Amor Vincit Omnia
(Love Conquers All)
Part One: Sun and Shadow
"Take all my money, take all my time
Take all the stars that hang above me
Be mine
Take all my tears and covet my eyes
Take what you need to make you love me
Be mine."
- The Heavy
"Be Mine"
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Evil Dreams
In the dream Baal lay atop her, their naked flesh pressed together in ecstasy. She clutched tight to his back, feeling his skin slick with sweat beneath her palms. His breath tangled with hers in short bursts as they kissed passionately.
Saiya whimpered and squirmed against him, wanting more. Distantly, she was aware that this was not real, but she was past the point of caring. If this was the only way she could have him, so be it.
It was a terrible shock when the pleasurable sensations coursing through her body were interrupted by a wrenching pain in her shoulder. Baal had dug his fingers into the tender joint, twisting viciously.
"You're mine, Saiya," he hissed, reddened eyes narrowed in rage. "The mage can't have you, do you hear?"
"Baal, let go!" she cried. "Stop-"
"Hold her still!"
"I can't, she's thrashing around too much. I don't want to hurt her …"
"I'm telling you, we have to get this bone back into its socket, and the only way I can do that is if you do your part. So hold her!"
He was hurting her. As Saiya watched in horror, his face changed: jaw and nose lengthening to form a bearded muzzle, ears drooping, coarse hair sprouting up all over, horns curling outwards. It was a nightmarish transformation from man to beast, made especially horrible because his body remained unchanged. But now his touches were rough and profane, violating rather than arousing.
"Saiya," he bleated. "You should have let me die when you had the chance. Didn't you know what I really am?"
There was a sickle in her hands. She buried the point in his back and dragged the dull blade through his abdomen. His entrails spilled out of the wound, flowing over her in a tide of hot filth.
"No," she sobbed. "Why did you make me do it? I didn't want to do it!"
"What's she talking about?"
"Probably nothing. It's just residual stress causing a bad dream."
Cool hands stroked her forehead. She cracked her eyelids open and saw a blurry face peering down at her.
"It's all right, love," a voice murmured. "You're safe now."
Her eyes closed and she sank back into the dark pool of unconsciousness.
She had disemboweled him, but he would not die. He pinned her down, laughing gleefully at her impotent struggles.
How does it feel to have blood on your hands?" he asked. "Does it thrill you? Make you feel powerful? Or are you ashamed that you're a murderer?"
"I'm not-" she began, but the protest died in her throat. Demon-Baal nodded knowingly.
"You see, even you cannot deny your true self. Shall I show you?"
He waved his hand, and the world rippled around them, reforming into the interior of Deckard Cain's house. Deckard himself sat in an armchair by the fire, a feeble figure puffing on a pipe, a blanket over his knees.
The door opened to reveal an image of Saiya. She was carrying a bundle that the real Saiya recognized as the sword shards wrapped in a protective cloth.
"Here," she said, offering it to him. "Keep these safe for me."
The old man recoiled, nearly knocking his chair over backwards in his attempts to get away. But the false Saiya forced it into his hands anyway, and looked on impassively as the flesh withered from his bones.
"Stop!" Saiya wailed, fighting uselessly to free herself from the dream's insidious grasp. She knew it was not real – yet in a way it was, because it was laced with the poison of her guilty memory. She had killed Deckard, as surely as if she had taken up the broken sword-point and run him through.
Saiya jolted upright in bed, a choked scream ringing in her ears. The first impression she had of her surroundings was darkness, and she was overcome with dull despair, thinking that she was still trapped down in the Halls of Agony, with Baal slowly bleeding to death in her lap.
A single glance around, however, showed her that this was not the case. She was in the New Tristram infirmary. The window curtains were drawn, which accounted for the gloom, but the single ray of sunlight that peeked almost surreptitiously through the heavy fabric indicated that it was daytime.
Her roving eyes lit upon a blanket-covered form in the next cot over. His back was turned to her, but she would know Baal anywhere. The pattered quilt rose and fell with gentle regularity, suggesting peaceful and painless sleep.
Greatly relieved, Saiya turned her inspection to her own body. To her surprise and joy, she was able to move her formerly dislocated shoulder with very little discomfort and only a residual stiffness. Peering beneath her sheet she found that she was wearing only her underclothes, and that both the shallow cut from the Butcher's sickle and the scratch between her breasts that she'd gotten during their fight with the warden had been cleaned and re-bandaged. That left only her feet, which were swathed in white linen that gave off an herbal scent.
"Please tell me that you were not thinking of unwrapping those," said a dry voice to her right. Saiya jumped and jerked her head around. Brother Malachi was standing there, arms folded, his thin face molded into an expression of the utmost disapproval. She marveled at how quietly the priest could move when he so chose.
"No no," Saiya reassured him. "I was just looking. Um … thank you."
"What for?" he asked sourly.
"For fixing me up. I hardly feel any pain."
Brother Malachi grunted. "Just doing my job. It would be a lot easier if you and your friends didn't insist on competing to see who could acquire the ghastliest injuries."
It suddenly occurred to her that Baal was the only one of her companions who was currently within sight. What had become of the others? She vaguely recalled meeting Caesar in the dark tunnels beneath the Butcher's arena, and she thought that everyone had been with him, but she could not be sure.
The priest read the anxiety on her face and said, "They're all right. Only minor injuries, except for the Hunter over there. Annette and I were quite stumped when it came to him. Looks like he received a fatal wound and had it poorly healed. But I didn't think any of your party were healers, and the potion I gave you would have done a better job." He raised his eyebrows, clearly requiring an explanation.
"We used the potion earlier, to save Ghor's life," Saiya said. "I was the one who healed Baal. I can't really explain how it happened. He … he actually died, his heart wasn't beating at all, and I tried to resuscitate him. That didn't work normally, so I chanted a mantra and tried again. It was like I was breathing golden wind into him. He woke up and seemed fine, but then he insisted on carrying me and the scar broke open again."
Brother Malachi looked startled. "I've never heard of that kind of power," he said. "Not even the most gifted healer can bring someone back from the dead."
"Believe it or not, Brother Malachi, that's what happened."
Unexpectedly, he smiled. "I never said that I didn't believe you, girl. I'd be a fool not to, with the evidence staring me right in the face."
"Malachi," called a feminine voice from the other room. "Your potion's boiling over."
"Then stir it, Annette!" he yelled back. "You shouldn't need me to tell you that."
"I can't, my hands are covered in burn ointment!"
The priest sighed. "It seems my presence is required," he said. "Before I go, however, I have some instructions for you to follow to maximize the speed of your recovery. I don't expect you to listen to me – you never do – but I'll tell you anyway. You're to stay off your feet for the next two weeks, and rub the ointment Annette is preparing onto your soles three times daily. And it is imperative that you wear shoes of some kind whenever you go outside, lest your burns get infected. Other than that, I would advise that you rest as much as possible, and avoid combat for a while. You've been pushing yourself pretty ruthlessly, and it's starting to show."
Saiya nodded, thanking him again. He waved off her expressions of gratitude, looking rather embarrassed (she thought; it was difficult to tell, as his face displayed virtually all emotions as wry cynicism).
"There's water by your bedside, and I'll have Annette bring you a tray of food shortly," he said, and vanished through the curtain separating the apothecary from the main room. After he was gone, Saiya gave some serious thought to what he had told her: "Not even the most gifted healer can bring someone back from the dead."
What does it mean? she wondered. Of course, she could not really be considered a healer. Before that awful moment in the Butcher's arena when she realized that Baal was beyond saving unless by a miracle, she had never even tried to use healing magic.
Perhaps, she thought, these new-found powers were related to her nephalem blood. She had tried to put it from her mind, preferring not to dwell on the mystery of her parentage, but maybe it was time she embraced the idea of being a half-child. After all, she couldn't hate anything that had enabled her to save Baal's life.
I must learn more about them, she decided. I could ask Leah if her uncle had any books on the topic that she might let me borrow.
Thinking about Deckard brought her nightmare rushing back with a vengeance. She flinched, recalling the abject fear on his face as her dream-self shoved the sword pieces into his hands.
We both knew it would kill him, she thought miserably, but I gave them to him anyway. I sacrificed him like a lamb on the altar of my own self-preservation. What was it that I said to convince Baal I was right? 'I think that it would be smarter to leave them with Deckard. What if Maghda captures us? If we bring them along, we'll be practically delivering them into her hands.'
But Maghda had gotten the shards anyway – still had them, in fact, to the best of Saiya's knowledge – and Deckard had paid with his life for the privilege of guarding them. And what would have happened if Saiya had kept her foolish tongue in check and she and Baal had kept the sword? Maghda would have come after them instead, and they might even have been able to kill her then. And Deckard would still be alive.
The curtain leading to the apothecary was swept aside and Brother Malachi's assistant entered the room, a wooden tray balanced on one palm with practiced ease while her free hand carried a jar of thick greenish-brown salve. The woman (Annette, Saiya assumed) set the tray down on the bedside table and plunked the salve next to it.
"Give a shout if you need anything else, miss," she said, with an impersonal smile, and withdrew. Left alone, all other thoughts were driven from Saiya's mind by the priority of eating. The tray contained a hearty selection: potato and leek soup, two thick slices of buttered bread, a bowl of apple slices, a block of the soft yellow cheese that was popular in Khanduras, and even a sweet roll with fluffed cream in the center of it. After eating meagerly for days, it was all Saiya could do not to wolf the meal down in a few mouthfuls. She exercised all her restraint to take it slow and savor the delicious food, knowing she would give herself a stomachache if she ate too quickly.
With her hunger sated, she felt noticeably better both physically and emotionally – and also quite drowsy. The problem was how to prevent the nightmares that she was sure would return as soon as she closed her eyes. If only there was someone she could sleep next to …
Her gaze fixed on Baal, still deeply unconscious only a few feet away. He had not so much as stirred while she was speaking to Brother Malachi. Would he be angry, she wondered, if she were to slip beneath the blankets and snuggle up to him? He had allowed her to fall asleep in his arms once before, but it was a different matter to insert herself uninvited into his bed. If it had been anyone else, she would never have considered it. But she felt closer to Baal than ever after their shared ordeal in the depths of Leoric's fortress. Without giving herself a chance to come to her senses, she pushed back her sheet and moved her legs so she was sitting on the side of the bed, ready to stand up.
Even resting her feet flat on the floor with no weight on them was enough to make her draw a sharp breath through her teeth in pain. The slightest bit of pressure against her burns felt like a hot iron was being applied to her skin.
"Come on," she muttered, inhaling slowly through her nose. "You can do this. Yes, it's going to hurt, but so what? Two steps, that's all, and you can lie down again."
She spent a few minutes deliberating whether it was better to take it slow or get it over with as quickly as possible, and eventually decided on the second option. Using the nearby wall as support in case she fell, she clenched her jaw and stood in one swift action. She tottered forward – one step, then another – and was tumbling onto Baal's cot almost before her brain had a chance to inform her body of the amount of agony she had just put it through.
Brother Malachi wasn't exaggerating when he said two weeks, she thought hazily as she repositioned herself on the narrow bed: above the blanket, naturally. She couldn't help but notice that Baal was shirtless, and she wasn't bold enough to touch his bare skin without his consent.
The repetitive sound of his breathing soothed Saiya's frayed nerves, lulling her into a comfortable stupor. It was like listening to rain on the roof or the creak of a rocking chair. She pressed herself close to his back, absorbing some of his body heat through the layers of fabric separating them. When she did finally drift off, it was into a slumber that was deep and free of dreams.
The next time Saiya opened her eyes, it was to an empty bed. She sat up and looked around, and at once felt a pang of agitation. Baal's rucksack, which she was sure had been sitting next to his cot, was now missing.
Her first fear was that his injuries had been more severe than Brother Malachi had let on, and that he had died while she was sleeping. But no, that was ridiculous; they would have woken her.
That left another possibility almost as distressing to think about. Could it be that he had, upon waking, decided to leave New Tristram? Had he been offended by her unsolicited closeness? Or was he simply dead set on finishing what he had started and had gone after Maghda again? How long had she been lying here, oblivious to his absence?
Saiya began to formulate a plan of action. If the Hunter had resumed his 'witch hunt', it was imperative that he be stopped as soon as possible. He would have gone alone, she was positive of that, but he might have told Kormac, or perhaps Captain Aidel, where he was bound. She would have to start by asking them, and that meant getting Brother Malachi's attention.
She called out his name several times, and after a minute or so the infirmary door opened, but it was not the priest who entered. Saiya's shoulders slumped in relief.
"Where'd you go?" she asked.
"The latrines," replied Baal. Upon closer inspection, she saw that he had shaved his stubble and washed his face and hair. The bruise around his eye was beginning to fade to yellow, giving him a jaundiced appearance.
"Brother Malachi must be hard up for space," he continued, moving closer, "if he's forcing his patients to share a bed."
Saiya blushed and stared down at her knees. "I hope you don't mind. I was having nightmares again, and … well … I thought that sleeping next to someone would make it better."
"Oh, I see," he said. "I'm just a human-shaped dream catcher, then." The words were humorous, but his tone was rather flat.
"I've upset you," Saiya said quietly. "I'm sorry if it was an imposition."
He shook his head. "Don't mind me. I'm a little out of sorts at the moment."
"Why?" she asked with a frown.
Baal crossed the rest of the room and sat down on the edge of the bed with a groan. "I talked to Kormac," he said. "That bitch Maghda got away with the sword pieces."
"What do you mean, 'got away'? She left Leoric's manor house?"
"She's left Khanduras. Vanished without a trace. The mage went back to find her and the place was nearly cleared out, except for a few cultists that got left behind. He interrogated one of them and all he learned was that Maghda was 'beyond our grasp' and that she intended never to return."
"At least we managed to rescue Najmah," she said, trying to console him. "And we rid the world of a powerful demon. Our mission wasn't totally unsuccessful."
Baal merely shrugged and said nothing.
"What are you going to do?" she asked finally.
"I've put some thought into it, and I think that if Maghda is likely to be anywhere in Sanctuary, it's Caldeum. That's where the cult of Belial worshipers is based. If my guess is correct, Maghda needs to find a way to repair the sword. She'll be able to do it there."
"So you're going to Caldeum?" Saiya had heard of it before, the legendary Jewel of the Desert: an almost mythical city of ancient knowledge and power.
"Yes. The day after tomorrow, I'm taking a boat down the river to Antham, and from there I'll try to catch a caravan headed east." He looked up at her, meeting her eyes for the first time since he had entered the room. "What about you?"
"I - I don't know, really. I thought I wanted to return to the monastery and take my final vows. But …" She trailed off.
"Yes?" Baal asked expectantly.
I don't have to let him know, she thought. I swore that I would after we defeated Maghda, but technically that hasn't happened yet. I don't have to say a word.
Then she remembered the devastating grief she had felt when she thought she had lost him forever. A contributing factor to that sorrow was the knowledge that, through her own cowardice, she had forfeited any chance to have a more intimate relationship with him.
If I don't try, I'll never know.
She gulped, trying to quell the nervous fluttering in her stomach. "I didn't expect to fall in love," she said.
Baal's reaction was not quite what she had anticipated. His face went very still, almost rigid, as if he was made of wood. Then he said, "I was wondering when you were going to tell me."
"What?" she exclaimed. "You knew?"
"Well, you weren't exactly subtle about it."
There was unmistakable contempt in his tone. Saiya closed her eyes, feeling her heart plummet to the very depths of her being. He did not reciprocate her feelings. Worse still, he was apparently disgusted by the very thought of her. What a fool she had made of herself.
"I hope that at least he treats you well," Baal muttered.
Her eyes snapped open. "What?"
"What did you expect, Saiya? I hate his guts – I'm hardly going to be happy that my closest friend wants to be with him. I'm sorry, but-"
"Wait, wait, back up a minute," she interjected, holding up her hands. "Who do you think I'm talking about?"
He looked at her as though she had asked if water was wet. "Caesar, of course."
Saiya didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or cry. "You know, Baal," she said slowly, "sometimes you really can be a colossal idiot."
His brows knitted in confusion. "You're … not in love with the mage?"
"No! I'm not, and I never have been!" She took a deep breath. "It's not him, it's you."
"Me?" he repeated blankly.
"Yeah."
"Me," he said again, tapping a finger against his chest for added confirmation.
"Yes, Baal. You."
"How long?" His voice was strangled.
Saiya had to think about it. "I first realized that I was, um, attracted to you when we went north to find the crown. But it wasn't until sometime later that I understood it was actual love, and not just a fleeting infatuation. If I had to pinpoint a moment when it became really clear, it would be when you kissed me that time at the docks."
Baal buried his head in his hands. "You remember that, huh?"
"Of course I do," she said, with a flippancy that was glaringly fake even to her own ears. "I'd hardly forget my first kiss, would I?"
"Shit. Saiya, I … shit." He looked up at her, dropping his hands into his lap, and his expression was pained.
Here it comes, she thought. The rejection I've been waiting for. I knew that he didn't like me that way, but I just had to go and spill my soul out, didn't I? At the moment, she felt only hollowness inside, but she knew the hurt would come later, when she had the chance to mull over it in private.
"I've really fucked this up," Baal said, resorting to profanity as usual in stressful situations. "I've behaved no better than Lyndon. But you must believe me when I say that I never meant for you to feel like that about me."
"It's not your fault," she replied, with a small shrug. "It's just … nature, I guess."
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she bit her lip savagely to force them back. She would not cry in front of him, like a little girl denied a sweet she wanted. If she cried, he would take pity on her, and a love born from pity would be far, far worse that never having him at all.
But she knew she had failed when he took her hand in both of his. His touch was careful and light, as though she was a porcelain doll that might shatter at any moment. Saiya wanted to jerk her hand away, but she could not resist the warmth of his skin, the calluses on his palms, the way his thumb was ghosting over her knuckles.
"Look at me, nuur il-'en," Baal murmured. She did, and was met with sea-green eyes that burned like embers in the dimly lit room.
"I owe you an explanation," he said. "You deserve to know the truth, though it won't be easy for me to say. Saiya, you … it's not as … you're not as alone in this as you think you are."
Saiya stared at him without comprehension.
"It's not like I don't feel anything for you," he said in a rush. "I do; how could I not? You're an incredible person – gorgeous and funny and kind and understanding, and certainly more than someone like me could ever hope for. And if I were ever to fall in love, it couldn't be anyone but you. I know that."
She was still staring, though now it was shock that caused her thoughts to run like a river of mud. Gorgeous? He thinks I'm gorgeous?
"Please say something," he begged. "Don't just sit there."
Saiya blinked vigorously to clear the mist from her vision. "I don't understand," she mumbled. "If you feel that way, then why-"
Baal cut her off. "It's for your own good more than anything else. Relationships with me don't seem to end well."
"What do you mean, they don't end well? How many have you had?"
He hesitated for a second before answering. "Only three, but they've all been disastrous in one way or another. After the last one, I swore that I wouldn't put myself or anyone else through that again. And I especially couldn't do it to you; you mean far too much to me."
Saiya found that she was irrationally angry with him. "That's so unfair!" she snapped. "You won't even give me a chance just because you had bad experiences in the past! How can you know that it wouldn't work out between us, if we love each other?"
Baal let go of her hand and ran his fingers through his hair in the gesture that Saiya now knew meant he was frustrated. She wondered if his frustration was aimed at her, or at himself.
"You think you're in love with me," he said at last, "but you've never felt love before. How do you know that what you're feeling isn't just a mix of attraction and friendship?"
"Because that's what I feel for Caesar!" she retorted, just as vexed as he was. "I find him attractive, and he's also my friend, and it's not the same, Baal! When I think about you, or see you, or especially when I touch you, I'm excited and scared and happy all at once. I could see you every day for the rest of my life and not get tired of you. I want to experience everything with you; I want to take care of you when you get sick, and cook meals together with you, and watch the sunset, and laugh and cry and fight and apologize and … and …. why can't you understand that?"
Baal was looking slightly stunned, but to her dismay the stubbornness hadn't faded from his face. "I'm truly sorry," he said, and she had never seen him look more miserable. "I can't give you what you want, Saiya. It has nothing to do with any deficiency on your part. I think you'd be a wonderful partner. But I'm not, and knowing that, it would just be cruel of me to pretend otherwise. I hope we can still be friends."
Saiya couldn't answer him. Her mouth moved, but not a sound could make it past the tightness in her throat. Baal reached out as if to touch her cheek, but she flinched away from him. He got to his feet.
"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I really am."
Still she said nothing. After a few moments she heard his footsteps retreating across the room, then the creak of the opening door. When she was absolutely sure he was gone, she collapsed back onto the bed and curled into a ball. Sobs wracked her frame, leaking out even through the pillow that she pressed against her face to muffle the noise. The head monk had always told her, 'Do not be afraid to weep. Your sadness is a lake, and when you shed tears you drain that lake. When you have wept enough, the lake will dry up, and your sadness will be gone.' Saiya cried until her eyes burned and her nose got stuffy, but it did nothing to diminish the ocean of sorrow within her.
When she finally stopped, more from exhaustion than because she no longer felt like crying, her head ached and there was a dull throb from somewhere deep in her chest. She lay draped over the covers, staring blankly at the far wall.
She knew it would be better not to dwell on the excruciating details of her final conversation with Baal, but that was an impossibility. Mentally, she ran through the scenario from start to finish over and over again, trying to find any place where a different choice on her part might have resulted in acceptance rather than rejection. Maybe if she hadn't told him she remembered the kiss; that seemed to be the point where it had all fallen apart. Maybe if she hadn't gotten angry with him. There was an endless trail of maybes.
'You're an incredible person' he had said. 'If I were ever to fall in love with someone, it couldn't be anyone but you.' That's what hurt the most about the whole thing: the potential was there, hovering just out of reach, but the more she jumped to catch it, the higher it seemed to float. He loved her, or could if he allowed himself to. She loved him with all her heart. And yet there was a wall between them that he had built, and only he could tear it down.
In a way, she thought, it would have been easier to bear if he wasn't interested. If he had told her, 'No way, you look like a boy and I have no desire for you,' she could have accepted that. It would have stung, but it would have been understandable at least. Instead she got the baffling statement that he wasn't worthy. What he meant by that proclamation she could not begin to guess.
That's it, then, she thought resignedly. I've got my answer. As soon as I can walk again, I'll travel back home and that will be the end of my adventuring. No more battles. No more love. Just peace and prayer and a lot of empty time. The idea was incredibly depressing.
Presently Annette entered, bearing another tray. This one offered roast pork, mashed potatoes, and an ear of corn, as well as a mug of spiced apple cider and a blackberry muffin.
"Oh dear," she said, noticing Saiya's reddened eyes. "Are you in pain?"
Saiya shook her head. It was technically true – her wounds hardly ached at all – and besides, there was nothing that a healer could do to cure her.
Annette tactfully did not inquire further. She bustled around while Saiya ate: straightening the sheets on the cot that the young monk had originally used, clearing up the dirty dishes, and sweeping the floor. Then, smiling kindly, she said, "How would you like a bath, miss?"
"Thanks, but I don't think I can make it all the way down to the river," Saiya replied.
"Oh, bless your heart!" the other woman chuckled. "You don't think we make our patients bathe in cold water, do you? Come with me, miss, I promise that a little hot water will have you feeling better right away."
She helped Saiya out of bed and across the room to the back door, which opened onto a little, walled-in yard. Walking was still incredibly painful, but fortunately Annette, though the shorter of the pair by several inches, was quite sturdy and encouraged Saiya to lean on her as much as necessary.
In the yard was a lean-to with a roof of sod. Steam curled out when Annette pulled the door open. The interior was dark, but Saiya could make out the shape of a large metal basin, full to the brim. The air was thick with vapor and the scent of rose petals.
Annette eased Saiya down on a stool by the tub and struck flint and tinder to light a nearby lantern. Then she handed over a stack of amenities, including a towel, soap, and a long-handled scrub brush.
"Take as long as you want, miss," she said. "I'll just be doing some washing outside, so ring this bell when you're done and I'll come and bring you back inside."
She left, shutting the door behind her. Saiya peeled off her undergarments, and with careful fingers unwrapped the bandages beneath. Her feet she didn't touch, figured that the temperature of the water would only aggravate the scorched flesh. It was a little tricky to maneuver her body into the tub using only her arms, but eventually she sank into the water with an ungainly splash, almost completely submerged with only her head, arms and lower legs sticking out.
Saiya soaked for quite a while before taking up the soap and scrubbing every inch of her skin. It appeared that Brother Malachi had not bothered to fully heal the scratches on her chest and side, preferring to let time do the work, and the scabs broke open under the vigorous motions, tainting the water pink with blood.
She soaped her hair as well, noting that it needed a trim if she was to keep her boyish hairstyle. Then she realized that there was little point in such personal grooming, since her head would be shaved once she took her vows as a monk. She heaved a sigh; that was a sacrifice that she was not enthusiastic to make. Not that there was a lot of difference, she thought ruefully, between a bald head and the three inches of white-blonde hair that she currently wore.
The sound of voices in the yard outside caused her to prick up her ears. A man said, "Excuse me, do you know where Saiya is? She didn't leave, did she?" For one heart-stopping second, she thought the speaker was Baal, come back to tell her he had changed his mind, but then she recognized the inflections as belonging to Caesar.
"Oh no, sir," she heard Annette reply. "She's just taking a bath."
"Well, good," said the wizard. "Tell her I stopped in, would you, and that I'll be back to see her tomorrow."
"Certainly, sir."
Saiya flopped back into the water. In truth, she was rather dreading the notion of visits from her well-meaning comrades. She would have to make conversation and talk about her injuries, and they were sure to observe her private anguish. That was something that she wanted to discuss with no one.
She waited just long enough to be positive that Caesar was gone before ringing the bell. Annette entered promptly. The healer had thoughtfully brought a fresh roll of bandages and a cotton nightgown.
"Is there anything else you require before I go home for the day?" she asked once Saiya was comfortably situated back in her cot.
"I don't think so," the young monk replied. "Thanks for all your kindness, Annette."
The other woman smiled. "Bless your heart, miss, it's a real honor to care for the Iron Wind herself. You're a hero to our people, you know."
"I can't imagine why," Saiya replied, shaking her head, silently adding, if I was really a hero, Deckard and Peter and all the slaughtered citizens of Wortham would still be alive.
"Because you care," said Annette. "You could have turned back that first day, when the demons were attacking our gates, but you jumped in and saved our children at the risk of your own life. It was the same when you killed the Skeleton King, and joined the party to avenge that poor girl's family even though you were still recovering from your wounds, and worked day and night at the refugee camp, and chased off that witch and her cultists. You had no obligation to help any of us, miss, but you did anyway because you're a good person. And that makes you a hero in our eyes."
Incredibly moved by the simple yet touching speech, Saiya felt tears prickle her eyes. She opened her mouth to express her gratitude, but Annette was already gathering up the dirty dishes, her movements businesslike. On her way out the door she paused, hand on the knob, as if remembering something. Setting down the tray, she returned to Saiya's bed.
"Oh miss, I'd forgotten, but your gentleman friend came to see me earlier."
"I know," Saiya said. "I heard you talking to him when I was in the bath."
"No, not Master Caesar. The other one, the Hunter."
Her eyes widened. "Baal came to see you? When?"
"A few hours ago," said the healer. "I'd meant to tell you when I came to bring your dinner, but it slipped my mind. He was very concerned about you – said you'd been having nightmares. I took the liberty of making up a sleeping draught in case you want to take it. It's the same one that Brother Malachi gave you before, a distillation of valerian and chamomile in a mild wine. Very potent … a few sips will have you out until the morning. I'll just leave it here for you." She brought out a small crystal vial, similar to the one that had held the healing potion, and set it down on the bedside table.
After Annette had gone, Saiya sat contemplating the medicine, debating whether or not she should indulge. On the one hand, she associated it rather unpleasantly with Brother Malachi drugging her to keep her in the infirmary after the massacre at Wortham, for which she had not quite forgiven him. Conversely, however, she knew very well that without it, she would not be able to sleep a wink.
She grabbed the bottle and drank it down.
A/N: I can imagine that after 150,000+ words and no romance, you're all ready to burn me in effigy. Just wait a little longer, I beg you, before sending me hate mail! . I promise (with pinkies!) that the next chapter will resolve everything. But seriously, folks, this is Baal we're talking about. Did you really expect it to be that easy? ;P
