Yes, I'm back at last, and here's Chapter 49 and the big reveal for the last chapter's big mystery!
Thanks ever so much to Agate93 for the favourite and Eraque for putting me on alert. Nice to see when I came back quite how many got to reading this story while I was gone. Remember, any thoughts I'm always open to criticism and suggested improvements.
Phaedra slipped silently through the door of her room, unable to stop herself glancing quickly, furtively up and down the corridor as though somewhere in her fear-ravaged consciousness she still expected that the shadows would part before her and…she would see him once again. In her mind she heard the whisper of black silk, the rustle of aged, withered hands running greedily one over the other…she clamped down on the scream that seemed to rake through her whole body; panic was never far away now, it had stalked at her shoulders all this hour or so since she had woken in sweat-stained, fever-riddled sheets. Still she found it near impossible to believe that she had nearly died, she felt the weakness of the fever down to her very bones, but her mind struggled to comprehend just how close it had come, just how fast death had clasped her and just how strong the effort must have been to free her from that clasp. And merely from that slightest of cuts…her fingers sought the scar in her side, and she felt it even through the Battle Robes she was now wearing. Another scar to mark her, not perhaps so deep as the one in her chest, but it would be there to remind her that the smallest of wounds might be fatal, that there would not always be someone there to guard her and if she was to survive the storm that was coming, she alone would have to defend herself. And she would learn how, no matter what it took.
"Phaedra!" She started instantly at the sound of her name, swinging round in an instant's blind fear as she heard resonant in the clear voice she knew well enough to be Shandra's, an imagined echo of a soft, infinitely dangerous rasp, a voice that had haunted her in the shadows of her mind. And even the echo had the power to freeze her where she stood, she gave a gasp, trying to control herself. It was over…she was safe now, but how could she ever be safe? He was still watching…still waiting like a spider in the midst of a vast web of plot and conspiracy, she felt the wildness of panic rise in her again, and clasped her fingers tight at her sides, control…Gods Phaedra, control… "Phaedra?" Look it was Shandra, she saw the girl well enough walking down the corridor, and yet her vision seemed to blur and swim in a creeping sea of shadows…and she felt a clenching agony sink into her stomach. "Are you alright?" As Shandra reached her, she struggled to speak, to reassure her friend that she was alright…above all no one must know what had truly occurred in the midst of her fever. "Phaedra?"
"Yes…" At last the word pushed its way through her trembling lips "I'm alright" It wasn't exactly a lie, her body, though utterly exhausted, was regaining its strength slowly, and she had just bathed to wash the stench of sickness and sweat from her body, but still she felt…tainted.
"Okay" Shandra breathed. She, like everyone else did apart from Sand perhaps, looked exhausted, drawn, worn down to the bone. She was pale, her eyes shadowed and she still wore her armour as though she hadn't had time to lay it aside. But seeing Phaedra standing, wearing her robes and boots once again, with her bow at her back seemed to convince her that it was truly real, that Phaedra was really safe. "I thought" She continued softly "I was sure…you were gone" She looked up, her eyes glinted with concern and guilt "I shouldn't have left you…"
"No" Phaedra reached forward, and laid a hand on Shandra's shoulder, feeling the cold, hard edge of the armour against her palm. "It's alright…it turned out alright…" A lie…another lie, ah Gods, it hurt so much to speak like this to Shandra, to her friend, but what choice did she have?
"Thank the Gods, whichever of them were listening" Shandra stepped back, the moment passed, and she ran a hand through her hair, sturdy farmer's practicality now taking over as she stood straighter once again"What's now then?" She said "You're a squire now, aren't you? Gods, that's strange. I've never spoken to a real noble before" She smiled lightly "I figure they want to speak to you in the palace though"
"Sand told me he sent a message to Sir Grayson" Phaedra answered, the wizard had remained at her bedside once the fuss was over and told her of his plans. Nevalle was supposed to be arranging for Phaedra and Grayson to 'encounter' her accuser the Luskan ambassador Torio Claven in front of Lord Nasher, forcing her onto the back foot with the new revelation that Phaedra had been made a squire. Now she was recovered, Sand promised to see to it that this meeting occurred as planned. Despite her gratitude to the wizard, she'd tried to avoid speaking to him for any longer than she'd had to, sensing that he suspected there was more to her recovery than she'd revealed, and desperate to conceal how right he was from his undeniably keen insight. "We're heading to Castle Never as soon as he's ready"
"I'm coming" Shandra nodded firmly "It's whenever I'm away that all this trouble seems to start and I don't care what that snooty wizard has to say about it"
"Alright" Phaedra answered, with the small smile she could muster. Whatever happened in Castle Never, she would be glad if Shandra was there with her. Sand's brand of comfort wasn't quite so effective…
"Thanks" Shandra grinned "Seems to me like you need all the help you can get." She glanced down at her scuffed and battered armour "Maybe I should get more presentable first, though. Meet you at the door in a half hour, and make sure Sand doesn't get away without me" She gave a last bright smile, and then stepped quickly into her own room. The warmth of her presence faded right away, as did Phaedra's smile, and she found herself once again alone in the shadows, cold and empty and silent. She couldn't stand there, still, for more than a moment, and quickly walked back, with a quiet tread towards the common room where, surely, Sand and maybe the others would be waiting for her. But, just as she rounded the corridor, she suddenly heard Casavir's voice from within, and what he said stilled her footsteps before she even entered the room…
"Something is amiss" The paladin was saying. His voice was somewhat tight, less precise and controlled than ever she had heard it, except perhaps in those brief moments she still remembered yet dimly; those moments when she had first woken, screaming, with Bishop's body looming over her own and the memory of a fearsome magic and a touch of icy death scorching her soul… "Her recovery is not all it seemed, I feel it. And why was only Bishop there to witness it? Can you not see that every time we have this problem it is him who is standing by her?"
"Are you suggesting she concealed something from us?" Even Elanee seemed shrill, anxious, clearly this argument had been going on for some time "I won't believe it. She deserves better than for us to suspect her, after everything she has done. She deserves our trust" Phaedra grasped at the wall next to herself, her nails digging into the wood. Not this, not now…
"The more he influences her, the less I can trust that what she says is from her own lips and not his" Casavir answered "She has concealed her intentions before, at his urging…"
"Why is this always about Bishop?" Elanee snapped, it was astonishing to hear her address Casavir in such a manner. And Phaedra, standing by the wall silent and still, unable to move, couldn't decide what was worse, that Casavir blamed Bishop, who had nothing to do with her own deception, not this time, or that Elanee still trusted her, but she had actually concealed something. "Your hatred of him blinds you utterly"
"You agreed his influence over her was dangerous" Casavir said softly, seeming to struggle with the words, as though he were utterly shocked to even be having this discussion.
"I said unsettling, Casavir, lest you forget it" Elanee replied sharply "As you so easily forget how many times he has saved her life now. I am prepared to change my views on Bishop, perhaps you should consider whether yours remains justified"
"Both of you are missing the point, Bishop is entirely extraneous" Sand…there as well, and hearing all of this. He sounded impatient, edgy… "Our problem is elsewhere. The poison is incurable. Everything I've read suggests that. No Hostower mage would concoct a poison that one could simply shrug off just like that" Phaedra could imagine Sand elegantly sweeping a hand to illustrate his point. If any of them, it would be Sand she most had to fear would come to truth. But...even he surely couldn't imagine what she'd experienced? She prayed it was so. If Sand...found out, if the others did...it was unimaginable.
"Well what if there were some other cause?" Elanee answered quietly and Phaedra tensed. So long as they thought it was unconscious, so long as they had no more questions for her...so long as she was safe...
"Some other cause?" Sand's nasal voice picked up with interest. This was dangerous territory, though there was no way any of them could know the true reason she was still alive. "You have a suggestion? Believe me, even I can conceive of no way she could have escaped death"
"Her power…" Elanee answered swiftly "It's the only explanation we have."
"I do not know how much you know of sorcery, Elanee…" Sand's voice had an echo of Tarmas' as he had lectured his apprentices "But there is no conceivable way a sorcerer, even one on the brink of death, could purge from her body a deadly toxin, let alone heal a serious wound and repair the damage of some six hours under the ravages of that same toxin. I woulwd almost be inclined to resort to divine intervention, were that not so hard to believe…"
"No" Casavir replied instantly "She serves Lathander and one of His most sacred lessons is to embrace death when it comes. And I felt no God moving in this place…"
"And what if that sorcerer had already accomplished things that should have been beyond her?" Elanee asked as though Casavir had not spoken "What if her power had echoes…of something else?"
"Now you have me intrigued" Sand sounded eager now, and Phaedra slumped further against the wall. Elanee's voice, when she answered, sunk down to a low murmur, the echo of which Phaedra could hear, but none of the substance. This was exactly what she'd hoped they would not discuss, she'd meant to speak to Sand herself, alone…Elanee and Casavir had their own opinions that might be less than helpful. The power was Phaedra's, she felt it herself…how could they hope to understand what she was going through? She lowered her head against the wall, and let out a particularly bitter curse.
"And here I never thought I'd see the day" Bishop…Phaedra turned at once, startled. There he was, of course, as she should have known he would be, though not a hint of his footfall had alerted her that he was now standing in the middle of the corridor behind her. She stared at him warily as he approached, wondering how much he had heard, just how much he suspected. And she couldn't forget, though the memories were less than lucid, that when she had woken he had been there in the room alone with her...and she struggled to remember...had there been a dagger there too? Of all of her companions, though, he had most reason to suspect that she wasn't being honest. Could she fend him off, distract him? Somehow she doubted it…once Bishop had caught a scent, it would take someone far more skilled than her to throw him off the trail "Who'd you learn that one from? It wasn't the paladin I hope"
"What are you doing here?" Phaedra said, as hard as she could make it. If she had a hope of coming out first in this engagement, she had to lay down the law straight away.
"Protecting my investment, of course" Bishop gave a wolfish grin "I've saved you now…oh…is that four times? Wouldn't want all that effort to go to waste. And you're utterly hopeless at looking after yourself"
"Don't be ridiculous" Phaedra snapped, the fact that she was determined to be hard on him had nothing to do with the anger that now flared up within her. How dare he?
"You've still got a lot to learn" Bishop shrugged, seeming not to care "Let's not forget, you just tried to attack three Luskan assassins with a knife and I had to bail you out" She shrank back, anger slipped from her grasp…after what she had endured, the price she had payed for that mistake…somehow she couldn't but feel that perhaps he was right…
"And you think you can teach me?" Perhaps she meant the question to be sarcastic, mocking, but she couldn't quite manage it. As it was, it came out halfway between plea and simple statement of fact. The ghost of a smile touched his lips, burning in his tawny eyes, and, slowly, softly, he stepped closer to her.
"Mystra's Breath" At once Sand's voice rang out, obviously in answer to what Elanee had been explaining. Phaedra jumped and glanced away from Bishop quickly, although of course she couldn't see Sand from where she was. "It seems I arrived just in time" The wizard continued breathlessly, clearly shocked enough so that even his formidable poise and sense of composure was dented. "Infernal sorcery…are you certain?"
"Lesson number one" Bishop murmured, and her gaze shot back to him. Here he was, and as their eyes met once again, everything of Elanee's reply, of Sand's continued analysis, was lost, faded away, and she heard only his voice, and her own heart's hastening beat. "They're always going to control you. If you want to survive, it's time to start making up your own mind"
"Did you try to kill me Bishop?" The words slipped from her lips, the product of one vague, uncertain thought that she had better not let him get so close again.
"Now why would I do that?" He gave a soft laugh, and, oh Gods, she felt something in her melt…how did he do this? What was it in him that she was so helpless before?
"You had a dagger there, in my room" She continued softly. He raised an eyebrow, he didn't seem surprised.
"Good thing I didn't give try anything with it, then, isn't it?" He whispered harshly at her ear. She shuddered, despite herself…here it was…he knew, he had always known. How could she have hoped to keep it from him? "You knew this was coming, right? Don't I deserve the truth?"
"Bishop…I can't" And she was weak, weaker than she might have been, for her fever had drained her, and that which she now fought off from rising within her again, the memory, the thought of what she had seen and felt in the midst of it had scarred her deep.
"You can lie to them all you want" Bishop said, the softness of his voice was like a roll of thunder in Phaedra's head "But, Squire or no, with you and me things are different." She tried to look away for a moment, collect her thoughts, but he held her pinned like a helpless butterfly with his gaze. And she could not stop the thoughts, the memories rising in her mind, voices, whispers, the touch of cold fingers upon her forehead, agony of magic's darkest touch…the taint, the corruption, and shadows all around her. They were unstoppable, relentless, she gave a shuddering gasp, and they rose within her to her lips so that she could hold them back no longer…
"Promise me…" She reached forward frantically, and her hand found the shoulder of his armour, clasped it so tight that the cuts in her palms stung once again. Her whole body was shaking now, her eyes wild, a chill running through her flesh. "Promise me you won't tell anyone. They mustn't know Bishop…they can't know…"
"I won't tell them" He leaned closer, so that, with her arm upon his shoulder, he seemed to be encircling her entirely. Her fingers dug into the shoulder of his armour as she fought with her fear. "Now, I want to know, princess" He impressed upon her, she was helpless.
"Garius…" Phaedra breathed, and though she stared full into his face, Bishop seemed to fade before her, and the shadows ran down from the walls into her mind. That name, the very sound of it, oh Lathander… "I had a vision" It could be denied no longer, the words had to be told, she had held it back but now it had her in its grip, and she seemed to live it all again "No, not a vision. I can't explain it. I was there, I was really there…"
The light was gone, it had faded so suddenly that she had now not even a glimmer of it remaining in her eyes. She shifted where she lay back now, felt the rustle of an unfamiliar material against her back, heard the shifting of sheets, but knew at once that she had never slept where she lay now before. She felt strangely weightless…as though she could almost spring off this bed and fly. This bed? Slowly she glanced around, yes, she was in a bed. It was a grand four-poster with hanging crimson curtains, silk, the like of which you only imagined reading about in the kind of shocking romances that Amie had smuggled her from Tarmas' library. The sheets were red satin, she rubbed them between her fingers, feeling the silken softness as real as…well anything she had touched before. This was not a dream. Although there was something dream-like about her own presence, she was sure that this room was real, and somehow, some part of her was within it. Her head lay back amidst a pile of wonderfully soft cushions, her hair spread out around it, artfully arranged in flowing streams of gold…
She glanced to the one side…saw that sun-light was streaming through a vast window fitted with glass and iron. Through it the view was of low, green hills and before them run-down and desolate fields, the clouds were low today, low and heavy. It would rain soon. Otherwise the room seemed to be all built of stone, large blocks of it, all fitted together precisely, like a castle or fortress. There was a rich tapestry hanging across from where she lay now, a map of Faerun…no, the Sword Coast, embroidered in crimson and gold. And the rest of the room was adorned with similarly sumptuous pieces, there was a particularly fascinating tapestry just by the window, obviously elven, with an interlocking pattern of tree branches and leaves that formed a motto in graceful elvish 'Under Dawn's Light and In The Shadows of Twilight, Ever My Footsteps are bent Toward You' . Puzzled, Phaedra stirred slowly in the sheets and felt then the rustle of heavy satin upon her legs. She lifted her head from the pillows and saw with shock that she was wearing a gown, the most gorgeous and rich gown she had ever seen, let alone imagined herself ever wearing. It was pure white, white satin, embroidered so delicately that it shimmered, and studded with countless radiant pearls that glistened under the burnished sunlight. It was long and heavy, clinging to her around her stomach and high in the shoulders in a fashion that she knew Amie would have deemed some twenty years out of date. And yet it fit perfectly, she shifted a moment again, admiring despite herself the way it flowed over her body like a precious fountain of shimmering silk. She didn't feel afraid, for some reason…this was really like a dream. But somehow she was certain it wasn't, impossible though she knew that was…
"Do you like it?" The voice, a man's voice, made her jump, coming so suddenly from a corner of the room she had not yet examined, she knew at once that it had been the one that summoned her here through the darkness. Quickly she shifted in the mountain of pillows to glance at her unexpected deliverer. The moment she saw him her blood froze, along with her whole body, her jaw dropped, and she felt the first stab of a mounting wave of real fear… "The dress, it belonged to my wife" The slight, aged and withered, man in his sumptuous robes of black silk said conversationally, as he shifted in his splendid throne-like chair by the bed "I think it suits you rather well, Phaedra" An oddly wistful smile touched the withered lips of the Master of the Fifth Tower. She had seen him only once, as nothing more than a Sending, but now he sat by this strange bed, and he was real…physical. That sense of power, that dominance, that had so impressed upon her then, it was even more powerful now, so that she stilled in the midst of the silken sheets and wearing her satin gown, and simply stared at him, utterly astonished. "I am glad you have finally made your way here" He continued casually as she lay there, frozen in fear
"You…" She gave a hoarse gasp. At once, purely instinctively, she reached for her magic once again, and once again it slipped from her grasp. It was as though it wasn't even there, as though the person who lay back on this bed facing the monster who had pursued her was somehow distinct and separate from her own sorcery…
"Ah, so you recognise me" The Master of the Fifth Tower nodded slowly "Unfortunate. I had hoped we might begin from a more agreeable place than we parted last. A clean slate…if you will" He shifted in his chair, every motion, each movement was calculated, utterly precise "I am Garius. This is my fortress, and I have brought you here, in spirit, while your body lies elsewhere, because it is time that you and I cleared up what has occurred between us thus far. I hope you understand that the occurrences in our last, brief meeting were nothing short of a catastrophic misunderstanding"
"What?" Phaedra breathed, scarcely able to speak
"If I'd known it was you who stood there in that awful place…" He continued, with an odd note of pensive sadness "Things would have been very different."
"You…know me?" She stared at him, there was still something so surreal about this encounter. She couldn't think things through, even understand what she was hearing…
"Not then, I did not" He said "Nor when I sent Ajah to slay you, another terrible misunderstanding, one I regret utterly. I assumed you were yet another adventurer, inadvertently disturbing that which you could not hope to understand. I was angered by your interference …and I acted hastily, without thought. I did not see that your actions were guided by fate, by destiny…yours, Phaedra, and mine. Our destiny together…" He glanced significantly at her, his eyes were like polished silver, hard and cold.
"What do you mean?" She lifted herself up from the bed, instinctively adopting a more defensive posture. The cold, heavy satin of the gown suddenly seemed constrictive, imprisoning, and malice surrounded the man who sat before her, a malice enhanced by the towering scope of the power she at once now felt streaming from him. "What do you want from me?"
"I want to protect you" He answered at once "You are in very grave danger. I knew the moment I saw what you did to Ajah…"
"You saw that?" Phaedra whispered
"I always keep a close eye upon my operatives" Garius replied softly "Ajah was a promising apprentice of mine, but his death was a necessary loss. Now I understand what you are, what your actions thus far mean…why you have come here now…" He stood slowly, and Phaedra shrank back along the bed, grasping at the sheets. Again she tried to summon magic, but nothing came. She was utterly helpless…
"You have been trying to kill me" She breathed hoarsely "The trial, the assassins in Solace Glade…all of it was you. You can't do this…"
"I never meant you to be attacked, it was the action of an overzealous underling" Garius answered "He shall be punished for it. Surely you see, though, how such an unfortunate occurance has nonetheless given us this opportunity? I wished to have a chance to prepare you for what was to come, to assure you that the events surrounding Ember, the trauma you must be going through, they are not what they seem to be. However the trial goes, I assure you, it will not end in your execution. That was never my intention. I only mean to safeguard you, to protect you from this terrible force you have inside yourself. I do not think you quite understand how much danger you are in. Once you do, you too shall see why I have acted as I have"
"How can I understand you?" Phaedra cried "You're a monster, you defile the dead. You're trying to destroy Neverwinter!"
"Do not attempt to condemn what you do not yet truly understand" Garius snapped, and for the first time the darkness she had always sensed in him appeared across his pale, withered features, flashing in his cold, dark eyes. "Neverwinter took something from me, something more precious than you can possibly imagine. If I must sell my soul to accomplish it, I shall exact the price from the life of every man, woman and child in that city!" He stepped closer to the bed, looming over her, a figure of black silk and darkness "You are dying, Phaedra, your body is dying, and I could keep you here until your soul fades entirely" He continued, as she stared at him, utterly shocked by what he was saying "Or I could save you…the choice is entirely in my hands."
"I am dying…?" She echoed, horrified
"A poison, one concocted by my wife in fact, and passed onto some of Luskan's finest assassins" Garius nodded, he was still now, in control of himself once more, but now his stillness had an even more terrifying menace to it "How ironic…" He raised a hand, and at once his magic, that honed, deadly force she had sensed in him arose, and a shadowy, thick darkness seemed to appear within his very hand. She shrank back again… "There is a cure though, an antidote if you will, one she kept secret while she lived. When she was murdered, the secret passed to me. Do you not see the movement of destiny in this? That I, alone, in all this world, can save your life, that you are here. We are meant to be together, Phaedra Blake, you were always meant to come to me…"
"You're insane!" Phaedra gasped, aghast, finally realising the truth of what Garius was really asking of her, the truth of what in his diseased, deluded mind he thought was to come of this meeting.
"She said that too…" Garius breathed, his cold eyes burning "But she was wrong. It was all for her…everything I have done was for her." He shook his head, as though to clear the weight of memory, as though to clear his mind of a face that floated before him always "Phaedra…" He leaned over the bed, speaking her name like it was the only thing that could save him from…everything… "You must understand, I want to save you"
"I can't…" Phaedra sobbed weakly, something about him seemed to drain her of all will, and his power, his magic, was utterly beyond anything she had ever felt. It was utterly inexorable "I can't…"
"Without my guidance, you are damned, Phaedra" He said softly "Your power will consume you utterly, it has already begun." He reached forward slowly with one withered hand. Phaedra suddenly felt sick, faint, she tried to move, tried to fight, but her whole body seemed to be slipping away from her, and only her gaze, held by the pale flame in his own, seemed to be her own. "And you are already dying" He murmured, his voice a rising tide in her mind "Let me help you, or we are both lost"
"Don't touch me…" She tried to scream, but nothing more than a faint murmur emerged from her lips, her head falling back onto the pillows in a stream of gold "Don't…"
"Here, my gift to you, the gift of life" His fingers alighted, cold as the touch of death, upon her forehead and his power slid into her like the clean blade of a knife, she felt it…and it was the most horrifyingly intimate thing she had ever experienced, for he was inside her, that cold darkness, that awful, aching sense of horror and evil that had always surrounded him was flowing fast into her own body, and she could only lie back helpless and feel it envelop her. "Shadows grant many boons" Garius murmured, more it seemed to himself, than to her "I will use them as I will, but I am not his thrall…" Lathander, save me…oh Gods, make him stop, let him stop. But he did not, he healed her…and she felt for a moment through him the ravages of the poison in her body, and saw, with a blurred double-vision, herself upon the bed, robed in white like a corpse. "Ah…you are fading already" Garius breathed, and his voice was the only thing holding her in this room, she was drawing back, back into her body… "One last thing, Phaedra…before you go back where you belong" She blinked, saw his face above her, swimming in the blur of the fever "Do you understand what a geas is?" She could not but respond, for his voice had the cold, hard edge of authority, and she shook her head. The word sounded vaguely familiar, but she could not place it. "You will soon…" Garius breathed hoarsely "Your footsteps will ever be bent towards me, and one day, when the shadows of darkness fall upon you…you will hear my voice, and you will obey" Then his hand plunged into her, that was the only way she could ever describe what he did, through her spirit and body alike. And his power roared, and she was plunged into an agony the likes of which she could never have imagined, as though a thousand hooks were plunged suddenly into her, flesh and insides alike. They were pulling her apart, and everything was falling apart…she screamed, she screamed over and over again, and the agony slammed into her like a hammer-blow…and then Garius was gone, but the pain remained…and she knew not where she was. She could only scream, and scream, and feel Garius' magic tear her to pieces…
"So he...claimed you?" Bishop's voice tore her back into herself, tore through the relentless tide of memory that forced her to live again what she could not bear to remember. She had then…told the whole story to him. She hadn't even known she was speaking. And she looked up into his eyes once again, and knew she was back in the Flagon, that it was truly over. "And this geas?" He said softly
"I don't know…" Phaedra breathed "I still don't know but…" She closed her eyes for a moment, scarcely understanding what she was doing but knowing in her heart that she would do anything to keep away from Garius, from his evil, his spite, his desire, even make this request of Bishop "Bishop, I need you to watch me" She murmured desperately "Please, watch me closely." She had nowhere else to turn, he knew now, and she could never reveal what had passed between her and Garius to Casavir, or Elanee. It was too horrifying, she dared not speak of it again, what would they think, if they knew that this monster entertained some connection between them? That he had revealed that her own magic would destroy her? But Bishop…he was right, things were different between them. There was a strange kind of savage honesty in their relationship…something about him forced her to strip aside all pretence, confront what truly was about herself, about those around her. If there was one person she could trust to do this, to watch her for signs that Garius' magic was indeed affecting her, it had to be him…
"Well, I'll do it then, if you're certain" Bishop said, his voice soft and rough. Though she scarcely knew it, a small part of her was conscious that they were standing very close to one another now, that somehow during her telling of the story her hand had moved from his shoulder to wind closer around his neck, and that they were both leaning towards one another as though the magnetism of shared secrets drew them together.
"Thank you" She whispered, and, feeling like nothing more than the young girl she really was, helpless before these forces, this evil, that always, no matter what face it bore, seemed to be after her, she leaned forward slowly and laid her head upon his chest. It was a simple gesture, a chaste one, a longing for the kind of comfort that nothing more than the warmth of his body, even through his armour, the feel of his arms about her shoulders, could provide. She would take that small solace, the only kind of comfort she had, when fear and darkness was all around her. Whatever he thought of it, whatever he took from it, she couldn't tell but it hardly mattered. She couldn't see his face, indeed it was only because he was here, because he knew, that she was doing this at all. "I can't face him again…" She murmured into the hard, rough leather of his armour "I can't…" And in the shadows of the Flagon's corridor, while in the next room her future was argued and debated to the bitter end by her closest allies, Phaedra lay back in Bishop's arms and tried to forget.
ooo0000ooo
"Did you have to look quite so…militant?" Sand murmured at Phaedra's side, as they waited in the towering antechamber to Lord Nasher's throne room. They'd been escorted, very hurriedly, from the gates of the Blacklake to Castle Never by a guard under Nevalle's orders, giving little time for Phaedra to acclimatise herself to the Blacklake's, or indeed the Castle's, grandeur, and the pall of solemn nobility that hung heavy within these cavernous halls. As such she was still feeling rather over-awed and certainly out of place here, but she had noticed on their way in that the lock-down in the Blacklake seemed to have been gradually dismantled, something Sand informed her was due to the continued lack of success in finding the murderer as well as pressure from the nobility on Lord Nasher to allow them their usual, in Sand's words, 'debauched aimlessness'.But still she hardly registered Sand's question for a moment, she was nervous enough as it was, considering that she was trying to slip through this most minute of loopholes. If the technicality didn't stick…Luskan…and, it seemed, Garius, awaited. And this place…this room…Castle Never was almost too large to imagine. It made her feel dizzy, sitting under these towering ceilings, with the vast pillars of marble lining hallways built of stone, lined with banners and tapestries. Everything was so grand, designed to over-awe with all the subtlety of an axe to the head, and it was pretty effective, for an adventuress from the Mere at any rate. Sand himself, in his immaculate wizard's robe, yet another set, this time much more grand and intricate, velvet crimson and gold-threaded, scarcely seemed to be affected. Indeed it was easy to imagine someone of his sophistication belonging within these towering hallways, or slipping effortlessly among the little groups of extravagantly-attired nobles scattered around the antechamber, all whispering secretively and shooting curious glances her, Sand and Shandra's way every few seconds. But…he had asked her a question, she shook her head to clear it…
"What do you mean?" She whispered, something about this place, or perhaps the waiting nobles all around them, made her want to keep her voice quiet.
"Your attire, my dear…" Sand shrugged, giving her a cursory glance. "Rather…combative, isn't it?" Phaedra glanced down at her battle robes, well she was wearing her bow and quiver…but she could hardly be blamed for that right now.
"Luskan tried to kill me" She answered "They almost managed it. I'm not taking any chances"
"Besides, we need to show that ambassador we mean business" Shandra added, shooting Phaedra an encouraging smile. She had her sword at her side, although she'd shed her armour for one of the new dresses she'd acquired, a rather rustic piece in powder blue. Sand hadn't taken much persuasion to let her come along, he'd deemed that her presence would only reflect well upon Phaedra, unlike certain others in her company. Oddly enough, Neeshka had also requested the chance to help out, but Sand had vetoed that suggestion right away…something which made Phaedra uncomfortable even now. She wondered what Neeshka thought of being so blatantly set aside simply because as a tiefling she wouldn't exactly be the best person to enhance Sand's pretences.
"Hmm…I suppose we could do worse than to demonstrate to Lord Nasher that you're more capable than you appear, on this occasion" Sand tapped his knee thoughtfully "But, remember, we don't want people to remember unpleasant details such as that you are a sorceress, and an adventurer. We are writing a performance as much as a case, Phaedra, and you are to be the innocent maiden, bewildered, vulnerable, beset by Luskan's plots…"
"A performance?" Phaedra stared at him, remembering Casavir's sombre words on the solemnity of Tyr's justice.
"Appearences are everything, my dear" Sand nodded sagely "The people want to see a drama, it is our task to give it to them." She wondered if he was appearing as though Elanee and Casavir hadn't told him about her infernal magic for the same reason.
"Sand, I am glad to see you have made it here at last" They all looked up as Sir Nevalle glided in from the towering, vaunted archway that led, presumably, into the throne room. Nevalle was shadowed by none other than Sir Grayson himself, he looked astonished to see Phaedra standing, and she offered him a weak smile, not really wishing to explain the circumstances of her revival once again.
"Sir Nevalle…" Sand's voice dripped bitter sarcasm "You know as well as I do what pleasure I take in serving Neverwinter…"
"And you, Miss Blake…" Nevalle nodded gallantly "Grayson informed me of your…harrowing ordeal during the Vigil. I am glad to see you are recovered"
"Thank you, Sir Nevalle" Phaedra answered politely. If they were all going to play this game, she could play as well as any of them.
"I do not believe that Torio arranged this attack herself" Nevalle continued "It is far too obvious for her. Most likely one of her associates over-reached himself. But it will play into our hands nonetheless that Luskan was so unwilling to put this case to true justice that they attempted assassination instead" Phaedra nodded, her fingers tightening over the ring from the body of her attempted murderer.
"Lord Nasher is ready for you now" Sir Grayson cleared his throat "Torio is there also…" So, Phaedra was about to face her accuser, she now knew also that Torio must be Garius' creature, his servant. Lathander, give her strength…
"Yes, we shall not keep them waiting any longer" Nevalle added "Follow me" And so they did, Phaedra right behind Nevalle, then Sand, Shandra and finally Sir Grayson. They passed through the archway, decorated at its delicately curving peak with an august statue of Halueth Never, the founder of the city, looking combative and noble with a sword drawn and pointing down towards the supplicants to his throne. The throne room itself was somewhat smaller than the antechamber, and yet it appeared to be far greater in scope. Perhaps it was the even-more sumptuous grandeur in which Lord Nasher sat, thick, heavy blue curtains unfurled across the walls, spilling over the high back of the vast, marble throne itself, which was set high above the floor upon a raised dais, to which three flights of stairs led, one from the front, and one from either side. Statues and splendid marble carving displayed all the affluence of Neverwinter's crafting glory. The floor was carpeted in blue also, streaking gold spirals wound around Phaedra's feet as she stepped forward towards the throne.
Perhaps, though, the root of the throne room's imposing grandeur lay not in the room itself but in the man who sat at its centre; Lord Nasher Alagondar. Adventurer he had been once, long ago, and yet there was little trace of that now in his lordly bearing. The shining whiteness of his blazing armour, the golden coronet upon his head, his sumptious blue cloak, all served to dazzle, so that it took Phaedra a moment to even attempt to gauge what kind of man the lord of Neverwinter was. He seemed more lord than man, even, with his classically sculpted features, his keen grey eyes, neatly-trimmed beard, perhaps he had spent so long upon this throne that he had taken on something of its imposing remoteness. And yet there were signs, also, that Lord Nasher was merely a man, and an ageing one, subtle signs though they were. Like that his beard was greying swiftly, that his cheeks had a weary hollowness to them as he turned his head to glance down the room as Phaedra and the other entered, and also the shadow of lines spreading from his lips and next to his eyes. She remembered briefly the rumours that Nasher himself had been afflicted by the terrible plague nearly twenty-five years ago now. He had been ageing then; she wondered just how old he was now. He bore the weight of time well, at least on the surface, but…she glimpsed for a very brief moment through the legend to the exhaustion of so many years upon this throne, and of so many impossible decisions…
"Milord, was there some purpose to this summons?" Another spoke first, though, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Nasher's gaze had moved from her to alight upon Nevalle and those he was escorting. Phaedra tore her eyes from Neverwinter's lord, and found the woman standing at the foot of his throne, Torio Claven…it had to be. The Luskan ambassador was a tall woman and thin, her streaking brown hair cut short and artfully dishevelled. She could not, perhaps, have been called beautiful, yet there was something imposing about her, as though she had power and knew it well, and how to use it also. Her features were carved to the deadly precision of a knife-blade and her brown eyes were steely. And yet as if in contrast to the cool sense of power and influence she bore so naturally, her clothing was…flamboyant, flaunting herself in a manner that seemed utterly at odds with the refinement all around her. It was a cool, light blue, low-cut at the front, with a high, elegant collar that encircled Torio's thin shoulders, leading down to a short cloak lined with long, white feathers. At the waist, it fell into a sweeping dress, iridescent, a patchwork of colour, which came to her ankles yet opened to a long slit across the knee. Phaedra found herself trying to puzzle out exactly why the ambassador would appear so shamelessly…either Torio simply didn't care, or, far more likely, she intended to keep her opponents off balance. "When there is a murderer on the loose within your city" Torio continued "I can think of far more productive uses for my time, and yours"
"Oh yes, and we know now how well you use your time, ambassador" Nevalle interrupted swiftly, stepping forward to take up position at the opposite side of the throne. As Sir Grayson paused at the edge of the carpet, so too did Phaedra, Sand and Shandra.
"Ah, Sir Nevalle" Torio turned, a deeply insincere smile touching her lips, but never her eyes "Such a pleasure to see you again, and as ever your grasp of the diplomatic is impeccable." She gave Lord Nasher another quick glance, and a sultry smile; her every action indicated her firm belief that she had the situation completely under her control. "It would appear that some within your court find it difficult to let go of the past, milord, and move onwards with the times"
"If Luskan had changed since the war, ambassador…" Nevalle responded with razor-sharp courtesy "I would be the first to welcome its entreaties, but as it is…" He spread his hands…
"Charming to the last" Torio smiled coldly "But your lord and I were discussing something of far greater importance than your…" At last her sweeping, contemptuous gaze found Phaedra standing just behind Nevalle and doing her best to look small. The Luskan Ambassador paused mid-breath, and her eyes widened "Milord this is her! This is the murderer!" She gasped out "You have found her, thank the Gods…" If she wasn't truly shocked to see Phaedra here, then she was obviously a very good actress.
"The alledged murderer, yes" Nevalle answered, then turned courteously to Lord Nasher upon his high throne "My lord" He bowed "May I present Lieutenant Phaedra Blake of the City Watch?" Thus far silent, Lord Nasher leaned forward, and his gaze focused intently upon Phaedra alone. There was a magnificent authority in his eyes, something as over-aweing as the very fabric of the castle around him…
"Bow to Lord Nasher" Sir Grayson muttered at her ear, as Phaedra simply stared, awed, up at the Lord of Neverwinter. She quickly managed a formal kind of curtsey…as beside her Sand executed a flawless bow and Shandra a less-than flawless one.
"This is the one you have accused, ambassador?" Nasher spoke, and his voice was resonant and powerful, ringing to the height and breadth of his throne room. Phaedra could well imagine how men had followed this lord to the death.
"Yes" Torio nodded, still seeming, or acting, rather flustered by this turn of events "Our witness was clear; a half-elven witch, clothed exactly as described…" Her brow narrowed, and she grasped at her gloved hand in shock. Phaedra could almost see the cogs in Sand's mind rolling as he considered what Torio was saying…a witness, so here was her trump card. "But milord, why is she not restrained?" The Ambassador gasped out "You must understand, she is extremely dangerous"
"It is not Neverwinter's custom to punish its citizens before their guilt has been proven, ambassador" Nevalle answered, with clear satisfaction. "Things may work differently in Luskan, of course…"
"She is under Luskan's jurisdiction" Torio snapped "Milord I must protest…"
"Not so" Sir Grayson suddenly stepped forward, and instantly the focus of the room shifted to him. Phaedra glanced at her knight, so far she'd always found him rather unlikable, patronising and superior, yet here, in his own arena, he seemed slightly more agreeable. And he was after all, putting himself rather out on a limb to save her from Luskan's execution, even if it was solely at the discreet command of his lord, who was watching this unfold having already written the script. Lord Nasher was as good an actor as Torio was, it seemed.
"Sir Grayson…" Nasher nodded distantly, yet a smile crossed his features, a wholly natural smile. It seemed oddly out of place amidst all this deception and splendour "A pleasure to welcome you to court again though it is, I must wonder as to your purpose, and in the presence of an accused murderer also."
"My lord" Grayson seemed to shine in Nasher's reflected glory, standing straighter, his handsome features settling into a solemnity that rather befitted them. Gods, he truly was devoted to Nasher…how did one live like that? She would always wonder… "This woman is no murderer, and I am certain of it…"
"Charming as this is, may we return to the matter at hand?" Torio interrupted, with a sneer
"Be silent, ambassador" Nasher ordered, a storm crossing his features "Lest I order you from this hall, treaty or no" Torio stepped back as though slapped, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Continue, Grayson…" Nasher settled back into his seat…
"In the sight of Tyr I declare that this woman cannot be tried under the terms of treaty with Luskan" Grayson proclaimed grandly "She is my squire, and thus not subject to Low Justice. If the honoured ambassador to Luskan still has a case, it shall be held in Neverwinter or not at all"
"What is this nonsense?" Torio stepped forward; the resentful bitterness that was settling over her now was perhaps more real than her earlier shock "Milord, surely you cannot believe such a transparent deception?"
"Tread carefully" Nasher warned darkly "Sir Grayson is one of my most trusted knights. If it is his word against yours, you walk upon very thin ice indeed"
"I hear only the words of a man shielding a murderer" Torio tossed her head "As I have heard it, this woman is a formidable enough whore. Is it possible Grayson's loyalty has been turned to the charms of her bed?" Phaedra's jaw dropped and she blushed crimson. By the Gods…what a horrible thing to say! She could scarcely believe she was hearing this. Grayson too looked aghast, even more embarrassed than she was, hardly even able to bluster and reach for his sword. But Sand hardly looked surprised, politics, it seemed, was a far dirtier game than she'd thought.
"Be silent, ambassador!" Nasher thundered "How dare you disgrace this court and far better men than your masters with these foul accusations!" His eyes flashing he turned to Phaedra herself "I am sure we agree that the ambassador has spoken far more than enough, is the accused prepared to give her own side of the story herself? What say you, Lieutenant, Sir Grayson speaks truly, does he not?" Phaedra swallowed, struggling to speak for a moment. She had just been called a whore…Torio was still shooting daggers across the room at her with nothing more than her hard eyes, and Nasher was so imposing a presence…
"Yes…he does" She breathed at last "I am his Squire"
"Ambassador" Nasher turned his eyes upon Torio, but she didn't seem intimidated at all "The squire will be tried here, then, but not in Luskan's walls."
"There is no justice for this, no justice for those slaughtered at Ember, no justice for Luskan's losses…" Torio stood tall, drawing up to her full height, but it was clear she had been defeated, for now. "But I will fight this to the bitter end, you are assured of that, milord. You, 'squire', shall face the punishment your heinous evil deserves…" She turned on her heels and stormed from the throne room, all wounded justice and self-righteous disdain. Phaedra breathed out deeply…thank Lathander, and perhaps even Tyr, if he was listening…it had worked. And the tension Torio's presence, her sneer, her hard eyes, had inflicted upon her faded once she had vanished from the room. Though of course, it was only a temporary reprieve, she felt deeply relieved to have escaped Luskan, escaped Garius, for now at least. Though Torio, of course, would have prepared vigorously for this as well, everything she had heard of the ambassador thus far spoke of the subtlety and foresight that would be needed to anticipate and counter every eventuality. But at least she, and Sand, had a chance to make their own preparations now as well…
"Ah…so the ambassador realises she cannot have everything to her advantage, good" Nasher said with clear satisfaction. The tense formality of the throne room seemed to dissipate somewhat as he relaxed into contentment at the success of his scheme, testifying to the sheer extent of Lord Nasher's command of his environment. "But this has bought only a little more time, for all of us. I have done all I can, it is up to you now Lieutenant, and my operative Sand of course, to prove your innocence and fight for it in this court." Sand didn't look thrilled to be described as Nasher's operative exactly "Under Neverwinter's rule, you have leave to depart from this city in order to gather what evidence you require…I will hold off the trial until you return, but ensure it is not too long, or else Torio will have her way regardless." He paused, and after a moment, Phaedra realised suddenly that he was waiting for her to reply…
"Thank you…" She blurted out "My lord"
"Port Llast is our closest settlement to Ember, and indeed to Luskan itself" Nasher answered "There may be a chance that someone there is a potential witness, and perhaps you may use it as a base to travel to Ember itself. You will need to do so if you seek to prove your innocence"
"Port Llast's mayor…his name is Haeromos" Sand coughed with what might have been taken as polite regard, but had just a hint too much of sardonic irony "He is said to be a fair leader, and vigilant of his people and the lands around. I suggest it would be wise to speak to him"
"Lieutenant, I wish it were under better circumstances that we accepted one of your obvious quality into Neverwinter's service and that of her knights" Nasher leaned forward "But I assure you, if you expose the truth of what has occurred at Ember, expose the ambassador's lies for what they are, I will prize your service even higher" Phaedra managed to bow her head, but inwardly she churned with confusion. Did Nasher mean that even once the trial was done, her service would still be required from him and Neverwinter? Not that she begrudged Nasher the help he had obviously given her, and his high praise of her abilities, but…she had her own concerns, could she really afford to be further entangled within the Sword Coast's politics? "Keep your resolve, Lieutenant" Nasher warned "Your capture means much to Torio, and to Luskan, clearly, and she will have means to turn the people of Neverwinter against you when the day comes. If she succeeds I will not be able to protect you." He sat back in his seat, solemn, reserved, lordly "May Tyr be with you, Lieutenant…we shall all have need of his guidance before this is done"
P.S. If they are required I will now be placing 'Black Garius being creepy' warnings on chapters in which this creep appears from now on for our more innocent readers.
