Chapter 29.

Triel

"Family quarrels are bitter things. They don't go according to any rules. They're not like aches or wounds, they're more like splits in the skin that won't heal because there's not enough material." - F. Scott Fitzgerald

o - o - o - o - o

Esme entered the inn, and her friends immediately jumped to their feet. They were still gathered around the table at the rear of the room - though she noticed a pile of empty bowls and plates set to one side - and they all looked surprised by her appearance.

"Esme! What happened?" said Kiree, running over and pulling her back to the table by the hand. "How did you escape."

"I didn't. They let me go."

"But how-"

"Before we get into the hows and whys, I need food. Warm food. I haven't eaten all day."

Kiree and Duncan fought between themselves about who would go to the bar to get food, and in the meantime Lucas took care of it himself. He ordered food for Esme and a round of drinks for everybody, then returned to the table carrying a glass of brandy.

"Here, drink this." He gave her the glass and she smiled gratefully. It began warming her immediately, but in a pleasant way, rather than a Firebelly Firewine way. After a few sips she was beginning to feel much more human, and that feeling only increased when the innkeeper arrived with a bowl of soup and a plate of stale bread. He gave her an unimpressed look, but she ignored him. Right now she was far too hungry and cold to be concerned about somebody else's displeasure.

Kiree allowed her to eat half of her food before finally giving in to her cat-like curiosity and pestering again for answers.

"Let Esmerelle dine in peace," Shayla scolded, but she was smiling as she did so.

"It's fine, I feel much better," Esme said.

"We really thought we'd have to spring you from that gaol ourselves," said Duncan. "In fact, we were right in the middle of planning how to pull it off when you walked in."

"I suggested using Duncan's head as a battering ram to break down your cell door," Belvar grinned happily.

"We are all pleased to see you safe and well, Esmerelle," said Daeghun, and although his voice didn't sound any different, she actually believed that he was pleased to have her back. "Were you able to convince the people of Triel that you did not steal?"

"The last I saw," said Lucas, "they'd just taken you into that church. I couldn't follow after that, but I saw the militia leave so I came back here hoping to come up with a plan to rescue you whilst you were unguarded."

"Thank you," she said and looked around at her friends. "Thank you all for caring enough to plan my rescue. As for how and why they set me free... do you remember I told you about how I was raised by priests when I was younger, before I went to live with my grandmother?" Everybody nodded. "One of the priests is here. The man who raised me... Eldon. He was like a father to me. In fact, he was a father to me, in every way that counted. He's the Dawnlord of the church. He explained that there had been a misunderstanding, that somebody whose eyesight is failing them thought he saw me take something from the bakery. When he realised who I was... he knew that I would never steal, so he let me go." It wasn't the truth, but it was as close to it as she could safely get, and her friends deserved nothing less. They deserved the full truth, but she could not yet bring herself to tell them.

"I'm so happy for you, Esmerelle," said Shayla. Her smile lit up her blue eyes. "To have found your father again after so long apart must be like a dream come true for you."

"Oh, it is." She could feel her own smile threatening to tear her face in half. "I'm going to prayer tomorrow at the church, to listen to his sermon, and then at night he's invited me to dinner so that we can talk, and catch up on everything we've missed in each others' lives."

"What's he like?" Kiree asked. "When do we get to meet him?"

"He's wonderful. And tomorrow night, maybe. I guess it depends on how long we talk for."

"We're all very pleased that you've found your father, Esme," said Lucas. "But may I make a suggestion?" She nodded. "You look as tired as we all feel. I recommend you make first use of the bath and then get straight to bed. A good night's rest in a warm room will do you the world of good."

She clapped a hand over her mouth in horror. "Oh no!" she said, "I've been invited to dinner tomorrow but all my dresses are back in Scornubel. And I doubt I'm going to find one to buy in Triel."

"I would not worry, if I were you," said Shayla, wrapping one arm around her shoulders. "The good thing about fathers is that they love their daughters no matter how they look. Yours is no different. I'm certain."

"What makes you so sure?"

Shayla smiled. "Because he raised you, and children often reflect their parents. I believe you have nothing to worry about. You will have a wonderful day tomorrow, and hopefully many more to come."

o - o - o - o - o

The morning was crisp and clear, and Esmerelle walked with a spring in her step down the main road of Triel. Her boots had been polished to a shine and she was wearing the change of clothes she had brought with her from Scornubel; her grey trousers were warm and tailored to fit, and her green shirt, whilst not in her preferred colour, was at least clean and smelt of the lavender flowers she used in her pack to keep her clothes smelling fresh between journeys. Over the top she wore her coat, and under her arm she carried her prayer-book. It wasn't the book Eldon had given her - that had been lost to the river when she had fallen in during the first summer with her friends - but it was another old copy with its spine bent and creased from use. She could have bought a new one, to replace the one she lost, but an old one seemed more... right.

This morning, the village seemed less drab, the villagers less despondent. They watched her warily as she passed, falling silent when she approached and not continuing their conversations until she was further down the road, but their faces seemed warmer and brighter. She knew it was probably just her own high emotions colouring her view of the place. Yesterday, when she had arrived, she had been cold, tired and hungry, and as a result the village and its inhabitants had seemed cold and unfriendly. Today, well-rested, well-fed and wearing a warm, clean pair of clothes, she couldn't help but smile, and look for the goodness and beauty in everything around her.

When she reached the church of Lathander, she found Theore standing in the entry-way with a fair-haired, freckled, teenage boy by his side, greeting guests and handing out prayer books to those who did not have their own. When he saw her approach, he offered her a smile. It didn't quite reach his eyes, but it was more than the villagers and the innkeeper had offered, so she returned it warmly.

"Fair morning to you," she said, offering him a small curtsey.

"And to you, Esmerelle. I'm sorry for my words last night... the Dawnlord asked me to test you, he believed you were somebody else masquerading as you, apparently, but after you left he came to me and explained to me that you are genuine. And that you used to be one of his acolytes?"

"That's right. He's a good teacher."

"This is Tiny," he said, indicating the boy beside him. The name puzzled her; the boy wasn't tiny at all. In fact, he was taller than her, and almost as tall as Theore. And judging by the looks of him, he still had plenty of growing to do. "He's my acolyte. I took him in a couple of years ago when he folks were killed by bugbears."

"My real name is Marko," said the boy, in a voice that was verging on breaking. "But I've always been big for my age, so everyone calls me 'Tiny'."

"Which would you prefer me to call you?" she asked.

He shrugged. "To be honest, everyone's called me Tiny for so long that sometimes I forget Marko is my real name. Probably best to stick with my nickname. Less confusing for other people, too."

"Well met, Tiny." She offered him her hand. "My name is Esmerelle. I too was an acolyte like you. I was taken in by the priests when I was just six years old, and trained until I was fourteen."

"I'm fourteen next year," he grinned. "But why were you only trained until then? Didn't you become a full priest?"

She was saved from having to answer by Theore. "Let Esmerelle go inside before the sermon starts, Tiny," he admonished. Then he turned to her. "Dawnlord Eldon asked me to save you a seat... though I am afraid it is at the back of the church. You need to be up well before Lathander to get a front seat in the church these days. Just go on in, he'll be starting soon."

Esme thanked them both and passed them, stepping quietly into the prayer hall. As Theore had said, all of the benches were full, save the last seat on the last bench. She slipped into it quietly with an apologetic glance for the man forced to sit next to her, and took out her prayer book. Opening it up, she held it up in front of her and pretended to read as she glanced around the room. It was something Lucas had shown her how to do; pretend to be engrossed in one thing, he said, and people will forget you are there. You will become invisible to them, and cease to exist until you make your presence known.

The people around her spoke in hushed whisper, and she struggled to pick out any threads of conversation. It was too bad she didn't have Shayla or Daeghun's ears; elven hearing was superior to that of humans. And although she knew spells and could make potions to enhance her size, strength and sight, she had yet to learn of any magical means of augmenting her hearing. Instead she fell to visually inspecting the people seated in front of her, and after a few minutes she smiled to herself. The majority of the men in the room looked tired and bored, as if they had had to drag themselves out of bed to come to church. The women were bright-eyed and eager - a strange comparison to their behaviour on the streets, but Esme had seen similar before.

Whenever Eldon gave a lecture in the temple, the young female acolytes had been the ones at the front of the room, watching him avidly and often with adoring gazes. What her father thought of all the attention she did not know; she suspected he was oblivious to it. Knowing him, he probably thought it was his words, and the subject being discussed - always Lathander - that was captivating his audience. The people in this room, Esme surmised, were here for different reasons. The women were here to watch a good looking man talk passionately about a subject. The men were here to keep an eye on their wives. Where all the children were, she had no idea.

An expectant hush draped over the room, silencing every voice, and Esme lowered her prayerbook in time to see Eldon enter. He was wearing full priest robes, as Theore had done the night before. But where Theore's robes drowned him, Eldon's fit snugly. Where the robes had been the most obvious thing about Theore, they only served to highlight Eldon's features; his height, his build, and the dark combination of his hair and eyes. Was it her imagination, or did a smile ghost across his lips when he caught sight of her?

"Please turn to page eighty five," he said, and there was a whisper of sound as a room full of books were opened. Esme glanced at the first paragraph. Show kindness to thine sons and daughters. Seek not to punish bad behaviour but explain why it is wrong. To beat a child is to strip it of its innocence and breed anger and resentment in its heart. Teach with open heart and open mind, and speak only the truth, for children will believe a lie more readily than their parents, and they will carry that lie with them forever. Cherish your sons and daughters, and thee shalt be rewarded with respect and loyalty. All children are blessed of Lathander, for they are the future, and the future is theirs.

She wondered if he had chosen this page for her. Was there some meaning in it which she was meant to divine? She wanted to think so, but she could not be sure without asking him. When the page was turned, she focused her attention back to the sermon and listened to the words her father spoke.

o - o - o - o - o

After the sermon had ended, Theore and Tiny began extinguishing the candles in their sconces around the room, and Elden went out into the entry-way to thank the parishioners for their attendance. Esme let everybody else file out before her. Not that she had much choice. There was a sedate stampede as women rushed towards the church entrance, occasionally employing their elbows to get past beleaguered husbands. As the last of the locals left, Esme tagged onto the back of the group, and when she finally came face to face with him, he greeted her with a smile.

"I worried you might not come," he admitted. "Part of me feared that you might be overwhelmed by everything that happened yesterday, that you might run away during the night."

"Sorry, but you're stuck with me," she smiled. "I enjoyed your sermon today. It's been so long since I attended church... I think the last time was back in Waterdeep, over three months ago."

"I'm sure Lathander understands that your circumstances are... unique. Being an... adventurer, and always on the move, it must be difficult for you, finding a temple you can worship in." She nodded, but said nothing. Having spent the better part of two years around Lucas had taught her a thing or two about listening to what people said... and the words they didn't say. Eldon was referring to more then her adventuring lifestyle being a barrier to her faith. "But we can talk about all of this, and more, tonight," he continued. "I'll come and collect you from the inn at sun-down, if that is alright with you."

"We're not eating in the inn?"

Eldon pulled his face. "It's hardly a private venue, the innkeeper is rude and the food is terrible. No, we'll be eating here, in the church, and I'm cooking. So make sure you keep your appetite free for tonight."

"I remember you always were a good cook," she smiled. "Until sunset, then." She left the church and hurried along the main road back to the inn. She had promised her friends that she would come straight back after prayer, and she didn't want to unduly worry them. Not after everything that had happened so recently.

When she reached the inn she pushed the door open and stepped inside, relishing the warm of the common room after the bitter cold of the fresh air. Daeghun, Shayla, Belvar, Duncan and Kiree were seated around the same table eating a light lunch that seemed to be comprised of some sort of meat and slices of cheese. When Kiree saw her, she dropped her knife and fork and jumped up from her seat.

"You're back!" she said, for some reason feeling the need to state the blatantly obvious. Then she dashed to the foot of the stairs. "She's back!" she yelled up the staircase.

"What's all the yelling in aid of?" Esme asked, taking a seat beside Belvar.

"We have something for you," Kiree grinned. "A present. It was mostly my idea. Lucas helped a little. Just wait until you see it, you're going to die."

"Not literally," said Daeghun drily.

"Ooh, close your eyes!"

"But-" she began.

"Close them, or no present for you!"

She sighed and closed her eyes, wondering what crazy antics her friends had been up to whilst she was away. But she didn't have to wonder for long. She heard someone, most likely Lucas, descend the stairs, and then Kiree gave her permission to open her eyes. When she did, she found herself looking at one of the most beautiful red dresses she had ever seen. Long flowing sleeves culminated in a dash of white lace around the wide cuff, and were attached at the top to a red bodice that depicted, in beautiful golden thread, a bird rising in flight. The skirt of the dress was long, sweeping the ground, and fell in panels which displayed a gold under-skirt when they swayed. Even in Silverymoon, where almost every citizen was fashion-conscious, the dress would have garnered attention for its wearer. Here, it was an extravagance she could never have imagined.

"It's so beautiful!" she said at last. "But where in Faerûn did you find it?"

"Right here, in Triel," explained Kiree. "I know how badly you wanted a dress for dinner tonight, so I figured there's got to be somebody here with a nice dress they're willing to sell. So we went to the baker and asked if he knew of any women who might be looking to sell an item or two of clothing, and he said no, but if we checked with the blacksmith, the smith might be able to put us in touch with-"

"Suffice it to say," Lucas interruped, "we've spent a very long three hours tramping around the whole of Triel looking for this."

"It turns out that one of the guys here used to be married to an out-of-towner, a woman from Baldur's Gate who had a bit of wealth. She came to live here with him but quickly got fed up of village life, so she left him and ran off with a travelling gem merchant. The guy here had burnt a lot of her clothes, but as this was her favourite dress he'd kept it, hoping that one day she might come back to get it, then he could tear it up in front of her to see her cry. A real love-story. Anyway, Lucas and I managed to convince him to part with the dress for a small fee. So now, it's yours."

"Thank you," she said, wrapping one arm around Lucas and another around Kiree. "Thank you so much. I can't believe you went to all this trouble for me."

"No trouble at all," Lucas assured her.

"And you absolutely have to let me do your hair for tonight," Kiree added.

"I will. Thank you again. Eldon will be coming by at dusk to pick me up. He said he's cooking something... I can't wait."

"If you're going to start crying again, you better get this dress upstairs first," Lucas warned. "I didn't spend three hours in the cold just to have you ruin it with your tears before you've even worn it."

Esme took the dress gratefully and carried it up to her room. Lucas knew her too well. She was tearing up again, but only because she felt lucky to have such wonderful friends. And now that she had a nice dress to wear, she felt even happier about dining with Eldon. Between her friends and her father, she felt that nothing could ever go wrong in her life again.

o - o - o - o - o

As the sun began to kiss the horizon, Duncan gestured for the bartender to pour him another ale. It had been a long, boring day. All Esmerelle had talked about was her father. Eldon this and Eldon that, and Kiree had done nothing but encourage her. Honestly, was some alternative conversation a little too much to ask for? He had tried arguing with both Lucas and Belvar, but his heart hadn't really been in it. Plus the girly giggling had been putting him off. At least things were a little quieter, now. Esme had gone upstairs to get ready for dinner, and Kiree had only just returned from doing her hair.

There was no sign of Eldon yet, but the sun was only just beginning to set. In a way, Duncan felt sorry for the old guy. If Esme was just going to talk about dresses and shopping all night he was hardly going to be in for a fun-filled dinner. Not that Duncan knew much about priests, but he did know that most of them weren't big on shopping, or hair care, or new shoes. They tended to fall into two categories; greying and quiet, rather bookish and occasionally rambling, or fanatical lunatics so enthralled by their gods that they saw almost nothing else. Esme hadn't described Eldon as being a fanatical lunatic, so he probably fell into the former category. Grey. Quiet. Boring. Just like everybody else in Triel.

The door of the inn opened and a tall, good looking human man entered the common room. His eyes scanned the room and settled on Duncan at the bar. Great. This was probably one of the merchants, come to tell him that the group from Scornubel were ready to return, and right in the middle of his ale, too. That would be just like those bloody merchants, always thinking of themselves before others. Was it too much to ask, to be allowed to finish a pint of ale in peace?

"Excuse me," said the man, "but I'm looking for Esmerelle. I'm supposed to be meeting her here, though I'm running a few minutes late. She hasn't left, has she?"

Duncan looked at the man, and blinked. If he thought he was supposed to be meeting Esme, he was in for a disappointment. Tonight she was meeting with her fa... oh. Duncan stared at the stranger. This man was taller than him by half a head, and at least ten years younger than him. Maybe even twenty. And he looked like he'd been chiselled from stone by some over-enthusiastic Sunites hoping to create the perfect man.

"You're Esme's father?" he asked. "You're a priest?" Where was the graying hair and the receding hairline? Where was the bookishness, or the religious rambling? Could the gods get any crueller right now?

"That is so not fair!" he heard Kiree hiss to Shayla, though he doubted that the humans in the room heard the halfling's words. His hearing might not be as sharp as that of his brother, but it was still better than human hearing.

"Well, originally I was a knight," the man said. "I was a member of The Order of the Aster until the end of the Time of Troubles, at which point I was raised as a full priest and decided to devote my time to teaching." Yes, it seemed the gods could get crueller.

"The Order of the Aster?" Lucas asked, sidling up in a crab-like fashion. "They're an elite group of warriors, paladins and clerics dedicated to Lathander. You must be very gifted, to have been chosen to join them."

Eldon shrugged. "I simply carry out the Morninglord's work. Any gifts I possess have been granted by him, so that I can do his bidding and act as a force of good in his name. Lathander tells us to guard ever against pride. It is a dangerous thing."

"Of course, of course. Forgive me for not introducing myself. My name is Lucas, and I am a friend of your daughter. I would just like to say that it has been a pleasure knowing her and travelling with her. She is a rare treasure, and I have never seen anybody so dedicated to helping others, especially where healing is concerned. She has a natural gift and a sympathetic soul." Duncan rolled his eyes and took another swig of his ale. Lucas could be such a carrion-crawler at times.

"Hi!" Duncan looked down to find Kiree smiling up at Eldon. Just great. "My name's Kiree Quickhands, and I'm Esme's best friend. She's so excited about dinner tonight, it's all she's talked about all afternoon. Just out of curiosity, how old are you, exactly?"

"Kiree," said Shayla, a warning note in her voice. "Go and tell Esmerelle that her father is here." When the halfling had disappeared up the staircase, Shayla turned to Eldon and gave him a polite smile. Well, it was nice to see at least one person not worshipping at the alter of Eldon. "Please forgive Kiree, she is easily excitable. I am Shayla Wolfsbane, this is my beloved, Daeghun Farlong, his brother Duncan Farlong, and our long time companion Belvar Stoneshield." She offered him her hand, which he took and shook as he eyed her clothes and her tattoos. Duncan grinned to himself. Shayla always had that effect on people.

"Thank you all for your greetings," said Eldon. "I'm glad that my daughter has found so many like-minded companions to travel with." He turned to Duncan, and offered his hand, and Duncan was so surprised by the gesture that he shook it before he even remembered he was fed up of everything to do with Eldon. "Esmerelle hasn't told me much about you, yet, but I just want you to know that I'm not here to make things difficult between you and her. I know you care for her a great deal, and I don't want to take her away from you, or come between you. Not after everything you've done for her."

"Well, uh, that's good to know," Duncan replied. He felt lost for words. Brutal honesty was not something he had been expecting from the priest, and it came as a surprise. "We're all very fond of her."

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," said Esme as she descended the staircase.

Duncan's breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. He had half expected Kiree to have done something silly with Esme's hair, like piling it all on top of her head so that she'd be forced to balance it ridiculously all night. But all she'd done was plait it loosely behind her head, exposing the curve of her neck and shoulders. The red dress fit as if it had been made for her, and he was glad to see a sensible, modest neckline. None of that low-cut nonsense that Kiree usually tried to force her into. Somehow, the halfling had also managed to find a pair of red slippers. They didn't quite match the colour of the dress, but they looked a hell of a lot better than her walking boots would have done.

Apparently, he wasn't the only one who thought Esme looked beautiful. Eldon stepped forward and offered her his hand, helping her down the last of the stairs. Duncan rolled his eyes again. Esme was perfectly capable of climbing down stairs by herself. She'd been doing it for longer than he'd known her.

"If I had to wait another hour, it would be worth it to see you looking so radiant," Eldon told her, and she blushed. She actually blushed, like some... some young woman who blushed. He shook his head. Maybe he shouldn't have had those three pints of ale earlier. His thoughts weren't quite clear enough to form themselves coherently anymore.

"I should introduce you to my friends," Esme said, gesturing around the room, though she didn't take her eyes off Eldon's face.

"We already did all of that," Shayla said. "You go. Talk. Have a wonderful evening."

"And have her back by midnight!" Duncan added.

"We should probably go now," Eldon told Esme. "The food's ready, it's sitting warm in the oven, but if we leave it too long it will dry out."

"I'll just grab my coat, then," she replied.

"You won't need it. We'll only be outside for a few moments. I have the dining room warmed for when we get back."

Duncan felt suddenly excluded. It was as if a bubble had popped up around Esme and her father; neither one of them was paying attention to anybody else, as if the whole world consisted entirely of the two of them. The feeling persisted for a few moments even after Eldon had led Esme out of the inn by her hand, and the moment was filled with silence.

"Well," said Belvar, clearing his throat and interrupting the spell. "That was... weird."

"I don't know," Lucas said evasively, "I think he seemed like quite a nice young man."

Shayla tapped her chin thoughtfully with her finger. "I didn't think Esmerelle's father would be so..."

"Young?" Duncan offered.

"Handsome?" grinned Kiree

"Charismatic?" asked Lucas.

Shayla shook her head after each. "No. Well, yes, those as well. But more like... touched."

"What, in the head?" said Duncan.

"No. Touched by some sort of power. I don't know what power exactly, but that man has at least one spirit guarding him. Or at the very least, watching him. I felt it, as he shook my hand."

"Esme's gonna have a great night," Kiree grinned.

"Great," echoed Duncan. He took a small pile of copper coins from his pocket and dumped them on the bar. "Barkeep, another ale please."

o - o - o - o - o

Esme studied Eldon as he opened the church door and escorted her inside. Tonight he was wearing a dark orange shirt, almost brown in colour, with plain grey trousers and sensible shoes for walking around in the snow. Not like her own slippers, which were now cold and thoroughly wet. But it was her own fault. She had chosen vanity over function, and now she would just have to live with her choice. She could survive a few hours of cold feet, to look nice for her first proper meal with her father in over seven years.

The inside of the church was dark, with most of the candles in the prayer-hall unlit. There was just enough light to see by, and she followed Eldon down the aisle, towards the same office he had seen her in the night before. Was that to be their dining room, then? If so, it would be awkward. There was only one large desk, but it was blocked off on three sides, there was only enough room at it for one person to comfortably sit.

He took her into the office, which was also dimly lit, but then to her surprise, he drew back the curtain at the rear of the room and invited her to step through. What she found on the other side was a small dining room and kitchen, with a bed in the far corner and a door set into the opposite side of the room. The dining table was smaller than the desk, but there was ample room for two, and two chairs had already been placed at it. The room was lit by the light of candles and the main hearth, in which a fire burned merrily.

"Please, be seated," he said, and gestured towards the table. "I'm sure it's not as glamourous as you're used to, but I still know how to make good food."

She took a seat at the table and watched as he opened the oven and, using a reinforced glove, took out two trays, one filled with roasted vegetables cooked in herbs and oil, and the other containing thick slices of beef.

"Is something wrong?" he asked when he saw her watching the trays.

"I just... Eldon, how can you have such nice food, when the villagers have so little?"

"Do you mean to ask, how can I live with my conscience, eating nice food when the villagers do not, or how do I logistically manage to have such a fine selection whilst some of the villagers make do with simpler fare?"

"The latter," she said weakly. "Maybe a little of the former, too."

"Come here," he said, putting down the trays and holding out his hand. "I'll show you." He led her to the door on the far side of the room and opened it. A blast of chill air hit her skin, and made her shiver. But Eldon ignored the cold, and took her several steps outside, back into the icy snow. "Here. This is how I do it." He gestured out at the ground in front of him. It was the empty vegetable patch she had seen from the front of the church the night before, only now she saw that it was much larger than she had originally guessed.

"But I thought very little grew in this area, other than a few fruit trees?"

"Very little does grow here, but where there is a will, there is a way. When I first came here, I was determined to make changes. I had three barges full of soil imported from the delta outside of Baldur's Gate. It is good, fertile soil. One one third I grow beans and peas and pulses and lentils. The second third is given to roots and bulbs, such as potatoes, carrots and onions. On the last third I grow clover, and graze a couple of goats on it. The goats provide us with milk, and therefore cheese. In autumn, I plough the clover back into the soil, so it returns the goodness and nutrients to the earth. I harvest the food that I grow and put it into cold storage in a cellar deep beneath the church. Anything that is too damaged by pests to be fit for consumption I feed to the pigs that I keep in a sty around the back of the church, along with a coop full of chickens, for their feathers, their eggs and their meat.

"I wanted to show the villagers that there is still hope for them. I wanted to show them that different foods can be made to grow here, that all it takes is some effort. They could start with clover - over time, it returns the goodness to depleted soil. I don't know how, or why, but I learnt that from a priestess of Chauntea some years ago. But the villagers... they're so stubborn!" His voice became... not angry, but filled with regret. "They're so steeped in tradition. They do things because things have always been done a certain way. They tend to their orchards but they have no interest in digging, planting and harvesting. Farming, to them, is something to be avoided. They would rather cling to their old ways and risk starvation than try something new and risk failing.

"I'm making some head-way with the children. They learn more easily, and are more willing to try new things. In the spring, they help to plant the crops. In summer they help to keep away the birds and the slugs, and in autumn they help with the harvest. I think some of them are coming around to my way of thinking. Some of them actually enjoy the work, enjoy seeing something they have sown grow into a productive plant. So, that's the logistical aspects. As to my conscience... If I gave every villager something from my stores, everybody would get, perhaps, a couple of carrots, a potato, and a handful of peas and beans. It would give them one meal, and then there would be nothing left. We would all be right back to where we started, with no food, and throwing the carcass of some poor creature on that awful shrine of theirs.

"Or I can feed myself. I can feed Theore, and Tiny, with enough to see us through the winter. Anything that rots I give to the pigs, and in the spring they give us piglets. I can feed the three of us, so I do. And once every tenday all the children in the village come here, and we have a communal meal. They come and they take part in, what is to them, a feast. They deserve to eat because they help to grow and care for the vegetable patch. So, Esmerelle, before you start feeling guilty about eating the food I've cooked, remember that the villagers, too, could be eating as we do here in the church. All they have to do is try. All they have to do is get up a couple of hours earlier in the mornings, get their hands a little dirty, and actually make an effort, instead of wasting their time beseeching Malar. I've tried to change their ways, and I'll keep trying for as long as it takes. But until spring comes, it's out of my hands."

"I'm sorry for questioning you," she said contritely. She should have known that her father had his reasons. It was just like him to be practical. Some priests of Lathander could be a little too whimsical at times. Some priests might have distributed the contents of the vegetable garden to the whole of the village. But such actions would have given the villagers little impetus to change. If they could see, though, how well their children were being fed, they might eventually decide to contribute, to take up farming as a way of sustaining themselves and becoming less reliant on the merchants and traders who came to their town.

"It's okay, you weren't to know what it's like around here. But look at you, you're shivering. I'm sorry I brought you out here for so long. It was thoughtless of me. Come inside. Get warmed up, and we can start our meal."

She followed him back into the dining room, into the blessed heat of the church, and Eldon closed the door once they were both inside. When she was once more seated at the table, he placed a plate in front of her, followed by a knife and fork. The aroma of the food was overpowering, and she suddenly found herself glad she'd skipped lunch. It would make dinner all the more enjoyable.

"Would you like some wine with your meal?" he asked, holding up a clear bottle of yellow liquid.

As she looked at the bottle, she recalled Ali's words. He started drinking, whether to quiet the anger or drown his sorrows and his guilt, I do not know. I left the temple almost two years ago, after my training was complete. By that time, Eldon was seen as something of an embarrassment. An example of how a good priest can go over the edge if he's not in control of himself. The acolytes would whisper behind his back, making up stories of what had driven him to drinking throughout the daylight hours. Just before I left, there was talk of sending him away somewhere, to a church in some backwater village far away where he could spend the rest of his days drinking amongst people who wouldn't care.

This was that far-away backwater village, she realised. Eldon had been sent away. He'd been sent here, to Triel, because his superiors thought this place too insignificant to care about. But clearly, something had changed. The way Eldon spoke, the way he moved, the things he said... he didn't seem like a man broken, made hollow and empty by sorrow and grief. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, and she realised she had been staring at the bottle. "It's not watered down, if that's what you're worried about. I think you're more than old enough to drink wine now."

She wanted to smile and say that nothing was wrong, that yes, she'd like some wine. It would help her to relax. But if what Ali had said was true, and Eldon had turned to drink to drown his guilt, then surely drinking was the worst possible thing for him to do right now. How could she sit there and enjoy a meal and his company if she was worrying over him taking up a bad habit again?

"It's not that," she said, deciding total honesty would be best. A fresh start for both of them. "Earlier in the year, I saw Aliya. She's a full priest now. We talked, briefly, and she told me everything that had happened at the temple after I ran away."

"Ah," he said, and sat down in his chair, putting the wine to one side of the table. "And here I thought we'd be able to start our meal before it got cold."

"I'm sorry if I've ruined your plans for the evening," she said, truly regretting bringing the subject up.

"When you left," he said, "that was a very dark time for me, Esmerelle. The first few years you were gone, I changed. If you've spoken to Ali, I probably don't need to repeat the things you've already heard. I was angry, upset and foolish. After a time, I turned to drink. Not because I particularly liked it, but because it was the most effective way to stop thinking and feeling and hurting. All of that changed when I came here, but that's another story. I'm quite capable of drinking the occasional glass of wine, now, without feeling the need to keep drinking. I didn't like the life I had, and alcohol made that life go away. But I like the life I have here. It's rewarding. Yes, it's frustrating at times, and lonely. Always lonely. But I'm not about to go off the rails again. Not when I finally found somewhere I can be content. Not when I finally have you back."

"Then yes, I'd like some wine, please," she said, relieved by his words. "But just one glass. I had hangover once before, and I never want to repeat that experience."

"You always were a fast learner," he smiled. He uncorked the bottle and poured a glass of wine, first for her and then for himself. Then he gestured at the food. "Anything else you want to drop on me before we eat?"

"No, but I'm sorry if it's started to go cold." She transferred some of the meat and vegetables onto her plate, and experimentally poked one of the carrots with her fork. It was cooked just how she liked them; not so raw that they were crunchy, but not so cooked that they were beginning to turn mushy.

They ate in silence for several minutes, and Esme sipped her wine. It was sweet and strong, and reminded her of one she had tried in Waterdeep. For a moment she had the urge to tell the tale; it was during one of the festivals that she had tried the wine, and Kiree had claimed that the liquid was also used as an aphrodisiac, though Esme had felt no such effects. Then she remembered that Eldon hadn't been with her at the time. The story would likely be of little interest to him. Not when they had so much else to discuss.

As the silence stretched on, Esme began to feel more and more uncomfortable. The man she considered her father was practically a stranger to her, and she was equally as much of a stranger to him. Perhaps she should have insisted on dining in the inn, poor food and rude service or not.

"You're not enjoying your meal, are you?" he asked. She expected to see disappointment on his face, but she saw only speculation.

"The meal is perfect. Everything is cooked exactly the way I like it."

"Then it's my company you're not enjoying?"

"Please don't take this the wrong way," she said. "But there's so much I want to discuss, and I have no idea where to begin."

"Then let me start. The morning you ran away... how did you know to run when you did?"

"Your behaviour the night before was so strange and out of character," she explained. "When you went to your second meeting, I followed you. I listened to everything that was said, and I realised what it meant. I knew my life was about to change, but I didn't want to live in a cage. I've had enough of cages to last me a lifetime."

"You should have come to me. I would have helped you."

"In hindsight, maybe I should have gone to you. But I was little more than a child, and terrified for my life. I didn't think. I reacted. And had I gone to you, if we were caught, my punishment would have become your punishment. You didn't deserve that."

"You can't tell a man what he can and cannot do for his child," said Eldon darkly. "But I don't blame you for running. Like you said, you reacted. But where did you go? I looked everywhere for you, for years. I looked for so long that eventually I had to believe you were dead."

"I went to the High Forest. Do you remember coming across the house of a witch and her cat?"

"Yes, vividly. But how do you know about that?"

"Because whilst you were talking to the witch, I was hiding inside her house. I stayed there for years."

"You were there?" he said hoarsely. "You were so close that I could have reached out and touched you, held you... you were mere feet away from me, and I had no idea. If only we'd taken the witch up on her offer of tea." His voice was bitter, and he took a sip of his wine.

"Don't blame yourself. Aggie... Agatha... knew that you would never waste valuable time drinking tea with her. That's why she made the offer. She knew that if she tried to keep you out of the house, you would become suspicious, and maybe try to force your way in. She was an astute old woman."

"How did you even find her in the first place?"

Esme told him about the events leading up to her finding Aggie's cottage. She told him about wandering lost in the High Forest, about seeing the smoke from the chimney on the horizon. She told him about sneaking around the cottage, about Aggie and Kittykins and the fey. She told him about everything Aggie had taught her, all the spells she had learnt, the potions she had brewed, and how she had performed the funeral rites for the first time when Aggie died. Her story was punctuated with sips of wine and mouthfuls of food, and Eldon was entirely sympathetic to her plight. When she reached the part about how she had lived alone for years, taking care of herself and trading at the river, he looked sad.

"Nobody should have to live alone like that," he said. "I wish I had been there. I wish I'd kept looking for you."

"Perhaps Lathander did not want me to be found. Maybe I was supposed to be alone. But I wasn't alone for all the long. Not as long as you were."

He nodded, and she continued with her story, picking up with the tale of how a group of gnolls had stumbled across her, and she had fled from them. The next part of her story was happier, because it involved her friends. She told him about each and every one of them, and how they had all helped her to grow over the years. She recounted her first visit to a city, Everlund, and her journey to Silverymoon. She continued with the story of meeting Shayla's people in the Kryptgarden Forest, and how she had helped to thwart Eldreth Veluuthra's plans. She told him about Kalan'Tel, and how she thought Lathander wanted to free him from the cage. But she did not tell him about her most intimate moments with the drow. That was not something her father would want to hear, she suspected. It was not something any father would want to hear.

"It sounds like you were put in a difficult situation," Eldon said, after she had described freeing the drow, and how he had later saved her life. "On the one hand, your friend Shayla is right. The drow are dangerous, murderous beasts. But we are not adherents of Helm, you and I. We do not believe that evil is always evil, and good is always good. Lathander teaches us that people can change, though not always for the better. If the drow you rescued truly did want to change, to break away from the cruelty of his people, then you did a good thing in freeing him. You had doubts, but even though you doubted, you still did what you thought was right. Had I been there at the time, I would have supported your decision to free the drow."

"I'm glad you think I did the right thing," she smiled. "I remember the lessons you taught me, to show compassion to others and try to plant the seeds of hope and change."

As she finished her glass of wine, she resumed her tale, and told her father about all the adventures she and her friends had had, ending with the time they had spent in Scornubel, before coming to Triel. By the time she was finished her voice felt hoarse, but it felt good to have told her tale. There were some bits she had invariably missed out which she could tell later, as and when she remembered them, but for now, Eldon knew everything of significance that had happened to her.

"You've been through a lot," he said when she had finished. "You've travelled all over the Coast, and maybe even seem more of the world than I have. One thing I would like to know, though; you and your half-elven companion... Duncan?" She nodded. "Are you wed yet?"

"What?" she asked, totally shocked by the randomness of the question.

"If not, I've like to be there when you are. It's customary for the father of the bride to give his permission and be present."

"What? Duncan and I are not wed, and we're never going to be wed. I like him, he's a good friend, but nothing more."

"Ah," said Eldon, looking suitably embarrassed. He ran his hands through his hair and leant back in his chair. "Forgive me. When you arrived in Scornubel, I saw you walking together, with his arm around you. I may have jumped to conclusions."

"That wasn't a jump. That was a leap. I was just cold, and Duncan was warming me up. But we've never been... romantically involved. I don't think of him that way."

"That's a relief," Eldon laughed, and held up his hands defensively when he caught the questioning expression on her face. "Not that I don't like your friend, but I wasn't relishing giving him the talk."

"The talk?"

"Every father has to give the talk to any suitor who shows an interest in his daughter. I think it involves some threats about what will happen if he ever mistreats her. At least, that's what I've heard. Nobody ever gave me a guide to raising children, so I had to make it up as I went along."

"Well, for what it's worth, I think you did a wonderful job. And you don't need to worry about giving the talk to Duncan. It would have been strange, anyway. He's quite a bit older than you, for a start."

"Thank you," he said, his eyes turning serious. "It means a lot to me, that you think I made a good father. It wasn't easy. Sometimes I worried that I wasn't showing you enough warmth and affection. Sometimes I worried that I was showing you too much. I tried so hard to balance what I thought was right, and what I thought was proper. I had to be careful. I couldn't show you favouritism even when we were alone, in case it became habit. I didn't want to give the other priests any reason to take you away from me."

"Why not?" she asked. She leant forward and rested her head in her hands, her elbows on the table. It was probably bad manners, but she didn't care. "Wouldn't it have been easier for you if I'd lived in the halls with the other acolytes? If you didn't have to raise me yourself, and have all these worries about what to do and how to act?"

He downed the last of his wine and stood up, walking towards the wall. There, he pulled back a small pair of curtains and looked out of the window into the darkness, at the tiny lights in the windows of the surrounding houses. She sensed that her question had caught him off-guard, or was causing him some sort of dilemma, and that he needed to think before he could reply. When he finally spoke, it was to the window, rather than to her.

"That's not an easy thing to answer. It's something I've thought about often, ever since I found you. And there are several aspects to my answer. I'd like you to listen without interrupting, because if I lose track of my thoughts I may not find them again."

"Okay," she said, and schooled herself to quietness."

"First and foremost, it was for selfish reasons. That night when we attacked Bhaal's temple, I had no reason to be where I was, so far from the centre of the fighting. But I thought I'd heard something, maybe a voice, maybe a trick of the wind, telling me to walk away. And the further I walked, the stronger the feeling became inside me that I was going the right way. I saw you being taken away from the temple, and I thought Lathander had sent me to stop the priest and save you. Afterwards, I came to believe that Lathander had given you to me. I believed, for some reason, that you were special. And because I'd been led to you, I thought that made me special, too. I thought that Lathander had some plan for you, and I hoped it might involve me in some way. So that's the selfish reason why I didn't want to lose you.

"On the other side of the scale, I never knew my own father. He left my mother just after I was born, and she died of some unknown sickness before I turned two. My grandmother raised me, and I grew up never knowing the love of my parents. When I found you, I thought maybe it was my chance to correct that. To give a child at least one parent who could love them and take care of them. Like I said before, I didn't know what things were expected of a father. Having never had one of my own, I had to muddle through. But I was determined to succeed. I wasn't going to become like my own father; a man who abandoned his child and the woman he claimed to have loved. I wanted better than that for me. I wanted better than that for you.

"And the last reason why I didn't want you to be taken away? When Albur and I found you, you were terrified. Even now I can remember your screams. I had no idea what to do with you. I'd never been around children before, had always spent my time training to fight and training for eventual priesthood. I was so at a loss. I picked you up and held you and spoke softly to you. And, for a wonder, you stopped screaming. It surprised me, that somebody could feel so comforted by my presence that their fears could melt away. Then later, when we left the battlefield, you sat so still in my arms, clinging onto me as you watched the world around you. From that moment on, I didn't want to let you go. I wanted to protect you and keep you safe. Something about you made me want to look after you and make sure nothing ever scared you again."

"You keep saying that you found me," she said, when Eldon had finished speaking. "But you didn't find me. You saved me. You shouldn't forget that."

"Did I save you? Or did Lathander save you, through me? Even now I don't know. I don't know if he has a plan for you, or me. Was our meeting here arranged by him, or all down to simple chance?"

She left the table and went to stand beside him, looking out at the view. But instead of the outside, she saw the room reflected behind her. So. Eldon hadn't been looking out at the village after all. He'd been watching her reaction to his words in the glass. She should have realised that with darkness fallen outside and the room lit up, the window behaved more like a mirror. It made her sad, that he felt the need to watch her like that.

"We could spend the rest of our lives speculating about whether Lathander sent you to rescue me, and whether he arranged our meeting here, and to what end," she said. "But I think we aren't supposed to understand these things. I think that is what faith is all about. Keeping going, even when you're unsure and doubtful. And I don't think we mortals are supposed to understand the motives of gods. If we spent all our time speculating, we wouldn't be truly living our lives."

"Where did you learn to be so wise?" he smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.

"I had an excellent teacher," she replied. She liked his eyes, when he was smiling. They were warm and alive, and fires danced within their depths. Then she shook her head at the strangeness of her own thoughts. "I mean Lucas, of course," she added.

"Do your friends know?" There was no mistaking what he meant.

She shook her head. "No, I've never felt the need to tell them. And I'd prefer to keep it that way. I will tell them eventually, when the time is right, but I don't want to rush in to it."

"I won't say a word to them," he assured her. "But how do you think they'll react?"

"I don't know." She sighed, and let her gaze return to the window, to the reflected room which shone warmly and brightly, defying the coldness of winter. "Sometimes I think they'll be hurt because I didn't trust them enough to tell them sooner. Sometimes I think they'll understand. Sometimes I think they might be afraid of me, and what I might become."

"Do you... do you ever feel the taint within you?" he asked.

"Is that why you invited me to dinner? To check if I'm becoming the embodiment of evil and murder?"

"I'd be lying if I said it wasn't part of the reason. But not the whole reason, no. Not even the biggest part of it. But I have to know, Esme. I have to know if you're feeling the taint, or seeing visions, or hearing voices. I have to know if you feel a desire to kill, some urge driving you forward, towards violence." He used his fingers to turn her head back towards him and turn her face so that he could look in her eyes. "Please be honest with me. I won't love you any less. I will still be your father and I will do everything within my power to help and protect you. But I can't help you if I don't know the truth."

"I don't feel the taint," she said, meeting his eyes squarely, willing him to believe her. "I don't see things, I don't hear voices. I'm very careful. The only weapon I carry is a knife. I have a personal rule; I don't kill humans. I'm not saying I've never killed before. I have. I've fought against orcs and trolls and bugbears, and even the undead. And, once, I killed a man by accident, in self defence. I didn't mean to do it, and it weighed heavily on my conscience for a long time afterwards. I'm not foolish. I know the price of violence to those like me. But sometimes killing is required. Sometimes I have to fight monsters to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Does that allay your fears?"

"I'm sorry for forcing you to talk about it," he said. "It can't be easy for you, hiding all of this from your friends, worrying about what might happen to you but not having anybody to discuss your fears with."

"It hasn't been easy," she admitted. The gods only knew how much she wanted to be able to tell her friends the truth, to stop making excuses about why she didn't want to kill humanoids, to stop having to remember which half-truths about her past she had told them. "Sometimes, even when I'm with my friends, I feel like an outsider. I feel so alone because I have to hide the truth from them."

"You don't have to be alone anymore," he said, releasing her face and pulling her gently forward into a hug. "I'm here, and you don't have to hide from me. You never have to hide from me." For the umpteenth time that day, she felt her eyes brimming with tears. Though she tried to hold them back, she couldn't. It felt wonderful and freeing to finally have somebody she could be completely honest with, that she didn't have to lie to, or hide away from. Her tears soon became quiet sobs, and she cried herself dry onto her father's reassuring shoulder as he held her comfortingly as he had when she was a child.

"I'm sorry," she said at last, pulling herself out of his embrace and using her hands to wipe away her tears. "All I've done whilst we've been together is cry. I'm not usually so emotional, I swear."

"This sort of thing was so much easier when you were a little girl," he smiled sadly. "All I had to do when you were terrified of nightmares or monsters under your bed was give you a cuddle, tell you everything would be okay, and kiss your forehead. But you're not that little girl anymore."

She nodded. "And as much as I wish I could believe you if you tell me everything would be okay, I've seen too much of the world to know that isn't true. Everything's a lot simpler when you're young, and don't know any better."

"I meant what I said, though, Esmerelle. I'll help you in any way that I can. But for now, I think I've upset you quite enough for one night. I'll take you back to the inn, but would you care to have lunch with me tomorrow?"

"Don't you have a sermon in the morning?"

"No, Theore is leading the sermon tomorrow. We take it in turns."

"I'd like to listen to the sermon... and then we can have lunch, if you like."

"Sounds good. Now," he said, offering her his arm, "let's get you back to your friends before they start worrying where you are."