As ever, thank you for reading!
And an extra, extra big thank you goes to the wonderful Kaispan for invaluable support and advice when I was dithering over this chapter. :D


Chapter 48: Adjusting to the Dark Part 2


A sprawling construction covered with overlapping shards of obsidian, the Higher Tavern was large enough to dominate a substantial stretch of Ust Natha's penultimate layer. It was presumably an accident that this building so perfectly resembled a vast, blackened oak tree, but the likeness had been noticeable to all of the disguised surfacers - it had set none of them at ease. Things had not improved once they stepped inside the tavern…especially not when Elatharia had seen Edwin sitting there with Solaufein. Her anger had flared – and with it, the monster. It was a miracle that she had acquiesced to his surreptitiously signed requests at all.

"That was a close call," Imoen muttered with enthusiasm once she and Elatharia had ascended the broad, sweeping black stairway of the Higher Tavern, leaving the others to soldier through the rest of their drow dinner without them.

In spite of its complex shape, the Tavern did not appear to be at all labyrinthine in construction as the two sisters reached the top of the stairs above the main hall – there they found just an empty semi-circular landing decorated with glass spiders of Lolth and a few red plush couches. And of course there was the expected shimmer in the air, that disturbance of space that only a practiced or expectant eye could make out. Elatharia felt as though her thundering heart turned to stone at the sight. Even so, her treacherous hands were trembling faintly as she made a point of peering down at the drow number on the tag of her allocated key. It took a moment of comparing, for neither she nor her sister could read the script even with the aid of their svirfneblin rings, but soon she determined that their room would be the third door to their right.

"Jaheira won't know, and neither will Valygar. They might be able to read Sign Language now but they can't understand Drow Sign Language altered for Netherese. Viconia will suspect something of course, and maybe so will Haer'Dalis," Elatharia reminded Imoen as they headed across the gloomy space to the appropriate door, both studiously ignoring the shimmer that followed them. The key slotted in perfectly and turned with a click, but Elatharia looked back at her sister pointedly. "They mustn't know. None of them. This is between us." Between the three of us.

"Alright," Imoen agreed rather unwillingly, shaking her sister's shoulder for emphasis as she continued. "But just…don't let your anger take control, alright?" Don't turn into the Slayer.

Swallowing hard, Elatharia pushed the door open wide and let the shimmer pass through into the dark room beyond. Her heart was still pounding, but there was no sign of the beast within her. That seemed like a good thing.

"I'll be out here, promise," Imoen smiled, though the look barely reached her eyes. "At least Viconia done swore that these rooms are all riddled with Abjurations, hey?" To this Elatharia just nodded absently, and stepped through into the dark room before her fear could stop her.

With the heavy door clicking shut behind her, the Transmuter heard a number of contingent wards flare up just as Viconia had promised, though she took little comfort from it in her present company. Blinking into the pitch blackness, her darkvision showed to her a simple but fairly large rectangular room, its cold stone walls bare of any decoration. A rug covered the floor between her spot and the two round beds, scarab-shaped mattresses supported by legless black metal frames.

There was a small window in the far right corner, and Edwin shimmered into her view as he closed the spider's web shutters with a resounding thud. Once this was done and a Light cantrip brightened the room with a dull orange glow, the Red Wizard kept his back to her for a moment longer, turning his head just far enough for her to make out his grimace.

"I should kill you now for betraying me," Elatharia managed, though her voice shook. He had dared to turn his back on her, after all. She clenched her jaw to hold back the tide of demands – with her soul gone she had not thought it possible to feel this…strongly

"Killing me would cause you more trouble than it would be worth," Edwin huffed, hesitating when Elatharia did not respond with anything more than a glare. After a moment of silence, he tensed with evident frustration, as if he had expected some other greeting. "Though I do not know what it is you think I did, or what choice you think I had," he spat.

Elatharia folded her arms tightly as he turned around to face her, the vitriolic words she had expected to snarl catching in her throat. Still, she took half a step back as his dark eyes took in the sight of her disguised form with a kind languid wryness that made her want to reach for the door handle and escape back outside. Instead she remained rigidly in place, tilting her chin as he approached warily.

"It seems to me that you certainly did have a choice about siding with Bodhi," she told him.

"Siding with…" Edwin threw his hands up, gesturing expansively as he spoke as if his anger at…all of this…could not be contained, "I did not side with Bodhi. If I had, do you think I would have gone to such elaborate lengths to meet with you? And before you suggest that it is some treacherous ploy, why would I risk lying to you when I know that your sister is waiting outside the door with the others not far (enough) away?"

"I don't know," Elatharia fidgeted. "But you did tell me not to trust you when we were preparing to leave for Spellhold. This hardly seems like the time to go back on that, especially since we are now on opposing sides." Viconia's mantra passed through her thoughts, a little desperately. Trust is for the foolish and the dead. Trust is for the foolish…

"We are not on opposing sides," Edwin gritted out, and the words clearly tasted as bitter as they sounded. His fierce eyes trained unwaveringly on her and she shifted uncomfortably. "You heard it yourself: I am a prisoner here (and they call me 'property'. One day, one day…)"

"If you're a prisoner, what are you doing drinking wine at a tavern?" Elatharia had to ask. He slumped visibly at her question, and the anger she had so desperately clung to fluttered away, leaving her heart pounding and her eyes wide. "How…how do I know that you did not just come up with that ruse to explain why you're here, a human in a drow city that hates you?"

"Irenicus and Bodhi are no more drow than I am," Edwin dismissed her second question, though his anger flared again as he responded to her first. "And why would they care what I do? This is the Underdark and I have no means of escape," the Conjurer gestured about them sharply, the frustration in his voice more fraught than she had ever heard it. "They sent me because they were mocking me, and I went because it is torture to be in the presence of those who play at being my masters! (Though far less audacious than your own disguise)."

Only the rug lay between them by this time, Edwin's polished black boots just barely touching the far edge of the apparently pointless black cloth. He looked just the same, just that red shirt visible beneath his archmagi jacket to suggest he might be a Red Wizard of Thay, the sweeping black lines of tattoos showing at his wrists and neck. She still remembered the heat of his skin beneath her hands and her lips.

Looking away sharply, Elatharia dismissed her Transmutation to stall for more time. Imoen had made her promise to control herself, and now she found that she was more confused and frustrated than genuinely angry. It was not anger that made every muscle she had tense automatically as Edwin took another step towards her, eyes narrowed. Her heart continued to pound treacherously, and her mind span, looking for anything to distract her from his proximity.

"We came here because we had to. Irenicus and Bodhi have our souls," Elatharia reminded him more softly than she had intended. Remembering her sister's words, she hesitated before continuing, staring down at his feet rather than looking up into his face. "Imoen and Haer'Dalis think that you did not go willingly."

"I did not," the Red Wizard agreed, his low tone more firm than angry. "And nor did I abandon your sister willingly. There are…reasons, things that Bodhi holds over me, that dragged me with them when it was the last thing I wanted to do."

"Really? What 'reasons' are they?" Elatharia did not back down when he sneered at her carefully disbelieving tone. She set her expression, glaring back up at him even as her hands fisted in her tunic just to stop from grabbing at his arms, or his jacket. She felt the ridiculous urge to just cling on to him, even now as he railed at her question.

"Think about it for yourself, you insufferable Transmuter! Why would I have travelled with you to Spellhold? Why did I permit Imoen to so mortally wound Yoshimo (and it was your idiot companions who presumably healed him)?" The gap between them was dwindling, his red-brown eyes as imploring as she had ever seen them. "Why…why would I permit myself to be affected by Havarian's poison if I had known it would disable my magic? Why did I not kill your companions when I had the chance? (And gods know it would have been a mercy with the druid and the ranger…)"

It all sounded rather plausible at least, but even so Elatharia felt uneasy. Shaking her head, she pushed back from the ridged surface of the doorway, past the Red Wizard looming before her and further into the room. As if that might alleviate the heat rising under her skin. But at least it was easier to speak when she was not looking at him.

"I must be mad for casting those spells for you while Solaufein wasn't looking," she groaned, thinking back to the clumsy gestures of Sign Language Edwin had aimed her way, requesting this meeting while Solaufein had been distracted. "Do you realise how much of a risk it was to think that he might recognise that the sight of you leaving was just an Illusion? I'm not Jan."

"I know," Edwin smirked briefly at that, but Elatharia waved his response away.

"And what about an apology, as half-hearted and completely useless as one of those would be?"

"I have no reason to apologise (and as you say, that would be a worthless gesture)," Edwin denied her. "And it was your own carelessness that has seen you to this place," he told her fiercely. Even without looking at him, she could imagine him running a hand through his hair shakily and glaring. "Bah! You will trick no apology from me. I am a prisoner because of you. You should apologise."

And again her angry retort stuck in her throat, which constricted treacherously against a rush of something other than the rage she had expected. Was that…guilt? Her lip curled. Anger would be simpler. This was painful. She caught a glimpse of his face, mouth turned down, brows furrowed, poised as if he wanted to take another step toward her. She swallowed hard, and the words poured out.

"Why should I apologise, Edwin? It's not my fault Bodhi has some hold over you, or my fault that I was being t-tortured and having my soul ripped out while you were traipsing about Brynnlaw. Or that I have a monster that comes tearing out of me at the most inopportune times, and not only do I have my own soul to recover but my sister's too," she heard her own voice rising, her breath coming in fast gasps as she paced before him. It was hard to look at him, her eyes fixing on anything but him – even as he caught at her wrist as if to pull her around to face him. "Apparently when…when you have no soul you start to forget how to f-feel, until all you have is the memory of your emotions." Her voice was shaking, the world blurring with tears. "And when that's over, you just have the gaping hole where that used to be and a burning desire to remember."

When she stopped at last she narrowed wildly widened eyes at his wary expression, as if that might deceive him into believing that she was angry. Instead, treacherous tears spilled over her cheeks, soaking into the fabric of her mask – with a snarl she tugged the cloth free, scrubbing her hands over her face. Her breath sucked in with a shaky gasp when Edwin took a step toward her and she realised his fingers were still wrapped around her wrist.

"And now I don't even know why I'm c-crying. It's just…I'll go mad if I don't get my soul back. I'm already…hazy," she paused long enough to force the shake out of her voice, and her next words were more of a growl than anything else. His eyes were following hers as she searched his face, looking for some sign of…gods new what. "I have to get our souls back, and I have to make them suffer for what they did to us…"She tensed when Edwin tugged her closer, his hand sliding to her elbow, but his grip just tightened when she tried to hide her face.

"I know," the Conjurer agreed, probably much more gently than he intended, "Though such things are never so simple. They clearly do not have the whole of either of your souls, for you both yet live and breathe. You are not weaker, nor so different." His free hand brushed her braid of hair from her shoulder, his thumb skimming lightly against her collarbone. Against her conscious thought, her hand curled around his wrist, smoothing across familiar skin. And gods knew, everything else in this place was so unfamiliar.

"I feel different," she remembered to disagree, "I feel…"

Her mouth dry, Elatharia felt she ought to at least contemplate slapping Edwin's hand away as his fingertips brushed her neck, her chin, one thumb following the tracks of tears to her bottom lip. Her attempt to disbelieve him was over, her thoughts drifting now as his touch sparked over her skin absently, as if his actions were beyond his control.

"Know that I am as reliable an ally in this as anyone," Edwin promised roughly, "For Bodhi has blackmailed me and controlled me far more than I will stand. We will see them dead." His thumb glided over her cheek, sending a shiver down her spine, and came to rest above the markings beneath one eye, his fingers tangling in her hair as he tilted her head back far enough to see her face fully.

Elatharia was too distracted to answer before he kissed her, responding without conscious thought to the brush of his mouth against hers, her eyes closing as his arm curved around her waist and hauled her closer, forcing her up onto her toes. Their lips clung for a moment with tantalising gentleness before parting and meeting again more forcefully, her arms reaching up around his neck and their next shared gasp permitting them to deepen the kiss. It was a little clumsy, for she stumbled back as his weight forced her feet flat once more.

Their foreheads bumped gently…and the golden light of Bhaal flickered in the darkness behind her closed lids. The monster stirred, and for a moment Elatharia panicked. Her eyes flew open and she pulled back, her hands sliding down over his shoulders and fisting in the lapels of his archmagi jacket. They were both breathing hard. When had been the last time since anything had truly distracted her from the chaos of the past few days?

"Oh, I remember," she mumbled hazily, relaxing again as the golden light sputtered out. "That's how Red Wizards mark alliances, isn't it?"

Edwin frowned a little, dazed curiosity darkening even as his arm tightened briefly on her waist.

"Something like that. (Although she is not a Red Wizard of Thay…)"

A smile curved his lips when she reached up to kiss him again, slower, deeper, more certain – though she found herself longing even more to cling to him, to drag him closer, to beg him to stay a little longer. Instead, they parted more gradually than before, his eyes staying closed a fraction longer than hers. When he looked at her, that faint, wistful smile returned.

"When our enemies are dead I will remind you of this moment," Edwin murmured against her. "We are not finished."

Elatharia bit her lip as if that might hold back her own smirk at his words. But it lasted just a moment longer, for as their holds upon each other weakened, reality came creeping back in. The Transmuter's voice was more strained than she had intended when next she spoke, the warmth of feeling dissipating. It left in its wake a hollowness, an emptiness in the pit of her stomach which worsened with both of the steps he took back from her.

"I can't free you, Edwin," she said. "If I free you, none of us can stay here and we won't find out what Bodhi and Irenicus are doing next." She felt foolish for looking up at him like that. It felt weak.

"I do not need 'freeing'," the Red Wizard denied as haughtily as he could. "They cannot control me as they think they can, and for now at least they seem disinterested by the idea of killing me..."

"Never trust Irenicus with things like that," the warning was torn from her in a rush of panic, her hand fisting in his jacket again. She shook him as well as she could. "He has no mercy. And…and I can't imagine the introduction of my soul has helped at that."

The flicker of concern that crossed Edwin's face was soon chased away by necessity. His expression settling into something a lot more determined, the Conjurer tugged at his jacket to straighten it when she relinquished him, taking a careful few steps back. The seriousness in his eyes was a painful reminder of the dangerous reality of Ust Natha beyond her bedroom door.

"Well…if you are not here to save me, (knight in shining armour that she clearly is not), I should return to my captors," Edwin grunted.

Elatharia swallowed hard as she watched him, wondering what the others would have said. But she could not deny Edwin's logic, or even disbelieve his honesty – he and she and Imoen were the only ones still being wronged by Irenicus and Bodhi. At least for now, he was her best chance. So she nodded in agreement, grimacing and catching at his arm as he turned to go. The hollowness in her chest was only growing, but her skin crawled to see him going back to Irenicus and Bodhi like that.

"Wait. There's something…an item you'll not gladly part from…that you will need to give me if I'm really to believe you're on our side." She held out her hand expectantly, and though Edwin protested when she told him what it was that she wanted from him, he did hand it over.


"Elatharia and Edwin discussed something while Solaufein's back was turned," Viconia stated gruffly once Haer'Dalis had closed the door to their room. She crossed over to the shutters behind the bed and slammed them with more force than she had intended, wincing to herself. "The signs he used were clumsy, and not of the drow language."

"Yes, my Blackbird – but it hardly seems likely that Elatharia will turn against us in the quest for her own soul, or that of her sister," Haer'Dalis reminded, a hint of suspicion in his low voice. When Viconia turned to face him he was watching her closely, still unmoved from the doorway. "You know this. What is it then that troubles you truly?"

"She is blind when it comes to him!" Viconia insisted, inching around the bed and sitting on the edge just for something to do, though her body screamed against the luxury of rest. "She is human, and weak. So is he."

The bed depressed as Haer'Dalis reached her side, though his hands settled upon his knees rather than bridging the gap between them. It was easier not looking at him – and it felt strange to see him in this fake drow form. He did lean forward to attempt a glimpse at her face but she turned it away from him, fixing her eyes upon the web pattern of the shutters instead.

"Must you always be buzzing about me, male? Can I have not a moment to myself?" she complained, her chest aching with the strain.

"I would leave in an instant if it would help this problem, my Blackbird. But I see plain as daylight that your suffering is not about our Raven, 'tis about this place. And this place will not go away for willing it." How could he be so unbearably calm about this? The atypical seriousness of his soft tone set a strange fluttering inside her, a feeling she realised must have been affection.

"I am more familiar with the reality of this place than any of you, fool," she spat instead, "I swim in memories here – most unpleasant memories. I have slept in this very room before; I have dealt with Solaufein and Phaere before – I escaped this place to avoid becoming their lackey because of what they might learn about me." Shar, grant me strength. "It is the bumbling cluelessness of you and the others that so alarms me. If Elatharia does not get us killed, then I know that you will."

"Are you not being perhaps a little pessimistic, my Blackbird? If we were going to raise suspicion, would it not have been immediate?" Haer'Dalis did sound amused now, and Viconia shook her head in exasperation.

"You cannot understand. Even if no suspicions are raised, one wrong move could get any one of us – or all of us – killed."

"So you have made very clear to me," Haer'Dalis agreed, "But there is something deeper that concerns you, and I must hear it."

"Something 'deeper'? Ugh!" Viconia poured mockery into her tone, but a glance at his transmuted face showed no hint of offense. Just mildness, and expectation. Was it possible for him to make this any harder? "It is not 'deep', it is common sense! You cannot act in this way around me, as if we are equals. You cannot tempt me, or goad me. You are male. You should not presume to demand any explanations from me."

A flicker of understanding crossed his face, if not anger. He did draw back from her, standing. Why did it make her feel so sick to do this? In spite of her doubts, Viconia waved his next words away when he attempted to speak.

"Get away from me," she snarled, "I need some peace from your inanity."

He did hesitate, frowning as if he did not believe her, but when she refused to acknowledge him further he turned on his heel and left her to the silent dark of the room. Only once he was gone did her shoulders slump. Scrubbing her hands across her face wearily, Viconia had to believe that her decision was the right one. It was for his own good, after all.


"You intrigue me truly, Merdin," Haer'Dalis greeted Imoen, careful to use the false name Viconia had allocated out here on the landing where gods knew what ears might overhear.

Imoen might have jumped to hear those words after his silent approach, but her skin had already been prickling with the proximity of his demon nature. It was hard not to cringe away from him, but that seemed rather unfair given how much trust Elatharia and Viconia had put in him – and for all his bravado he had known how to get rid of the githyanki. So she looked up from her seat on the couch and offered him a genuinely curious look.

"How's that, Haztafein?" she inquired as breezily as she could manage, fidgeting a little against the discomfort of his aura as he perched beside her on the cushions.

"You bear your silences as one ill used to them. You do not balk at the mention of our allegiance with the Shadow Thieves, nor at this charade of ours," he gestured about them, and she shrugged. "Which is peculiar for one whose blood sings of silver bells, hmm?"

"I'm not all silver bells," the aasimar mumbled automatically, though the thought of what else she was did a lot to make her feel worse. Child of Bhaal. Child of Bhaal? It explained the dreams from before, the ones that had wracked her after Naskhel.

"Indeed you are not. But you are nothing like your sister either, and that is unexpected. Of course she told us about you," Haer'Dalis waved away Imoen's automatic disagreement, "But you are not alike. Except perhaps in strength." He flashed her a smile that ought to have set her at ease, but for his aura. A moment of quiet passed before Imoen could not hide her disbelief any longer.

"Hey, don't think I'm stupid. You're out here because you wanna know why I'm out here. And because you just argued with Viconia," she told him firmly, and that wiped the smile from his face entirely.

"You are most cynical with this humble sparrow," Haer'Dalis complained, ducking his head as if that might make her believe him more. Imoen snorted instead, feeling oddly giddy at this hint of normality. And here, of all places.

"I'm not judgin' here. Just don't be disappointed when you see nothing interesting."

"Are you denying the communication that passed in the tavern…" Haer'Dalis's words were interrupted by the loud click of the lock in the door beside them, and both aasimar and tiefling turned around sharply to see Elatharia stepping through, once more in the guise of a drow. She eyed the bard with a pointed frown, drawing his attention from the wide open door and the shimmer that passed through, distance rendering the illusive Red Wizard truly invisible as he made his escape down the stairs.

"I must have rest to continue creating the spells that keep us safe," Elatharia stated coolly, "You may not be able to hear into the rooms, but the Enchantments on these doors render you perfectly audible to me. If you must speak with my sister, please do so elsewhere."

Perhaps it was a little too flamboyant – or maybe Imoen was just too familiar with her sister – but Haer'Dalis behaved as if he was taken in by Elatharia's acting all the same. He stood swiftly and swept a low bow of apology, smirking when she nodded curtly to him and closed the door between them once more.

"Perhaps we should join our companions in the tavern below, Merdin?"

Standing to join him, because it would look too suspicious now if she went in to ask her sister about what had just happened with Edwin, Imoen even managed a faint grin the tiefling's way.

"Told you so," she teased, though the way Haer'Dalis narrowed his eyes as he smiled back suggested that he was well on his way to working out far more than Elatharia would have wanted.

Imoen's heart dropped and her face fell the moment he turned his back, her legs shaking at the very thought of Edwin returning to…his captors. How could he do that? How could she and Elatharia let him? She had to bite her lip to hold back from blurting out the truth – something told her that Haer'Dalis would happily help out any attempts to break Edwin free if she made the quest sound exciting enough. But they would probably fail. They would always fail against Irenicus.


The aasimar and the tiefling found Jaheira and Valygar still sitting at the table where they had left them not all that long ago, valiantly attempting to make it through the rest of the food the others had left. The tavern was busier than before; more females had come in for some kind of evening meal from the looks of it, males with bowed heads attending to the orders. The fighting 'entertainment' in the far end of the room had just stopped as well; those who had been watching were just filtering out through the door or looking for a place to sit. The aggressive tones of drow sounded everywhere, setting Imoen on edge from the moment she and Haer'Dalis reached the bottom of the stairway.

"Sziithra, Jerzon," Haer'Dalis greeted Jaheira and Valygar with their false drow names, bowing to the druid whose lip curled at the greeting. The tiefling's eyes were too bright with amusement as he took a seat by Valygar, who elbowed him visibly as if in reminder.

"Are you joining us?" Jaheira asked of Imoen, who had to force herself to nod and sit rather than cringe at the druid's tone. Not quite demanding enough for a drow, not quite relaxed enough to set her at ease.

Haer'Dalis and Valygar were speaking in hushed tones and Imoen made a point of looking past them, too wary of this place to listen. She took a piece of the dark, spicy bread which waited on a plate at the centre of the table, each slice covered in peculiarly tangy butter. Rothé butter, Viconia had called it. The only real livestock of the drow world. Though strange, it was still a sight better than the chunks of slimy squid meat the servant had brought them, or the sweet cakes that only Haer'Dalis would touch.

Imoen froze when she felt a hand close around her elbow, her heart stuttering even after she realised it was just Jaheira, still sitting beside her. She struggled to swallow her latest bite of bread, wincing guiltily as she turned to look at the druid. Once she might have teased the Harper for looking so concerned. Now she just wished that look did not make her feel even more guilty.

"How are you c-"

"Solaufein's watchin' us," Imoen interrupted before Jaheira could finish that dreaded question. The aasimar leaned forward to pour some more water from the jug between them, trying to look innocent, but put it back down again awkwardly when nothing poured out into her cup. Jaheira was frowning when she glanced back at the druid's face. "He is. He's been tryin' to hide it, but not that hard." He had been casting looks their way since Imoen had sat down, and their eyes met when she pointedly looked at him again.

"You think he is suspicious?"

"Absolutely. I'd be suspicious of us," Imoen agreed forcefully, resisting the urge to pull a face at the drow male. Under her continued stare he did look away at least. "I think he knew the aboleth spoke to me and Elatharia specifically. N' I don't blame him for thinking that's done suspicious."

"He has no other reason to suspect us," Jaheira said slowly, but Imoen was already shaking her head, peering into the water jug hopefully and finding that it really was empty.

"Everyone has a reason to suspect everyone here," she disagreed, startling for a second time when Haer'Dalis reached across and took the jug from her with a smile, beginning to stand.

"I shall fetch you some more water," he promised, and left her blinking after him in confusion as his prickling aura washed over her and dissipated with his retreat back towards the bar.

"You should not trust him, either," Jaheira said once the tiefling had left earshot, fearlessly threading his way past a group of standing females – all of whom wore hissing snake whips at their hips.

"Who, Haer…Haztafein?" Imoen did not bother to hide her incredulity. Jaheira nodded.

"Of course. You have always put your faith in your sister and in Viconia far more than you should – but if you had seen the things…if you knew what had passed to free you, you would know that we are your only true friends here," the druid gestured between herself and Valygar.

Frustration bubbled up through Imoen far more quickly than she expected, grating against her and setting her skin crawling…almost like it had when Minsc had died at Yoshimo's sword. The beast stirred, momentarily blinding, and Imoen found herself gripping the table to hold back…something. Jaheira recoiled a little at whatever she saw in the aasimar's eyes.

"Are you mad?" Imoen demanded, her voice rising higher than she had expected, "I've not exchanged two words with you," she waved a hand Valygar's way, only to pat at the air between them in the face of another rush of guilt, "No offense, I'm not sayin' I don't trust you. And you…" she turned back to Jaheira, the druid's expression far more wary than it had been before. "I don't expect you to…understand," it was hard not to choke on the word, "But I love my sister. She's my sister. And I done know she's not the easiest to read or the easiest to deal with sometimes but then neither are you."

Jaheira's tense expression smoothed out into something a lot blanker as Imoen's words sped past her better judgement. The aasimar cringed, alarmed by the alien madness that had overtaken her and guilty for talking like that here of all places.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I'm not…I mean I know I'm…that it's…Just don't treat me like I'm gonna break, 'kay?" Though speaking like that made her feel too sick to eat another bite, and she set her bread back down on her plate with a shaking hand, ears ringing above the din in the tavern hall. Surely it had not been that loud in here just a moment ago? Jaheira opened her mouth to speak, but then Haer'Dalis's voice sounded from somewhere across the room, and a jostle of movement by the bar drew her attention along with Imoen's.

"Oh…oh no," Imoen heard herself say, her eyes widening as she saw the female drow barring the tiefling's way back to them and the size of the whip she was just unhooking from her belt. "Oh that's not good."


Viconia heard the voices of Imoen and Jaheira long before the doors of her room crashed open. She had recognised the loud and distressed nature of their words…but she did not expect what followed. In retrospect perhaps she should have. This was the Underdark after all and no matter how good an actor he was, a tiefling bard from Sigil was never going to fit in. No matter how hard she pushed him away.

The drow was already on her feet when Imoen flung open the door without so much as a knock or a shout of warning. The aasimar fairly ran inside, waving her hands about and saying something rapid with wide eyes. But the Sharan priestess was already not listening – for Jaheira and Valygar followed, dragging with them the slumped and bloodied form of Haer'Dalis.

"Put him on the bed," Viconia snapped automatically, though a strange lightness had drifted into her head and left her legs feeling hollow.

Haer'Dalis groaned as they hauled his body onto the mattress, though he did manage to drag his legs up to join the rest of him, sprawled out face down across the dark sheets. His transmuted white hair was covered in blood, his face swollen on one side, but it look like most of the damage had been done to his back. His tunic and shirt were torn to shreds, baring a multitude of deep, jagged slashes from which blood yet flowed.

"Forgive me, my Blackbird," the tiefling wheezed, his one good eye fixing on her without any sense of mirth at all. Just pain. Viconia swallowed though her throat was constricting as if to stop her, clenching her fists tightly – as if that might help. The others were fluttering about, the druid now striding towards her.

"We need to clean the wounds before we can heal them – if the snake whips use venom then gods know what might happen…"

"I know," Viconia promised icily, distantly surprised by how much Jaheira backed away from the fearsome look she sent her. "Though you do not. There is no 'we' here. Get out, and let me deal with this."

Though Jaheira's visage hardened even further at the growled words, she straightened to hear such a command and nodded sharply…almost as if she understood. But there was no time to think about that. Viconia would need hot water, though a quick glance at the room proved fruitless. The others were just leaving, the druid and ranger out of sight already.

"Imoen, can you conjure water…and heat it?" There was no time for fake names. Somehow…it did not matter.

The girl hesitated in the door only a moment before closing it and turning swiftly with a clear affirmative, though her face was blank of any readable expression. At least she set about the request without any further prompting, fetching a basin from the shelf on the wall and performing a few mumbled spells before handing it over with a cloth. Viconia was only vaguely aware of nodding her thanks, already kneeling by Haer'Dalis's side with her attention focused on the torn expanse of skin across his whole back.

"Sh-should I stay?" Imoen asked when Viconia simply set to work.

When the drow shook her head, the girl was quick to leave, the door clicking shut faintly in her silent wake. And only once Imoen was gone did Viconia look to Haer'Dalis's face, which was screwed up in pain as she cleaned the wounds as best she could. She had never known anyone to be silent in the face of whip venom – its primary function was to create agony, its secondary function to delay healing. By all rights, he should have been screaming.

"What in the Hells did you do, Haer'Dalis?" she hissed, hating herself for flinching when he gasped in pain at the sprinkle of Healers' Alcohol that she risked from the small jar she kept for such events. It was made from the strongest spirits one could buy on the surface, blessed by Shar. The wounds hissed as the enchanted liquid forced the venom to evaporate, rising up in dark tendrils. Haer'Dalis's whole body shook, his hands tore the sheet beneath him and he could not hold back a shout of agony that had Viconia's nerves jangling inexplicably. And only once it had passed and he was breathing hard through the lingering pain did he manage to answer the question she had almost forgotten she asked.

"If that was…an attempt to distract me…I…I think it failed," he choked out. Viconia just frowned at him, unamused. He hissed and flinched when she finished the task of cleaning the wounds, the wet cloth wiping away the last of the venom and blood and burning potion.

"Answer the question." She was in no mood for stalling. A glance down at the basin as she finally dropped the cloth into the water revealed a deep glow in infravision, altered now by the blood which would colour it darkly in the light.

"I was…returning with a jug of water for our table when one of the females stopped me. I think perhaps I brushed past her on my way or…or she did not like the look of me. My attempts to talk my way out of the problem only seemed to worsen the situation and she had her dour-faced lackeys drag me into the street where she flogged me, as you can see. I do believe the others attempted to intervene but perhaps that was…for the worse."

"She continued, to spite them," Viconia finished for him, sitting back on her heels. She jumped when Haer'Dalis reached out to her, his hands closing around her wrist. Had she been shaking? His expression was gentle, wistful maybe, from what she could see of it.

"A familiar gambit," the tiefling agreed, eyeing their point of contact thoughtfully. "And yet I remain in this form. Our Raven's spells hold up to battle, at least."

"Public humiliation is hardly battle," Viconia spat, and that drew a coughed laugh from him.

"You do so wound my pride."

"I think today's events have proven that you needed it, sadly."

"Sadly?" He sounded amused now. "Are you saying that you have some sympathy for this poor sparrow?"

Viconia fixed him with a glare as if that might hide her embarrassment, disentangling herself from his grip and kneeling up again, holding her hands out above his wounds and calling upon Shar without any further words to the injured tiefling. He tensed again as the dark shadows of her goddess's power flooded through her, pouring into his torn skin and knitting it closed, wisps of darkness flowing between them both.

Haer'Dalis did at least breath an audible sigh of relief as the healing power dissipated, his body relaxing and the darkness ebbing from him. With it went the Transmutation that had veiled him so well, the change too fast for it to last even a blink of an eye. To Viconia's infravision this registered simply as change in his size, for with the door closed no light filtered through. She could see the slashes across his back were still puffy and jagged, but at least they were mostly closed up now. Brushing his damp hair from the nape of his neck she saw that there was a substantial bruise there, too. She did not complain when his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her up against the edge of the bed beside him though he yet lay there and she remained kneeling on the floor.

"Does this mean you have finally given it up then, my Blackbird?" he asked softly, shivering as her hands brushed over his face and leant the last of the healing power she had into all but banishing the bruising and swelling which hid his expression from her.

"Given up what?" Viconia asked, too tired to force strength into her voice. She was too tired to care about caring. His skin was warm against her lips as she pressed them to his shoulder and lingered against him, wondering at the strength and the weight of his arm around her waist. He did not need to answer. She knew the answer.

"Given up pretending that you wish to push me away," he whispered the words against her neck and she did tremble then, drawing back though she both feared and needed to look at his face.

"It is for the best. This…this does not work in the Underdark and amongst the drow."

"It is more artificial to force me away and to fear this place than it is to lie about the truth here, is it not? You told me all drow keep secrets – those who do not are the ones who die." He rolled gingerly onto his side, closing his eyes in relief when the action caused him no more pain. "And thank you, my Blackbird. I suspect you do not believe that I deserve your healing."

"The one who whipped you deserves a slow death," Viconia corrected him automatically, and rolled her eyes when he smirked at her. "Shut up, male. It is late and we both need to rest now."

He did not argue when she removed his torn up tunic and shirt, though she was perhaps a little rougher about it than she needed to be. It looked unlikely that Elatharia would be able to fix these, so Viconia left them in a pile beside the used water basin outside the door for the slaves to deal with. By the time she had dressed for bed, in a spare tunic and pair of leggings, a fresh basin of water was waiting for her to collect.

"Diligent slaves they have here," Haer'Dalis commented far too innocently as Viconia folded her mithral shirt and black dragon scale armour on the floor by her bed, carefully placing the Flail of the Ages upon the table by her pillow. A glance at the tiefling showed him sitting up slowly against the headboard, dropping his boots and swordbelt onto the floor beside him. "I remember how it feels to do one's 'duty' so well."

"I take it you are not attempting to goad me, Haer'Dalis," Viconia sighed, turning her back on him as she slipped under the covers. It was still strangely hard to look at him. She envied the surfacers their blindness in the dark.

A long silence stretched – Viconia assumed from the creaking of the bed that Haer'Dalis had lain down to sleep as well. Though what sleep they were meant to find here was mysterious to her now, even with the door closed, locked and warded between them and the rest of Ust Natha. How had she ever achieved Reverie here? Ah…then she had been alone.

"Who was he?" The tiefling's voice broke the silence softly, though Viconia still jumped.

"Who was who?"

"Haztafein. The one whose name you borrowed for my use in this act."

The sheets rustled into the quiet as Viconia turned to see him watching her, but when she opened her mouth to speak he pressed a finger to her lips to stop her.

"Do not lie to me, Viconia," he said quietly, "I know you well enough to see the truth of that. Who was he?"

"He is an unpleasant memory," she said at length, though her stomach churned as her thoughts wheeled back decades. "Of Menzoberranzan."

"He is? Or the circumstances are?" He asked it softly, so softly that she barely heard him – so softly that she did not fear to answer, though she had never spoken of this past to anyone. She shivered as his fingertips brushed through her hair, lingering at the base of her neck and bridging the gap between them. He watched her with such honest calm!

"Haztafein was one of the sons of House Oblodra in Menzoberranzan. There are…things you must understand about this before I can explain," she waved away his attempts to interrupt her. "You must know that House Oblodra was the third house…but it was heretical. For some time it was an unspoken secret that the house had no priestesses, that they were psionicists – those who harness the same mystical powers that surfacer monks use when they fight. But no one dared challenge them because they were more powerful than the priestesses and the wizards. Their house was impenetrable, and so they were hated and feared. But they had to be accepted all the same. And I was a priestess of Lolth, the eldest daughter of the fourth house, House De'Vir. We had to keep up the image of an alliance, and there was a time when I was sent to lead a group of our combined forces to deal with some…conflicts we had with a house in Ched Nasad."

"And you came upon Haztafein during this mission," the tiefling predicted with the quirk of an eyebrow.

"I did," Viconia sighed, "Though it was not under any 'romantic' circumstances that you might foolishly presume." Haer'Dalis smirked at that, the dark lines which curved over his chin only lending the expression a look of greater mischief, but she ignored him. "I came upon him when he was praying to Shar. I was at first horrified by the heresy – I was still a priestess of Lolth in name, though I had long ago lost my true faith…if I ever had any. The demands she puts on her people are so…thoughtless, so chaotic. It seems illogical…"

"And what of this meeting?" Haer'Dalis urged her, wincing a little as he shifted.

"At first I was horrified…but something made me pause. And then I saw Shar's dark power and something about it comforted me. I felt its strength, and I saw his devotion. It was not the manic, violent stuff of Lolth's followers, who insist upon displaying their greater faith – it was more honest, quieter. So instead of dragging him out there – or trying to – I insisted that he tell me to whom it was he prayed. He agreed."

"Ah, a noble love did blossom I suppose?" Haer'Dalis asked wryly.

"Hardly," Viconia groaned, "Male, you make no effort to comprehend the finer points of drow society and how it differs from the other places you have been. No 'romance' 'blossomed' but we did develop an understanding, an alliance. And one of greater…fondness than the fanatical society of Menzoberranzan can tolerate."

"I take it you were found out?"

"I was. I do not know how but…my mother learned of our allegiance. She learned that he was going to make some trade agreement in the svirfneblin city near Menzoberranzan, and took their leader's child hostage in order to have his people kill Haztafein. He was not surrounded by his siblings, whose combined psionic powers would have been impossible for the feeble gnomes to combat – he had just a group of guards, and with them so outnumbered…none of them survived." She grimaced as she spoke, hating the embarrassment and disquiet she felt to tell this tale.

"And what of the consequences for you, my Blackbird?" Haer'Dalis asked, drawing closer to look into her eyes better when she tried to duck away.

"My mother brought the svirfneblin child to me, and told me to prove my faith in Lolth by killing it," Viconia admitted, remembered frustration tinging her voice, "And I could not. It was foolish really – the child died all the same, by the blade of one of my sisters. All my failure did was send me under guard to the drider pits, the great shame of my house. But my brother Valas, who I now realise was also no follower of Lolth…he saved me. He killed the guards and gave me provisions with which to flee," she shrugged, though she felt anything but nonchalant, "So I did. I came to Ust Natha, and shortly thereafter I learned that my actions had ruined my house. They had lost the favour of Lolth entirely, and been destroyed by House Do'Urden. A fitting end."

"And did you love him? Haztafein?" Haer'Dalis's curious tone made her cringe – though gods knew why. She glared at him.

"Of course not!" she pushed at his shoulder as if that might help force the truth into him, though the action only seemed to pull them closer. "I have told you before that love, like trust is for the foolish and…"

"The dead, indeed," Haer'Dalis finished for her, the words murmured so close to her skin that her thoughts were already scattering. "Though it seems you cannot shake your…allegiance…to me, all the same. I half believed you might have refused to heal me tonight."

The quiet seriousness of his tone made her limbs heavy with regret, and he was malleable to her touch as she caught his face in her hands, moving back enough to see him. For once his frown matched hers.

"That would hardly make much sense," she managed at last, distressingly relieved when his hand settled against her waist. "And I…I was angry with you because I feared this would happen."

She did not expect his gentle laughter, the movement of which made him wince with pain.

"I know," he whispered.

Viconia kissed him. It was a kind of spontaneity with which she was wholly unfamiliar, but the responsive willingness of his lips against hers and the warmth that swelled within her was strangely intoxicating, something altogether different from need. And as he pulled her to his chest and she finally allowed herself to close her eyes, she realised that he had been right. They were better together (and lying about it) than they were apart.


Jaheira had not waited to see that Imoen left Viconia's room, though the thought of the girl stepping alone even to the next door along made her nervous. But the druid had also been relieved to get away – she had never been more glad for the drow's haughty commands. For the most part, memories of the dark cell had been growing easier to push back, but now they were crawling all over her, here of all places where she dare not strike a light. She could so readily recall the shame and rage, the fear for Khalid and Imoen – and even Elatharia, who had not gone into Irenicus's dungeon quite so ill-formed as she had left it. And though Jaheira gritted her teeth against them, the memories came back a flash at a time – of scrambling across cold stone for water and scant food, of sitting in filth with no hope of getting any cleaner, of failed attempts to call upon Nature to break her cell…

"Jaheira?" Valygar's voice held just a hint of insistence, if not impatience. The druid realised that she had walked all but blindly into their room, and that she had stopped half a step away from the window with her eyes screwed up and head bent, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Jaheira…"

Breathing in sharply, she turned to see the transmuted ranger standing with his back against the closed door and a tense look on his face. Clutching her spear, Jaheira followed the path of his grimace to the bed, which was as simple and unthreatening as anything could be, lit by the faint glow of night-time Ust Natha which slanted through the small window.

"What is it?" the druid heard herself snap the words rather than ask them. Valygar seemed to set his feet as if for combat, though he crossed his arms across his chest and met her eyes steadily. It took him a moment to speak – perhaps he had noticed that their disguises were starting to slip, their faces and bodies shifting gradually into their natural states, and perhaps he was struggling to see her clearly in the low light now that their darkvision had worn off.

"There is only one bed. You should take it," the ranger stated gruffly at last.

Jaheira might once have at least barked a laugh at such chivalry, but now she simply narrowed her eyes and brushed it aside, pointedly moving to sit on the edge with herb back to him and gesturing at the expanse of mattress and sheets behind her.

"Do not be ridiculous. The bed is easily big enough for both of us, and I am hardly a damsel in distress." Preferring to look down at the ground as she placed her spear and travel belt by her feet, she paused. "I think you would struggle to find a damsel of any description in this place."

"Imoen would be the closest candidate," Valygar stated it as if he was prompting something. Khalid used to do that.

"Or perhaps Haer'Dalis in his current state," she corrected irritably, "Imoen made her point to us rather clearly earlier." She had almost turned into the Beast. It had been so brief; a faint blurring of the skin, a flash of gold in her pupils…but it had been there. Imoen. The bright, cheerful teenager who had preferred the outdoors to an inn with the delight of child, who had walked with Khalid and talked about all the plants and animals they could see, the girl who had teased her sister until she blushed. A sister who was a murderer now. Why would Bhaal's beast show itself in innocent, broken Imoen?

"There is something amiss, Jaheira," Valygar said into the silence of her brooding, the bed shaking little as he perched on the opposite edge.

"In this place? Nature could barely find a home here if it were properly cleansed and balanced!" Jaheira scoffed, beginning to unlace her boots now as if the disquiet her evasiveness brought on might be alleviated by something so mechanical.

"Something amiss in you since we were forced to stand by and watch the priestess flog Haer'Dalis…"

"Would there not be?" Jaheira fairly snarled, twisting about to see Valygar just turning to look across at her as well. His expression was so unaffected, so dogged, that she almost felt guilty for being so hard with him.

"You most of all," the ranger amended stiffly, eyes too steady upon her for lies to work. Seeing this, Jaheira sagged against her will, rolling her eyes up and grinding her teeth as if this might be pushed aside.

"It doesn't matter. This place is unnatural, of course we are all feeling…" she glanced at him and winced, an admission of her avoidance that softened the line of his mouth just a little. "We should have been able to help him," she sighed at last, giving in to the truth, "I remember what it feels like to be whipped. Haer'Dalis is a lying, mocking, cunning monster but the drow that did that to him is worse."

"And Irenicus did it to you?" A frown had formed on Valygar's face, and Jaheira raised her eyebrows at him in disbelief, pulling at the ties on her breastplate and tugging the armour free. His eyes had already alighted on the curved lines at her shoulder before she pushed aside the neckline of her tunic further, enough to prove that the scars went on across a fair expanse of her back. He did not need to know that they covered it completely, twice over at least. "I had assumed they were battle scars," he managed at last.

"They are," Jaheira gritted out, "And does it come as such a surprise? Irenicus did far worse to Elatharia, Imoen…and Khalid." A torn body on a table, forgotten. A body Imoen had already seen, and said nothing of. The girl must have hoped they would not find it – perhaps she had planned to lie. Jaheira's fingernails dug into her knees through her trousers. Silvanus, hear my vow.

The silence that stretched was a relief. Valygar had looked away quickly after her words and seemed lost for something to say – though perhaps he simply did not have anything to say. After a brief pause, the ranger and druid began to wordlessly go about what semblance of their bedtime routine that this place would allow, keeping their eyes averted from each other as they changed, both leaving their weapons and armour in easy reach of their pillows. But for all her certainty, Jaheira hesitated as she reached for her side of the sheets just as Valygar did the same.

"Do not offer to sleep on the floor," the druid snapped, "The servants…the slaves…will expect to find a bed that has been slept in by two bodies in the morning. Drow do not understand friendships – or allegiance of anything other than mutual self-interest. They would probably pass on the suspicious information, and we do not need any more suspicion on our group than we already have."

Valygar nodded with a grunt, and with an awkward glance shared they both slid under the covers, turning their backs to each other though the bed was easily large enough. Jaheira felt ridiculous – with so much happening around them this hardly mattered. But she still lay too still, staring at the movement of Ust Natha's faint, artificial light upon the smooth grey floor.

"Thank you," Valygar offered into the quiet, where every rustle of sheets and squeak of the bed sounded like a thunderclap all the same.

"For what?"

"For telling me – about yourself today. About Khalid and Imoen, and about yourself. It is not easy to put these things into words."

Jaheira nodded once before she realised he could not see her.

"Thank you for letting me say it," she admitted, and was glad when he did not feel the need to answer.