Adahni was happy not to be bothered with all the normal women things in the month leading up to the wedding, though it proved a good distraction from her trial, which Sand was furiously preparing for day and night. The loot from the Collector's mansion - after her companions with the shabbiest equipment had been given new sets - bought a few yards of fabric, and ribbons, which Adahni had no idea what to do with. Luckily for Vania, she had reconnected with two maids she had once employed, and in the spirit of friendship they agreed to help her sew a passable wedding dress. They worked in the common room of the inn, meaning Adahni, Neeshka, and Shandra had to pass them every time they came in from the outside. Shandra had found some work at the Watch and while Adahni's status as a suspect in a mass murder had given Cormick some pause, he paid her to do paperwork, leaving him and Brelaina free to argue.
Neeshka, too, to Adahni's surprise, joined her in her busy work at the watch. The girl was literate - barely so - and Adahni liked to think that she would follow her there simply for the lesson in reading and writing it gave her. The money was less than when she was on the beat, but it kept them in ale, for themselves, and for Khelgar, who had taken on the troubling pattern of drinking himself to sleep twice a day. He hadn't started a fight in days, and Neeshka was beginning to get worried.
"What's with him?" she said one day as the two of them were painstakingly copying wanted posters by hand, "He hasn't called me goatgirl in weeks!"
"He's just depressed. It's the long winter, gets to all of us," Adahni sighed, "He'll be all right once the sun decides to show its face again."
"He's a dwarf," Neeshka pointed out, "If he had his way, he'd be living underground... no sun there."
Adahni rolled her eyes, "Look, I'm not allowed to tell you about it, but I assure you, there is a very good reason why he's acting the way he is. Maybe sometime he'll feel like telling you himself, but I gave him my word, and I intend to keep it."
"You people and your 'words,'" Neeshka sighed, rolling her eyes, "I don't get it. Why, just last night this young man came by the bar and challenged Casavir to a duel, said he'd made some promise about it..."
"What?" Adahni asked, sitting bolt upright, "Challenged him to a what?"
"A duel, you know, two people, usually men, swords, honor, all that bullshit?"
"I know what a duel is," she said, "Do you know who that man was?"
"I imagine it's probably the son of his betrothed's brother that he slew. Right age - maybe nineteen, twenty, and he looks like her," Neeshka said, shrugging, "Now that his aunty is out from her bondage to that noble, all sorts of bad feelings in that family are probably coming to the fore."
"You know what's going to happen if we let them duel," Adahni said, "Casavir is going to withdraw to a cloister for another ten years and then find some other inane cause to take up and none of us will see him again until we're all gray-haired and doddering."
"Well, under most circumstances, I would be all right with that," Neeshka replied, "But you know I've always had a soft spot in my heart for the star-crossed. So, do you have a brilliant plan yet?"
"Is he handsome?" asked Adahni.
"I only saw him for a minute, but yeah, he was good-looking," Neeshka said.
"Then yes, I have a brilliant plan."
"Really, Addie?"
"No," Adahni said, "I'm joking. But I don't think it would kill us to go and have a ..... word.... with him, would it. We'll bring Shandra, she's gotten big and muscular. I think the threat of having his ass handed to him by three girls might strike the fear of the gods into him. At least until after the wedding and the trial. And if things work out the way Claven wants them to, I won't even be around for it to be my problem."
"Now you're just being morbid," Neeshka said, dotting the final 'i' on her wanted poster, "There. I'm done for the day, my fingers feel like they're going to fall off."
"Fine," Adahni said, hurriedly finishing up the last sentence (it ended in 'dead or alive') and put it on the pile. Neeshka gathered the pile up and took them over to Cormick, who accepted them with a smile. Adahni saw over his shoulder that sitting on his desk was a report on the burglary at the Collector's mansion. He'd listed the amount of gold missing at twice what there actually was, and had written down items that hadn't even been in the vault. And, to her chagrin, she saw at the bottom that he had listed, "Wife, approximately 32 years of age, blond hair."
"We tried to explain to him that it doesn't work that way," Cormick said, seeing her looking at it, "But he was old-fashioned, convinced that whoever took her ought to buy him a new one."
Adahni snorted in disgust, "You aren't actually taking this report seriously, are you?"
"No," Cormick said, "We spoke with Judge Oleff. The divorce is official and we imagine that it was she who took everything. She's actually entitled to more, under the law, but we figure that we can let it go in exchange for not prosecuting her for the manner in which she took it. She's staying at the Sunken Flagon now, isn't she?"
"Yes," Adahni said, "Actually, the culprit who stole her is one of my companions. They're to be wed in two days."
"Yes, Neeshka told me," Cormick said, "She said there'll be quite a reception afterwards."
"Of course," Adahni said. She glanced at the tiefling, and to her surprise, the girl was blushing pink, "And you're welcome to come, of course, as is Brelaina, and any of the watchmen who might appreciate a party."
"Thanks!" Cormick said, "I'd be happy to wish them well."
The sun was nearly down by the time Adahni and Neeshka made it back to the inn. There was exactly enough soup at the bottom of the pot to cover two hunks of stale bread, and the meat floating in the broth was mostly gristle. "I hate the end of winter," Neeshka grimaced, "Everything starts running out."
"Not beer," Adahni said, taking a long sip from hers, "Liquid bread, my friend."
They clinked their mugs and drank down the thick dark brew. As they replaced their empty mugs on the table, the door banged open.
"Is this the Sunken Flagon?" a familiar voice asked. Adahni looked up to see Jem Quarely standing in the doorway. Her heart gave a bit of a leap at first, until she saw who was with him. Talia was there, her tawny hair bound back and wearing what Adahni imagined was her second best dress. Jem was holding the baby, who was soundly asleep. Behind them, Adahni saw another couple, a woman who was a dead ringer for Talia and a tall, exceedingly handsome man, who bore an uncanny resemblance to the child.
"It is! It is!" Duncan exclaimed, rushing over to them, "Are you here for the wedding, then? Lovely! I didn't know we'd have children here... I think there's a room with a crib upstairs, yes there is! I'll show you to it at once, Master..."
"Quarely."
"Yes, sir, are all you four together? Splendid, I'll set you two up in the room next door."
Adahni cowered into her soup as the five of them passed her.
"So much for that," Neeshka said, smirking slyly, "Don't think I didn't see that look on your face, Addie. The brother-in-law's quite something, though, can't blame her for it, really I can't. Maybe you should try and get him into bed, really stir things up!"
"You sound like Khelgar, always trying to start a fight!" Adahni exclaimed, "No, no, I'll be behaving myself, playing the part of the virtuous young maiden, if only for Cas's benefit. Hate to have his wedding tainted with scandal, eh?"
"I think it'd be good for him," Neeshka replied, "But it's entirely up to you. So who are you going to go with now?"
"What?" Adahni asked.
"Well naturally when you said that boy from Old Owl Well was coming that you'd accompanying him to the party afterwards, but if he's been all disagreeable and brought his wife, I imagine you ought to find another arm to hang off."
"An arm to hang off? I'm a squire of Neverwinter for crying out loud, not a debutante!" she sighed, "Why, do you have an escort?"
"Well yes," Neeshka said, looking directly into her soup, "It's really the social event of the season, where have you been for the last month?"
"I've been away with the dwarf, of course!"
"Ah, so you've missed the gossip, then. Vania seems to have a few friends in high places, add in the scandalous nature of the wedding itself, and everyone is just dying to get an invite - everyone! She even pulled some strings - they're hold the party in the Moonstone Mask afterwards."
"The Moonstone... I thought it was going to be here," Adahni said, "Why does nobody ever tell me anything? I thought Cas at least would have informed me."
"With all of it, it seems as though his old friends from the knighthood suddenly aren't embarrassed to be seen talking with him anymore, he's been traipsing off with them every chance he gets."
"Lovely," Adahni sighed, her stomach sinking. She had noticed that Cas had been gone more than he usually was, but she had thought he was spending time with his bride-to-be. Being his companion, his sister in arms, was the one thing that she had left, the one area where she could not be replaced... and now she had been.
The morning of the wedding dawned bright and dazzling, the air chilly but smelling of the promise of spring. Adahni had not spoken with Casavir in a full three days, as he had been off preparing for things and, evidently, did not need her anymore. Adahni washed herself and her hair. She braided it and clipped it like an ebony crown to the top of her head, like Kyla used to do. Then she did something she had not in years. At the bottom of a trunk in her room at the flagon was a box of paints that had once served her every night, highlighting her cheekbones, shadowing her eyes. She took them out and loosened the paints with a little water, and then went about her old routine, painting her eyes with thick, black lines and smudging light pink along her cheeks. In the mirror, she saw her old self, a beautiful, helpless creature, not unlike Vania...
She tugged a gown over her head that she had bought from a tailor in the merchant district, the one the provided clothes for the girls at the Mask. It wasn't as revealing as the ones that she used to wear, but it showed a bit of cleavage. The slippers that went with it were kidskin and very comfortable, and made her feet look tiny and delicate.
She heard the door open behind her while she was adjusting her hair, tweaking the little strands around her face to make a wispy curtain over her eyes. She whirled to see the ranger, actually dressed as a human being for once, wearing clothes that were not made of raw deerskin, but finely-woven wool breeches and boots that were not covered in patches that he himself had sewn on.
"Lady's room!" she called, turning back to the mirror.
He came up behind her, peering at himself in the looking glass around her, and for a moment, she was transported back to Luskan, where Kyla had done the same thing. Something about him that day made her look more like her than ever, and after staring for a few seconds, she realized that he had taken a razor to his chin and cheek. She shoved him out of the way, inadvertently sending him sprawling against the wall. He picked himself up and scowled.
"I was having a good morning," he said, snorting.
"Why? Are you even going?"
"Of course I'm going," Bishop said, "I wouldn't miss the social event of the season. Imagine what a step up in society this is for a poor boy from Barnslow!"
"You're being sarcastic," she said. She finished arranging her hair, and turned to him.
He opened his mouth to say something back to her, but just kept it open.
"What?" she said.
"Well don't you look like your old self," he finally said, his face going back to its customary contemptuous expression.
"I'm pretty," she declared petulantly, sticking her lower lip out, "So, are you happy the paladin's been out of your hair?"
"You're in a merrier mood than I expected," he said, "I would have thought you would be hiding in your wardrobe sobbing."
"And you came in to comfort the poor scorned woman?" she asked.
"I came in to force your chin up and to go to the temple not looking like a wreck," he said, "I see you're in rare form already, though. Come with me?"
"Hm?"
"Come with me," he said again, "I'm not walking in there alone and everyone else has already left."
She smiled and nodded. He's the only one I have left, she let him fasten her good cloak about her neck and take her by the shoulders. This close to him, he stood a head and a half taller than she did, and she had to push her hand up to thread her arm through his. She leaned against him, flirting a little, the paint on her face making her feel masked, disguised. She felt him tense... despite all his brash bravado he was still a boy not past his twentieth birthday.
Walking through the streets, she felt oddly self-conscious. At the post outside the Flagon, two of the watchmen whistled at her. I haven't been whistled at in ages.
She imagined the ceremony was very important to Casavir, but watching him from the very back of the temple was like seeing a painting in a museum. It looked like him, in a fine suit of clothes, but she felt as though he was distant, unapproachable, and that the real Casavir was off somewhere else and would join her later. She couldn't even hear the ceremony, apparently tradition held that they had to mumble the whole damn thing.
Within an hour, the two were married, and the whole temple stood up to applaud them as they left.
"Do you suppose they've screwed before?" Bishop wondered allowed as the bride, in her elegant white dress, passed them.
"They've been sharing that bed for a month now," Adahni replied, "My question is does she know that all those letters were written by me? Or that he was the one who killed her brother? Or, even, that it was him that ratted her out when she was with his squire?"
Bishop looked at her in shock, "And the claws come out! You really wrote her letters?"
"Yep," she said. She smiled and waved at Casavir as he passed, and he snapped her a salute, "The man has a tongue of lead."
"You know, I never noticed how pretty you are when you're being a bitch," he murmured. She granted him a giggle, "So he killed her brother?"
"Long time ago," she said, the smile still on her face, her hands still clapping together, "She used to have a thing for a friend of his, against her father's wishes. Cas played the foul interloper and told on them. Her brother killed the lover and Cas killed the brother... I don't see how this could fail to turn out entertainingly."
As if on cue, the door burst open and in strode a young man, sword at the ready. The sanctuary fell uncomfortably silent. "Casavir Andrion!" he bellowed, his voice cracking. He was even younger than Neeshka said he was, the lad couldn't have been older than sixteen. Adahni tensed, and looked over at Shandra, who was seated next to Duncan a pew or two up, and Neeshka, who was there with - Cormick!? Are you joking? I'll grill her about it later - on the other side of the aisle. The three of them moved slowly out of their seats.
"You killed my father and defiled my aunt!" the lad shouted. He was blond, like Vania, and had a very pale complexion which was slowly going pink. He brandished his sword, "I demand satisfaction!"
"I have no desire to spill the blood of my nephew on my wedding day," Casavir said, "As you can see, I am unarmed."
"Is that your excuse, you cowardly dog?! Stand and fight me like a man!"
Adahni sidled up to Casavir, who apparently seemed to think he could make the boy back down just by staring at him. "Let me handle this," she murmured in his ear, "Take your bride to the Mask."
Down the front of her corset, she had strapped a hunting knife that Bishop had given her some time back. Neeshka seemed had two daggers stashed up the voluminous sleeves of the dress she was wearing (a dress that looked suspiciously as though it had been sewn out of old watch cloaks, but suited her well) and Shandra... well, the way that Shandra's biceps were threatening the seams of her yellow gown was enough intimidation for her part. The three women converged on the lad.
"Listen, boy," Adahni said, "You're really going to want to let this one go."
"You know nothing of honor, woman!" the lad sneered.
Shandra drew herself up to her full height and glared down at the boy. In anger, her hazel eyes went nearly yellow.
"I know plenty of honor, boy," Adahni said, "I've been wielding a sword since you were four feet tall without a beard, and if you keep up like this, I'll be doing so after you're dead and in your grave and your mother has both a husband and a son to grieve over. Is that really what you want?"
"He killed my father," the lad said.
"Yes, he did," Adahni replied, "And your father killed his brother."
"What?"
"Your father killed his brother-in-arms," Adahni said, "Lad, do you really think your aunt would wed with a man who'd murdered her brother without just cause?"
"I've never met my aunt, she's been locked away in that mansion since I was seven."
"Well then, this is a good time to meet her. Put away your blade, boy, there's a time and place for revenge, and it's neither here nor now. I have to say though, I admire your nerve walking in here like that. How'd you like a job in a couple of years?"
"Not now," Shandra hissed, "People are staring."
"Fine," Adahni said, "Put your blade away and enjoy the party, or you're going to get your ass handed to you by three women who don't know the meaning of honor."
The boy's lower lip had started trembling, and he sheathed his sword, turned, and ran out of the temple.
"The boy deserves his revenge," Shandra said.
"He's a child," Adahni said, "Give him a few years to cool his heels. If, by then, he still feels the need to duel it out, he may be better equipped to do so."
"Or someone might do it for him," Bishop commented, sidling up to the group.
"Was that a threat?" she asked, turning to him.
"Just a suggestion of a possible eventuality," Bishop said, "But now's not the time for speculation, I imagine there is a boatload of free booze at the Mask, and between Addie and myself, I think we can put a dent in it!"
