Chapter 37: Dangerous Eyes

As soon as we had cleared the oasis, I immediately warped us back to my plane. We had been walking all day and had been looking forward to resting in the oasis, but the encounter with the good general had put that plan on hold. I was glad I had talked us out of a confrontation. Killing a band of murderous bandits intent of stealing our money and lives was one thing but to needlessly slaughter frightened men and women who were merely doing what they thought was right was plain wrong.

Regardless, I didn't want to risk them having a change of heart in the middle of the night and decide to pursue us. In my sanctuary, no one could follow us and with hostile enemies nearby, it seemed a wise choice.

I knew Jaheira was disappointed by this. Druid she might have been, she also had no real liking of deserts, the scarce vegetation and lacking the soothing fall of rain; it was nature, she claimed but it reminded her too much of death. And resting in a shady vibrant oasis was something she would have enjoyed; a peaceful cool place to sleep under the clear sky. But turbulent times called for compromising measures. Besides, I still had something tucked away anyway.

We returned to my plane, stepping through the portal, its artificial glow comforting, but only to a certain degree. No matter what form I made it into, it would always have that lingering trace of the abyss that it was. Cespenar was right there to greet us, eager to check on my well-being and always willing and able to assist us anyway he could. I couldn't think of anything save ensuring my compatriots needs, such as food and drink. No sooner had I said it, he winked out of existence, only to come through the door that led to my "inns" kitchen, informing us of dinner, or whatever meal we call it. On our time schedule, things change rapidly.

It was actually the first time that I had eaten anything in my pocket plane world. I had been too apprehensive of Cespenar's cooking that I had stuck with the basic sort of rations that we use on long stretches of travel. I mean, an Imp from Hell cooking? That seemed a good warning of an upset stomach and a night of heaving my insides out.

I decided to swallow my fear and eat; after all, if I could take a fire giant and his enormous band of cronies on all by myself, then surely I could muster the courage to sample unknown food prepared by an imp in a sub-plane of Hell. As it turned out, it was pretty good. I mean, the bread was bit hard and the meat a little dry, but it tasted far better than anything I had eaten in days. Those preserved rations tasted like wood…

With the safety of my plane and good food, we all loosened up, forgetting that I was a wanted fugitive and the rest of the world was tearing itself apart. Though the hour grew late and everyone rose to turn in, another day of madness was soon to follow. I reached out and wrapping my hand around Jaheira, pulling her close and giving her a wink when she looked my way.

I bid everyone else goodnight and with my arm around her waist; I led Jaheira towards the room of trees that I had used my power to construct for her. Stepping inside we felt a wave of humidity wash over us, the lush setting, modeled after jungles and forests that I had visited, was real down to the buzzing of insects and small creeks splashing along.

"I know it's not the real world," I apologized to her, casting my hand about, "But staying out there seemed too risky. So I hope it will suffice." She reached around and drew me close to her.

"I could sleep in a decaying cesspool of a city, so long as you are with me." She held me tighter, and I felt a slight stab of pain in my body, causing me to unconsciously wince. She felt it, and stepped back. "What is it?"

"Nothing," I assured her, rolling a stiff shoulder, "Just a little sore that's all…"

"After such injuries, I am not surprised. I had better take a look at you again. Disrobe and I'll examine you."

"Jaheira, no really, I'm alright, I'm just…"

"Do you wish there to be any lasting damage?" she insisted, even as she was pulling my cloak off, "Then get undressed and let me look you over."

"Can't wait for me to get out of them again?" I grinned as I was loosening my simple clothes and sliding them to the floor.

She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway as she instructed me to lie down. I did, and as she ran her hands over me, checking my vitals, I already began to feel better. As I had surmised, I was healed up, save a few lingering aches here and there, something that should be gone after a good nights rest. If I could ever get one.

"It seems you are alright," she concluded, "…that's good…" As I sat up, I saw that Jaheira was loosening her belt and blouse. In one smooth motion, she slid out of her clothes, discarding them next to mine.

"Is this also part of the checkup?" I asked jokingly, thoroughly enjoying my doctor's appointment. She scoffed.

"Hardly. You are filthy…before we do anything, we must bathe and wash all of the foulness off of you. Come." I sighed but wasn't exactly crushed. A bath did sound good. I was still covered with the blood of my previous battle, plus dirt, sweat, and the gods only knew what else.

Thanks to my power over the world around me, one quick concentrating thought and the rushing creeks and ponds transformed in to pools of warm water, creating my own personal hot springs. The humid mist crept over us, making our skin tingle and we stepped into the bath together. It felt delicious to feel that warm clean water envelop me; those pains that I thought sleep would cure winked out of existence faster than a candle in a rainstorm. Furthermore, I felt the worries and stresses melt off of me too, fading into the obscurity of the water.

Jaheira helped scrub off all the grim that was caked on my skin, and I was amazed to see my normal skin tone emerge. I had been traveling and battling so long, I had an almost constant layer of dirt over me at all times, changing my color to a darker hue. Though she didn't need it as I had, I insisted that I help Jaheira wash too, as she had a fair amount of my own blood on her. We stayed in longer than necessary, not wanting to leave but we knew that too much soaking would be counterproductive so we both reluctantly rose and sloshed out.

The moisture gleamed on her bronze skin as she stepped onto the bank, shaking her hair out, droplets tumbling every which way. She stretched out in the grass under the shade of a great tree and as I gazed upon her perfect form, I was reminded of a nymph or dryad, a gorgeous being that was one with nature. So peaceful…so beautiful…

After a moment, she lifted her head and her eyes looked into mine.

"And now," she invited with a teasing smile, "You come here…"

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"It would seem Melissan was not exaggerating about this place," Yoshimo commented looking down at the town that lay before us. He wasn't kidding. It was hardly a town, maybe three buildings of wood while all the other dwellings looked to be carved out of the rocks of the cliffside. Several were stacked on top of each other, so they reached up fairly high; some crude steps leading to some, though most had rickety ladders leading up to the highest. The whole town was blowing with dust and looked so parched and sunbaked, I wondered how anyone could survive out here.

"Yes," Jaheira concurred, now stretching an arm out to point, "And I believe that is our destination." Sitting right next to the flimsy little village was a near monolithic structure, also carved and chiseled out of the abundant rocks. It was a building of rounded roofs and daunting presence. A monastery, according to Melissan, though a fortress would probably be a more accurate description, what with the towering walls and heavy duty iron gate surrounding it. I'd never been to a monastery, though Candlekeep had monks and acolytes walking the halls of the great library, searching for whatever elusive tome evaded them, so perhaps it was similar. Though this place looked nothing like Candlekeep.

"Ah such a grand monastery," Yoshimo exclaimed, looking up at the massive stone structure as we passed, "Built from the rock itself no less, such an impressive feat. And who knows what it may look like on the inside?"

"Are you so interested in the architecture I wonder," Keldorn inquired, "Or perhaps the possible valuable contents within its walls?"

"Perhaps both, but in your presence Sir Keldorn, my only interest is our pressing mission that requires all of our attention."

"Indeed."

As we entered the village, the main path wound close to the monastery gates, large iron bars that looked thick and sturdy enough to resist a battering ram, and saw five people standing out front. Three men and two women, all dressed in identical garb, dully colored tunics of simple design, shirts and pants, with basic boots and a black belt around the waist. The men's heads were shaved completely bald and what hair the women had was trimmed and short. They stood, like figures of stone, hands behind their back at attention, staring off vacantly. Though as I approached, the closet monk, a man with a rather unsightly wart on the tip of his nose, turned and held out a hand.

"You!" he cried out, stepping from his post, "Hold where you stand!" I paused in my steps as he stalked over to me. I say stalked because his walk was incredibly stiff-legged, as if he was unable to bend his knees. He paused, squinting and scrutinized me. Finally, he pulled back.

"You are the one Balthazar expects correct?" he barked at me. Now I suppose there was always a chance that I wasn't in fact the person he spoke of, as it was a rather vague description. For all I knew, this Balthazar received many visitors. But I knew also that Melissan had told me to come here to meet this man, and so remote and isolated as the town was, I could think of no one else who would come out this far, so I nodded.

"Yes, my name is…"

"Melissan sent you yes?"

"Actually yes, she…"

"As I surmised. Come, Balthazar wishes to speak to you."

"Alright, but is…"

"Any questions you might have may be directed to Balthazar. Come!"

"Will you please stop…"

"You!" the guard pointed a jabbing finger at another monk guarding the entrance, "Inform Lord Balthazar that the contact has arrived! Swiftly now!" The monk gave a bow and went dashing off down the street. I was perplexed as he had been standing right next to the gate, so why not just go in that way?

"The rest of you," the yelling monk cried out, waving a hand at his cohorts, "At attention and no mistakes in front of our master." They murmured an ineligible chant and nodded.

"Do you have to shout everything?" I asked him, relieved to finally get a complete sentence out of my mouth.

He did not answer me, his gaze focused on the massive iron gate leading into the great stone structure. A few moments of waiting and with the rattle of chains and the grating moan of moving iron, the gates began to open.

"Gather your wits," the monk instructed us with his barking commands, "Balthazar comes!"

At this, I was unconsciously prompted to dust off my cloak and straighten it. I wasn't worried about appearances and surely one would expect someone fresh from the desert to be windblown and dusty, yet I always remembered Gorion saying to look your best when meeting important people. I suppose he would have been proud to see that his lesson was being taken to heart.

With a resounding clang, the iron bars opened completely and four monks promptly exited the great gate, they wearing darker colored tunics than the rest, with a stripe of red along the legs and arms. They were standing on all side of another man, escorting him out. And as this figure came gently shuffling out of the darkness of the archway, I felt my blood chill and my sense of danger sounded like thunder.

Balthazar was taller than I, though dwarfed by Sarevok in terms of height and girth, as he was far skinnier, more so than even I. He wore a heavy almond colored coat…or robe, it was an unusual garment, made of hardened leather and buckled in the front in several place, draping down and covering his whole body, as well as reaching up to protect his neck. His hands were encased in maroon leather gloves which hung by his side and he wore simple thatched sandals on his feet. His face though…his face was almost too complicated to describe.

As far as features go, his were fairly basic; like the other monks his hair was shaved, a tattoo across his forehead, a cross I believe, and a small golden stud had been placed into the lobe of his left ear.

His eyes weren't quite so simple. In fact, his eyes…they were like mine…gray. But my eyes were like silver, with a vivacious gleam that gave a lustrous shine to them. But his? No…pallid and cold, dull as a grimy spoon. But deep…his eyes were deeper than any I had seen. The oceans around Faerun might very well have been puddles next to his penetrating gaze. They pierced you, relentlessly delving deep inside, discovering all your secrets, desires, and thoughts… Calculating and dominating, they were the eyes of no mere man but a driving force of a person.

But as imposing as they were, I didn't waver and stood firm before his approach. I won't deny however that I was required to summon up significant will power to stand straight before him, as I felt like shrinking away. And harder still was to stare into those eyes unflinchingly, ignoring the shrill voice that warned me to looking away. But no, I wouldn't. A lesson in the world I had learned was it was a sign of weakness is to avert your gaze from someone.

If my own significant Bhaalspawn presence did anything to unnerve him, he gave no outward signs, his face completely somber, betraying no emotion or thought. A mask of pure emptiness. Reflected to no end in his solemn mellow voice.

"Ah…the long awaited Bhaalspawn has at last arrived. I have been waiting…"

"Dietrich Vegaz," I introduced myself bowing, though my courtesy seemed wasted on the man's frigid nature, as he waved a gloved hand, the leather of his attire creaking at his motion.

"Yes, I know well enough as to who you are. And I am Balthazar, head of this monastic order and the guardian and overseer of the town of Amkethran, though that title is hardly official. Melissan preceded you and informed me of your arrival, leaving you a map to these…enclaves and…"

"Hold on," I interrupted, trying to ignore those dictating eyes narrowing, "You mean she's not even here to meet me? Where is she?"

"I know not, nor do I care. She came, delivered this map along with the instructions that I was to give it to you, and point you on your way. She departed soon after, her destination or purpose unknown."

"Well…that's great…She just tells me what to do and sends me on my merry little way…" I would have sulked maybe, but why did I care about Melissan? I didn't have a real liking for her and it's not as though I needed her to guide me step by step through this whole ordeal. It wasn't my first quest after all.

"Melissan has vouched for you," Balthazar continued, "and it is by that alone that I tolerate your presence. I have no love for outsiders or the meddling they oft bring with them. You would do well to remember this while you are here."

"Sometimes it is necessary to meddle," Jaheira informed him, "Else injustices might propagate amongst corrupt men."

Balthazar smoothly pivoted his whole body and tilted his head down towards Jaheira, and I felt her shudder at being dissected by that knife-like stare.

"Indeed. And often times just men lead and outsiders meddle to further their own misguided ends. As the Harpers have done many times in the past. Though they hide their faults well, don't they?"

"We are grateful for your assistance," Keldorn broke in, rescuing Jaheira from the soft yet acute ridicule of the monk, "Though I am wondering at exactly how are you acquainted with Melissan? Old friends perhaps?" The monk now turned just as fluidly towards Keldorn, his face not altering even a tiny bit.

"I am not one for having my affairs pried into, so kindly don't," he turned back to me once again, voice and face stern, "You shall not be granted entry to the monastery while you are here but the rest of the town is open to you. Explore to your content. And so long as you do not interfere with my own personal affairs then we shall not come to grief. Is that understood?"

"I suppose it is," I accepted, not wanting to be his next target for his rude yet polite answers.

"Very well then, here is the map left for you," and he held out a small folded piece of parchment. I hadn't even seen it in his hands when he first emerged from the monastery. He might have plucked it from his pocket but I hadn't seen it. Maybe it was my imagination.

He offered it to me, though honestly, I was somewhat hesitant to take it because of his creepy nature. Not letting my imagination stir up thoughts of silly doubts I tentatively reached out and took it. As my fingers wrapped around it and the single moment before he let go, I at once felt something…a feeling of power and…a…a hole, a vacant spot…inside of this man before me.

Likewise, as I felt something, so Balthazar must have felt something within me, for his face hardened and his eyes began to bore into me even deeper than before. It felt as if we stayed locked that way, hands holding that tiny piece of parchment, our minds reaching out and engaging the other. But a second later I stepped back and everyone around us releasing their breaths as the tension left. Some of it anyway.

"As you can see, neither are too far from here," Balthazar went on, as if he had been unaware of any clash of our will powers a moment before, "A three day journey to either. I would suggest recuperating and resupplying before making the journey. The desert can be harsh if unprepared."

"Thanks for the warning. Before I go, I was wondering as to why such an elaborate monastery is all the way out here in such a small village. Who built it?"

"As I said, my affairs are none of your concern. I do not ask you what reason you travel to these locations so please do not inquire into my business."

"Fair enough," I conceded, "It's your town after all."

"Thank you. I wish you well on your journey, Dietrich Vegaz…for all of our sakes…" and without another word, he bowed, turned and headed back inside his little castle. His entourage followed soundlessly and the moment they had past, the bars of the gate slammed home with a crash, making me wince. So…that was it. Balthazar had come, said some enigmatic things, almost scared me halfway to my grave, and went creeping back inside his hidey-hole. A peculiar meeting. And the encounter hadn't really answered any of my questions. Actually, it had only served to conjure up more. Where had Melissan disappeared to for one thing?

And Balthazar…what a conundrum of a man. I don't believe in coincidences and I felt that there was some reason Melissan had us come to Amkethran. Balthazar was far too unique and extraordinary to just be a simple monk out in the middle of nowhere. His eyes were enough to prove that, as well as what I had felt when we had crossed minds.

Beyond his eyes, his general presence was nearly overwhelming. Calm yet influential, a sense of raw power within him. On the outside, he seemed to possess the tranquil serenity of a true monk, but inside I felt a near perpetual sea of strength and force of will. I could see him as a man of authority, weak-willed individuals would be wholly helpless before his all-encompassing gaze, feeling bound by some unrelenting force to bow before him.

Those were dangerous eyes…