As ever, thank you to those who are reading and to those who are reviewing!
Now, with some warnings for violence...


Chapter 27: The Lure of Darkness


"You! What is it that brings you here?"

The words quavered, shrill to her own ears.

"Have you come to see first-hand the…first-hand the…first-hand the misery…"

The paper trembled in her hands, and a wave of panic ran through Aerie. She looked back down at the script, written out in Haer'Dalis's large and angular style. She frowned as she reminded herself of the following words, her mouth suddenly dry. She forced those words out all the same, trying to remember the appropriate anger and despair with which to lace them.

"Have you come to see first-hand the misery you have wrought? My…my 'love'." Aerie winced at this newest and least convincing rendition, snarling (as fiercely as the avariel could snarl) in frustration and batting at the air before her with her script.

Balling her hands and taking perhaps more glee in scrunching up the edge of the parchment than she should have, she looked out over the all but empty theatre, to her one-person audience. Mazzy watched her with a look of vague amusement from her seat a few rows back from the front.

"Oh, Baervan!" Aerie exclaimed, imagining the rows of chairs all filled with onlookers (although Haer'Dalis had promised this play would be for their companions only). She descended the steps at the front of the unadorned stage, slumping in a chair beside the halfling and gesturing back at the closed curtains, "Even with…with the backdrop hidden, in my own clothes, with the script to help me and only you watching, I s-still can't get this right!"

"Perhaps you should channel some of this frustration into the role, Aerie?" Mazzy suggested carefully. Sitting there on that too-big chair, with her legs twisted up beside her, dressed in a simple pale tunic and leggings, the halfling paladin seemed a great deal less intimidating. Now out of the braids she favoured for travel, which tended to bounce around her head in a wild spray, her hair curled neatly to just below her chin level. She seemed a lot more…approachable. If still rather intense.

"I don't understand why…why Haer'Dalis insisted so strongly that I be a part of this," Aerie confided softly, looking down at the script again and shaking her head, "I've never been very good at pretending."

"He sees something in you that he can use," Mazzy told her solemnly, and the double meaning did not escape Aerie. She looked up sharply to see the halfling's large blue eyes watching her calmly, only honesty in her striking face.

Aerie opened her mouth to respond, indignation rising, but quickly quelled whatever it was she had been about to say on impulse. Mazzy only meant well…and besides, she might have been right. So rather than argue, the avariel blew out a long sigh and slumped in her chair, watching the empty stage mournfully.

"I don't understand how he lives with…with the others," Aerie commented at last, and sensed rather than saw Mazzy look back around at her.

"He is not blind to their tendencies, Aerie," the halfling paladin promised, "His is perhaps more based upon…frivolous moral complacence. But he is guilty by association - because he believes more in himself than he does in steering them to the path of justice."

Aerie flinched at that comment for how true it was, and how unwittingly Mazzy had said it. The avariel's thoughts turned to all that she had seen with her Divinations thanks to Jaheira's insistence. She had fallen asleep upon the druid's bed after such persistent casting and Jaheira had still not been back when the avariel woke up to go to her own room. And now, in the broad daylight of the waking world, Aerie could not shake the sadness she felt. Hopefully, the druid had gone to reason with Elatharia – and hopefully she would return with assurances that those who dwelled in the Planar Sphere had been persuaded away from their evil path.

Elatharia had always been an unpredictable and volatile sort, out more for her own mission than anything else – but that mission had always seemed really rather worthy. She was seeking to save her sister. Who would not do anything to save their family? But…there were things which Elatharia was willing to do, that Aerie did not – would not – believe were necessary. And that was hard to understand. It would be very hard to forgive. And those with her, as Mazzy had said, were not without blame for failing to stop the escalations of a desperate, damaged and misguided person.

"…and there I would have expected you to at least put up some kind of fight, Aerie," Mazzy noted astutely into the silence.

Aerie could not bring herself to meet Mazzy's eyes, though she tried. She blushed fiercely and eventually stared determinedly down at her hands, which she had folded tightly upon her lap. Recognising her unease, Mazzy took a gentle hold of the avariel's arm and leaned closer to try to meet Aerie's eyes.

"Aerie? You have been distracted since we met here this morning." Her voice was calm, but her eyes held all of the sharp intensity of her paladinic vocation, "What is it? What do you know?"

The sound of heavy feet pounding upon the stairs down to the theatre from the inn above interrupted the pair. They turned around in their seats in time to see Anomen rushing forth through the door. He caught sight of them, his cheeks flushed and his normally tidy copper hair in disarray, and then remembered to stop and breathe.

"Anomen?" Aerie asked, unable to hide the concern from her voice as she stood immediately, approaching him.

"Is everything alright?" Mazzy sounded more wary, and followed the avariel with a frown.

"The Order have contacted me," he fairly gasped, staring down at Aerie with wide and fearful eyes, "I will be receiving the results of my knighthood test at sunset."


Seven feathers.

Seven feathers. Why did that feel familiar? Why did that feel so significant? The effect that hooded woman had had upon Elatharia had been more than a little interesting. If only he could remember the significance of the seven feathers! And just what was someone like that, entirely alive (until proven otherwise), doing with Bodhi? And not as a pawn or a slave, either. An equal. A watcher. An…ally?

Edwin might have made more headway with this problem had he not been so distracted. Blackmail did not sit well with him. He was a Red Wizard, the son of a Tharchion of Thay. He was supposed to do the blackmailing, not receive it. It was utterly degrading. But they had threatened him with things that he could not ignore. His own life was at stake. And that made him angry.

Which meant that, for once, Edwin was struggling to concentrate.

It had been bad enough seeing Bodhi again…let alone seeing her in her own home. He had barely been listening to what she was telling Elatharia – he had been too intent upon watching every movement, every change of the light, expecting death to come for them from any shadow.

It was times like that when he truly wished he had a familiar. Still, he had gathered they would be carrying out their first pre-planned kill at a lord's house during the hour at which Haer'Dalis's play was scheduled to occur. At least that meant the tiefling would have to be absent from their group. He would have to weave some pretty and convincing lies to keep suspicions low.

Edwin had struggled to sleep at all during what little night remained to them after their meeting with Bodhi, and that was doing nothing for his concentration. There had been a tightness in his chest, something twisting inside him. Some emotion. (Wretched things.) He put it down to his indignation over Bodhi's demeaning blackmail…and filed such thoughts away to be forgotten.

At least it was quiet down here, in the lower levels of the Planar Sphere. The summoning circles and the arcing stone shapes of portal frames were soothingly familiar. Two of the golems, huge clay brutes of roughly humanoid form, stood deactivated against the far wall, the long metal-lined room easily illuminated by the Sphere's system of conjured lights.

Their insides were formed of cogs and bolts, however, and it would only be a matter of careful tinkering to get them back into working order. A shame, then, that Edwin was not better versed in the ways of Alteration. At least Jan had given up his perusal of the door mechanism and the network of peculiar pipes that twisted up the walls and ceiling – all of it a bolted-and-ridged patchwork of metal sheeting.

"Whatever force built this Sphere – and whoever added to it – must have been a mechanical genius. This room…I feel like we've walked straight into Mechanus! Especially now all the blood's been cleared away."

Her voice, strained in spite of her apparent light-heartedness, cut through the peaceful silence. Jan had failed to fix the door in this room, and thus there had been no warning creak of hinges to inform of her presence. Cringing in surprise, Edwin almost dropped the cog he had been inspecting back onto the cluttered table of instruments. Instead, he gripped it tighter and closed his eyes with a grimace.

"Can you not tell when you are intruding upon my private time, incompetent Transmuter?" he gritted out, stubbornly not looking around at her. He heard the soft patter of her – barbarically bare! – feet upon the tiled floor as she wilfully entered the chamber.

"I've been looking for you all over the Sphere," her arm brushed his as she reached his side, one of her small, pale hands reaching casually across him to pluck up one of the cogs from the table. She turned it over in her hands, and when Edwin at last forced himself to look down at her, she was smiling crookedly. Her eyes flashed very green in the bright light when she tilted her head to look up at him, "I can't remember the last time you passed up a few hours of studying time to…well…" she grimaced a little, nodding towards the golem whose clay skin Edwin had (eventually) managed to peel back, "For Alteration."

"The proper construction of a golem requires Conjuration also, fool," he told her automatically, pulling the cog from her hands and ignoring the jolt of – what? – that ran up his arm when their fingertips touched. The white scars on her wrists glinted silver as she relinquished her grip.

"That's true," she shrugged, but her eyes narrowed, "What brought this on now?"

The very thought was ridiculous, and Edwin turned around to lean back against the table, staring across the metal room and its various non-functioning portals.

"Have you forgotten that the drow and the tiefling own rooms which exist within the same Sphere as my own?" he pressed his lips together and gripped the edge of the table at his sides. Elatharia laughed heartily at his words.

"Are they that loud?"

He did not deign to respond, although in truth he had heard nothing from the pair. Gods damn it all, he had come here to think!

"Have you been searching for me purely to idle away your time? If you needed a servant to chatter at, you should…"

He paused, and Elatharia's brows rose at his hesitation. Realisation – or memory, really – flashed through him. He peered down at her with new and sudden curiosity. She had eschewed her mask now that they were in the Sphere for a goodly time…and he watched her face closely.

"Your familiar. When I left you at the Friendly Arm," he could still recall the feel of her body against his…and the rage when she had denied him the simple task of killing Dynaheir, "You had a familiar, incompetent Transmuter."

Elatharia paled at that, her mouth falling open slightly. She fidgeted with the long sleeves of that green dress which he himself had been forced to wear when trapped in that wretched female form. Her eyes widened, her chin trembled…and then she frowned fiercely. Her lip curled, and a golden spark flared for a moment in each pupil. A pinprick of light, of Bhaal's power. Her anger made his heart race for the power it showed in her.

"Sarevok," she told him, "He caught Ingaith in Candlekeep. He only…he only killed him when we met in Baldur's Gate."

In spite of her anger, those words were full of the haunted loss with which all wizards spoke of their fallen familiars. She did not wear that loss in the crippled manner of one who had recently suffered such a severance, or even of one who had endured it at all, however. As if thinking the same thing, she ran her fingers through the thick golden streak in her otherwise dark tangles of hair, green eyes glazed and staring past him at memories he did not share.

Edwin wanted to make some comment about that, but she batted at the air between them, frowning again, and he folded his arms instead, arching a brow at her insolence. It was curious, always so curious, seeing her free of her mask. Her face was pale, oval but for a slightly pointed chin, her expressions changeable but not so various – these days they held the spectrum of anger and horror most commonly. Her eyes were more serious than once they had been, but still held that bright and relieving twinkle of intelligence. A rarity in their group. But for the dark, slightly indented markings branching beneath her eyes – six lines, each with a pair of tributaries – her skin was smooth and unblemished, her lips shapely if a little thin. She looked best when she smiled conspiratorially, knowingly…or hungrily. She looked worst when she cried.

"I came here to talk to you about something," she reminded sternly, not smiling now after the information she had divulged, "It's about Bodhi's task. We will need to leave Haer'Dalis behind, because we'll be absent for the play and he can't very well miss his own show without causing suspicion. I think it won't be all that surprising if you, Korgan and I were to choose to avoid it…and no one will miss Yoshimo. But I've looked at the maps for the houses in our target's part of town, and there just wouldn't be enough space to do it discreetly…"

"So send the bounty hunter and the mercenary out to do it for you. Delegate, like less of an idiot," Edwin suggested. Her eyes flashed, unamused. He fought the urge to smirk at her indignation.

"Maybe I should just send you," she suggested flippantly.

Tell me everything about your mistress when the time comes.

Edwin's own anger rose at that.

"You are not my mistress!" he snapped.

Elatharia took a wary step back. Her expression fell further for a moment, and then smoothed out. He fairly shook with the remembered outrage Bodhi had brought upon him…and the indignity of this state. Servant of a vampire. He would not permit this girl before him to control him, too.

"I wasn't serious," she sounded faintly hurt, and paused, her blank expression twisting, "I wouldn't trust you to do it alone any more than I'd trust the bounty hunter," she snarled eventually, affecting her anger rather than really feeling it most likely, "No. I need to be there. I'm taking Yoshimo. I'll take Korgan if you can't deign to come."

Damn Bodhi for making him seem so indecisive!

"As if you could survive without my Abjurations," Edwin scoffed automatically, and the hint of a smile curved Elatharia's lips. Her frown fled.

"I haven't found much evidence that our target has actually got any untoward connections. It's almost like Bodhi chose him at random. But we should prepare cautiously all the same, I suppose."

She shrugged, and Edwin nodded. He started to turn away from her, but she caught his arm.

"Edwin," his name on her lips tugged at something inside him that bore no name, "That woman…who passed us in Bodhi's lair. There was something…strange about her. Something…" she sighed and looked away, still gripping his arm. He just looked down at her, watching her green eyes moving as she chewed on her lip thoughtfully, "Something…familiar. And something powerful. It called to Bhaal's power so brightly that I…" she looked at him then, imploring and fierce in equal measures, "I need to know why. What she is."

Well. The feeling was mutual.

"I do not know the answer to your question," Edwin admitted, "But she did wear a symbol that we might research. Seven feathers – at her wrist and at her throat," it was gratifying to see Elatharia's interest flare at his words, and to prove his insightful powers, "But we will discuss it when we have time. After the dirty work that we must undertake for your sister," he could not quite avoid the resentment in his tone, "Now leave me be a little while I plot to overthrow you."

She grinned at that, her grip tightening on his arm momentarily. When her hand started to slip from him, his fingers tangled with hers and he squeezed briefly in return. An automatic gesture. A response. Nothing more. Her eyes flitted over his face as he smirked back – however much Bodhi had ripped the real humour from his words.


Sleep had never come. Her thoughts would not stop reeling.

Jaheira's feet had taken her from the gates of the Graveyard to Waukeen's Promenade, where she had watched the sun rising over the tiered arc of its buildings. She had been there as the stalls were raised…and she had lingered once the pink dawn had transcended into a bright if windy morning, until the bustle of the market started to make her dizzy.

They had done little to hide the mess left by Irenicus's destruction of his own dungeon. The huge dent in the furthest arc of the tiers remained, littered with chunks of rubble. A tent had been set up over it with two bored guards to wait by it. It seemed strange to her that the world around her felt so little for what had passed beneath. It seemed utterly callous of this city. It was despicable that they had to beg for favours from the Shadow Thieves while they dodged the Cowled Wizards – who should have been helping them! But none of that excused what Elatharia had done.

She had in turn left Jaheira with no real choice. The Transmuter's threat had been undoubtedly true: the Shadow Thieves would ultimately turn on them if their betrayal was explained. And then the vampires would come for them all, as well.

It still weighed heavily upon her heart, and that was why the druid found herself turning from the chaotic, noisy rush of the open market and treading the steps up to the next tier. As she reached the door she wanted she did not hesitate to knock – any pause would have seen her turning on her heel.

The door swung open abruptly after only a few moments' pause. Valygar's wary expression relaxed when he recognised her. He leaned his sword back against the doorframe with a slightly apologetic look, but any hint of a smile only got so far as a grimace which they shared.

"I had wondered when I would next see you." It was the closest his gruff tones could come to a pleasantry. Jaheira just nodded stiffly and stepped past him through the stout doorway when he gestured for her to enter.

It was a small sitting room with just the one, broad window looking out onto Waukeen's Promenade. There were no decorations of any kind; a plain fireplace empty of fuel, plain black curtains around an unused windowsill and unpainted frame, wooden floorboards and pale plaster walls. A table stood in the far corner of the chamber, flanked by a pair of wooden chairs. A candlestick and a newly laden plate of food where the only items in the room – other than the sword by the door.

"It's a long way from the grandeur I grew up with," Valygar agreed as if reading her mind, pulling back one chair for her to sit upon as he took the other. Out of his armour he still favoured the colours of the forest; brown trousers and a green tunic hung about his fairly muscular frame.

"You seem almost as ill at ease in this city as I feel," Jaheira noted stiffly, taking the chair and gesturing about the room. Other than the entrance there was only one other door, no doubt leading to some kind of makeshift bedroom and kitchen.

Valygar grunted at her words, a huff of air that might have been a laugh. She declined his offer of food. It crossed her mind that he must not have very much to spare – there was no suggestion of wealth about this tiny house. She knew better than to ask.

"You are no stranger to the ways of the noble born yourself, Jaheira," Valygar noted into the awkward silence. That was unexpected – she looked back at him sharply and saw his dark eyes on her face already, just that little bit too astute, "My mother's parents were form Tethyr. They were killed in the civil war, but I recall the accent."

The civil war. The civil war which had claimed her parents and sent her fleeing to live with her mother's family in the nearby elvish settlement in the great forest to the north, the Wealdath.

"I have not come for idle chatter," Jaheira denied him sharply, feeling herself bristling at his clumsy attempt to learn more of her. What did friendship matter, after everything that had been done and which must now be done?

"Of course," Valygar nodded, expression unreadable as he sat back in his chair, folding his arms, "If it is about saving Imoen, I have already told you that I will help. No person deserves to suffer at the hands of anyone, least of all a madman like Irenicus. I understand all too well the horrors that come of magic."

And how she had suffered! Jaheira clenched her fists against the wave of nausea which sought to engulf her.

"I know," she agreed, "And for that I thank you. We are not yet able to leave Athkatla, however," she leaned her elbows on the table and forged on, though her heart pounded with guilt and shame, "It is for…advice that I have come."

"Advice?" Valygar's smile was as sudden as it was brief, "You always seem quite capable of making your own decisions, Jaheira."

And everyone else's too, Khalid would have said. She frowned against the pain that memory brought.

"Perhaps it is a bad sign that I am here then," she admitted softly, "But…I find myself in an impossible position. Suffice to say that I travel with liars and cowards and fools," she spat out the words, staring down at her white-knuckled hands instead of meeting his eyes, "But I cannot turn from them without destroying all hopes for Imoen's freedom." And for vengeance.

"I do not understand why you have permitted them to linger," Valygar shook his head, brows pulled together in disbelieving confusion, "The tiefling is selfish and frivolous, the drow untrustworthy and far too loyal to Elatharia. The Red Wizard is a menace, as are all his kind. You should have run him through at the first sight of him."

Jaheira laughed mirthlessly at this.

"Would that I could. He and Elatharia are rarely parted in my company and even should I find him alone, it would be another thing to reach him unawares and unprepared. Edwin is a leech on this company but one I am powerless to remove."

"Alone, perhaps. I am sure we could persuade Anomen and Mazzy to the cause. Minsc would follow you, also."

"He would just as easily follow Elatharia, or Viconia for that matter. He does not see their capacity for…for badness. He does not understand that evil can lurk behind a neutral face."

"You dodge my proposition, though you are not unamenable to it," Valygar noted.

"It is not possible…for the moment."

"What then is it that weighs so heavily upon you that you have come here? Have you already been forced to partake in their evils?"

"No," Jaheira glared at him in open affront, "I would never be as them. It is the…silence I must keep. The lies I must now tell. To keep us all from the grave. To save…to save Imoen, who is as a daughter to me."

Valygar's expression darkened, but he just pressed his lips together and nodded.

"I cannot pass judgement upon such a need," he allowed at last, "There is no such thing as wrong and right when one's children are at stake, I have heard. Though I would ask that you do not tell me what it is that you must hide," he gave her a tight smile, "I will follow you to Spellhold, Jaheira. Do what you have to do."


"Is this entirely wise, khal'abbil?"

Upon the day of the play, Viconia and Haer'Dalis had emerged with the promise of food. Only once the group returned to the Sphere, with Yoshimo newly in tow, had Elatharia explained her plan to the drow. They were gathered around the library table, Viconia dressed already in her black dragon scale. She seemed entirely unfazed by the unspoken knowledge shared among the group about her and Haer'Dalis's absence throughout that day. Instead, her fearsome frown was aimed entirely Elatharia's way.

"I believe our Blackbird would do anything to avoid my play," Haer'Dalis noted as he stood from his seat upon the table. It was hard to tell if this information did truly bother him.

"I would indeed," Viconia agreed vehemently.

Elatharia just shook her head, fighting back her smile when Viconia's eyebrows rose in horror.

"If we're all missing from the play," she gestured to herself, Edwin and Viconia, "People will be far too suspicious. If you're there, they'll think there is no way I would do anything clandestine without you who are my khal'abbil."

"If I am there they will think you are hiding something," Viconia denied, "Because I would have to be under a geas to go there."

"Oh, do not tempt us," Edwin drawled, leaning forward with a wicked grin, "I would enjoy the chance to try it."

Elatharia might have found his words more amusing if she had not still felt some significant lingering resentment towards him for bringing back to her the memories of Ingaith, her beautiful faerie dragon lost at the hands of Sarevok. Her beautiful faerie dragon, brought to her by Gorion on her fifteenth birthday, after she had proven that her magical ability went deeper than a few cantrips. The grief had been an agony of such magnitude that only her rage had been greater. She had filled the void with her brother's death. What would Ingaith think of you now? What would Gorion think?

Ingaith and Gorion were dead. The subjunctive did not need to apply to them any longer. Their morality no longer held her in chains. Still, she trembled. For a moment.

"They will just as easily think that Haer'Dalis has persuaded you, Viconia," Elatharia disagreed, "They won't miss Yoshimo," she gestured to the bounty hunter at her right, who seemed to take no offence at the comment, "And I think they would be very suspicious if Edwin showed up at all. We need you to go. We need you to go because I need you to watch Jaheira."

Viconia's frown smoothed out at that. She even smiled.

"Khal'abbil, why did you not just say so before? I will truly hate the play, but the chance to make the druid squirm will be more than enough recompense," she stood then, and made to move around the table to join Haer'Dalis's side where he waited a few steps behind Elatharia. But the drow paused halfway, a new and rather mischievous smile spreading across her face, "Although…"

"Although 'what', Viconia?" Elatharia demanded, narrowing her eyes suspiciously as the drow looked from the Transmuter to Edwin…and back again.

"You do realise what they will think, yes? If they believe you are not partaking in the clandestine, they will notice the absence of both you and Edwin. They will, as you said, fail to notice Yoshimo. They will assume that the two of you are engaged in other activit…"

"Viconia!" Elatharia felt her face burn with embarrassment, and her reflexive squeak rather made it worse, for it made her feel like a teenager again, telling Imoen to stop teasing her.

Edwin seemed rather less bothered by this, even while Haer'Dalis laughed heartily at Viconia's suggestion. The Red Wizard just shrugged and stared back at the drow.

"And if they think like you, drow, then they will be easily fooled," he told her. She just sneered back at him.

"Perhaps it would be better to suggest that they are lost in studying some spell or other?" Yoshimo suggested benignly, gesturing at the large table and its piles of books, paperweights and scrolls, "That would hardly be surprising."

Viconia just smiled, obviously enjoying the threat of spreading such a rumour.

"We must away, my Blackbird," Haer'Dalis urged at last, "Lest I am late for my own play!"

"Very well," Viconia rolled her eyes as she followed the tiefling's advance across the room, "But at least take Korgan with you as well, khal'abbil!"


"Our Raven and our War Dog cannot make it to today's show, my Dove. A bout of ill health and a better offer of cheaper ale at the Coronet, respectively," Haer'Dalis informed Aerie without preamble.

The avariel jumped in surprise, letting out an involuntary cry to hear a voice so close behind her. She had been sitting on the edge of the stage swinging her legs nervously as she watched the others taking their seats and had been rather lost in thought. Not that she would have heard Haer'Dalis approaching, anyway.

"Haer'Dalis! You gave me such a fright!" Aerie twisted about to see him crouching behind her. As he stood, smirking like always, he offered hand to help her up. She pretended not to notice it, scrambling to her feet unaided, her cheeks reddening at the thought of Anomen…and all the others watching this interaction. Their rehearsals had been reasonably without awkwardness, even after the almost-duel between Anomen and Haer'Dalis. But standing on a stage with all of the others watching was going to be something rather different.

"My apologies, my Dove," he held his smile, looking past her to the others and performing an extravagant bow, "I have at least managed to persuade our Blackbird to attend. You will be pleased to note the wilful absence of the Sparrowhawk."

Aerie nodded, flinching a little as she looked out at their settling companions. Viconia was indeed lurking in the furthest corner, twirling a glass of wine and watching the avariel with a less than friendly stare. Her presence suggested that Haer'Dalis's words held some truth – surely Elatharia would have kept Viconia close at her side for whatever that mysterious horror 'Bodhi' wanted of them? Just thinking such thoughts set the avariel's skin crawling and she looked away quickly from the drow.

Valygar, Mazzy, Minsc and Anomen had all taken seats on the second row in – friendly but not too keen. She smiled at them. Jan was on the front row. Too keen, but she smiled at him too. He waved a turnip back, grinning toothily. Jaheira was just making her way down between the seats, looking tired, with dark shadows under her eyes. She caught Aerie's eye just as she sidled along the row to sit next to Valygar and gave a tight nod. Relief bloomed in the avariel. So the druid had managed to talk down Elatharia? That meant today was a good day!

Thus freed for the moment from worry, Aerie could recall that Anomen's test results were coming up after the show. She sent the fidgeting cleric an encouraging smile, and he tried to offer one in return. She giggled.

"Shall we prepare, my Dove? I do believe the other actors are ready before us!" Haer'Dalis cut in, and again Aerie jumped in spite of her relief about Elatharia and Jaheira. She struggled to meet the tiefling's eyes, thinking of him knowingly agreeing to help the likes of Edwin and Viconia…and Elatharia.

"Y-yes, of…of course," the avariel nodded, and fairly tripped in her haste to get behind the scenes and finish dragging on her costume. It was just a long white gown sprinkled with blue glitterdust and would not take long.

One glance back at Haer'Dalis, who now stood before their little crowd, it was clear that he was already prepared – his hair had been plaited back, and an array of fake scars and tattoos painted onto his torso beneath his loose fitting shirt. The thought of acting with him while he stood there bare chested and having to hold her composure in front of all of the others made her heart flutter tremulously. A little wildly, Aerie decided to paint her face paler – the better to hide her blushes.

"My dear flock!" Haer'Dalis's deep voice rang out through the theatre impressively, "I am sure you will agree, 'tis truly noble to court the approval of the audience. What greater purpose could there be?"

Someone hushed Minsc's attempt to correct that, in fact, the fight against evil was indeed a greater purpose. Aerie smiled fondly out at the confused Rashemi. Meanwhile, Haer'Dalis was continuing – and Aerie only had that long to get changed. She scampered off, but she could still hear him even as she pushed past the clutter and sent a nervous smile in the direction of the waiting understudy-actors. All of them were already prepared; one had painted his face to resemble a skull, another wore a tunic which Jan had enspelled earlier with an Illusion of flame. The young woman struggling to look nonchalant in her fake wings made Aerie's heart drop a little, but she had to keep her focus as she picked up her dress and rushed behind a screen to change.

"We have rehearsed long and hard to bring to you this play of mystery and trial in Sigil and the Planes. 'Tis a play which I became fond of during my time with the Sigil Troupe, and now I have added a few of my own touches to the tale…with the aid of the lovely Mourning Dove, our Aerie."

How had she ever been impressed by one who was altogether too good at putting on such a jovial show? Haer'Dalis's tones now set Aerie's stomach roiling. She pulled on the dress and swept back her hair. The other young actors watched her in faintly amused silence as she rushed from behind the screen, almost tripped over a pile of hats, and pulled up the pot of white face-paint. Finding a mirror, Aerie set to dabbing it on herself, muttering her first few lines as she did so. Her heart was pounding. Her legs were shaking. There was a gentle fizzing at the corners of her vision. Was this normal?

"I hope you will enjoy this, our first play together. Anon, we shall begin."

Nothing had ever frightened Aerie more.


The Government District was much quieter in the early evening than the Slums. There, the streets would be full of people travelling home from a long day at work, or those heading straight to the Coronet. Elsewhere in the city, the traffic of carts and horses barely stopped by nightfall and resumed with the dawn. But here…all was still by seven hours past noon. There was just the whistle of the wind rising up the tiered streets of grand homes clinging to the cliff-face and the tinkling of the fountains. Maybe the odd bark of laughter, the chiming of some distant bells. The chatter and bustle of the rest of the city was just an echoed swell, almost indistinguishable from the crash of the waves below.

"This is the kind of place that is more befitting of a man of my breeding," Edwin noted smugly as they caught a glimpse of the main square down a side street. He paused to nod appreciatively to the mighty cowled statues flanking the head office of the Cowled Wizards of Amn.

"Ha! A waste o' good stone, I say," Korgan disagreed, baring his teeth in an unfriendly smile when the Red Wizard twisted about to glare at him, "Never should waste good stone. Just like good dragon scales." He guffawed, patting at his red armour merrily.

Elatharia failed to hide her laugh, and Edwin turned to her with a betrayed look. She just spread her hands and gestured down the road to where Yoshimo was waiting.

"Are you two coming? I thought we had something to do tonight," she pointed out, ignoring the flutter of…something…that swelled in her stomach at the thought.

"Oh, of course 'master', lead on," Edwin drawled sarcastically, but there was the hint of something a little tense in his voice. He tugged the hood of his black cloak lower and grimaced as he stepped past her.

Korgan nodded as they resumed walking, though he looked around pointedly at the tall houses which backed onto this alley. Even swathed in Abjurations and with Elatharia keeping up a few Divinations, it would be unwise to linger too long arguing out in the open.

"I may complain about th' stone, but I've been workin' me trade long enough to know when a job's risky," Korgan grunted, then shrugged, "I'd best be paid well fer this."

"You will be," Elatharia promised, although she could not recall how much money remained to her.

Their path led them down the far end of the intersecting street, where the high walls of the Temple District helped to bracket off this enclave of wealth from the rest of the city. Here the servants even had their own roads, the backalleys – and tonight that segregation was going to be their target's undoing.

A narrow set of steep stone steps led down through each of the tiered rows of houses, and their destination stood at this end of the very lowest tier. Yoshimo stopped suddenly as they arrived at the narrow street at the tall building's back wall. Taking Elatharia's arm, he pulled her back against this wall alongside him, pointing up at the spikes lining its very top. It looked as if it led into a backyard of some kind; there was a closed wooden gateway broad enough to allow through a carriage.

"I can scale this with ease, leader," Yoshimo promised, keeping his voice low, dark eyes glinting in the lowering sunlight, "The gates are likely padlocked from the inside. I do not doubt that I can break such a seal."

"You are very arrogant today, bounty hunter," Edwin hissed. His rings bumped against Elatharia's hand as he joined them, staring over her head distrustfully at the Kara-Turan.

"Only realistic, friend," Yoshimo shrugged, unflappable as ever. He glanced around at the empty, shadowed back alley with its rows of unsightly backyards and only the half-seen sweep of grander rooves. "Where is our dwarf, leader?"

"I'm 'ere, snake," Korgan's disembodied voice floated as half a bark through the cool air. The Kara-Turan's lips twitched in amused understanding. He nodded in accession to the void.

Elatharia smirked and, with the True Seeing Enchantment already active upon her mask, all she needed was a little concentration. Instantly, with very little fanfare, Korgan popped into view. He was grinning proudly, leaning on his axe and watching the trio who had felt the need to back up against the wall with a significant amount of smugness.

"Do as you said then," Elatharia told Yoshimo, "And take Korgan with you through the back."

"But not you, leader?"

"No," she nudged Edwin subconsciously, "We're going to go and…charm our way in."

Edwin gave a faint laugh at the double meaning.

"Very well," Yoshimo did not sound convinced, but nodded all the same, "I shall look for the evidence you requested."

"Good. Bodhi may want us to know nothing of our task, but I would at least know who I have…dealt with."

Another nod from Yoshimo, who turned and planted a foot against the wall, bracing himself for a quick climb – augmented as he was by a Strength spell.

Elatharia and Edwin did not linger to watch the bounty hunter. Whether or not they trusted in his skill, they did not want to be caught with him if he was found out. They had other work to do, and both were quiet as they made their way back to the steps, taking the last few down onto the main street. The house was tall and ornate from the front; sweeping marble and a long garden adorned with sculpted hedges, a decorative fountain and many carefully arranged spirals of flowers.

There was a painted apse set in the district wall with a bench, intended to give a good view of the impressively opulent houses arrayed down this immaculate paved street and the glittering blue expanse of the sea not all that far below from this lowest tier. It was not the view they had come for, facing inwards with their dark cloaks drawn up around them. Edwin waited patiently while Elatharia cast her first spell – Jan had promised them that the apse would shelter them from the possibility of being detected by the Cowled Wizards, all though he had done so in reference to this being a hypothesis, and not an event.

The Transmutation words came easily to her, fingers plucking at the Weave without the aid of spell components in the Turmish way, as her father had taught her. Still, it took careful concentration and Edwin was sensibly quiet and watchful at her side. He certainly would not have wanted to end up looking like a hobgoblin.

The air fizzed around both of them and Elatharia opened her eyes to see that she had gained a few inches of height and that where once a Red Wizard of Thay had stood by her side, now there appeared to be a velvet-clad lordling. The expressions were all Edwin's, though. He did not seem to know whether to sneer or to grin. Looking down at herself, she saw that she now had the form of a rather portly and ageing man, dressed in dark velvets. The mask upon her face was no longer visible, but it was the only thing that stopped her markings manifesting in this new form.

"That is…not an improvement," Edwin grimaced, the expression strange on his current form's youthful face. His voice was a little different, although his accent still rolled out in the same manner.

"I'll take that as a compliment," she sighed, rolling her eyes at him and turning back to face the street. She tried not to flinch too openly at this new, deep voice. Edwin sniggered for her.

The appearance of a vain young noble did not much suit him, either. Insofar as those words did not already describe him. That brought a smile to her (currently unfamiliar) lips, and she turned her focus back to their mission.

They approached the mansion without further hesitation, passing through the open main gates and walking side by side down the main path. A pair of guards, halberds in hands, stood watching their approach with bored disinterest. There was no further evidence of security at this house, which was a little surprising. But Elatharia was concentrating too hard on keeping her footsteps even and unhurried and on ignoring the nervous hammering of her heart to truly care about this.

The two guards only crossed their halberds over the polished front door as the disguised wizards stepped up into the impressive, colonnaded portico which sheltered them from the sun during the brighter hours of the day.

"Lord Roaringhorn does not take clients following the sixth hour past noon," one guard insisted stiffly, only now bothering to stand properly to attention. It looked like his arms had started to shake from holding that halberd out like that. Elatharia fought the urge to sneer and instead stepped up in front of Edwin, putting her hands behind her back and affecting a confused and faintly hurt expression.

"We are not here on business," she tried to remember to channel some of the arrogant entitled manner that she had observed from her noble-born companions, "We are here to see Lord Roaringhorn for a much more important reason."

She could hear Edwin whispering the necessary spellwords. The quieter of the two guards attempted to look behind her current portly frame, nervousness registering on his face.

"Is everything alright with your son, my lord?" he asked, his tone everything but friendly.

"Oh…yes, yes of course," her heart was thundering, "Why wouldn't there be?"

Both men frowned and shared a look, as if sensing her insincerity. She fought hard to keep her expression neutral, shifting on her feet as if impatient.

"Now if you would permit us to see your lord…"

"I think you should step aside, sir," the first guard interrupted sharply, gesturing with a sweep of his halberd that cut the air between them. Edwin's spellwords grew louder now and Elatharia did as she was bid, smiling broadly in wicked relief.

"Stop right…"

"He's casting a sp…"

Both guards barely had time to cry out, one taking a lumbering step forward in his heavy plate mail, before Edwin spat out the last few words. There was a ringing in Elatharia's ears, a momentary haze in the air, and both men's eyes clouded over into eerie opalescence.

"Now," Edwin asked, his tone full of sharp insistence, "Will you permit us to enter?"

The guards blinked as if dazed, and then both smiled welcomingly. They stepped aside to let the two wizards past.

"Of course, sir. Forgive us for the inconvenience."

And they even opened the door for them. Inside, with the door clicked shut behind them, Elatharia dispelled their Transmutation. It would not do for Yoshimo or Korgan to fail to recognise them.

All was quiet and dark, the front door leading to a cavernous granite-and-marble atrium, dominated by a sweeping set of stairs. An unlit chandelier hung from the panelled ceiling, glittering faintly in the dim light. The walls were lined with paintings, a few ornate vases set upon plainer pedestals. The house was too large to hunt for their target throughout its many rooms, but it seemed that this would be unnecessary. There was a faint rustling coming from somewhere upstairs, a hurriedly muttering voice…and the glimmer of candlelight.

Elatharia almost jumped from her skin when she saw Korgan stomping through a nearby open side door. His movements were heavy but eerily silent thanks to some potion Yoshimo had insisted he drink. He grunted at the sight of her, apparently recognising that she could see him with her mask on. Attempting to regain her composure, the Transmuter waved him over and gestured at the front door behind her and Edwin – who was affecting disinterest at her interaction with the invisible dwarf.

"Watch the doors," she told Korgan in a whisper, "If the guards change their minds…kill them."

He had been about to complain, but with that order he just grinned and nodded, moving past Edwin to take up his position. Meanwhile, the two wizards moved on. There was no sign of Yoshimo, but it seemed likely that they would find him close to that disturbance upstairs. They would have to rely on him to have already disarmed any traps left to catch out intruders.

All of the rooms upstairs were dark, a few with their doors open and furniture covered with cloths as if abandoned, a few shut and dark. The only hint of movement came from the door at the end of the hall, from beneath which still flickered the orange glow of candlelight. And there was Yoshimo, waiting for them by the door, all but invisible in the shadows of the corridor in his dark leathers. He gave them a nod as they arrived.

"He is within," he mouthed more than whispered, "The way is clear."

Though her nerves rebelled, her pulse pounding in her ears and making her more than a little lightheaded with the reality of this, their most unlawful deed, Elatharia made to step forward, already reaching for the door.

"Wait," Edwin's snapped the word a little too loudly when stealth was required, his hand closing tightly around her upper arm, "The bounty hunter is wrong."

Releasing her, the Red Wizard fell into a spell immediately, the words and gestures unfamiliar – an Abjuration. Surprised and more than a little unsettled, Elatharia sent a look Yoshimo's way. He frowned back at her for a confused moment before spreading his hands in apology. The spell finished, a number of symbols flared along the doorframe ahead, burst into white light and then fizzling out.

Swallowing, Elatharia looked around at Edwin and the Conjurer nodded sharply as if to say that it was safe for real this time. His eyes were wrathful when they turned Yoshimo's way. Meanwhile, Elatharia approached the door a little more cautiously. Her hand had settled upon the knob and she was just glancing at her two companions for a second opinion when she realised something was wrong. The shuffling beyond had ceased. And Yoshimo's eyebrows were raising, his mouth opening to shout a warning. Edwin cursed.

A heavy arm locked across Elatharia's front, fingers digging into her shoulder. She yelped, wrenched backwards against her unseen assailant, scrabbling automatically at the restraining arm.

"She said you would come for me!" a breathless male voice exclaimed a little shrilly from behind her, "She said you'd come but I'm…I'm ready for you!"

Before anyone could say anything, Elatharia felt a sharp pricking at the skin of her throat. Something cold and serrated and very sharp was pressing at her neck. Her eyes locked with Edwin's. Panic clawed at her thoughts. She remembered not to struggle and they all grew very still.

"I'm ready for you, and you'll not murder me, you bitch! I'll see you die first!"

Her skin blazed white hot with sudden pain as her assailant pressed the knife tighter. Yoshimo held out one hand as if attempting to placate this attacker's fears even while his other hand moved for the sword hilt at his hip. Edwin was staring intently at her attacker now, his hands poised for a spell. Tension hummed around him and he was breathing hard.

Elatharia gasped as the knife scraped over her skin. His hand was shaking, and maybe that was what saved her. But the blade was burning against her agonisingly and it was almost impossible to think straight. She could feel blood trickling down her neck.

"Who told you?" she asked through the pain and the shock, her hand closing around his forearm slowly, carefully – as if imploring him to hesitate.

"It doesn't matter. You'll not have me! She gave me this dagger and I'll use it – I'll use i…"

"Aniyey aj sila zerid, sme siyalu sila éla!"

His words cut off with a shriek as Elatharia snarled out those very familiar spellwords. Blue-white energy flowed from her hands and into his arm. He screamed and writhed, losing control of his body – though the force of her Shocking Grasp held him to her. It did also, finally, give her a physical advantage over this man, and she used it.

After a brief struggle, knowing that her spell could not last much longer, Elatharia attempted to twist from his grasp; they staggered forwards, to the side…and crashed through the door into the one lit room in the house. The man fell heavily and Elatharia almost joined him thanks to her hold on his wrist. Instead, she righted herself just in time and knelt at his side, prying the strange, pale dagger from his grasp with one hand, bringing it to his neck immediately. Only then did she release him from her spell.

His eyes were bloodshot, the foul smell around him suggested that he had soiled himself, and he had bitten his tongue; blood was trickling from the corner of his mouth. He jolted and cried out when a burst of magical energy crashed into him. Edwin snarled something hateful along with it, and Yoshimo's blade was soon resting its tip at the man's collarbone, a third threat of violence as the Kara-Turan's boots reached the floorboards by the head of Elatharia's assailant.

"Who told you about me?" Elatharia demanded, teeth bared as she leaned closer. She could not remember the last time she had held a knife with violent intent. Had it been…to save Imoen from the clone in Irenicus's dungeon?

The man shook his head, whimpering. He looked young, though probably still older than Elatharia, with a full beard attempting to disguise a weak chin. Tears were trickling past his temples thanks to his supine position, brown hair just settling after the static left it. He was dressed plainly in dark cloth; his cloak and boots suggested he had either been about to leave or just arrived. Given the open backpack by the expansive four-poster bed in this colourfully decorated bedroom, and by the array of far more expensive clothes strewn across the covers and the floor, it looked like he had been packing to flee.

"Was it Bodhi?" the Transmuter snarled, ignoring the thudding of Edwin's boots as he joined them in the room.

The man trembled, but shook his head.

"P-please…I've given your guild all the money I can. D-don't…I was desperate. She gave me the dagger and told me to use it if you came…"

"Who told you?"

"The…the woman…I don't know her name…"

"What did she look like?" the knife bit into his skin as it had hers, and something mad writhed inside her at the sight of his blood. Her hand tightened on the handle of the weapon until it was shaking, her knuckles white.

"She had…red hair…and wore a sigil…feathers – an odd number of feathers…"

"Seven feathers?" Edwin snapped, and suddenly Elatharia felt his leg pressing against her side as he moved closer, his hand clamping down on her shoulder as if he sensed what she would do, "Why did she say we would come?"

"For the Sh-shadow Thieves. To collect my debts to the Shadow Thieves!" the man's voice rose again and he started to raise his hands. Edwin's boot pressed down on his wrist, and he relented, "Please," the man tried again, "Don't let her…don't let her hurt me."

"You are woefully wrong about our intentions, fool. (Although I am sure the dwarf will collect the money you have left). Do you know anything about this woman who warned you? Where she came from, whom she works for? Why she cared whether you lived or died?"

The man shook his head.

"I'm…I'm just a m-merchant. I h-have rich relatives in Waterdeep! They'd pay you well for my release," a moment of hope in his eyes. He looked from the Red Wizard to the bounty hunter…to the child of Bhaal, "I just…I just owe a few debts to the Shadow Thieves, that's all!"

Edwin let out an irritable sigh. His hand left Elatharia's shoulder.

"He is no one," Yoshimo noted blandly.

"He has seen our faces and heard our voices!" Elatharia denied flatly. The Kara-Turan inclined his head in acceptance, face blank.

Edwin's boots retreated, as did Yoshimo's katana blade. The hope drained from the man's eyes. And Elatharia realised that there was no choice anymore. If she let this man go, he would run to those who would kill her. If Bodhi did not get to her first. And if she did not do this quickly, he would certainly kill her in self-defence. She thought of Imoen, who had told of the horror she had felt at the call of Bhaal when she had committed the horrible deeds Irenicus had enforced. She thought, with shame, that this death would bring her no happiness…or real sadness. It was necessary. And that was all.

She pressed the dagger into his throat quickly. He thrashed and twitched and choked. His eyes rolled. Blood bloomed from his mouth. Balanced on the balls of her feet, seeing him through the comforting haze of Bhaal's power, she watched the life leave him until his last, rattling breath. Then she stood and turned away to join Edwin, who was waiting in the dark corridor. He was frowning, his eyes fixing on the blood still trickling from her neck wound.

"Elatharia."

Yoshimo's voice was tense and clipped. She spun on her heel, in time to see the bounty hunter staring down at the man she had just killed…and to see that body rapidly dissolving into golden dust. Her breath left her in a gasp, and she staggered back a step. Bhaalspawn. That man had been a Bhaalspawn? And as his essence dissipated into nothingness, the dagger he had been given rattled to the floor. The dagger which she had used to kill him. For the first time, she realised: it was a bone dagger.


Author's note:
The lines of the play which Aerie speaks at the beginning of the chapter are a quote from the D&D computer game Planescape: Torment, and the costumes of the actors are inspired by characters therein.
The name of Elatharia's familiar is from Old Irish 'in gaith' meaning 'the wind'.