Chapter 28
Xzar ceased his humming, having reached the final line of the ballad. He remained standing in the doorway with his eyes closed.
Inhaling deeply through his nose and filling his lungs with air, Xzar then sang softly and slowly, repeating the first verse of the Harper ballad.
"Don't look back, just draw your blade,
Down dark track, the kill is made."
He opened his eyes with a smile, gazing at the little girl.
Then he blinked, and the smile faded. He blinked again.
He went over to the side of the bed, his head and his eyes moving rapidly back and forth over the body as his breathing became louder and erratic.
He reached out, hesitated, then grabbed and swept aside the covers.
There was no mistaking the stains on her blouse, nor the wound directly over her heart. Nevertheless, Xzar pressed his fingers to her neck, then his ear to her mouth and her chest.
No tricks had been made. She was definitely dead.
And yet...
Backing away from the bed, Xzar turned his head to the side, gazing off at nothing.
Then he ran out of the room and into the brother's bedroom. Then the master bedroom.
Panting, he vaunted over the balcony, landed cat-like in the hallway, then hurried over to the bodies of the two framed bodyguards.
His breathing now coming in hard gasps, he stumbled into the servants' quarters, moving to each of the four beds in turn.
When he had examined the final corpse, Xzar stood up, once more gazing off at nothing, then slowly trudged back into the hallway and sank onto one of the chairs.
"None of them," he whispered. "Not one. He left them all." His eyes darted and roved aimlessly, finally resting on Carl and Jurgen.
"Why?" he said aloud. "Why did you leave them?" He lowered his gaze. "...Gorion? Elminster?" He paused. "Imoen?"
Her face appeared in his mind, tilted slightly to the side, and her expression innocently inquisitive.
Shuddering violently, Xzar clasped his arms about himself, rocking back and forth on the chair as his breathing intensified.
Nothing about her makes any sense.
His right hand rose to his mouth, nibbling at his fingernails, while his left hand went to his hair, yanking and tearing at the long, messy strands.
Not Sarevok. No. The boy has unlocked the power within him, though Bhaal, whatever his reasons, has chosen not to speak to him.
But Imoen...
She has no dreams of him, nor any impulse to carry out his work, not even in the slightest. There is no trace of his power or his influence anywhere in her, yet he could see it, could see that she is one of his...
The image of her smiled, warm and grateful and relieved; the same smile she had given him seconds before wrapping her arms around him.
A scream reverberated throughout the manor, piercing and hysterical, and it took Xzar a few seconds to realize that it had been his own.
He stared at his right hand, watching the blood trickling down his fingers and staining the cuff of his robe.
His hand began to tremble. Then his arm, and his head.
He abruptly realized that he had risen off the chair and was now moving towards the stairway.
"No," he whispered.
His feet moved firmly and steadily, carrying him up the stairs.
"No...no, please..."
He moved down the corridor, past the bedrooms of the parents and the son.
"Don't do this," he pleaded. "Don't."
He stood before the girl again, trembling from head to toe.
"This is his work, this is his design! Even if he didn't...I, I c-cannot do this, please, please don't make me-"
Xzar suddenly lurched forward with a strangled cry, falling on top of the girl. For a full minute he writhed on top of her, convulsing violently, eyes wide and mouth open in a silent scream.
Then he went still, his right cheek pressing against her chest. Tears ran silently down his face and into her bloodstained blouse.
"No, master," he whispered. "No."
He closed his eyes, then slowly lifted himself off the bed. His left hand moved to his cheek, gently wiping the blood from his face.
"Yes, master."
He opened his eyes, looking down at the medallion that had slipped and fallen from his robes onto the girl's body.
The jawless skull gazed back at him, the sheen of its whiteness accentuated in the dim candle-light by the purple sun behind it.
Closing his eyes again, Xzar drew a knife from his belt and leaned over the body. With his free hand, he deftly tore the blouse, widened the tear and swept the clothing aside.
His eyes fluttered open as he made the first cut, and as the flesh parted beneath the blade to reveal what lay within, despite the guilt weighing in his mind, Xzar could not help but feel the corners of his lips lift into a smile.
..
Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, Xzar stepped out into the spring air, closing the door to the manor's side-entrance.
He lifted his gaze to the night sky and breathed, feeling the rush of adrenaline, of pure, sweet, bliss, after...
...no. Not so pure.
His lowered his head as the feeling of guilt struck him again like a thrown brick.
It was his. It was his, and I...
He lifted his head, gasping lightly.
I must find him. I must...
Closing his eyes, Xzar stood still for a few seconds, steadying his breathing, then opened them and headed into Beregost.
Dawn was a little over an hour away, and the town was beginning to stir from its slumber.
Eyes darting swiftly to catch the dwarf's death-scent, Xzar's brisk pace slowly increased to a jog, then turned into a full-pelt run.
He rounded a corner and nearly ran into a group of six town militia.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said the pot-bellied leader, holding up a hand. "What's the hurry, stranger?"
"Please let me pass," Xzar breathed, panting hard. "I am in a hurry."
All of them sneered almost as if on cue, revealing near-identical sets of yellowed teeth.
"Now that ain't very nice, mister," said the leader, his left hand casually gripping the handle of the spiked club at his belt. "'specially to peace-keepin' folks like us." He leaned forward menacingly. "A bit'a gold could go a long way 'wards makin' sure nothin' happens to strangers like yerself while yer in Be-"
"I don't have time for this," Xzar whispered.
The six men fell in as many seconds. Xzar barely heeded them, disappearing down the street by the time the last one had gurgled his final breath.
The lights of Feldepost's Inn finally came into view, still visible in the gradually brightening sky.
Xzar skidded to a halt at the front gate, his shoulders and chest heaving and sweat pouring down his brow.
He hesitated, then walked up the path to the front entrance. He was reaching for the door when it opened and Dorean stepped through and saw him.
Both men froze, Xzar's hand remaining stretched out in front of him. It suddenly occurred to him that he had no idea why he wanted to meet with Dorean, nor what to say to him.
He stood on the threshold to the building, staring down at the dwarf and failing to find any words to speak.
"Good morning, Xzar," Dorean said suddenly, his voice light and friendly.
Xzar blinked down at the thin little dwarven death-child.
"Good to see you safe and sound," Dorean added. "I'm going to the smithy now. Didn't want to wake the others, especially Imoen. Would you like me to get you something?"
The words hit Xzar like a rampaging ox, forcing a memory to the forefront of his mind; one of an old friend, long since dead.
"...I'm sorry."
Dorean blinked, and Xzar realized that he had spoken the two words out loud.
"...it's alright, Xzar," Dorean said softly. He paused. "You have nothing to apologize for."
Xzar's jaw sagged slightly and he stepped back away from the dwarf. He felt something fall from his chin onto his robe, and realized that he was crying again.
Dorean's reaction was only to stare at him further. Then again, however, his lips were hidden by his beard. Xzar had only his eyes to gauge his emotions.
"Xzar?" He said after a moment, his voice still painfully soft and kind and concerned. "Are you alright?"
Unable, no, afraid to speak, Xzar could only nod his head.
"...okay," said Dorean. "Well, I'll likely be a while. Could you please tell the others to meet me at the temple?"
Xzar hesitated, then nodded again, inclining his head slowly.
"Thank you, Xzar. I'll see you later."
With that, Dorean moved past him and into the street without a backward glance.
Xzar watched him out of sight, then raised his sleeve to his eyes as a fresh wave of tears flowed down his face.
After a moment, he slowly lifted his head to the front door to the inn, green eyes shining with cold, bright malice.
..
Stifling a yawn, Marcus Feldepost climbed the stairs and reached the top floor of his inn, moving down the corridor towards the double doors at the end.
For a moment, his expression appeared clouded with worry. However, the innkeeper then seemed to reach a positive conclusion, and his walk turned into a bit of a swagger. He even started to whistle softly to himself.
He was a few paces from the door, with the key pointed at the doorknob, when a voice whispered to him, inches behind his ear.
"Didn't mention it, did he?"
Feldepost had no time to react. Xzar's hand clamped over the man's mouth as he simultaneously turned sideways and fell to one knee, pulling the innkeeper over it and onto the floor.
"Doesn't mean he doesn't know," Xzar added in a sing-song tone, grinning from ear to ear.
His startled breaths muffled by the palm pressed against his mouth, Feldepost's right hand flew to his waist. His eyes widened even further as it fumbled at the empty leather sheath.
"I'm keeping this, by the way," said Xzar, holding up the dagger with his free hand.
His muffled cries growing louder, Feldepost's struggling became more frantic, and with a sigh, Xzar pressed his right knee down hard into the man's stomach. He grimaced at the feel of saliva as the innkeeper coughed into his hand.
"I'm not here to rob you, Marcus. That is what you do, no? Oh, it's fine, it's fine," Xzar added as a terrified Feldepost attempted to shake his head. "I understand. Someone has to handle the thieves and cutpurses in this town. Might as well be you, yes?"
He could feel Feldepost's breath on his hand, now slower and heavier. The man's eyes stared up into Xzar's, frightened and pleading.
Like so many others had, just before I...
Xzar blinked, sweeping the images aside.
"I'm not here to kill you, Marcus," he said softly. "I here to tell you," Xzar lowered his face, bringing it close to his. "Do not betray my dwarven friend again." He paused. "I mean the small one. Smaller. More polite. Younger. And with the brown beard, not the white. Understand?"
Feldepost's nodding was instant, immediate and frantic. Xzar narrowed his eyes at this. Then he smiled.
"You know, Marcus, I once delivered a similar message to somone in Zhentil Keep. She was not unlike yourself; a purveyor of various goods, some magical, most illicit. Like you, she had a habit of informing on her customers to the local thieves in order to get a cut of the hurl. Now, now," Xzar added soothingly as Feldepost frantically shook his head again. "She was warned once not to do such a thing. And she didn't. For a while, anyway. But then a year later, my...superiors, discovered that she had succumbed to temptation. A merchant under Zhentarim protection was robbed and murdered. Divested of most of his fortune, of which she received a significant portion. My superiors then decided that she must have forgotten the warning they gave her, and urgently needed to be reminded of it. So they sent me."
Feldepost was no longer moving. He stared up at Xzar's face in quiet, mounting terror.
"They instructed me very, very carefully to make absolutely certain that this time, she would remember not to repeat her mistake."
Xzar became silent, and a smile slowly spread across his face until it was stretching from ear to ear.
"I just need to be certain, Marcus. You understand, don't you?"
Feldepost struggled little, and made no sound.
When he was done, Xzar stood up off the unconscious man, wiped his bloodied hand on the innkeeper's tunic, then sauntered off down the corridor, softly whistling the same tune that Feldepost himself was enjoying.
..
Familiar voices floated up from below as Xzar descended the stairs. Frowning, he peered over the railing and spotted a pink-clad figure leaping down the steps three at a time, followed by a half-elf deftly putting on his armour while his wife hurried after him, clumsily attempting to help with the shoulder straps.
"Imoen, w-wait! We d-don't know where Dorean could be!"
"Which is why one of you should have gone with him! Or better yet, not let him go at all!"
"He insisted, child!" Jaheira's voice said sternly. "It was his decision!"
"All the more reason not to have let him, Jaheira! I dunno if you've noticed yet, but my little brother's a bloody, buffle-headed idiot sometimes! Oghma's eyes, what was he thinking?!" The head of the pink one turned around. "Monty, hurry up or we're leaving ya behind!"
There was a grunt from behind the trio and the halfling's pony-tailed head appeared, following them down the staircase.
As Xzar descended the stairs towards them, a door opened on one of the floors and a nobleman started to shout at them for being awakened at such an early hour. He fell silent when Montaron turned to look at him with half-lidded, emotionless eyes, then hurriedly shut and locked the door.
With Khalid stammering and Jaheira protesting behind her, Imoen hurried down the stairs, through the common room and out of the inn, stopping at the front gate and anxiously swivelling her head from side to side, peering down the various streets. Passersby glanced at the party out of mixed suspicion and curiosity as Khalid, Jaheira and Montaron jogged up to join her.
"Imoen," said Jaheira. "I understand that you are worried for him, but running around like a headless chicken isn't going to help!"
Imoen rounded angrily on her, then stopped and stared past all of them. "Xzar!"
Khalid and Jaheira spun around while Montaron looked over his shoulder as Imoen sped past the three of them to stand in front of the wizard.
"Where have you been?! Never mind that, have you seen Dorean?!"
Xzar stared down at her with unblinking eyes.
"...yes," he heard himself answer.
"What?" said Jaheira, her voice now dangerously low.
"Where is he?!" Khalid growled, turning to face Xzar fully. Montaron did not so much as glance back at either of them.
"He was right here, not long ago," Xzar answered, staring at Imoen and ignoring the Harpers. "He said to meet him at the temple."
Jaheira's cyan eyes narrowed to slits, and she took a step forward and opened her mouth to speak.
"What are we standing here for then come on let's go!" Imoen said rapidly.
She then grabbed Xzar's wrist.
Shocked and bewildered, he could only stumble after her, unable to resist or speak.
Khalid and Jaheira spared a moment to stare at Imoen pulling Xzar down the street and then exchange looks with one another before hurrying after them.
Frowning, Montaron removed a banana from his pack, unwrapping and taking a bite out of the fruit as he followed after the quartet at a light, steady jog.
..
The noise of the bustling people grew louder the further they followed the road leading eastward out of the town towards the temple, past potato fields and sheep pens. Passersby stared at the pink-clad girl leading the party, pulling along the green-robed, wild-haired man as though he were chained to her wrist.
Jaheira's frown at Imoen's back had been deepening by the minute. Xzar had made no effort to disengage himself, and had not taken his eyes off of Imoen once since they left the inn.
She glanced over her shoulder at Montaron, suddenly remembering that she and Khalid had allowed themselves to expose their backs to the Zhent operative. The halfling had just finished his banana and tossed the peel over his shoulder to the glares of several passing townsfolk.
Kagain turned out to be easy to locate in all the hubbub. His voice reached their ears long before he came into view, standing on a pile of stacked crates and loudly addressing his fifteen assembled Dented Shield mercenaries, of which Lene was at the front on the far left, her massive scimitar angled diagonally along her broad back.
Ajantis and Witton were watching from a nearby column of eleven caravan wagons. Witton had his arms folded about himself, clearly displeased at the proximity of the peasants and mercenaries.
Before anyone could stop her, Imoen ran up to Kagain, pulling Xzar along.
"Kagain!"
He paused in mid-yell, staring down at her in flabbergasted fury. Behind Imoen and Xzar, the mercenaries hissed, exhaled and winced in anticipation.
"Have you seen Dorean?!" Imoen shouted. "He said he'd be here!"
"What the hell do ya think ya doing?! I'm conducting a sodding briefing here!"
"You need to leave," Lene said immediately, moving over and taking Imoen by her free arm. She then firmly guided the girl and her bewildered wizard away from the assembled men, and did not stop until they were out of sight of the gesticulating and yelling dwarf. Khalid, Jaheira and Montaron followed, the halfling lowering his head to hide his smirk.
"Wait here," said Lene, releasing Imoen and turning away.
"But..." Imoen began, falling silent as she watched the half-orc stride through the crowds back toward the assembled company.
Moving slowly to stand in front of her, the two Harpers watched Imoen looking anxiously around, exchanged glances with each other, and silently agreed to say nothing.
Xzar was still staring at Imoen. It occurred to Jaheira that she had not seen him blink once since he had appeared before them outside the inn.
Abruptly, Imoen noticed Xzar staring at her. She then looked down at the wrist she was holding, then quickly released it.
"Oh, sorry, Xzar. I forgot you're...urm..."
Xzar finally blinked. He remained silent and continued to stare at her, tilting his head slightly.
Khalid and Jaheira glanced at each other again, then turned at the sound of loud, metal boots to see Kagain stomping up to them, Lene calmly following behind him.
"Number one," he snarled, brandishing a thick, calloused finger before any of them could speak. "Ya ever interrupt me like that again, I'll put my boot through ya sodding face. Number two, no, I haven't seen the stinkin' nugget. Number three, if I find out he's run off, I'm gonna find the coward an' make an example'a him, I promise ya that."
Kagain wagged his finger again, opened his mouth to speak further, then stopped when Lene placed a hand on his broad shoulder. He scowled at her, then seemed to calm down a bit before turning back to the party.
"An' remember what I told ya 'bout what we discussed yesterday; not. A word. Ta anyone." He glared at all of them, looking at Xzar last, before turning on his heel. After five loud stomps, he stopped and looked back.
"An' if Vai asks where he is, make up a sodding excuse."
With a snort, Kagain then resumed shoving and elbowing his way through the bustling crowds. Lene paused to incline her head at the party before following him.
"I like her," said Xzar. "She's always polite." Montaron grunted in agreement, now munching on a potato he had apparently stolen from the temple fields. Khalid glanced at both of them before turning to Imoen.
"I'm sure he's alright, Imoen," he said softly. "He may just be r-running late."
The girl ignored him and continued to scan the crowds, her gaze at naval-level as she searched for the familiar cloak-covered head of her roommate.
..
As the clouds changed from yellow-orange to reddish-pink, and the amount of activity and people busying themselves increased, Imoen became more and more uneasy. She paced back and forth in front of the party, and on a few occasions began to dart forward into the droves of people before returning to her pacing.
Xzar finally broke his eyes away from her to look at the two Harpers' increasingly hostile glares. It was obvious to him who they will be blaming if Dorean failed to arrive, and he wondered yet again if he should have followed the dwarf to the smithy.
"He's here," Montaron said abruptly, causing Imoen to jump.
"Where?!" she said, looking around and then spotting Dorean coming up the east road, side-stepping a group of gawping children. He was carrying a large sack about his own size over his shoulder, and appeared to be breathing heavily from the fluttering of his beard.
His eyes widened as Imoen hurtled towards him and he attempted to backpedal. Hindered by the sack, he could only raise his hand to ward off the smacks, swats and fists raining down on him.
"Don't - you - ever - run - off - on - me -a-gain!" she shouted in between each swing.
Imoen then stopped and glared down at him with her fists clenched at her sides. Xzar frowned and tilted his head upon seeing that Dorean appeared to be genuinely apologetic.
After a moment, with a loud huff, Imoen moved behind Dorean and placed her hands at the bottom of the sack to support it. Jaheira then stepped forward, folding her arms across her chest as the duo approached.
Setting the sack on the ground, Dorean then looked up as Imoen walked over to stand next to Jaheira and join her in frowning disapprovingly down at the dwarf.
He then quietly untied the string at the opening of the sack and opened it. It fell to the grass, revealing two tower shields, two medium shields, a bandolier of throwing knives, a quiver of crossbow bolts, and another large package conspicuously wrapped in burlap.
"Here," he said simply, stepping back from the pile and looking up at all of them. "Oh, and these too." He removed a paper bag from his pack and handed it to Imoen, who wordlessly took it and looked inside.
"Sandwiches," she said after a moment, and sniffed. "Strawberry." She looked at Dorean.
"Thought you might've missed breakfast," he said, picking up the wrapped package with a grunt and holding it out to her. "Here."
Imoen blinked, then slowly passed the sandwiches to Montaron who had moved next to her at the smell of bread.
The party watched as she removed the wrapping from the package, revealing the black-coloured studded jacket.
"I had it tested," said Dorean. "It'll stop an arrow or two, but Taerom warned me that it may not hold up against enchanted ones. Still, it's better than what you have now." He paused, then looked out at the gathering crowds of people and added, "Looks like we might be heading off soon. You should put it on now."
He then turned away, reaching into his pocket and biting into a half-eaten pear. The party stared at him and then at each other for a moment before moving to the equipment on the ground.
"Thank you," said Khalid, bowing his head as he picked up one of the tower shields. His mouth full, Dorean simply nodded in response. Jaheira frowned silently at him as she examined the other tower shield.
Pausing briefly to narrow his eyes at the dwarf, Montaron scooped up the quiver, then removed and examined one of the bolts before putting it back. He then picked up and tossed the bandolier at Xzar who caught it one-handed without taking his eyes off of the dwarf, then snatched up one of the medium shields and moved off to the side to enjoy a sandwich.
"Did you get any sleep at all?" Imoen asked, looking down at Dorean over the Shadow Armour in her arms.
"I'll be fine," he answered, not looking at her. She gazed at the side of his face for a moment before sighing loudly, putting down the armour, and removing her pink shirt to expose the studded leather underneath.
As Jaheira helped Imoen out of it and into the Shadow Armour, Xzar continued to watch Dorean. The dwarf was now facing the same direction as most of the townsfolk; towards the front steps leading to the temple where Kelddath Ormlyr was standing.
As the first rays of the sun peeked out over the horizon, Xzar's eyes widened slightly and his face slackened. He stared down unblinking at Dorean who had lowered his head and clasped his hands together.
The rest of the party stopped as well, watching quietly as the dwarf joined the townspeople of Beregost in repeating after Kelddath.
When the chorus of voices had faded, and everyone resumed going about their duties, Dorean opened his eyes, looked up at the party, and smiled before going over to help Imoen with the armour.
"You w-worship Lathander?" asked Khalid.
"I like his teachings," replied Dorean. "'There is always another morning.'"
Xzar stared down at the strange little dwarf, then turned his head upwards to the dawning sun.
He blinked upon hearing Imoen speak his name, then slowly accepted a sandwich, quietly watching her flinch and argue with Dorean as the latter tightened the belt of the Shadow Armour around her waist.
The holy symbol burned against his chest, still engorged on the sacrifice he had earlier granted to Cyric.
Ignoring it, he bit into the sandwich, letting the warm taste of bread, butter and strawberry jam marinate in his mouth before swallowing.
The voice of his old friend echoed in his mind, speaking words that have long since been forgotten.
Survive. No matter what.
He lowered his head, his chin touching his chest and brushing against the hidden medallion, and closed his eyes.
