, though his still-wide stance suggested he'd not quite calmed. "I was not 'taken.' " His chin lifted. " 'Twas a great honor to be selected, especially so young as I was." He stared at her, almost suspicious, as if trying to determine whether this too might backfire. "Five—nearly five."

Proud, so proud, that all her sympathy would feel like pity. She held her tongue, held in all the things that burst onto it, all the things that would only anger him. "It's hard for anyone that age to be able to understand something like 'honor.' I suppose you had to grow up rather fast."

"And you, only now. (A bit overdue, but better late than never.)" He paused a moment before returning to the seat beside her, a warmth just close enough to feel against her side.

She glanced down at her hands. "How many years' head-start do you have on me, do you suppose?" She peeked up only to see him shaking his head.

"You…" A hand briefly rose to cover his mouth as he cleared his throat. "You will not give up on these contemptible attempts to uncover my age?"

"I've been told I'm very stubborn."

"Certainly none would accuse you of being subtle. (There is no reason for this to be amusing.)"

"But you're smiling." If only a little: 'twas enough to bid an answering one within her; she smiled back. "Thank you. For telling me that. I'm sorry I can't be more like you." How much simpler would everything seem, if she were so equipped as he to handle it?

One shoulder raised in a shrug. "There is much which is just becoming known to you. This is not something to apologize for, unless you continue to ignore the truth once aware."

"I think you're starting to make a lot of sense to me."

"Good."

"You, I mean. Not just your words."

He went quite still. Quite quiet, too, as if he couldn't decide whether he ought to feel threatened.

"That's still good," she assured him.

"Hn."

Best change the subject, before he decided he was offended. "I'll be staying with Keldorn. While you're all gone."

"I know." All business once more, Edwin crossed his arms. "Do not forget yourself around him. Who you are."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Who did he think she was?

He frowned. "That you are not a little girl who needs an armored nursemaid. That you are fully capable of taking care of yourself."

"You… you really believe I can?"

"It does not matter what I believe. You must believe in yourself; the opinions of others are irrelevant."

"Do you, though?"

"I believe you are capable of infinitely more than you give yourself credit for. Than you even imagine!" He leaned in. "Do you recall so little of what you've done? I have seen you perform the impossible—I have seen magic pouring from your fingers without form! How much more literal an example of potential do you require?"

Her ears surely burned. "Um. That's good. I guess."

He shook his head. "You 'guess.' " The note of wryness in his voice softened his bearing almost as much as did his loosened posture. "I suppose this is a start."

Could she hug him? Touch him? Something! But what if he… She gripped the edge of the seat. "Thank you."

He granted her a nod. So very formal!

"That's awfully magnanimous of you."

"Good." Leaning back, he stretched his arms out along the back of the couch. "This is what I was aiming for." His mouth straightened, but almost as though he were trying to keep a smile flat.

So serious, even if something like a smirk lurked about him. What would he do if she should lean beneath his raised arm and curl up against him? Stare at her in bafflement? How quickly would he pull away?

"Why do you look at me like this?"

Wh-what did she look like? His words had set her face afire, so that surely couldn't go unnoticed; she jumped up before he could see any closer. "Like what?" Casual, keep her voice casual.

"I do not know; this is why I asked." He sat forward, tilting his head up at her. "You are running again."

Her heart might have missed a beat when he rose to stand before her, certainly did when his hand came to rest on her shoulder.

"I tell you, Sajantha: I will not coddle you. Only you can decide to rise to your potential. Irenicus did not know what he was doing with you: it has always been your choice."

=E=

"Whew!" Raviwr floated down to rest upon his shoulder. "That was a close one, Master."

"I do not require your input, you useless pest. (Nor your toes digging into my neck.)"

His familiar shifted a bit, but this only prompted a wing to catch against the back of Edwin's head. "Bumpy start, but you's did okay."

"Did you hear me not? Silence yourself." 'Okay.' Okay? Edwin Odesseiron did nothing 'okay.' As if he could not excel at whatever he deemed worthy of effort!

The imp let out a little giggle. "No run away!"

"I am perfectly capable of carrying a conversation without 'running away!' " Bah!

"No making her run away?" The despicable little creature grinned. "You no make her cry, either! Yes, yes. Good-good."

Edwin straightened his hood. "None of this requires your approval, imp."

But in the next moment, a mild warning infused their bond, doing what no amount of Edwin's reprimands could: the creature's amusement had vanished.

Fists tight, Edwin turned.

A tall armored figure blocked the hall. Angry, perhaps, but not yet hostile—and the paladin had thus far been able to restrain himself, whatever his feelings—so no reason for Edwin's own pulse to pound as if for battle, no reason to take stock of his wands and charms and gauge the space between them. (Four paces or one lunge, if that great sword should be drawn.)

"I had wondered what intentions a man such as you could have."

One pace back would allow an extra second of reaction time. Edwin placed his hands on his hips where they could hover ready: the wand of lightning easily reached at his left, and the spell-pouch of mercury and phosphorous at his right. Oh, his charges and contingencies would all be ready today; no meager silence spell would catch him off-guard. "Excuse me?"

The paladin—fortunately for him!—moved no closer; he waited with disapproval wearing a deeper groove upon his weathered face. Just what did he want? If he wished to be introduced to Edwin's arsenal, the components remained more than ready. "With Sajantha. The descendant of a god."

The words did as little to assuage the tension as did the paladin's glower, still seeped in suspicion. 'God.' She had at last admitted such—the truth she could not stomach facing around anyone else—and had borne her soul to a paladin?

"You are so concerned with her safety?" Edwin's fingers flexed. "If you truly care about her, you would do best to retreat."

The old man swelled to fill up his armor. Would it take the precision of a needle or the full swipe of a sword to deflate him? Either way, he'd not be able to prepare for what the future held in store.

"If Sajantha had the luxury of being the daughter of such a fine, upstanding gentleman as yourself, no doubt your coddling would be appreciated. But she is not. She is the daughter of death—her blood is of the gods—and such indulgence serves only to weaken her." How much progress would be undone, leaving her with the sanctimonious lout for even a tenday?

"You would have her aspire to a throne of blood and ruin?"

"I would keep her alive, Tormite, by showing her the strength to stand on her own two feet, and not being the crutch that keeps her steady."

"She needs support."

"She needs strength."

"They need not be mutually exclusive."

"Be that as it may, but—if you do not heed me—then we two will be."

The paladin crossed his arms. "If it ever comes down to a choice between the two of us, then know that good will triumph."

'Good,' pfeh. The self-righteous claptrap of all holier-than-thou types who could expand their vocabulary no further than their black-and-white box of the world. "You are so sure she will choose you, then?"

"There is no doubt in me."

Such smugness. Such ignorance! He knew her not. Edwin bared his teeth in a smile. "That is exactly why you are wrong. The difference, my dear paladin, is that Sajantha values my skills, whereas you: she values your life. Which do you suppose she will risk in her endeavor? You will not be going with us." He gave his head a shake as he half-turned away (enough to dismiss the lout without sacrificing awareness of his proximity). "Protest if you must, but she is still so weak as to heed her heart, and—so long as you are in it—she will not risk losing you. There is no room for you here; you just haven't realized it yet."

Trusting one's life to others was the surest way to lose it, and Sajantha was at risk so long as she remained this way, without choice.

Paladins were idiots. This one would doubtless find some grand manner in which to throw away his own life, as if impalement at the end of some 'evil-doer's' sword-point might be worth more glory than a throat slit in a back alley.

Dead was dead.

A lesson Sajantha may have taken her time to learn, but not one she would forget.

[Author's Note]: Thanks to Kyn again for proofing! And thank you my lovely reviewers; you keep me going. :)

I was going to mention this in the next section, but since I had to split it I shall drop it in here as well —

{spydrouge dot deviantart dot com/art/Aknowledgement-Part-I-518381226} = an awesome scene Kyn imagined of when Edwin sees Sajantha's scars! :O WHAT WILL HAPPEN DUN DUN DUN