King of Shadows, Queen of Light
--Okay: the silliness continues, ladies and gents, because after one gets the ladies drunk, the boys need to have their fair share too, right? I'll get back on track in the next chapter…--
English is not my native language. I appreciate any constructive corrections. It really helps me to get better, so please feel free to leave a review. Thanks for all of those who have already done so—you guys are great!
There is some language in these chapters occasionally; nothing really serious, but be warned if you are offended by such things. Hence the M rating so far.
This chapter's soundtrack included the following: Two Hornpipes (Tortuga) from Hans Zimmer's Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack and two pieces from Capercaille's Beautiful Wasteland: Co Ni Mire Rium (Who Will Flirt With Me?) and Kepplehall/ 25KTS
And, as always, I strongly regret that I do not own any of the main characters, especially a certain paladin… Arrighan is entirely my fault, though.
Chapter Twenty-Five: Who Will Flirt With Me?
At the end, we had to devise a veritable strategy.
"So… this is how they sit." Neeshka used some of the empty bottles to indicate the situation in the common room, while I hastily donned a shirt and trousers under my old sleeveless leather jerkin I normally only used when I worked the pell. "Unfortunately, Bishop is right there at the next table," she used another bottle a bit away from the rest, "and that might be a problem. He has those blasted ranger senses of his all tuned up, even when he's drinking."
"On that note…" Elanee said as thoughtfully as she could, considering the amount of alcohol we had, "…what about the wizard and his arcane senses? If he has any Detect magic left running…"
"Nah, I told you he's totally creamed." Neeshka waved a hand. "I have no idea what you said to them on the way back, dear, that made them drink this heavy…" she patted my hand, "…but I'd love to listen in before they got to the stage where they just fall under the table."
I shook my head as I pinned up my hair. I still had trouble difficulty imagining this scene. And that, my guilt over exploding at everyone in the coach, and the ten-year old Cormyran red together convinced me to go along with Neeshka's plan. However insane it seemed.
Elanee went ahead and got all of us a bit sobered up with some of her specially modified Remove Poison spells. I had to admit, I've not realized half of the practical uses of a lot of spells I've only seen in combat before. When I mentioned this to her, she just smiled that serene smile of hers that made me feel like I was ten years old again, gently tapped my shoulder and said that maybe we should talk later… Then Shandra went downstairs. She said she volunteered as a diversion and, besides, she had to help Duncan who was without his other barmaid for tonight, given Qara's little incident earlier today. Neeshka murmured something under her breath about her chickening out.
"I personally… appreciate her… sacrifice." I said, trying to keep a straight face as she retrieved those little vials of Invisibility from her room for the three of us. "It really would have looked suspicious if all of us just disappear…"
Neeshka snorted.
"Rig, we're gone for quite some time now… it really wouldn't have mattered." She handed out the vials. "Now…we all remember what we discussed, right?"
"Come on, Neesh… neither of us are that drunk…any more." I added with a bit less certainty. "Yikes!" It was one of Sand's potions, no doubt--the licorice made my mouth pucker. "So how long does this take?"
"You never took Invisibility before?" Neeshka looked at me incredulously.
"What would I have used it for?" I pointed at my chest. "Paladin, remember…? Invisible or not, I am not much use for sneaking around. Not in armor, anyway." I added, sourly.
Both of them rolled their eyes.
"Great, El." Neeshka sighed. "Now it's too late to think about that… oops, it's started. "she said as she looked at me. "It always feels funny at first… just don't fight it." Her smile turned wicked. "Like with other first things… Just try to enjoy it." She deftly ducked my mock blow directed to her head; then I was too distracted to worry about the meaning of her remark.
It was rather disorienting, the way my body went through the stages of disappearing. The faint tingling sensation was akin to other magic effects but with a tickle to it that made me want to giggle even more that I already had to.
Neeshka and Elanee also shimmered out of sight. I turned around, trying to see them, and felt a hand on my shoulder.
"Hey." I heard Neeshka's voice. "We need to practice a bit so we won't bump into each other, especially what with you never doing this before. Come on, follow my voice."
They had me walk around my room a few times to make sure I was used to knowing where my body was, even though I could not see it. Fortunately, training with weapons since age twelve raised my body awareness rather high, so after a few fumbles they both pronounced me capable of dealing with the challenge of the common room without any problems.
I felt like I was a kid again, spying on the adults, as we inched down the corridor from my room, down the stairs and into the common room. It was not packed, but did enough of a brisk trade that it required skill and concentration to wade through. Unfortunately, as soon as we cleared the first sizeable group, we saw that there was a problem: the table Neeshka indicated was occupied by others.
"Shiiit." she breathed right by my ear; she was holding my hand, just like Elanee had a hand on my shoulder. "They went somewhere… let's see we can move into a corner and then I try to go over to Shandra and ask her what's going on."
So we did just that; I was almost entirely sober by then, and started to really regret that I went along with the whole idea. What would this accomplish, I grumbled to myself, except deep embarrassment if we are discovered? You are out of your mind, Arrighan Pendwyr, obviously, due to combat and emotional fatigue-- you need your bed and a good night's sleep, not sneaking around invisible to listen in on conversations you have absolutely no right to…
"Okay, this is even better." Neeshka's voice, disembodied and feather-light made me jump. Both of them chuckled. "They are back in our little private room, Shandra says… Khelgar dragged Grobnar with them too, so she suspects there will be singing any time now. So we have a Plan B. She is going to put a bunch more drinks on a tray for them in a minute and head for the door; we are to slip in with her."
"This sounds worse and worse by the minute." I grumbled.
"Come on…sense of adventure?" chided Neeshka. "Besides: paladins don't run, now, do they?"
"Consider yourself smitten, tiefling." I murmured, but felt my lips twitching into a smile. I clearly needed a diversion from what happened today, and from what lie ahead. And my friends wanted to provide me with one.
"Here we go…"Elanee breathed. "She's done with the tray…"
"Damn, that's some serious stuff." Neeshka said with some respect, and I had to agree. There were two full tankards of ale, a bottle of wine and a flask of something very similar to what Shandra had earlier, except that this was even greener. Plus a small clay flagon that was sealed with a thick layer of wax on top of the cork.
"What is that?" I wondered under my breath as we kind of oozed through the floor. They didn't answer, which was, as I realized a second later, perfectly justified. We wanted to remain invisible and carrying out a conversation while sliding through clusters of customers would have ruined that. Yes, this definitely was my first time.
If I was perfectly honest with myself, I wasn't sure I wanted a next.
I got the distinct feeling that Neeshka and Shandra had done this before: theirs was a suspiciously perfect timing that reeked of previous experience in teamwork the way I learned to recognize. As Shandra got to the door, she fussed just long enough rearranging her tray until we got there… well, I knew we got there because I was there and I felt a hand on my shoulder. As the door opened, Shandra pushed it wide open and stepped into the room, lifting the tray as if it was a bit heavy for her, allowing enough time for us to get through. It took a while—we had to maintain body contact all the time so we wouldn't lose each other. This, on the whole, was so much more complicated than it seemed after half a bottle of Cormyran.
"All right, this is your last round, I hope…" Shandra said loud, smiling broadly as she surveyed the group more or less sitting by the table in the middle of the room.
"And what gave you that notion, lass?" Khelgar asked loud. "Now, lad, I ain't sure that's a good idea…" he added, lifting a hand to forestall Casavir, who…
"But of course I need to help her." I had problems with this image. Was he really swaying as he stood up? "It is my duty to… "
"Just sit down, Casavir." Shandra put the tray down in front of the men. "I can manage this quite handily. Remember-- farm girl?" She swatted his shoulder with her bar towel. "I said, sit… there's a good paladin. " She looked at Khelgar. "What did you give him?" she asked whispering.
By then, the three of us were safely ensconced in the corner where a couple of equipment bags were piled up, offering relative comfort to sit. I watched, mesmerized, as Casavir slowly got back to his chair, grabbing a rather large wine goblet and refilling it from the bottle Shandra just brought in.
"My dear child…" drawled Sand, briefly lifting his head; he was holding his chin cupped in his palm, "By now, you should know that it is entirely impossible to make a paladin do anything he or she does not want." He sighed wistfully. "Especially a certain squire." He shrugged, a little bit more exaggerated than normally. "Our esteemed Katalmach did not have much else but that rather lousy Waterdeep wine Duncan keeps in his cellar, don't fret so."
"Khm… Sand…"Grobnar nudged the wizard; the gnome had wrestled with an ale tankard almost as big as Khelgar's. It was rather impressive. "That's actually… not quite accurate… because…"
"Silence, gnome." said Casavir, with dignity. "I can answer for my own actions." He lifted a finger and waved it about as he spoke, pointing at assorted items on the table. "I had pre-cisely one bottle of Duncan's rather mediocre wine, some of his ale, less-than-average, I am afraid, and about half of this rather smoky and peat-flavored malt spirit for some reason you, Grobnar, find so appealing, and which, I must admit, kind of grows on me, so…" He reached out and snatched the small clay flagon from the tray Shandra just put down. "So I say I will just see if this particular one is better than the first."
I felt my jaw hit the floor, watching him breaking off the wax seal from the bottle and very, very carefully pouring about an inch's worth of amber-colored liquid into his goblet, then looking at Sand.
"Wizard—any of this?"
"Oh no, my dear paladin." Sand shook his head, much slower than usual. "If I have a wish to taste peatmoss, I just travel to the Mere and fall on my face in a pond." He lifted the green bottle instead. "I will stick to this, if you don't mind."
"I told you he was a weakling…" snorted Khelgar dismissively. "But will ye listen? Nah, stubborn as an ox… gie me some of that." Casavir complied, and Khelgar downed the drink in one gulp, smacking his lips appreciatively after he'd done so. "Ah… good Leilon uisce… I haven't tasted the like since I traveled through that miserable excuse of a town." He belched. "Only redeeming feature of the place is this…" He pushed his cup closer to Casavir. "Another one, or are ye so enamored of it now that you won't share no more?"
"Um…it was my drink the first place..." said Grobnar weakly, looking on as the other two shared out the remaining content of the flask. "Never mind…"he whispered, forlorn.
"Come on, gnome." Sand broke out of his reverie over his green drink, looking at Grobnar with amusement. "Never you mind those two. They busy themselves with lesser toys, ignorant about everything but their crude base needs. It is time for you to have an actual taste of what real men… or elves, or… well, males, anyway…drink." He waved at the bottle before him, with a rather inebriated version of his usual hand gesture.
"And what is that?" Grobnar craned his neck. "It looks…green."
"Hah!" Sand leaned towards the gnome, but had to stay himself with his hand on the table. Grobnar blinked up at him with worry. "No, I am fine, fine… Nothing I cannot cure with some Cure Poison potions later, anyway…"he mumbled, barely audible. "This, my esteemed gnomish friend, is pure Elvish absinthe, distilled by the light of the twin moons by Elven maidens wearing nothing but their hair… Or, so the legend and the merchants say." he hastened to add, seeing Grobnar's face lit up with enthusiasm. "Me, I never believed that crap." He carefully measured out a tiny amount into Grobnar's goblet then poured a slightly more generous amount into his own. "Now: you be very, very careful, old chap…"he said to Grobnar, who took the goblet into both hands and stared into it with a look of anticipation on his face, "that you exhale while you take a sip. Very, important, that." he added as he tasted his own cup. "Otherwise the consequences can be… Oh, dear."
Everyone watched in horrified fascination, as Grobnar, finishing his goblet, sat there for about five seconds with a strange, blissful smile on his face, and then slowly, very, very slowly, like a small, colorful heap of clothes, slid sideways…and then down from the chair and under the table.
"Hah! I was wrong." Khelgar announced, locking eyes with Casavir as each emptied their respective cups. It seamed that some kind of a complicated game was going on; Shandra sighed from the end of the table where she sat and scribbled something on a piece of parchment laying there. "I guess that bet was lost, eh?"
"Seems so, Master Dwarf." Shandra smiled sweetly. "This particular round was won by the wizard." She looked up from her parchment. "Looks like the stakes got a bit higher, doesn't it?"
Understanding dawned slowly on me. I shook my head, not quite believing. So this was a drinking contest, complete with betting? I could see Khelgar and even Grobnar… but Sand, and especially Casavir?
"I always said never trust 'em…"the dwarf mumbled. "'Specially when it's an elf and wizard who's doin' the drinkin'…" He narrowed his eyes. "You got a trick up yer sleeve too, lad? Spiked this uisce with something, maybe?"
"We don't do… tricks." Casavir pulled himself up to his full height, which, I must say, even sitting was impressive. I felt a sharp elbow in my side: it must have been Neeshka. I had no idea what that was for. "You really should know that by now, Khelgar." He lifted the bottle and shook it, slowly. "I am afraid this is empty, though…" He turned his head towards Shandra. "My dear, since it looks like we disposed of what you so kindly brought in so far in a somewhat hasty fashion, such a shame, really, that uisce really does grow on me the more I have… would you awfully mind replenishing our supplies here?" He flashed a smile at her; she jumped up and scrambled furiously for her tray, slightly flushed.
Uh-oh. So all I have to do is give him more of that… uisce thing and he turns into this?
The thought settled down in my mind comfortably, and entirely inappropriately. I decided it was still the Cormyran red speaking. The next thought fluttering up from the depths of my mind, unsurprisingly, was… My, my, goodness gracious me, he does look good without all that metal…
He did. Even though I've seen him wearing less (granted, burned and bruised and covered in bandages) my heart gave a little lurch as I realized that his fine, loose-woven linen shirt had lace on it around the wrist and at the throat. Very fine and understated, nowhere near the extravagancy of Sir Grayson's flamboyant lace cuffs and ruffles, but lace nevertheless. Well, of course, given his heritage and upbringing… my inner self sniffled.
Self, shut up. I told myself sternly, and continued staring. It is lovely lace. It is lovely…
Neeshka once accused me of drooling at his sight, and while I would never, ever would have done that under any circumstances for any man… well, what's wrong with some staring? Especially when no one can see my face. And especially when he wore but that shirt, his pants, some soft boots and his sword belt.
Shandra, in the meantime gathered up her tray and some empty bottles and, still slightly flushed, left the room.
"Disgustingly unfair." mused Sand, smoothing a lock of dark hair behind his ear. "Next time I will insist to put it in the rules. 'No charming the serving wench using paladin charisma' is I believe how it should be worded."
"Shandra's no serving wench." belched Khelgar. "Excepting that, I agree. That was unfair advantage-taking, lad."
"I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about." Casavir said, marvelously dignified, I had to observe, then turned to Sand. "But since you two keep jabbing at me, remind me again, wizard, why am I here the first place?"
Sand opened his eyes wide.
"I don't know, paladin… why are you here in the first place? Maybe because you were so worked up about how she…"
"Hey." said Khelgar mildly. Gentle sounds of snoring wafted up from under the table: Grobnar turned to his side, curled up, smiling mouth slightly open as he slipped into a drunken but happy sleep. "You two start to remind me the way you butt heads with the ranger, lad, "he pointed at Casavir, "so knock it off." He shook his head. "I know that Little Sister got you all riled up an' all, but…"
"Riled up? Riled up?" Sand made a half-laughing, half-choking sound. 'That's an interesting way of putting it, considering you were not even there, Khelgar." The wizard's hand wavered amongst the assorted tankards, flasks and bottles on the table, and closed around the green one containing the elven absinthe. "And now that you reminded me to the lowest moment of my life since I left…" he obviously bit something back there, "…since I left my previous employer, you are obligated to share a drink with me. " His eyes threw lightning bolts at Casavir, too. "And you too, Mr. Righteously-Carrying-Damsels-Into-Danger!"
"I would never do that knowingly, Sand, and you know it." Casavir was staring at his knuckles on the table in front of him; I felt a hand squeezing my arm lightly. "I do hold Milady Arrighan in the highest…"
Khelgar snorted. He grabbed the bottle from Sand's hand so fast I did not even see the move.
"Ye know, lad… I dinna mind if ye're in denial, but do it'n private, if ye please." He poured absinthe into his mug. "Yer amongst friends, here." He stared at Sand. "Right, elf?"
"Dwarves and their phobias…" sighed Sand. "Watch how much you pour from that, for Mystra's sake!" he hissed. "I don't want anyone's death by spontaneous combustion on my conscience." He shuddered. "I especially wouldn't want to explain to Arrighan. Here, let me show you how", he sniffed disdainfully, "cultured people drink this."
"I think I might just been insulted, there." said Khelgar a bit belligerently. "Are ye saying…?"
"Of course not." Sand hastened to reply. "Now put that bottle down, there's a good dwarf… and watch. Note how I am not saying 'learn' because, well…"
"Hey." said Khelgar warily. "Hey… did he just insult me again, lad?" he looked at Casavir who still had this frozen expression on his face from where Sand first mentioned me, and was busy staring into his goblet, his mirth gone.
"I would not worry about it." Sand shrugged. "You can either attribute it to an unselfconscious flex of my racial muscles, or to alcohol-induced belligerence. Either way, you won't remember much of it by the morning." I watched in fascination, as he pulled out a small, delicately etched silver spoon from the depths of his wizard's robe. He poured an inch's worth of green liquor into his glass goblet and placed the spoon to the rim. I fleetingly wondered how the hells Duncan got hold of glass goblets, since Casavir had one in front of him, too. Then I remembered that we kept a couple of them in this room just for our group. Duncan's normal customers would not have been appreciative, not to mention none of those would have lasted past the first evening.
"Now, children." Sand started, as Khelgar stared, and Casavir lifted his head up and started watching, the stiffness slowly easing out of his shoulders again (and oh my, what nice broad shoulders those were, my inner self sighed). It was the sign of just how much more affected I was by all of what transpired today that I did not even feel a twinge of shame over that thought. "This is the proper way to prepare and enjoy Elven absinthe." He pulled a small container towards him that had lumps of rock sugar in it-- Duncan left it there for those heretics amongst us who drank their tea or coffee sweetened. "A piece of this in the spoon," he placed a sugar lump in the spoon, "just so… Then we get some water… " Khelgar shuddered at this point, but kept watching as Sand reached for the water jug that, I was sure, was brought in as a joke. "…and carefully, oh so carefully, we pour it over the sugar, so the water trickles in through the spoon's perforations, melting the sugar in the process." The wizard stuck out the tip of his tongue as he concentrated: I found that utterly hilarious and had to force myself not to giggle. "And… behold, gentlemen!"
The bright green liquid in the goblet slowly turned into an opaque white, with only the slightest hint of its former vivid color.
"I think you could make money with that, Sand, in certain circles." Casavir observed dryly.
"Why, my dear knight, I will think you made either a joke or a veiled compliment." Sand raised an eyebrow. "Either way, I am so glad your previous life is catching up with you. Manners are sorely lacking in this little band of adventurers, and witty conversation is so hard to come by." He pushed the goblet towards Casavir. "Now, remember what I told Grobnar?"
Casavir nodded.
"I am assuming I am supposed to do the opposite?" he inquired, mimicking Sand's raised eyebrows almost perfectly.
"Oh no." Sand shook his head with a little smile; his hands were busy preparing the next drink. "Exactly the same. Exhale while drinking. If you feel some tingling of the mouth, the ears or the toes, or maybe…..other parts," he paused delicately, "that is perfectly normal."
"Hmmm." Casavir eyed the glass with some reservations. "How about I wait until you finish two other ones and we all drink at the same time? No offense."
"Oh, none taken, none taken." Sand said nonchalantly. "As you wish, of course."
I punched the air with my fist, triumphantly; I started to discover some advantages of being invisible. I was also unreasonably proud of that response from Casavir.
So he waited with his arms crossed in front of his chest (my inner self sighed again) until the wizard prepared Khelgar's and his own drink, his blue eyes trained on Sand's hands moving between sugar container, water jug and goblets.
"Well?" Khelgar took up one of the three drinks at random, and sniffed at it, before Sand could do anything. "Hah. Smells like green things." He smoothed his moustaches down, then lifted the goblet. "To yer health, poncy elf, may yer beard grow eventually."
He downed the absinthe in one gulp, not even pausing once.
Sand coughed delicately.
"My dear dwarf, that was touching." he said slowly. "Even more so, since…ah, there it is." He leaned back in his chair and touched his fingertips together, as Khelgar slowly, very, very slowly fell back, chair and all, stiff as a board, and landed with the thud of a completely unconscious dwarf on the floor.
"Hmmm." Casavir raised his eyes from his goblet and eyed Sand. "I suspect this has some side effects on the …shorter species?"
Sand shrugged.
"No one listens to me. I told him not to inhale. I told Grobnar not to inhale." He pointed a finger at Casavir, and his voice took on an edge. "For that matter, you are not listening to me when I am telling you not to have wild adventures with a certain lady a day before her trial, but that's an old bone we worried over about a dozen times, and I have no intention of repeating it more than necessary. So take you glass, empty it without inhaling, and I shall do the same." He shrugged again. "And then, we shall see if your constitution is up for handling that on top of everything else you already had, including all the emotional baggage you carry."
"You presume much, wizard." Casavir said slowly. I could feel some thunderclouds brewing from the way his aura was swirling—I could not help but feel it.
"I can smell it, paladin." said Sand, leisurely sloshing the drink in his glass. The air grew thick in the room all of a sudden, the tension palpable—it was made all the more bizarre by the dual snoring of Grobnar and Khelgar. I felt another squeeze on my arm.
"I can smell them all, quite distinctly." Sand flashed a smile. "Your duty. Your obligations. Your old war wounds. Your obedience. Your repressed anger. Your pride."
What was he doing? Yes, both of them were quite drunk, that was obvious—but I had no idea in wizards this manifested in aggressive goading… Did he have a suicide wish? The way Casavir's muscles were straining under his shirt, he was restraining himself with extreme willpower from jumping across the table and punching Sand in the face.
"I would… stop it." That came out more as a growl. He picked up his goblet very slowly. I was afraid the stem might snap between his fingers, but he held it with exaggerated care. "Right there."
"I cannot." Sand's voice was almost sad, and that finally made me understand what he was doing. He's preparing him, still, and despite everything, for what he might face in the days or even weeks to come. In his cruel, sophisticatedly elven, emotionless and efficient way, he's trying to train him, just as he tried it with me. It made me like him more, a little.
"I am sorry." Sand continued softly. "You need to understand. There is a trial coming up, that will take all her resolve, sap all her strength, all her willpower and requires everything she has. It will be ruthless and merciless, and expose everything she did since she came to Neverwinter. We are facing someone behind Torio, Casavir, who is perfectly willing to make mockery out of your god and drag your name through the mud yet again as well, to discredit and possibly kill Arrighan." He leaned forward. "Understand me: I have no doubt that this trial will be won. I know Tyr is on your side, and I know that we have all the mundane evidence we need too. However, regardless of that, I would much rather send her back to that undead- and cultist infected crypt you cleaned out today than make her go through this." He lifted his goblet to his lips and took a deep swig. "And you know why?" He wiped his mouth with his robe's sleeve—a rather unusual gesture from this always neat and graceful elf. "Because there, at least you'd be by her side. In that room in Nasher's palace the day after tomorrow… you won't be able to do anything but sit and watch, as she's savaged and dissected and thrown to the wolves in all manners of ways." He drank down the rest of his absinthe like it was an elixir giving life. "And, of course, you'll need to trust me to defend her with nothing but my wits and my cunning words. Not even with my spells." He snorted, in a most un-Sand like way; that was probably the drink finally hitting home. His eyes, however, were steadily fixed on Casavir. "Are you up to it, my lord? Do you trust me to get her through this? As for that matter: do you trust her?"
"I don't suppose you'll understand this, Sand…" Casavir sighed, "…but I trust her more than anyone I ever did." As Sand's head dipped in acknowledgement, Casavir raised his goblet, and before he drank it down in one, his voice rang out loud and clear, making me wish I could hear what he said over and over again. "To my lady Arrighan, now and forever."