-1King of Shadows, Queen of Light
English is not my native language. I appreciate any constructive corrections. It really helps me to get better, so please feel free to leave a review. Thanks for all of those who have already done so—you guys are great!
A note to those historically minded: the answer Arrighan gives to Mother Superior about her being in Tyr's grace was shamelessly paraphrased from the famous answer Joan of Arc gave at her trial; the parallel is fully intentional.
For this chapter the following songs were played, lending inspiration: Maranatha (Come, Lord) from Lisa Gerrard and Patrick Cassidy's Immortal Memory, Divenire from Ludovico Einaudi's Divenire and The Tree from Capercaille's Beautiful Wasteland.
And the usual disclaimer: I strongly regret that I do not own any of the main characters, especially a certain paladin… The Pendwyr girl is entirely my fault, though. J
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Becoming
Oleff's personal suite was rather impressive; so was the speed and efficiency with which the two of us were whisked to it once the ceremony was over.
"But the Waterdeep delegation…" I tried to say something, but the priestess by my side just shook her head, mouthed 'later, Sister, later' and continued to politely but firmly steer me towards the side door. From the corner of my eye I could see that a blue and purple-clad priest was doing the exact same thing to Casavir, who made a little apologetic bow towards the Waterdhavians getting out of their pews behind us, with the practiced ease of a courtier, probably accompanied by a murmured phrase to the effect of 'apologies, but the head of the local Church is awfully pushy and insensitive towards diplomatic matters'…
I shook my head to get those thoughts out of it; they were highly inappropriate, even though that was sure how it looked at the moment. Of course, I also knew that Casavir, proper and perfectly raised blueblood that he was, would never have had even implied anything like that, not even with his aura swirling with the colors of surprise and slight nervousness: orange and a bit of gray.
The head of Neverwinter's Tyrran church had a series of rooms on the first floor of the Chapterhouse directly adjacent to the Temple, directly above the Hall of Gatherings where the chapter council held its meetings. The gracefully arched windows of his receiving room overlooked the inner courtyard and its cloister. It was a clear winter morning on this first day of Uktar, and so the sun was streaming in through the panels of colored glass, painting prisms of crimson, azure and purple on the glazed tile floor and the oak furniture.
"I guess no chance of finding comfortable couches here." I muttered to myself; not that I expected to see anything like that. This was one of those stern and slightly intimidating rooms I imagined while growing up as places where high nobles and clergy lived: vaulted ceilings, stone walls, statues of Tyr and other religious carvings strewn about, a couple of rugs on the tiled floor, heavy oak tables, chairs and chests.
"For that, I am afraid, you'd need to go somewhere else, Sister." A cool voice rang out from one of the high-backed chairs near the table, and a compact, wiry woman with closely-cropped hair the color of steel blades, rose to greet me with the customary handshake of warriors. "His Honor is in his private chapel beyond that door, Brother." She nodded to Casavir who all of a sudden snapped to attention, his blue eyes widening in recognition and surprise at her sight. "He requests that you join him there while Sister Pendwyr and I have this… conversation."
"At once, Mother Superior." I've never heard him turning out such a crisp military answer, not even to Callum, his commander at Old Owl Well. He did a stiff nod, a turnabout on his heels, and before I could even blink, he was through the door and disappeared from my view.
"Well, now." The woman shook her head. "At least that he remembered from what I taught him." Her light gray eyes regarded me for a second. "I am Hadewiga Brangen; I used to serve in the Halls of Justice here as an instructor. "
"I am honored. " She was called 'Mother Superior" by Casavir--that was a title reserved for female heads of independent chapterhouses amongst the paladins of Tyr. Hlam was titled 'Prior' only as the paladins of Tyr in the city of Neverwinter cohabited with the clerics and monks of the Even-Handed at the Halls of Justice under the all-encompassing leadership of Reverend Judge Oleff. Technically she outranked everyone here, then, except Oleff. "I recall Casavir mentioning one of his lady instructors to me with fond words." I said, trying to lighten the mood. She seemed very cool and collected, but distant.
"Must not have been me, then." She sat back on her chair and beckoned me to take the one facing her on the other side of the window. "He never would have used my name and 'fond of' in the same sentence." A brief, tight-lipped smile followed that remark, and that, like sunlight, all of a sudden showed me something of the personality of this woman: grey steel, streaked with the blue lightning of the god, tempered with the fires of many, many battles, fought on the battlefield, and… elsewhere.
"I am not entirely sure why…" I started, then mentally slapped myself. I was talking to a paladin, after all. Straight questions, straight answers.
I've been a Watch officer for too long, apparently.
"Mother Superior, to what do I owe the high honor of a personal audience with you?" I asked instead, while trying to make myself comfortable in the chair indicated.
"I came with the Waterdeep delegation for your trial, Sister." she answered in her precise, cool voice. "I am to have a personal examination of you." With that tight-lipped smile, she leaned back in her chair, keeping her eyes on me. "I am heading the Holy Office of Inquisition in Waterdeep."
"You are… " That came out of my mouth almost exactly the same time as I heard Casavir's enraged bellow from beyond the chapel door, loud enough to be clearly audible through the thick oak and stone walls, and to echo in the astral realm just as strongly with violet and purple waves.
"WHAT?" Heavy, almost running steps, and the door was burst open, before I could even draw a breath. Casavir appeared, almost as if propelled by the storm of his rage and anger, with Oleff at his wake, trying to restrain him in vain. "By the Hammer, Your Honor, I don't care if Piergeiron himself sent her, I will not allow…"
"Control, Casavir Korranos, control." Mother Hadewiga was out of her chair and staring calmly up at Casavir who was about a head taller. "I always tried to teach you that… I can see now why the orcs of Old Owl Well named you with one of their spirit names."
"Calm down, son." Oleff placed a hand on his arm, shaking his head. I could see a little amused smile on his lips and that made me feel a bit better; I realized my heart raced way too fast, partially in reaction of Hadewiga's revelation, partially due to my connection to Casavir. "You are not doing yourself, or to her, any good by losing your temper in such a manner."
"But the Inquisition!" His azure eyes held silver flame in them as he glared at Hadewiga. "Mother Superior, how can you for a moment…"
"You forgot a lot about politics since you left your fair city, I see." she said, calmly sitting back in her chair. "I wished to do this differently, but I see now that the bond between the two of you is already too strong. Sit, then, and try to breathe normally: no one will do any harm to Sister Pendwyr here. Otherwise why would it be me who volunteered to accompany the delegation?" She shook her head. " Truly, Casavir--you were my favorite pupil during my career as an instructor, but I see that you need some serious refreshers of self-discipline."
I snorted reflexively, and they all looked at me with varied expressions of surprise.
"I'm sorry." I said, knowing that the grin that spread on my face was entirely inappropriate for the occasion. "I really don't mean to be disrespectful here or anything. But if I've ever known someone with almost perfect self-control, it would be him." I wasn't sure why my supposedly existing courtly manners stopped working all of a sudden; I even had a slight West Harbor accent creeping back to my voice. I caught a rather startled look from Casavir--but as he observed the smile on my face, he calmed down visibly fast enough.
"I appreciate the concern, Casavir." I told him, to reinforce that feeling. "I'm, however, sure that this is nothing more but the usual caution that anyone in the position of…" I recalled the name and its pronunciation successfully from my rudimentary studies of Northern lore with Brother Merring, "…Lord Piergeiron of Waterdeep would wish to exercise." I took a deep breath and saw the glint of reluctant approval in Hadewiga's gray eyes. "So the fact that it is your old tutor who came to sniff out whether I'm a witch or not is actually a compliment. At least I'll take it as such."
"You have guts, girl." Hadewiga slapped her knee and leaned forward in her chair to look at me better. "I give you that. That counts a lot amongst us; you know that there are very few of us who see our fortieth birthday. Tyr's paladins are always in the frontline of wherever evil should be fought."
I nodded, not taking my eyes off her: I felt calm all of a sudden, as if, yet again, I was set on a path than I knew I had to walk but on which I was not alone.
"So I take it this is one of those steps in some deep political game that silly frontline warriors such as Casavir and I cannot fathom?" I managed a suitably neutral expression.
"I don't think you'll have any problems maneuvering the circles of nobility when it comes to that, girl." said Hadewiga dryly and looked at Oleff. "Might as well sit down, you two; I suspect this is Our Lord's punishment for all my past sins." She waited until the two men took their seats then turned her attention back to me.
"The Lord Piergeiron is your Nasher's staunchest ally against the Luskan threat. And since he is, at the same time, the head of our order in Waterdeep, he personally selected me to carry out this particular assignment, before the Council sends someone else. The delegation that came to observe the trial was not simply composed of Tyr's warriors you saw in the Temple today." I vaguely recalled some richly dressed nobles and merchants with the insignia of Waterdeep on their robes and doublets sitting amongst the visiting dignitaries at my trial. "There are sixteen Lords of Waterdeep, and only one of them is Unmasked."
"So they want to know if I am a fake?" I asked, a bit impatient. "I thought we were over this…"
"No, Arrighan." Casavir's voice was back to its cool, formal tones, but there was a deeper hurt there somewhere, one that I instantly became aware of. "There is much more to it than that. The Lords of Waterdeep sent their diplomats and merchants to sniff out how the balance would shift with another of Tyr's Champions in Neverwinter. " I reminded myself that Nasher himself was dedicated to the Even-Handed, even though he was no paladin. "Once here, and confronted with the fact in the court hall during your trial and later, at the arena, that you were indeed who you were, and seeing the evidence of my return to the city, they had to improvise, and fast." He bowed slightly towards Hadewiga. "Mother Superior, if you would accept my apologies; you may impose whatever punishment you see fitting for the rude behavior I exhibited. I can see now that what you are trying to accomplish is for the good of us all, and for the strengthening of the alliance between Lord Piergeiron and Lord Nasher."
"Indeed." The woman inclined her head. "I accept your apology; however, I think it prudent to let the High Justiciar here handle the matters of his own flock. I am already thrust into a situation where I should meddle more in Neverwinter's internal affairs than I care for." There was a quick smile towards Casavir. "Your assessment of what's transpiring is astute, Lord Korranos. I see that you, after all, are capable of some self-control such as… your lady claims."
I felt myself flush crimson at her addressing me like that, and sensed some deep amusement from both her and Oleff as they regarded us with their clear gaze almost in unison.
"Come now, child." Oleff's voice was almost gentle. "Obviously one of the reasons I needed to talk to you two was your recent… bond you formed."
"It isn't recent." I muttered, even though I sounded rather petulant even to my own ears. I felt a bit offended, though. How could they think that this was nothing more but a…
"Of course your feelings are not just sprung up on a moment's notice, Arrighan." The High Justiciar's voice was chiding now. "And of course this is… must be… rather uncomfortable for you. For the both of you." he said, glancing at Casavir who sat with absolutely no expression on his face--I knew from the swirling of his aura, though, that he was everything but unemotional right this moment. "But I sensed a change in you two the moment you entered the sacristy before the service… and I have to make sure…"
"You have to make sure…" I said slowly, rolling the words on my tongue carefully, so my enunciation was as crisp and clear as his. "Why?"
"Pardon?" Oleff sounded taken aback by my question, and that almost tipped me over the edge. What he said last, however, definitely did. "What do you mean, child?"
There's that word again.
I really, really start to get tired of that word.
"Just that." I felt my words heating up, despite my efforts to stay calm and collected." I'm a simple soul, after all. Why do you have to make sure and what exactly is the thing you need to make sure of?" I lifted my gaze from my knuckles slowly and looked at them. It was all well if they needed to be sure about me being a trie paladin and one called by the One-Handed…but to pry into my deepest personal feelings and affairs with which I myself only recently came to terms?…"That I didn't bewitch Casavir with my womanly viles? That he didn't fool around with Tyr's Chosen like some noble son with the tenant's daughter in the haystack?" As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew, with the weight of all the power the god ever gave me, that that was exactly it, however crudely it sounded.
Sometimes Truth was crude, yes.
I didn't have to use the Sight; I couldn't have dared anyway-- this was the High Justiciar of Neverwinter, and the Inquisitor of Tyr from Waterdeep, after all, and doing something like that would have invoked instant excommunication. But as surely as I knew when Aevan, my teacher spoke to me the first time about the Even-Handed, that being His warrior was my path in life, I knew that these two attempted to meddle, to control, to influence… They did it driven by the best intentions, to be sure… but this was my life, and Casavir's, and we have proven ourselves countless times as full adults and shed our blood enough for Neverwinter and Tyr.
We surely deserved more trust than this.
Before I knew, I was out of my chair and drawing myself up to my full height, my words coming precise and biting like a good sword strikes its target.
"Why, Mother Superior, do you want to send the men out so you can examine me to see if my maidenhead is still intact?" I felt the marks on my face heat up, and the same feeling welling up in me like in that carriage back from the cemetery when I faced down three men over what I felt, what I knew was narrow-minded bickering. "Your Honor, did you plan on using Truthsaying on Casavir to see if he went farther in binding himself to me then he already has confessed to both you and Prior Hlam previously?"
I felt the silver heat of my anger rippling through the air like a whiplash, silver lightning crackling and whistling.
"Or can you both trust us to do what is right and what needs to be done, as brother and sister to you in Tyr, trust us as Chosen and her Champion… that we walk His way the way we do, in His light and with His blessing? Can you, High Justiciar of Neverwinter and Inquisitor of Waterdeep trust us the way Our Lord does?"
I let that silver power coil around me, and looked at them again. Both Oleff and Hadewiga were pressed into their chairs, faces white like marble, veins pale blue on their foreheads.
"Mother Superior, Inquisitor of Waterdeep, who question whether I am in Our Lord's grace, I tell you this: if I am not, may Tyr put me there; and if I am, may Tyr so keep me. Tell the Lord Piergeiron and the Masked Lords that Neverwinter is, and always will be true to the Maimed God. Whatever this new power, the rising of which trouble their dreams, is, we will face it together." I remembered those masked Shadow Priests, the hovering, hungry shadows of dead acolytes, the vision of an enormous, horned dark figure towering over me in the ring of five statues…
Chosen of the Even-Handed.
I took a deep breath and finally voiced what I knew in my heart of hearts for a while now.
"I was called to face it. Tell them that Tyr's Chosen will be ready when the time comes."
I wasn't exactly sure how I found the exit, but next time I actually was aware of my surroundings, I was outside the Halls of Justice, breathing just a little bit heavier than normal, walking down the avenue leading towards the bridge. It was sunny still, but windy. I felt the folds of my cloak open and spread around me-- just like the great city of Neverwinter opened up and took me in the moment I entered its gates months ago. I knew now that I belonged here, just like I belonged to West Harbor, and that my heart would always be in two places. Wherever the god's will would take me, the city and the village, like the two twin parts of my heart and soul, celestial and human, would forever be my homes in equal measure--until, perhaps, one day, I shall be granted another.
I didn't slow down--I knew he would catch up with me.
He always did.
Again, we didn't say a word for a good while, but words were not needed. I could feel he was trying very hard to maintain a kind of blank façade over his aura and emotions as well as over his face--I let him do that for a while, then, halfway into the Docks already, I shook my head exasperatedly, slowed down and caught his arm.
"Don't." I measured between my teeth.
"Pardon?" He was so deep in his own head that it took him a couple of seconds to register I was by his side and to reply.
"Don't shield from me, please." I hoped I didn't sound to harsh or cold; my voice, I knew, must have been a bit hoarse from all the emotions I used up in Oleff's rooms. "Truth you asked from me. Can I have the same from you?"
"I have no intentions to hide anything from you, my lady." His deep, thoughtful voice felt to me like spring water to a pilgrim after a long day of travel. I realized that, after all, I missed it. "I merely attempted to test a theory about our… bond." He cast a long gaze towards me. "I should have realized, however, how it might seem to you especially after what happened back there, and for that I apologize." He bowed slightly, with impeccable grace, and it was all of a sudden I who felt ashamed by even thinking that he tried to cover his inner self from me. "You had, of course, been in the right: Waterdeep should not have attempted to send a witch-sniffer after you, and I believe the High Justiciar committed an error in judgment allowing the Mother Superior access to you."
"I can hardly believe he could have refused." I said; I wasn't sure enough in my knowledge of the hierarchy of Tyr's Church to make a meaningful comment on that--I made a mental note, however, to ask Casavir about it later.
"Refused, no. " he said. "He, however, could have notified you ahead of time, instead of simply putting you into such situation."
"And you." I smiled at the memory. "I don't think I've heard you bellowing like that, not even in battle, ever."
"With just cause, my lady, even I am allowed to lose a bit of my self-control, I believe." He lifted an eyebrow with a decidedly self-mocking twist of his lips in return. I looked at him fondly; I started to suspect that behind the calm and collected façade of Casavir, paladin of Tyr, there was something much more similar to what gave the Neverwinter River its ability to never to freeze over: the always fiery heart of Mount Hotenow. I caught myself realizing that I wished to see more of that side of his.
"I deeply respect Mother Superior Hadewiga, you surely understand that, my lady." he continued, after I chuckled a bit over that remark about his self-control. "She was my best tutor with the sword and with the discipline of mind at my most vulnerable and thus most impressionable age: from fourteen through eighteen. I will never lose the respect I feel towards her for that; however, I can now see how she can be too rigid and unbending in following the orders of her superiors and how she can be placing the 'greater good' above the weight of an individual's needs in all cases, without exception." He shrugged. "You might feel this is an unorthodox view for a formally trained Tyr paladin, my lady. The Even-Handed knows, I felt alone enough after my first two-year assignment out in the frontlines at Old Owl Well as Callum's adjutant when I had to return to the city for a brief time. But in addition to that, spending almost ten years away from Neverwinter in wood and mountain can teach much in the way of seeing a lot in a different light, and more." He smiled briefly. "And after, time spent in your company, my lady, allowed me a deeper understanding of my past, and strengthened the resolve of not committing the same mistakes some of my superiors can be prone to."
"Just watch out that you are not accused with heresy…" I murmured cautiously. "Do I understand that Oleff and Hlam eventually need to account for the risk they've taken with me?"
"The only body that could do that is the Grand Council of the Church, my lady, and that was last time called together for no smaller matter but for the Time of Troubles." He shook his head. "I should like to think that our church has better things to do on the lands of Faerun near and far than to fall into the same trap Helm's followers did after their Maztican adventures… but that's a tale for another day." he added as he saw my expression of confusion. I had no idea what he was talking about.
"No, really, I would like to know about the Helmites and… Maztica?" I pronounced the name carefully.
"The land of Maztica is where your most beloved chocolate comes from, my lady." he said, with deep amusement evident in his voice. "However, I think that story and other historical and educational topics we should perhaps reserve for our dinner tonight?"
"Oh." I almost blushed; I nearly forgot that. "Of course."
"I should spend the afternoon with some errands, my lady, but shall we make use of your uncle's excellent Neverwintan clock and meet up at, say, at the stroke of six bells?" Obviously he thought about this ahead of time, and probably very carefully; that phrase was just a tad too smooth. I felt my coming smile almost splitting my face.
"Sure." I was relatively sure my voice sounded sufficiently normal. "That sounds… uh, perfect."
Great, just great, Rig… I heard my inner voice say. One minute you word-smite the High Inquisitor of Waterdeep with perfect theological conundrums, and the other you grin like a sixteen-year-old village girl and lose whatever little dignity you possess just because you realize yet again that the man you go to dinner with actually cares…?
That sixth bell couldn't come fast enough, of course. I had to work a fair bit that afternoon, myself, so truth to tell, I barely noticed his absence once I sat down. There was still a stack of unanswered invitations on that table in our operations room that needed to be handled (accomplished with much pen-chewing and some advice from Sand regarding suitable turns of phrases), a couple of questions regarding our upcoming move to the Tavorick estate (including calming down a slightly panicked Duncan who needed to be reassured that no, we are not moving out permanently, and no, most definitely Shandra will be allowed to come back from time to time. Shandra was deeply amused by this, of course), and signing for the first rush of crates and barrels full of clothes, armor, weapons and assorted other equipment that were delivered to the Flagon's back door quietly and under the pretense of a supply shipment.
"Some pretty spiffy stuff here, Rig." Neeshka said as she examined some of the contents. "Did you make a list for requisitioning them or…"
"We provided a few recommendations, yes, but you can imagine that some of Lord Nasher's advisors actually know how to equip an elite strike force when they supposed to do covert work." I watched her admiring a bracer that seemed to be lightweight and supple, yet crackling with magic.
"I bet." Neeshka snorted. "Wow, I guess this means I am part of an 'elite strike force' huh? Sounds mighty important… may even be better than Greatest Thief on Neverwinter, what do you think?"
"Certainly better if it comes up in polite conversation…" I smiled at her. "Not that it ever should."
"Understood." She grinned back. "So do you think it'd be okay if I'd borrowed these bracers for tonight?"
"Borrowed." I looked at her, but she studiously avoided my eyes. "Going out?"
"Well… Duncan's going to shut the Flagon up for tonight and takes us out for somewhere…"
"Hold it a sec." I lifted a hand. "Did I hear that right? My Uncle Dunk is treating you for… who is 'us' exactly and where're you going?" I had this horrible vision of running into the entire group at the Moonstone Mask…
"There is a play that he wanted to show us at the Round Theater that apparently is a must see. A tale of love and intrigue and deception and much swordplay, written by a half-orc bard from Thesk, of all things." Neeshka winked. "Yes, we're going to enjoy the arts. Shocked?"
"It's…unusual." I said cautiously.
"Heh. If you'd leave your paladin prejudices behind…" She ducked my raised arm and squealed. "Help! Help! Somebody help! I am oppressed, yet again!"
"Overacted, my dear." I grinned and refilled my mug from the carafe Duncan so thoughtfully provided earlier. I wasn't sure I needed that coffee, as I was rather wired anyway, but old habits die hard. "No one believes you're a damsel in distress if your freckles dance so mighty happy around your nose. So… Who's going, again?"
"Well, he invited pretty much everyone… even Qara and Bishop." Neeshka frowned. "I hope they don't keep Khelgar at your temple for long… he'd like a good play, I'm sure."
"Hm. Maybe, maybe not." I had the feeling that what Khelgar would do at a theatrical performance would probably result in several broken noses, but I resisted to say it outright. "I'm not sure either… I guess if he doesn't show up, you can always stop by the Halls of Justice and inquire."
"Me?" Neeshka puffed up her cheeks. "Don't be ridiculous, Rig… either I'd break out in hives, or the acolytes'd run screaming to the altar and I'd get smitten by your god for ever setting foot there."
"I definitely don't think so." I said sharply. She looked at me with a slightly surprised expression on her face. "Sorry, Neesh, but I think we established quite a while ago that you're not evil and just because you had some unfortunate ancestry that you couldn't really choose, it doesn't mean that…"
"Sorry, sorry…" She lifted a hand in a placating gesture. "Bad habits die hard. Didn't mean to…"
"Is she being paranoid again?" Elanee spoke up from the door, pulling off her gloves; her cheeks rosy from the brisk wind outside. "Just leave it to me, Arrighan, I'll try to talk some sense into her tonight." Her eyes sparkled up with some mischief. "And speaking about tonight-- you need to go up to your room and start to get ready. I left something there for you; hope you'll like it." She shrugged gracefully. "The best I could do on such short notice, but fortunately Darmon knew a place that was most amazing--I really need to take you there soon."
"Oh. Is it that late?" I jumped up and caught my mug just in time from spilling its contents all over the table, including all the neatly folded and sealed replies I worked on all afternoon. "We're supposed to meet at six…"
"Hey, you're having separate evening plans?" Neeshka's ears pricked up; I swear I could see her horns twitching.
Before I could answer, Elanee stepped in firmly and took her by the arm.
"You just go ahead, dear." she said gently, but her eyes were glinting with determination. "Me and Neeshka can take over the inventorying or whatever it was that you were doing here until we're due going out too. I'm sure she can fill me in on what needs to be done." She waved. "Off with you!"
I had about a dozen questions on my tongue-- what was this place, how did Darmon know about it, how come that my cool and collected elf friend was all of a sudden so excited about a place that sold clothes, how much did I owe her, how did she know I'd like it, what will she tell Neeshka… but looking at her I saw that characteristic expression on her face that I knew meant that she was not to be argued with. Once Elanee was set on a path, nothing could deter her from going all the way through-- or else making sure that everyone she wanted to walk it was marching to the drumbeat she dictated.
I swallowed what I wanted to say, nodded, flashed a smile towards Darmon who was standing politely aside at the door to let me out, and tried very hard not to run all the way to my room to see what Elanee left me there.
"Oh, my." That's all I could say when I saw it. It wasn't that much at the first sight; but even I could recognize a very high quality heavy silk when I saw it, and the more I looked, the more liked it. No embroidery, no other adornments--just the material itself, in the color of early evening sky, grayish blue, ankle-length, with long, slightly fluted sleeves. That deceptively simple cut had some definite subtlety in it, however, I realized, after I scrubbed myself in my washbasin; I was quietly thankful that I saved a little piece of a scented soap I picked up for some reason the first time I ever went shopping in the city, the same time I got that late lamented lacey nightgown. The fact that it had absolutely no decoration, meant that unless someone had a rather good figure, it showed every imperfection. I trusted Elanee found me the right size--because of my shoulders and hips, I had a rather peculiar outline Neeshka once described as 'breeder hourglass' and which made me chuckle even as I thought about it now.
Luckily enough, the skirt was rather flowy from the hips, so there was no problem with strapping on my dagger and its sheath on my thigh, without which I really would have felt myself naked. I assumed it was easier for Casavir to include a sword with his evening attire. I would have to ask him what to do for the ball itself when it came to that point. Girls get the short shrift every time, I thought. Somehow I suspected it wouldn't have gone down well if I included a sword belt and a visible weapon.
I gave up the fight with my hair; I figured, this was just a dinner, not Tavorick's ball. I will fret over it then, maybe even ask Elanee too help. Now, I just didn't want to be late, so I braided it and secured the end up at the nape of my neck with a ribbon the same color as the gown Elanee included along with the soft, slipper-like shoes I found in front of my bed, made from the same silk. They fit, which was another miracle. My feet aren't small or dainty.
"All right, Arrighan, here goes nothing." I murmured, deciding to interrogate Elanee first thing tomorrow about where she found all of this. As a last thing, I fiddled with my money pouch, slightly panicky about where to put it, before I noticed the little silk bag on my bed. It was just big enough to slip some coins in it; then I grabbed my blue cloak and run out, hoping I wasn't too late.
"Not too late, I hope?" I arrived at the bottom of the stairs a bit out of air; Casavir was talking to Duncan, and they both looked up and grinned at me with an expression on their face that immediately made me suspect they were discussing something they didn't want me to know.
"So, then." Duncan said, nodding. "I best be going to get ready for my own night out…Thank you, milord, for the advice." he said to Casavir who shook his head exasperatedly.
"It is just Casavir, Duncan." he murmured; somehow I knew I would hear that a lot in the days coming. His newly found out status already made Sal nervous enough that he stuttered every time he had to talk to him, and Shandra told me Duncan was wondering whether he would move back to his family's old palace in Blacklake.
"You be careful out there." Duncan gave me a peck on the cheek, accompanied with a nervous smile, and strode off towards the back.
"What the Hells was that about?" I asked Casavir. "If I hadn't known better, I could have sworn he was as nervous as a girl before…" I bit my lips; I wanted to say 'like a girl before her first date' before I realized that would have been… well, that would have been me, right now.
"Well, he was just…" He cleared his throat; obviously he caught my meaning. "He just had some questions about something and I was happy to oblige…" The sentence trailed off as his eyes slid over my attire, and as the blood rushed into my cheeks I knew that he liked it. Very much, in fact.
I am going to owe so much to Elanee. I thought, as I tried very hard not to get attuned to those emotions storming through his aura.
"What?" I said brightly to overcome that, and fast. "I washed my face before I came down… is there something amiss?"
"There's… no, nothing is amiss." Another second passed before he spoke again: I swore my heartbeat could have been heard out on the street, even. "I…well, we better be going, I think. The carriage is outside."
"The…what?" I thought I heard that wrong. Surely he didn't…
"You… seemed to imply, this was to be… properly done." Was there a slight smile there? "So I took the liberty of engaging… means of transportation through the nighttime streets of our fair city?" Yes, so help me Tyr, he was smiling! "I wouldn't have you step into mud with those shoes, after all."
"Oh." I glanced down. But he couldn't have known, could he? "I'm amazed El found them in my size, anyway…"
"It's Neverwinter." He shrugged. "You could probably find those in my size too, for the right price." He looked at me almost apologetically. "Not that I…"
"Relax." I grinned; yes, this was going to be a beautiful evening, I already could feel it. "I promise I'll never ask you to wear one, okay?"
"That is the best thing I've heard all day, my lady." He offered his arm. "Shall we…?"
"So the dress is… all right?" I asked as we stepped out. It was a black carriage, drawn by two dappled mares; the driver, a stout dwarf, who could have been Khelgar's cousin for all the beard and gruffness, didn't even glance at us as Casavir helped me up. I was so busy explaining away the dress that I barely even noticed the fact that we was doing it. "I mean, it's not… it's obviously not made for me, it's just…"
"It's fine, my lady." He waited until I arranged my skirts, then got in himself. "It's… very fine. Not that I… am a real authority on the subject, you understand."
"Because I am." I snorted, relaxing somewhat further into the seat. "Apart from that gown at the trial, last time I wore a skirt, I tore it when I kicked a teamster in the… well, better not to say where. I kicked him because he said something nasty to Amie in a very… physical fashion."
"Oh, really?" he said, one eyebrow quirked. "That's a story that I would very much like to hear, if it doesn't trouble you to tell it."
"Not much to tell." I shrugged. "I worked at the Buckmans' alehouse when it was trade season for some years and we needed the coin. Amie was, too, and when some of the boys out of town got a bit too… friendly with her, I stepped in before she had to burn their beards off with a spell. I figured it's better for them to get a broken rib or two from a girl than to get spanked by a mage's apprentice… they might wait for her after dark, and all that. I got called some most unkind names implying I was her lover, but there was not much I could do about that, except punch that one in the nose again. Stop blushing!"
"Sorry." He had the good graces to look sheepish. "It's just… I am trying to picture the scene, and my mind is failing."
"Good." I nodded vehemently. "It was a rather terrible skirt anyway, gotten secondhand from Galen, our traveling merchant, but that was the period when Retta and Daeghun tried to make me behave like a proper young lady should… you know, in between the times of my training with Aevan." I shook my head. "But enough about me and my skirts… rather, tell me, what in the name did Duncan was in such a fuss about?"
"Um… I am not at liberty of saying." He looked a bit uncomfortable. "Please don't ask me that." Uh-oh. That was the standard paladin way of saying 'if I answer that direct question, I would be betraying trust'. "That is… I am sorry, but he… surely he'll tell you if…when…"
"Goodness, Casavir, that's worse then usual." Indeed, that was some of the worse stuttering he ever managed. I blew out my lower lip, then caught myself and forced a more neutral expression. "Fine, be that way. I'll just get it out of him in the morning."
"Yes, perhaps best if you ask him yourself." he nodded, then spoke again, still stumbling over the words in a most endearing fashion. "I hope this… doesn't mean you will not… enjoy this evening, I mean, if you have second thoughts, we could…"
"No, I don't." I leaned forward and took his hand in mine. "I think this is going to be a great evening, I really appreciate that thought of not having to traipse through the cold streets in my fine, fine attire…" I sighed. "And spending some alone time with you well… that's just wonderful, too. Things are… certainly moving rather fast lately and… to tell you the truth, I am not sure when we could find another time."
"Oh, I am sure something could be arranged." He chuckled and I grinned back, squeezing his hand. There were little streaks of the color of spring carnation across his aura, mingled with pale rose. I've never seen those before… but as I looked inward for a moment, I had to realize he was merely mimicking mine rippling with those same hues over my crimson and silver.
"M-hmmm." I sighed, smoothing a lock of raven-black hair back from his forehead. I noticed there was always one out of place. "I hope so."
Ophala herself greeted us at the door: she was wearing one of her dazzling black velvet gowns, sleek and slim. With obsidian-black pearls embroidering its bodice, it made a stunning contrast with her creamy white skin.
"Ab-so-lutely perfect." she said as she took in my attire. "Your friend from the Mere has a surprising knack for color and cut." I felt my eyebrow rising; I had no idea how she knew that Elanee shopped for me. She must have noticed my surprise because she winked an lifted a slender finger in front of her perfect lips, indicating she might talk to me later about it. "But I am being rude, having you stand on my doorstep like common people. My lord, welcome." She executed a perfect curtsy, behaving for all the world like we haven't spent half of last night huddled together over maps and lists and steaming mugs of coffee in Nasher's study, planning out an entire week's worth of personal protection plan for one of the city's foremost aristocrats. "Our kitchen is already preparing your supper; let me show you to your dining room."
The way the Mask was set up was very clever, Cormick explained it to me when he took me with him the first time. You didn't necessarily have to get through the common room to be ogled by everyone if you wished for privacy. If they knew you, or if you arranged for it beforehand via a messenger, someone greeted you at the entrance as your carriage drew up, and then, instead of going straight and entering the large common room, they guided you to the left from the small entry corridor, through a thick oak door, up directly to the first floor where the private rooms were. The way Cormick told me, this was set up back in the days when the Mask used to be a festhall as well as just a rather pricey and upscale dining and meeting place.
Thinking about that first visit made me feel guilty a bit about almost completely forgetting about the Marshall, too.
"If I have time, I need to go and see Cormick tomorrow." I murmured to Casavir as we followed Ophala up the stairs. "I feel bad about not seeing him today."
"He's doing fine, my lady." He smiled at me, still holding my hand from where he assisted me from getting out of the carriage. "One of my errands today was to go over to the Ilmater temple and make sure he's all well. I hope you forgive me for being so bold as to convey your wishes for his speedy recovery; I also lit a candle in your name at the altar for him. He sends his greetings and hopes to be back on his feet by the end of this Tenday."
"Oh." I felt myself moved by his thoughtfulness. "That was…very kind of you. Thank you. I am… relieved."
"Good, then." He nodded. "I thought that might weigh on your mind."
"Ah." I felt myself smile; I started to suspect some considerable planning went into this evening on his part. "I see now… you wanted to make sure I am not occupied by… other thoughts?"
"I know you somewhat by now, my lady." His azure eyes held little sparkles. "You let yourself worry about others first before you think about your own thoughts, wishes and…" He didn't get a chance to finish, as Ophala drew up in front of a somewhat familiar door.
"Our Blue Room, as requested, milord… you will find it somewhat rearranged from when last time you'd been here." She flashed a quick smile at me. "We like to rearrange our interiors from time to time to keep up the… charm of the place?"
"And to make sure no one can plan anything untowards against their dining partners based on the room layouts, no doubt." Casavir inserted smoothly.
"Milord is most perceptive indeed." Ophala curtsied. "Supper and entertainment should be here in short order."
"Entertainment?" I said with a bit of suspicion as she opened the door for us and glided back down the hall towards the stairs again. "What did she mean by that?"
"I figured since we'll have to make do in a rather… high-society setting relatively soon…" He smoothed his hair down nervously as he stepped though and stood aside allowing me to enter and closing the door behind us, "…you and I might as well get some practice. So: I asked to have this arranged similarly to a private dining and sitting area of a highborn's estate--Ophala is good about this kind of thing. We'll also have a relatively simple dinner but with some tricky courses so you can familiarize yourself with some dishes that might not have yet crossed your plate. And, well, getting used to having musicians and entertainment around and keeping up conversation is also part of that… May I take your cloak?"
"Yes Sir, Commander Casavir, sir." I said, and watched him blush. "I meant that in the best possible way, don't worry. I…" I looked around, trying to find the right words and I realized that it was easy. "I like the way you planned this. Very… carefully and thoroughly and…" I surveyed the room that, indeed, looked a lot different from last time. "And I think I will just let myself to be carefully and thoroughly guided." I took a deep breath and unclasped my cloak, fully aware that what I said would earn me a frown and a stern lecture about 'double entendre' from Retta. "Will that be all right?"