Child's Play
The night was freezing cold, and suitably awkward. Brianna had spent half of her watch already trying to shake herself out of her gloom and doom state of mind, but it proved to be difficult. For one, considering her situation and the series of events that had led her to this very spot, feeling gloomy and doomed seemed quite appropriate.
Also, Bishop didn't have the decency to go to sleep already and leave her to her thoughts. Since she knew by now that the ranger had very little decency in general, she should not have let it rattle her. But she was even wary of wrapping her arms about herself to keep away the cold for fear that he would mock her and call her weak.
As soon as she had realized that, her thoughts had turned to wondering why it even mattered what he thought of her. She had been looked down upon and called names before, plenty of times back in West Harbor and occasionally since then, and life had taught her over time to grow a thick skin when it came to such things. So how in the hells did his barbs manage to hurt her despite that?
Because I am scared of him, she reluctantly answered her own silent question.
At first, she had thought that her flight reflexes kicked in around him for the same reason she had always ran from Wyl – because she knew he meant her harm. She had since realized that it was not quite so simple.
He was not like Wyl, at least on the surface. She was reasonably certain that, if the ranger had been one to take a woman by force, she would have seen signs of it by now. Not to mention that Duncan certainly would have warned her if that was the danger Bishop posed. Her uncle was not the most reliable person, but Brianna very much doubted he would have merrily sent Bishop along with three women to rescue a fourth and only the paladin as a chaperon, had her uncle known such things about the man.
She raised her eyes to regard Bishop. He was sitting across from her, the fire between them casting deep shadows onto his face. There was some piece of clothing in his lap and he was mending it with quick, but meticulous movements, keeping his eyes on his work all the while. The wolf was stretched out next to the ranger, warming his pelt and seemingly dozing.
No, the problem was a different one. Bishop was callous, abrasive and lacked any kind of respect for those around him, many of the same qualities which she had also come to find in Qara. The difference was, however, that Qara was too young and inexperienced to be truly dangerous. Brianna had never asked the other girl how old she was, but she would have been very surprised if Qara's age surpassed her own.
Certainly the sorceress commanded enough raw power that it made Brianna nervous to think about it. But Qara had not yet learned how to truly use that power, and the threat of it, to her advantage, and Brianna hoped she never would. The sorceress had grown up sheltered, had not been outside of the strictly regulated environment of the Neverwinter Academy for long and was still figuring out how the world out there worked. Brianna had spent no more time in the docks district of Neverwinter than Qara, but her advantage had been common sense and the help of friends, both of which Qara lacked entirely. So she had been able to keep her head above the water where the other girl was still too afraid of drowning to dip even a toe in.
Bishop, on the other hand, knew how to swim. She would not have been surprised to find out that he had come close to drowning in the metaphorical rough waves a few times throughout his lifetime, in addition to dunking the heads of others beneath the waves when it suited him.
A smuggler, Duncan had explained the first time she had asked him about Bishop. Mostly up around the Luskan border. And she would have bet her newly learned swordsman skills that he hadn't just woken up one morning and thought smuggling seemed a good business to try his hand at.
She looked across the fire again, and her eyes found the edges of the thick, twisted welts running along the side of his neck like roots growing rampant beneath his skin. She had first noticed them during the attack on the Flagon, though back then, she had been too preoccupied to think about them. The mass of ugly, uneven scar tissue, its colors ranging from silver to a sickly shade of purple, covered most of the right side of Bishop's torso, as well as his arm. Of course most of it was not visible now, with him properly clothed. Brianna knew enough to identify them as burn scars. Acid, possibly, but more likely the ranger had been caught in a fire at some point during his past, and been viciously burned. Recovering from that kind of injury had to have been hell.
On top of everything else, he wouldn't have learned that deadly accuracy with a bow just anywhere. No, there was a history there, and she silently cursed Duncan for being so tightlipped on the subject. Without knowing what Bishop actually did and what his background was, he was impossible to predict, and that was what made him so dangerous.
"Didn't your mother teach you that it's rude to stare?"
His voice lacked any overt aggression, but she still tore her eyes away from him quickly and found a spot on the dark ground to focus on.
Blast it, he didn't even look up.
"No," she replied, managing not to sound entirely like a scared little girl. There was a small pause before she had collected herself enough to say more, to show him she wasn't intimidated. "She never got around to much of that."
He made a sound of amusement. "Obviously."
When she remained silent, he went back to mending his clothes.
Oh, very clever, Storm, you really showed him, didn't you?
The drawling voice in her head sounded like Wyl's. She recoiled in horror.
Shut up, shut up, shut up!
She put her hands behind her back and pushed hard against the rough, cold tree bark, feeling its ridges and groves. The edges pressed painfully into her skin, which gave her something else to focus upon than the rapidly worsening redness of her cheeks. Pain was good, at least when it could be used to distract from something she could not handle quite as well.
Just stay calm, and for the sake of the upper planes, don't give him reason to look at you.
She closed her eyes and focused upon the crackling of the fire and the wind rustling the treetops. It was a stupid thing to do while keeping watch, but it was cold enough for her breath to mist even with the fire nearby. She was certain that there was no possible way she would fall asleep standing while freezing miserably, even with her eyes shut.
"Died in childbirth, did she?"
Her eyes snapped back open when she realized that the question was addressed to her. To whom else, you idiot? her mind interjected.
"Or was she just a whore with better things to do than raise an inconvenience, I wonder."
It took her a moment to remember that he was talking about her mother. His words would have been more of an insult if she actually gave two coppers about the woman who had birthed her. But Esmerelle Storm had left the world long before her daughter might have had a chance to remember her, dying for, as Daeghun had phrased it, a greater cause.
"It was the war, actually," she found herself answering Bishop's implied question, much to her surprise.
He frowned at her across the fire, looking… interested. And not all that hostile, for once. It was a bit weird, actually, and she was not sure what to think of it. She kept her guard up though – she was not stupid enough to say a single word to Bishop without careful consideration of whether he might be able to use that information against her.
"The Neverwinter-Luskan war?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Before that. When the greycloaks faced down some shadow entity's army and my village ended up hosting the spectacle. I was told she died protecting some villagers."
Brianna knew she sounded dismissive, but it hardly mattered. She was doubtful Bishop would care, at any rate. She was not even sure she could trust Daeghun's version of the tale. For all she knew, Esmerelle Storm might have fled with the rest of them and been struck down from the back.
"You must be so proud," Bishop purred, voice dripping with sarcasm.
In that, at least, she could match him.
"Simply ecstatic," she agreed.
Who wouldn't be proud of their mother dying an utterly pointless death, after all? If Daeghun's version holds true, she went into the fight not even considering that she had a daughter to come back to who might just possibly desire getting to know her at some point in her life.
"So what about your own mother, hm?" The feelings bubbling up inside her called for a desperate change of topic, so she went ahead with it, ignoring her fears. "Considering how obsessed you seem with whores…"
"Nice try, swamp girl," he snorted.
"Just calling it as I see it," she shrugged, still awed by her sudden bravery.
He finished up on his sewing work and neatly folded the tunic he had been working on before leaning back onto his hands and looking at her.
"Nothing wrong with a good, cheap whore, swamp girl. Nothing at all."
Somehow, she was not surprised at all that he would think so.
"Are you still talking about your mother?"
She figured there'd be hell to pay for that one. To her surprise, however, he didn't find it nearly as offensive as she had hoped, and even gave her a crooked grin.
"I did hear that the little goat used to do it for money," he remarked. "Wonder if she'd be up for a tumble."
Her insides turned to ice as she imagined the ranger giving Neeshka a hard time. "Don't you dare."
"Jealous, swamp girl?" he asked, but before she could even begin to think of a reply, the wolf scrambled to stand and growled, unmistakably alerted.
The hairs at the back of her neck stood up. She had not even registered Bishop picking up his bow, but he was holding an arrow at the ready while she still fumbled with her crossbow. Twigs snapped in the undergrowth, beyond the circle of the fire's illumination.
For several long moments, they both stood, silent and tense. Then another twig snapped.
"Not an animal, I think," the ranger stated flatly. "Bit light for a fully grown human, though."
"Show yourself, then," Brianna called into the thicket. "Else we will let loose a few arrows and bolts, and one of them is sure to hit."
More leaves rustling and twigs breaking, and then a small figure stepped timidly out of the shadow of the trees and into the circle of firelight.
It was a boy, a human one, probably no older than ten or so. Right away it was obvious to Brianna that he was far too thin for his age, his arms like twigs and his filthy clothes hanging off his small frame. Dark eyes in a pale, freckled face stared up at them.
"And here I was afraid it would be that lunatic half-pint bard you brought to the Flagon." Bishop lowered his bow, glaring. "Beat it, kid. Nothing for you here."
The boy's expression didn't change, but his head turned towards Brianna.
Trying to play on my motherly instincts isn't going to work, boy.
"You can stop with the puppy eyes," she told him. "I'm not impressed. And no, I haven't got any food for you."
The head swiveled back towards Bishop.
"I'm not going to repeat myself," the ranger growled. The boy took a step back.
If Casavir were awake, he would give me the dressing down of my life for chasing off a poor little boy, Brianna thought, amused. A quick glance assured her, however, that the paladin remained fast asleep in his bedroll. As though the gods were punishing her for the insolence, her nose began to itch and she sneezed thrice in a row.
She cursed the cold and the gods both, for good measure. Something occurred to her then, and she turned back towards the boy, who had taken another step back. They were, after all, camped not far from the village.
"Did you see what happened at Ember, boy?" she called out to him.
He hesitated for a moment, the nodded.
Might be lying, but I'll find that out quite quickly.
"Can you talk?"
Another nod. Brianna waved him closer and ignored the look of displeasure on Bishop's face.
"You do realize that he'll make off with half of your possessions?" the ranger asked.
Outwardly, she ignored him, though keeping his warning in mind. As unhelpful as the young woman, Elaine, had been, this was another chance for her to gain information about the githyanki she was after. Of course, it would be best to know who exactly she was dealing with, first.
"Are you from Ember?"
"Sort of," the boy answered. His voice was darker and deeper than Brianna had expected, and she wondered whether malnourishment made him look younger than he was.
"He's a stray," Bishop said dismissively. "Gets handouts from some of the villagers, I bet."
The boy nodded again.
It didn't look to Brianna as though Ember had done a particularly good job taking care of this boy, if that was indeed the case. His sunken cheeks spoke volumes.
But a child ending up like this was not a rare thing, and Brianna felt no surprise, nor pity. The boy should be glad someone gave him handouts every once in a while. Who else would bother to take care of a child that had lost its parents or been abandoned for one reason or another?
You mean those that aren't taken in by grumpy elven foster fathers? a little voice inside her head asked.
Brianna set her jaw. That doesn't mean I have to feel sorry for him. His lot in life isn't my fault, or my business.
She raised her eyes to look at the boy again, who was still standing there looking uncertain.
"What's your name, then?" she asked. "You do have a name, don't you?"
"Marcus," he replied.
"Well, sit down already."
She pointed to a spot near the fire, where he could get warmed up a bit. As the boy inched closer, Bishop crossed his arms before his chest.
"That little rat tries to take anything of mine and he'll lose his hands."
Brianna ignored that, too, and focused on Marcus. The boy's movements as he sat were sluggish and timid, as though his body had very little strength. He hugged his knees to his chest protectively.
"I want to know what you saw at Ember," she told him. "The more you tell me, the longer you can stay. But don't try to lie. I'll know."
Marcus nodded slowly, his eyes focused on her.
"The pigs were afraid," he said. "That's how I knew. I sleep in the pigsty when it gets cold. Pigs are smart, and when I saw they were afraid, I was afraid too."
Bishop scoffed at that and busied himself with his pack. Brianna, however, continued to listen, trying to ignore her still-itching nose.
"I told Tomas. I've told him before when I saw things. He lost a cow to a wolf pack once, all mangled and torn apart poor Lindy was, so I told him about it and he guarded the cows with his dogs that evening. He believed me that time, and he gave me a whole copper, after. But he didn't believe me about the green men, the ones who look like they're sick."
Brianna mentally sorted through Marcus' confused narration. The boy was rocking back and forth as he spoke, as though trying to comfort himself. Of course, Brianna couldn't fault the boy for being distracted by the ranger, who had taken bread and hard cheese out of his pack and was probably getting a kick out of slicing them and eating them down in front of the starving child.
"So then what?" she redirected Marcus' attention. "You haven't told me anything useful, yet."
The boy hurriedly tried to rectify that.
"Tomas said I was making it up. He said I was just out for another copper. But then the green men really did come, and everyone was just as scared as I was."
Brianna leaned back against the tree again as Marcus recounted the terror everyone at Ember had felt as the Githyanki had invaded the village. As the boy talked, she felt bizarrely thrown back to sitting by the river with Amie as her own village was invaded. Much as she despised West Harbor, she could not help but feel a certain amount of pride and reassurance by the fact that her own village had not cowered in fear.
Then again, West Harbor left me enough of a mess to sort out for them.
Only when she noticed Marcus' terrified stare did Brianna realize that she was scowling. She deliberately softened her expression, trying to coax more details from the boy.
"Where did all of the villagers go, then? And why aren't you with them?"
"They were all so scared they didn't pay me much attention," Marcus replied. "I slipped away from them all and the green men both as they were herdin' the cows. I knew I had to, an' they didn't care to see me gone. They never do." He shuffled his toes in the dirt and seemed suddenly reluctant to meet her eyes.
"As for where they went, I can't say for sure, but there's a grove further to the east I know of, an' they were all heading that way, cows and pigs and all."
"And now that you've told us all about the things we don't care about, how about getting to the useful bit?" Bishop was glaring across the fire. The flickering light put deep shadows on his face, and while Brianna had gotten used to seeing that menacing look the ranger pulled off so well, Marcus looked nervous.
"What bit?" he asked in a thin voice.
Bishop dropped the cloth he'd been holding back into his pack, looking disgusted.
"How many gith went on with the farm girl? And how much time passed from their leaving to our arrival? Did you hear them say anything about why they were there, or where they were planning on going?"
Marcus, stuttering, tried to answer all of the questions at once. Brianna, meanwhile, realized that she should have been the one asking these questions, but she hadn't been thinking straight for a while now. She lowered her head and hid her face behind her thick, dark curls to keep her expression from showing. Keeping her guard up and her face neutral around the ranger was getting to be draining.
"Are you even listening?" The low, hissed question made her clench her hands into fists. "Or were you planning to keep getting us half-killed by every green-skin we encounter?"
She shook the hair from her face so she could properly glare at Bishop.
"I was listening perfectly well until you interrupted him, but thanks for checking."
"So for a change, you'll actually have a plan next time around?"
She kept glaring, though she was unsure what he was getting at. "We're still alive, aren't we?"
"And thank the gods the gith in that last ambush were mere foot soldiers, and stupid ones at that, because the way you marched into that village, anyone with half a brain and a little muscle could have killed the lot of us without much of a fuss."
The sad thing was, he had a point once again. She loathed to admit to herself that he did. They had wasted nearly half of their healing potion supply after the ambush at Ember, and she could have approached the situation much more cleverly. She knew she had the brains to formulate better plans. Her problem was that she'd been too occupied dealing with Bishop and mulling over Casavir's opinions of leadership and being just flat out worried that Shandra would die before revealing everything that Brianna so desperately needed to know.
"Don't you worry," she said, her mouth suddenly dry. "I won't get us all killed."
It was an empty phrase, and he was sure to know it.
"Now, you see, I'm not so sure about that, swamp girl. My debt to your uncle may have compelled me to come this far, but it's not enough to get myself killed over."
She shrugged and molded her face into a mask, even slightly pulling up one corner of her mouth, looking to all the world as though what the ranger said didn't affect her at all.
"Once we run into real trouble, I'll waste my time thinking about it," she replied coolly.
Bishop flung a bit of wood into the fire and reached for his bread again without a reply. She took that to mean their little talk was over, and turned back to Marcus.
The boy was staring at Bishop's hands. The ranger noticed, scowled and got to his feet without another word. Brianna nudged Marcus as Bishop walked towards the trees.
"I wouldn't keep doing that if I were you," she suggested. "I know you haven't eaten, and he's certainly rude about it, but I wouldn't put it past him to hurt you just for staring at his food."
Marcus shook his head.
"Not the food," he replied then, voice shaking, and pressed his lips together so hard they formed a thin, white line. His eyes were wide as they met hers.
She swallowed hard when she realized that she was not looking into the eyes of a young boy. These were the eyes of an old man, wise and weary and filled with the sort of pain it took most people a lifetime to truly feel.
"The knife," Marcus said suddenly, pulling her back into the present.
Brianna had just about had enough of the antics and the definite strangeness. She was beyond tired, and she had too much to worry about to put up with Marcus' odd behavior on top of it.
"You should leave," she suggested, trying to keep her tone nice. "I need to go to sleep, anyway, and you can't be here much longer."
The boy kept his head lowered. She saw the muscles of his scrawny throat move as he swallowed nervously.
"Please," he said in a thin, high voice. "May I ask for something? I…"
Brianna had had enough. She shouldn't have been surprised her charity would lead to begging, she supposed, but that didn't mean she had to like it.
"I need you gone, now," she said, climbing to her feet. Marcus scrambled.
"But… th-the knife," he stuttered, wringing his hands nervously. "A-a-and what I saw, the things I saw, I need… without it…there's just the darkness. Just the darkness left, an' me gobbled up inside it."
He paled as Brianna stepped forward, and finally fell silent with a quiet nod.
"As you wish, Ma'am," he whispered. "I won't be seeing you again then, I think. But, maybe I will. I can't tell quite yet."
"Seeing me again?" Brianna very nearly made a face. "I hope not. I've no desire to return to this town, if I can help it."
"You will though," Marcus hurried to assure her. "First just a shell, a vessel, and then proper you. Proper you is nicer, I think, despite all that's as broken and burned as good old Ember inside."
"What, by all the ice in Cania, are you babbling about?" Brianna asked, and turned to pick up her cloak. When she looked up again, Marcus was gone. She was stunned to realize it.
I should have heard him leave.
She did not, though. The woods remained silent, no matter how much she strained to listen. Eventually, she rubbed her numb hands together and tried to push the entire strange encounter with Marcus out of her mind for the time being. Her patience had worn decidedly thin, and she was mostly glad to see him gone, anyway.
Finally, time to catch a little bit of sleep.
It was tempting to kick Qara in the ribs and pretend the ranger had done it, but she settled for shaking the sorceress awake none too gently. As Qara's slight snoring ceased, Brianna sat back and waited for the girl to struggle into consciousness. Qara was a heavy sleeper and generally needed a few minutes until she was fully awake.
"Rise and shine," she said cheerfully, because she knew Qara would hate it. The sorceress seemed to try for a glare, but her eyes wouldn't cooperate yet.
"Too early," Qara muttered and ran her hands through her hair. "Stupid watch." She yawned heartily and finally climbed out of her bedroll, only to glance towards the fire pit and freeze.
"What did you do?" she whispered, eyes wide and suddenly appearing fully awake. "What did you do?"
"I didn't… what?" Brianna glanced in the same direction Qara was staring and tried to discern what the sorceress was looking at. "I kept watch and had a chat with Bishop and a stray – what in the nine hells are you doing?"
Qara had stepped forward next to the fire and was grasping at the empty air. Brianna spent a moment wondering whether Qara had actually gone off the deep end. She wouldn't have been surprised.
"Power," Qara said, sounding awed. "There's so much magic in the air, I can barely see anything else. It's brighter than the fire, just hanging there."
Brianna couldn't see anything, but since she was not a mage, that was not exactly a surprise.
"What did you do?" Qara asked again. "Something must have happened here."
"I tried a few demon summoning spells," Brianna replied sarcastically. "Since I'm secretly such a powerful mage and all. Seriously, nothing happened at all. I was sitting here talking to this boy, and-"
"What boy?" Qara asked, still wandering round the fire waving her hands at the air. "Was he sitting there? Everything glows so strongly it hurts my eyes."
She was pointing at the spot where Marcus had sat. Brianna frowned as she considered this new turn of events.
"You're saying that Marcus has strong magic? How is that even possible?"
For the first time since she had known Qara, the sorceress was looking excited about something and there was a healthy glow on her face.
"A polymorphed devil, maybe," the other girl suggested. "Did he try to make any deals with you? Trick you into giving anything away?"
"No," Brianna replied.
"Oh! Did he have any strange marks on his skin, or maybe golden eyes? If he was god-touched…"
"No marks where I could see them." Brianna stepped closer, and her nose promptly itched again.
"Hm. He might have just been very gifted." Qara traced invisible swirls with her fingertip. "Divination, maybe. Did he make any strange predictions?"
"No, he…" Brianna froze mid-sentence as she tried to recall Marcus' convoluted stories. "Actually, I think he did."
"There you have it, then," Qara said matter-of-factly. "I wish I could have met him."
How very annoying this was. Access to powerful divination magic, and she had not known until it was too late to ask any useful questions.
"I should have realized it, too." The realization did nothing to improve Brianna's mood. "He was just so very strange. My nose itched too, all the way through, I should have known right away what that meant. Next time I'll know to wake you." She sank onto her bedroll, still irritated as she considered this new turn of events. Marcus had been so terrified near the end, when he had tried to ask her for something. She wondered now whether he could see something in the future that scared him so.
In the morning, as they were packing up camp, Brianna had made up her mind. She did not want to keep wondering about Marcus, but at the same time, she knew that she would not stop until she knew the truth about the boy one way or another. If she saw him again, maybe she would be able to get him to make an actual prediction for her.
"Your knife," she said, looming over Bishop as the ranger rolled up his bedding. "May I borrow it please?"
Marcus had stared at the object, not at the food the ranger had been eating the night before. "The knife," he had stuttered, before trailing off, terrified. She had remembered it just before drifting off to sleep, and decided that this was as likely a key to the mystery as anything. Unfortunately, but unsurprisingly, Bishop was not in a cooperating mood.
"No," he replied shortly.
She hadn't really expected it to work, but neither was she about to give up.
"It's important," she told him. "You'll get it back." That was a lie, of course. She had no idea whether they'd see the knife again. "And I'll even buy you an extra one as soon as we get back to civilization."
"I said no," Bishop repeated.
"And I don't care." She was so fed up with him walking all over her, but still she considered how much gold she had left. "Look, I'll pay you, but I need that knife. I can't go after Shandra until I have it, meaning you can't even work of your debt without giving it to me."
He spun around to face her, and stepped close. His breath on her face was an unpleasant sensation she could have done without. She knew not to flinch, however.
"What in the hells are you playing at?" he growled.
"Not playing." She brought her hand between them for distance as much as to make a point, and held it palm up. "Knife."
He mirrored her movement. "Payment," he imitated her tone. "And you can take your threats and shove them, swamp girl, because you're not nearly as scary as you like to think."
She knew she would have to give him something. Sick as she was of him blackmailing her for his gain, she told herself one day she would find a way to pay him back in kind. If any of it would even matter in a few days.
Once I've gotten Duncan to tell me what his hold over Bishop is.
She reached up and undid the clasp of her necklace deliberately slowly. Neeshka would be upset for days if she ever found out Brianna had passed the tiefling's gift on to the ranger. After all, Neesh had already lost her ring to the man. Luckily though, the tiefling was off fetching water.
"Even trade," she said and held out the delicate charm. "You know it's magical. It'll help you survive, since that seems to be your main concern. And you'll get the knife back, too."
Bishop's eyes narrowed. "I'd better," he said. "Else…"
"Else you'll remove my innards as I watch, use me for target practice and tell my uncle I've been bad. Probably in that order. Yes, I get your point." She wrapped her fingers around the knife's handle before he changed his mind, and dropped the necklace into his palm. His hand closed around it and he snatched it towards him as though expecting a trick.
Finding out more about Marcus' magic better be worth this.
She left the knife in the hollow beneath a particularly gnarly tree root, well concealed. If Marcus really had the gift of divination, she figured, he would know the spot. If not, she could pass by this place on the journey back and pick up the knife again.
Of course, it was also possible they would all be killed by githyanki and therefore unable to make the journey back. In that case, she decided generously, Marcus could feel free to be happy with the knife for all eternity.