King of Shadows, Queen of Light

Well, that was a looong hiatus, I must say. Apologies for everyone, and many thanks to those who sent reviews and messages, expressing their hopes that I'd continue. Well, here we go: I'm back, with a longer chapter with much happenings inside.

I write to music. In case someone is curious, this chapter's mood was set by an odd assortment, echoing the main themes I explored here: Brand New Start from Alter Bridge's Blackbird; Three Days' Grace's On My Own from One-X; and Kelly Clarkson's Can I Have a Kiss? from My December (I think I've listened to this last one for a hundred times).

And the usual disclaimer: I strongly regret that I do not own any of the main characters, especially a certain paladin… I take full responsibility for that Pendwyr girl, though...

Chapter Fifty-Five: We Ache To Be Free

I started to believe my life was nothing but getting from one wet cloak to another in the rain.

When spring finally arrived to Neverwinter, it did it with soft but persistent warm rains and mud. Lots of mud. Lots and lots of mud, with which as a lass from West Harbor, I was intimately familiar.

Of course, that didn't mean I liked it.

"I would have thought it's different here." I muttered, huddling in my saddle rather miserable as our sizable party left the city gates and headed towards the fields.

"Different how?" Neeshka tossed her head; rain plastered her fine red locks to her skull, but that did nothing to damper her cheerful mood. She flashed a smile at me and patted my shoulder. "Come on, Rig, isn't this what you were itching for? Finally out of the city, on to the greatest adventure of your life…"

"As if running a castle is an adventure…" Nope, there was no cheering me up. "Listen, Neesh, not that I don't appreciate the effort to keep me in a better mood than I am now, but I'd enjoy some peace and quiet while we're in the saddle today, if that's all right with you. I was up with the sun, and I'd like to try this old soldiers' trick I've heard about: dozing in the saddle."

"Yeah, they are definitely turning you into a grumpy ol' soldier." Neeshka made a face. "Fine, I got you—I'll just go and entertain the paladin who's actually nice to me." She turned her horse and trotted back by the line of soldiers and supply wagons to where Casavir was busy conferring with Captain Ballard about something.

We were finally moving out. The caravan made very, very slow progress assembling and finally getting outside the gates, but we made a suitable impression on the requisite hangers-on who always seemed to be milling about by the empty spaces around the city entrance. But as we neared the end of our journey, I felt as if I was sinking deeper and deeper into that black void that the orphan seer Marcus talked about so long ago. I loved to be outside, I loved the thrill of being on the open road stretching out in front of me, feeling as if I was ready to tackle anything that came by, anything that Life or fickle Lady Tymora threw at me. Lorra shared my joy: I spurred her into gallop for a while, leaving the long caravan of soldiers and my companions behind. I let the wind whip my cloak behind me as I leaned on her neck, standing up in the stirrup a bit, not caring that it probably gave Ballard and his boys a heart attack, seeing me so recklessly abandoning the security of my escort. I spared a fleeting moment of guilt for them, but no more. I needed this so much it hurt; the more so since I didn't realize I missed it this much. Despite being a paladin, I grew up in a small village, accustomed to having nature and wilderness just a stone throw's away from me. If Neverwinter didn't grate on me as bad as it probably did on Elanee, it definitely was an unexpected relief to be outside its walls and on the road again.

I slowed down soon enough, though: the road wasn't in any great condition what with the winter's damage still largely unrepaired; we probably were the first large party apart from the regular repair crews I knew were sent every spring to fix the larger holes. I didn't want to get Lorra hurt, so I reined her in after we were forced to swerve dangerously to avoid a fallen tree halfway blocking the way.

As I turned her around, I found that, of course, someone decided to follow me, after all.

"Sometimes…" Casavir said a bit breathlessly as he tried to calm Elbriel down, "…sometimes I am not entirely convinced about your sanity, my lady."

"Ouch." I said, trying to untangle a lock of my hair from here it got mixed up with Lorra's mane. "That's rather harsh of you, milord. What's gotten into you?"

"Concern about your safety?" He lifted an eyebrow. "Would you do me a favor, meum mel? Next time you plan on trying to murder both yourself and your horse, warn me first so I can hold you down and explain just how insane it is to do that under these road conditions and with the security we are having on the roads these days?"

"Now you're talking." I grinned at him, seeing that our escort was still a ways back so no one can overhear us. "I knew you just wanted to put a hand on me."

This time he lifted both eyebrows.

"Does that mean you are trying to run away again?" he deadpanned, and I finally burst out laughing, just as the sun decided that it was time to peek out a bit to reward us for our boldness.

That carefree feeling was short-lived, however. The closer we got to the rock outcropping by the river where the Keep crouched over a silent village, my heart grew heavy again. There was no way we could have stayed at the Keep just yet; after long years of neglect and the crude use to which Garius and his Luskans subjected it, it was uninhabitable, at least for a good while. The skeleton crew that was sent ahead was busy with the manor house instead, located in the abandoned village at the bottom of the cliff. I admired Casavir even more for suggesting that: I knew how difficult it must have been to him returning there, as it was originally his family's rural retreat. But it made sense, logically speaking, and never it be said that he wasn't almost ruthlessly practical when he had to employ his Tyrran-honed mind. Nasher liked the idea, and thus a small team was dispatched to get it ready for our arrival, and to make sure Master Veedle had some means of habitable tents and whatnots set up in the castle itself for himself and his crew, as he insisted to start the survey work as soon as we arrived. And that was merely the surface of the myriad little details of planning this out: it sounded more and more like a war campaign, and I was assured when I voiced that opinion that is wasn't far from the truth.

It was way too late when we arrived, but the rain never let up, not for a minute. The chaos was inevitable, but organized, thanks to Ballard bellowing on the top of his lungs and his crew bustling about like they knew what they were doing. I learned one thing already: when they were in that mode, best was to stay out of their way. So as soon as I dismounted and made sure Lorra was taken care of, I scuttled in to the manor house where I found that the main hall's fireplace was, thanks to all gods, fully operational. I was glad to see that my companions wisely followed my example: finally, after all this time, we didn't have to take care of logistics of our travel, and they apparently planned to take full advantage of it. After all, we were in the middle of Neverwinter territory, traveling with a large entourage of fully armed soldier-types.

"I could get used to this." Neeshka chuckled, stretching sinuously and rubbing her hands together in front of the fire. "Not to worry about where to sleep, what to eat, how to stay warm or where to put the loot…erm, equipment. "she corrected hurriedly, glancing at me. "Traveling in style."

"It was good, getting out of the city at last. " Elanee smiled, shaking out raindrops from her hair. "And this house has a lot of trees around it… the land feels right here."

"Glad you think so, El." I said, hunching down in front of the fireplace and almost instinctively started to rearrange the fire the way Daeghun almost obsessively insisted it should be built at our home in West Harbor. The tools by the side of the fireplace here were rather more elaborate than the single piece of iron poker we had, though: standing on a little stand of their own, it was a several-piece ensemble, all made of decoratively twisted wrought iron. Frankly, I had no idea why the set included a little dustpan and broom, but it sure looked pretty; cute, even. I poked at the logs with the only tool I recognized, glanced at the door and winced, seeing the latest addition to our entourage entering the hall, covered from head to toe in an enormous fur cloak. Neeshka caught my gaze and squatted down next to me with a smirk on her face.

"Oh look, She Who's Not To Be Trusted." she whispered with a conspiratorial wink. "A great idea, having Cas shepherding her."

I winced again.

"Truth to tell, I didn't tell him anything of the sort…" I started but Neeshka nudged me silent as those two got closer. I would have shut up anyway as soon as Casavir's aura touched mine. Apart from that little bit on the road, we haven't had a chance to speak almost all day, let alone do…anything else, and to say that the feelings his aura invoked in me were incredibly soothing and…intensely intimate at the same time was a mild understatement.

I swallowed as I lifted my eyes to meet his. This was a very, very public place, and a rather public situation, and that was pretty much how it was for the past couple of weeks. Just like we suspected, after that last quiet evening at his house, we barely had time for talking in private, let alone think about doing anything more than a few, hastily exchanged stolen kisses in front of doors, in and out of meetings. We still used every morning to meet and have our practices together whenever it was possible, but usually it happened out on the training grounds at the barracks in Castle Never; and, frankly, two armored paladins beating the crap out of each other hardly counted as something even remotely romantic. Well, for most people, anyway. Casavir and I welcomed those sessions as an excellent opportunity to catch up on events happening since last we've seen each other, to discuss certain pressing matters—and yes, it pretty much was the only way we could touch each other anymore. After the first couple of rather frustrating session we were able to find the humor in the situation and just laugh at how much more aware we were of each other lately. My latent spell certainly helped in that; but then again, being able to honestly talk about it and acknowledging that undeniable sweet and occasionally unbearable tension that sprung up whenever we were locked in one of those close-quarter techniques…

"Um." I heard myself saying, not particularly intelligently. This was getting harder and harder; there was a reason I tried not to be really close to him lately. That little interlude after our race this morning didn't help, at all. "I just fixed up the fire."

I so hated when I stated the obvious. It made me about three times more self-conscious about my origins and how inexperienced I was, and that, coupled with the fact that the person in Casavir's company was the once so powerful Luskan ambassador to Neverwinter I faced down in a courtroom once, however humbled and brought low now… Well, let's just say I had to make a conscious effort not to slip back into my West Harbor brogue. This being-a-noble thing was hard.

"So you did." Casavir smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling up with a million little wrinkles. I happened to know just how soft the skin was right there, and I couldn't help but close my eyes for a second against the memory of my lips slowly sliding…

"Right." I nodded, briskly, rubbed my hands together and stood up. Damn the man to have that effect on me practically all the time lately. A small part of me, the human-Arrighan half of my soul, snickered and offered the insight that perhaps he was well aware of this.

Nah, surely not. My celestial part was all aghast. He's a paladin, and a noble and…

He's a man. My human self continued, rather snidely. As no doubt you noticed quite a number of times, and as perhaps you'd really like to have further proof of it now that you're out of Neverwinter and at your destination.

Duty. Honor. Paladin's code. Him being a perfect gentleman. My celestial side reared back in horror, citing those words as if warding against an attack.

Riight. Human-Arrighan snickered again. And you two are engaged to be wed, too. Sweet Sune's breath, girl, this waiting business is killing you both so why don't you just ditch decorum and…

I am not listening. Aasimar or not, this was getting rather tiresome. I shook my head to clear it, and then decided to just go into an entirely different subject… wisely employing a tactic learned rather early from Aevan. Battlefield teachings could be applied in the most surprising situations, really.

"Everything is all right?" My hand gesture indicated the woman on his left. "Wasn't…"

"I am standing right here, you know, Squire." Torio Claven said icily, her eyes narrowing. "You really might simply ask me. I don't bite."

"Much." Neeshka said behind me, loud enough that it still could be heard.

"What I meant to ask was…" I continued, deciding to just glide over both of them as smoothly as possible, "…since I didn't have a chance to talk to you, Mistress Claven, since we departed the city, is there aught else you'd require for your comfort?"

"You mean other than an impeccably polite yet frosty cool Tyrran who doesn't really let me out of his sight, a wizard who is so twitchy in my presence I was actually afraid he might incinerate me if I sneeze, and this charming compulsion anklet…" she lifted the hem of her skirt to show one delicate stockinged ankle with a thin silver band encircling it tightly, " that the tame mages of your lord force me to wear to ensure I don't ever shed my new leash?" There was so much venom in her voice; it reminded me, yet again, just how dangerous this woman was.

It also made me, yet again, question Nasher's and Nevalle's decision to entrust her to me.

"And however much Nevalle here recommends her execution, I cannot help but think that we might yet find her useful in some way." Nasher stroked his beard thoughtfully and regarded me with that clear emerald gaze of his, which, paladin or no, made me shift uncomfortably in my chair still. "She already revealed a lot of information that might prove rather useful in ferreting out at least part of the Luskan spy network in the City."

"The new Ambassador's first task, no doubt, was to change a lot of that as soon as she got here." Nevalle countered. "A lot of her information is, frankly, stale at best, inaccurate, misleading and dangerous to act on the worst."

"Your job is to be considering those possibilities, Carson." Nasher's face was hard and unreadable. "Mine is to consider the future of this city. As many of those futures as it is humanly possible."

"Yes, my Lord." One of those traits of born and bred nobility I always envied as the ability to convey entire paragraphs with just one sentence and its inflections, coupled with their pose, the tilt of their head, their eyes, the twitch of their mouth…My abilities as a Tyrran, further refined as His Chosen, allowed me to detect the complex undertones in Nevalle's words: but what really made me pause and for a second almost grow dizzy was what Lord Nasher said.

"And for that, I decided to leave her alive. And in your care, Chosen." His next sentences, however, made me almost shoot out of my chair.

"S-sire?" I blurted, stumbling over the word slightly, like someone caught doing something they were forbidden to do. "Did I understand that right? You would… send Mistress Claven with me to Crossroad Keep?"

Nasher nodded, lifting an eyebrow slightly as if asking for input from those around the table, but otherwise remaining silent.

"I see." Nevalle leaned back; some tension went out of his shoulders just as it definitely started to creep into mine upon hearing Nasher's words. "That would send her away from the city and any potential chance to stir up trouble; back to the scene of her master's demise as a constant reminder; in the hands of someone who's guaranteed not to be swayed by any manipulation on her part; and potentially assisting in the war efforts by providing intelligence and transferring her agent network directly to our frontlines where we need it the most. Not to mention that at the slightest sign of any…disobedience, there will be not one, but two of Tyr's best warriors to mete out justice, swift and final." He dipped his head. "Forgive me, my lord; this was a long day."

"And a long winter, by all counts." Nasher smiled a tight little smile and turned his attention to me again. "Do you have any questions still, after hearing that analysis, Chosen?"

"I try very hard not to." I muttered under my breath, loud enough though for Casavir to lightly touch my elbow. I continued, a bit louder. "I am at your service, Sire." There: I shot a look at my knight sitting right next to me. Who can say I am not good at diplomacy? "I will do my best to contain Mistress Claven and to ensure her willing cooperation while residing in the very place where she was last imprisoned by her previous employer." Casavir's grip on my elbow became stronger: I steadfastly ignored it and looked Nasher straight in the eye.

"Your opinion is duly noted, Chosen." The city's ruler nodded almost imperceptibly; there was a faint hint of a smile around his lips. "In fact, I would start worrying about you had you not said anything."

As always, he was perceptive: but then again, that's why he was on top. And then again, that's why I was here, presumably. He could always count on me not to try clothing my opinion in flowery words or simply shut up and be nice. I never presumed he paid me for that. And as much as I had a rather low opinion of Torio Claven after my trial, to say that she was imprisoned for her perceived incompetence by Garius was to put it very, very mildly.

Nevalle tapped a piece of parchment in front of him.

"According to your report, Squire…" he said, with a furrow between his brows, "…she was held in a cell at the basement of Crossroad Keep with the…decomposing body of Lorne Starling, is that correct?"

"Oh, no, I just made that up." I looked at him, hard. "Because that's what we paladins of Tyr do." My patience was really wearing thin today; all this talk about how we found Torio brought all the memories back, and none of them were pleasant. "This is Black Garius we are talking about, Sir Nevalle—he ordered an entire village exterminated so they can try to frame me for it. I'd think this kind of punishment is precisely what he'd exact on someone who fails him." I took a deep breath and continued to ignore the fact that Casavir's fingers dug into my arm increasingly stronger. "Both Torio and Lorne were my enemies. In fact, they tried to kill me rather persistently: but I wouldn't have wished what happened on either of them. Lorne to die unattended from his wounds in a windowless damp cell and left to rot, with Torio to keep him company…" I shuddered at the memory. "In light of that, I don't think anything we do to her could be worse."

Which just goes to show that I still had a lot to learn. Torio did not respond well to kindness: in fact, during the days and weeks that followed, I found that the best way to deal with her was to strictly stick to business and limit my interactions with her to the bare minimum. I also realized that taking Sand with me to help with the intelligence business part of the conversations was a big mistake: that meeting degraded into a verbal sparring match between those two so fast I could barely leave the room, dragging the protesting wizard with me by sheer brute force. I never made that mistake again, electing to have Neeshka to accompany me to those briefings instead, for whom I had high hopes in this field. She tended to become impatient, though, and that led to confrontation, so after a while I just let her concentrate on her efforts with Cormick in developing some non-conventional warfare training exercises for my Greycloaks, and continued my meetings with Torio alone.

Which was exactly what she was waiting for, apparently…I rubbed my forehead between my eyes to relive the sudden tension that sprung up as I contemplated that. I looked at Torio, standing there in that sodden fur cloak, still managing to look haughty and assured, and I realized that there was a conversation I've put off way too long and which could not wait any longer now that we were here, literally at the doorstep of my future home. So I spent the next half hour or so making sure that the unpacking efforts were going well, that all of my companions had assigned rooms or at least bunks, however temporary, and then I checked to see if I had a room and if I was able to find it rather fast. I was glad to see that the doors and locks were the first thing the crew restored and that they closed nice and tight; I didn't even particularly care about how hard the mattresses two of my Greycloaks were busy wrestling onto the bedframe were, or if it took forever for the enormous fireplace to warm up the room. I'd slept in much worse conditions: and I suspected by the time I was done with this particular duty of mine as Captain of Crossroad Keep I wouldn't mind sleeping on rocks.

I grabbed an extra cloak from my pack, found my hidden flask of dwarven spirits Khelgar tucked amongst my belongings before we departed, and ventured out into the courtyard to find Bishop.

He was crouching by the edge of the manor house's wall, just where the ruins of abandoned farmhouses jutted towards the night sky. His wolf was sitting upright next to him, listening to the night noises coming from the thick forest.

"No one but your Greycloak vanguard had been here for quite a long time." He said, not even straightening up from examining the ground. "Apart from some animals, that is." His arm shot out towards the forest, and he turned his head towards his wolf. "Go ahead, mutt, have some fun… and keep an eye open for trouble, will you?"

Karnwyr stood up, shook himself, regarded me for a second with that unfathomable gaze of his, and disappeared between the trees.

Bishop grinned, a flash of white in the darkness.

"Am I doing well in earning my pay, holy girl?"

"I don't know, Bishop." I said slowly. There it was: as good an opening to what I had to say as I'm ever going to get. "You tell me how well you earned what Garius paid you." I felt anger stir in the pit of my stomach, slow but sure. "I always wondered how Torio learned so much about my movements for the trial; now I know."

"I see." He didn't even try to deny it: that at last I could appreciate. "The bitch sang, didn't she?"

"You seriously thought she wouldn't?" I retorted, leaning against the wall and making sure my sword was loose in its scabbard by my side. I've learned never, ever let my guard down with this man.

"I just didn't expect Nasher's interrogators to be so successful, is all." Bishop shrugged. "Then again, she was in their clutches long enough; and those boys from the Cloaktower who aided us here looked like some tough customers."

"Coming from you, I suppose that's a compliment." I shook my head. I was tired and wanted this to be over quickly. "Just tell me: why in the Hells are you still here? After we killed your boss…"

I barely had time to get my blade halfway from it sheath before he was on me. Damnation and hellfire, but he was fast. I always forgot that.

"Don't. Ever." He hissed into my face; his grip was painful on my wrists as he pressed me against the wall. "I have no one rule me. No one! Least of all that…"

"Yet you took his money." I willed myself to be calm, even though every instinct in my body screamed at me to do something about the fact that Bishop was restraining me in one of the least comfortable ways possible. Instead, I took a deep breath, and I called upon my aura to expand and envelope him—I visualized waves of cooling silver emanating from the center of my being to touch the angry orange-and-green conflagration that burned in Bishop's heart.

"Damn you, holy girl." He let go just as lightning-quick as he surprised me. He snatched back his hands was as if he got burned and took a step back. "Damn your…holy powers, and damn your righteousness and your …" He didn't finish; I could hear him letting out a bitter laugh. 'Well, I suppose I might as well tell you my side of the story, otherwise you will just believe what that viper Torio told you and…"

"Everyone has a right to a fair trial." I let a smidgen of my god's power creep into my voice and looked him fully in the eyes. "Even a spy."

It was odd that he took this in stride this much: I expected more than just that one outburst. I however, remembered my instructions and intended to keep with them as much as possible. I just had to keep in mind who I was dealing with.

"Don't try to intimidate me, holy girl." Bishop said quietly, but enunciating every single word clearly. "You powers will not work on me."

"Sure." I shrugged, feigning indifference and slid down to sit on the ground, with my back against the wall. "That's why you reacted so strongly to my aura, right?" I lifted a hand. "Of course Nasher's agents knew you were working for Garius well before Torio officially made her confession and named you, Bishop: he wouldn't have stayed in power this long if His Highness' spy ring wasn't worth anything. Now the fact that they haven't elected to communicate that to me…" I let that sentence trail off unfinished and watched his eyes widen at the implications of that.

"So you were also left out to hang dry, huh?" He chuckled and some of the coiled tension went out of his spine as he crouched back on the ground, pulling his long legs underneath him. "Sounds like they set you up and used you pretty much as I suspected…"

"But of course." I nodded. "That's the nature of rulers: they use people as chess pawns." I didn't have to playact to have my voice sound a bit bitter: after all, what paladin worth his or her salt wouldn't object to being lied to by the people he or she is supposed to serve?

"You don't seem to be terribly upset about it, for a paladin." Bishop's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

I shrugged, but my tension just ratcheted up a significant amount. That was a direct question: and I couldn't lie.

I could, however, choose my words with care as I was telling the truth. Some of the more conservative members of my order would have said I was stretching the code a bit there: but dammit, I had to work with what I was given.

"I would say I am growing…more familiar with the inner circles of power." I said slowly. "In less than a year, I went from a washed-up West Harbor hedge-paladin to captain of a border castle and Squire of the royal court. You learn fast that way."

"I say." muttered Bishop. "So: want to hear my side of the story, or did you already decide what to do with me?"

"Oh, I already know what to do with you." I said lightly. "But I still want to know what made you do it. I thought you hated Luskans with a passion. At least that's what Duncan told me."

"Duncan…" He snarled. "It was about time that we left his inn, anyway. I was just ready to…"

"He's coming, you know." I said, as innocently as I could. "He proposed to take over the inn at the keep, and the court accepted. As soon as he finalizes handing over the Flagon to Sal, he and Shandra will follow us here. We need someone experienced to handle the start up of such an important venture: providing for soldiers and the merchants that no doubt would travel on this road as soon as we secure it cannot simply be left to anyone."

Bishop swore.

"Whatever." I waved a hand as imperiously as I could and sent a quick prayer to Tyr that this charade would be over soon. "You were saying…?"

"You really did change, holy girl." He said slowly. "I wander what His Holiness says about this? And whether he likes it better this way?"

"Look: can we leave Casavir out of this discussion just for a second?" I was determined not to give an inch: he was able to smell weakness like any predator worth his salt. "One would almost think you're obsessing about him this fervently because you fancy him. The way you try to slip him into every conversation…"

I wasn't sure how he'd react to that, but I was willing to take the risk. Based on my observations earlier, I thought he was secure enough in his masculinity that this little jibe from me would probably just further the notion that I was 'one of the boys', nothing more. I decidedly didn't want to play up the fact with him that I was female. Ever.

"Now that's…" Yes, I finally managed to catch him off guard. "Where on earth a holy girl like you comes up with ideas like that?"

"Told you I grew up in West Harbor; one isn't exactly coddled in silks and lace and between four walls there." I shrugged. "Besides, I was in the Watch for a while, too: my beat was by the Docks, if you recall."

"There's that, yeah." His hand moved to his hip and I scooted back a bit, snapping into attention in a second.

He noticed, of course.

"Relax, holy girl." He almost chuckled as he lifted a small, slender metal flask. "Cyric's Balls, but you're jumpy tonight. I just need some fortification, is all." He took a swig and offered the flask to me. "I haven't… talked about this to anyone, so…"

"Right." I tasted the drink: it was some kind of a fruit brandy, smooth and full of flavor. I didn't expect something like that from Bishop. I clicked my tongue appreciatively and handed it back to him.

"Like it, hm?" He shook his head, almost regretfully. "Beshaba's tits, what are you doing being a Tyrran, anyway?"

"Smiting evil and looking devastatingly good in heavy plate. What did you think?" I responded almost instinctively; that single sip tinted my voice with some smokiness and my eyes were watering just a tiny bit. That was quite some brandy there.

"The last woman I knew who was like you…" he started, then paused. "Hells, why not…?" he muttered and took a deep breath. "I hate Luskans, holy girl, because I used to be one."

"I see." I tried to breathe evenly, kept my voice and my face carefully neutral, and kept listening.

"You ask why I ended up spying on you for Torio? Because she blackmailed me into it, that's why. She…learned who I was, who I used to be. Probably from Lorne, may he rot in the hells. After all, we served in the same brotherhood, at least for a while."

The Circle of Blades. I felt my heart give a long thud at that, and I fought to contain my excitement upon hearing that. All of these little mosaics of facts, finally coming together…

"Lorne was in the Greycloaks during the Luskan-Neverwinter wars." I interjected. "I am assuming he was captured and drafted by force?"

"His natural…talents were discovered during routine interrogation after he was captured, yes; and the Brotherhood was never one for wasting diamonds in the rough. If they proved to be able to withstand the cutting process, they became assassins. If not…" He shrugged again, and took another swig from his hip flask. "Well, they just became like me."

I remained silent, watching his movements instead. It started to make sense now, the deadliness I always sensed in him, that coiled, controlled but lethal darkness crouching in the center of his being.

"My…initiation ritual, like everyone's in the Circle, involved mass murder of innocents." He continued, looking somewhere towards the forest. "Go out; find a village, preferably on the Neverwinter side of the border; kill as much as you can; torch the rest."

I couldn't suppress a shiver of revulsion, hearing how dispassionate his voice sounded. I was sure he noticed it from the corner of his eye: I learned long ago to never underestimate this man, and his recent revelation just emphasized that.

"They left the choice to me, you understand." It was almost dreamlike: the dark, the silhouette of the trees, the quiet buzz of my entourage behind the wall, the soldiers settling down for the night—and above all those night noises, Bishop's voice, telling me his story as if he was discussing the weather. "So when I came up with the idea to visit my home village, a miserable collection of hovels huddling in the Mere of Dead Men called Redfallow's Watch, the Master of the Circle was pleased." He paused remembering. "How he hells you knew to call me 'child of Redfallow's Watch' the morning of your trial, holy girl, I have no idea. For a second there, I thought you figured me all out…"

"It wasn't me, Bishop." I said quietly, but he went on, as if he hasn't even heard me.

"Naturally, on these excursions, as escorts for the initiates, they sent some more experienced assassins, but mostly it was young ones, eager to practice their art and to show off for the greenie that got to prove him or herself." He glanced at me. "Yes, holy girl, there were women in the Blades, some of them quite good. It's not always about muscle, you know."

I've never heard him talking this much before; his voice was rough from lack of use, the spirit he kept sipping on, and the memories.

"So it really wasn't much of a deal to set my little trap. And before you go all soft on me, it was nothing like you probably think. I didn't have a change of heart, I didn't take pity on my fellow men, and I sure as hells didn't want all of a sudden to save them and rejoin humanity. I merely…wanted out. I merely wanted to be free." He shuddered, suddenly and violently. "Not to be bound to anyone…weak and mewling swampdwellers, stinking Luskan city-slickers, pompous youngsters bragging about their kills like they were discussing fashion, or ancient wizened masters of all wickedness."

"In other words, you betrayed your masters." I interjected. I found my own flask and took a swig: I felt like this definitely deserved whatever Khelgar hid inside. "What did you get for that, I wonder?"

"Ah, the famous Tyrran judgment in action." He sniffed. "How lovely. Yes, holy girl, I got peppered by arrows as I tried to make my escape, and yes, one of them properly struck me down. I wasn't sure whether it was from my own squad I warned the village against, or one of my former neighbors got lucky. Hells, it might even have been one of my cousins'…there were enough of them there, thick as mud." I heard the scraping of his boots as he made himself more comfortable on the ground. "So there I was, lying on the street, in the middle of a burning village, the dead and the dying all around me, arrows in my gut and my shoulder, and let me tell you something, holy girl. You have no idea about what freedom is, until you're dying. You got that peaceful feeling, detached from everything, after what it seems like a lifetime of orders barked at you, constraints placed in your way… All of that falls away, all of that matters not anymore, because you're about to leave everything behind in that pool of red liquid slowly spreading underneath you…" He took a deep breath. "Yeah, Duncan found me; Duncan Farlong, adventurer extraordinaire, happened on that little shithole of a village, and saved my bloody life after he managed to save some lives of those miserable sheep-people as well. He is also, by the way, a right sneaky bastard, just to let you know, holy girl."

His speech stated to slightly slur from the amount of brandy he consumed. I passed him my flask and he sampled the dwarven spirit generously.

"Ye gods, what is this shit?" he exclaimed. "Weapon cleaner?"

"It's from Khelgar." I said, my voice a bit rough, too. "I figure it fits the occasion." I was sitting on the ground listening to an ex-assassin who, to put it mildly, didn't have much in common with me and whom I clearly found repulsive, explaining away his life story to me as if I was his best drinking buddy. I couldn't remember being in a more bizarre situation in my life. Yep, Khelgar's rotgut was absolutely perfect for this.

"Yeah, you're not the type who'd resort to poison." Bishop said with a slight chuckle. "Anyway, your uncle, the right sneaky bastard. He put two and two together about me being there, and eventually proposed a deal to me: he remains silent about my involvement about the destruction of Redfallow's Watch, but I'd owe him a debt."

"And he collected when he commanded you to aid me to track down Shandra's kidnappers." I nodded; that fit.

"So there you have it, holy girl." Bishop stared into the darkness again. "I got picked up into the assassin's guild as a youngster, and I was glad to leave that village behind. Then I left the guild behind, too, only to be recognized by some of my former mates and blackmailed by Torio into providing her information about you and your companions for the trial." Yet another bitter laugh escaped his lips. "Seems like I can never escape my past, can I?"

"Seems to me I didn't throw you out yet, Bishop." I stood up, stretched a bit. This was the hardest part, and I prayed that I was convincing enough in my sincerity. After all, nothing I said or would say would be a lie. "I personally think you're a rather unpleasant human being and gods know I wanted to righteously beat the shit out of you more than once for good reasons…but everyone deserves a chance. Everyone. Even a drunken ex-assassin ranger who ratted out on the companions who tried to treat him decently over and over again. " I shrugged. "You remain on the payroll, Bishop. I need a competent ranger for scouting and archery training for my 'Cloaks; patrolling these woods will be difficult as is. I'll leave word with Kana with your arrangements." I waved a hand. "So feel free to go and roam around with your mutt, 'kay?"

He peered at me for a long, long time from underneath is furrowed brows.

"A chance, eh?" he finally said, holding my gaze steadily. He didn't seem drunk now, not at all.

"One." I said firmly, not moving a muscle.

He leaned down and picked up his cloak from the ground, with his sword and bow sticking out on top. I still didn't move, willing myself completely still and my face expressionless as one of his gloved hands reached out and traced the line of my god-marks under my right eye slowly.

"I see." he said finally, his voice unusually soft. "'Night, then, holy girl. Sleep tight."

After he disappeared into the trees, I waited for a long, long time before I finally let my breath out and eased the tension out of my muscles. My fingers were clutching the hilt of my sword so tightly they actually hurt.

Neeshka melted out of the shadows without making any sound.

"Well done." She said, and patted my shoulders. "I think he's totally convinced he's played you for a fool." She pouted his lips. "Poor misunderstood ranger boy, who just waited for the right person to listen to his sad, sad life story. The right person to see that deep underneath all that gruff and grime and sniffle and snide, he's just a misunderstood man waiting to be rescued and redeemed."

"Yes, he did very well." I shuddered. "Thanks, Neesh, for watching my back." Now that Bishop was gone, I felt all of my muscles starting to quiver as the tension slowly leaked out of every inch of my body. "Gods, I really hope I don't have to do that once again, ever. Neesh, tell me: do most people think that us, paladins, can be so easily manipulated by our desire to… save souls and to do right?"

"Well, it did work to your advantage now, huh?" My tiefling was very good at evasive answers; it certainly was, so to speak, in her blood. "I mean…yes, I can totally see how someone like Bishop thinks that just by spilling his guts and playing the 'you can maybe, kind of, slowly reform me of my wicked ways of the past and by the way, see my sensitive side' card, he can make you blind to whatever he did or will do…" She was, also, very, very perceptive. It was my luck, since she was able to see things from a quite different perspective. "Lucky for you that you don't fall for it, I guess."

I sighed.

"It just makes me want to smash something, really hard." I said slowly. "This type of…playing with words and pretending I am falling for some carefully woven web of deceit and lies while knowing full well that it's me who manipulates the other is… hard and draining." Besides, I was reasonably sure that Bishop wasn't entirely convinced I was taken in. That last glance had too much of something I recognized from roaming with Daeghun in the Mere: the evaluating gaze of a predator, slowly realizing it has met its equal.

"Sorry, Rig." Neeshka gave me a hard, short hug. I appreciated it all the more since I knew she'd pay for it with world-class itching later. "However, I'd think I know just the right remedy for your woes at the moment." She winked. "He's six-four, with blue eyes and black hair, likes brooding and…"

"You're horrible, Neesh." I said sternly, after a moment of silence. "I most definitely should not be conversing with you for a second more."

"I agree." She nodded enthusiastically. "It's much warmer in his room, I bet."

"Shuddup." I muttered, but quickened my steps. "Please. " I added after a pause because, after all, I was supposed to be impeccably polite.

"Oh, sweetie. Please." Neeshka puffed up her cheeks. "I had a chance to talk to him a bit today and let me tell you, based on that, you both seriously need to let some tension out in the old time-honored way."

"You…didn't!" I exclaimed, incredulously.

"Well, okay, fine, not in such words, no." She grinned. "But I got pretty good about reading body language in my line of work, and you know, that's one majorly tense boy. You two have been doing this courting thing for what…since your Trial, basically, and I could tell you had something brewing well before that." She scratched the base of one of her delicate horns and frowned. "Does he have a chastity vow? Or is he…" she paused uncomfortably, "…y'know… erm, incapacitated? Should I ask Sand for some potions of restoration? I wouldn't mind, you know, you're my bestest friend and…"

"Neesh." I said between my teeth. "You are veering perilously close to being the victim of a Holy Smite right now, despite all my convictions. By the seven holy archons, please stop." I looked around: we reached the manor house's entrance door, and the two guards stationed there barely could conceal their interest in our conversation.

"Okay, fine, fine." She grimaced at the guards and pushed the door open. We walked through. "See what I'm talking about, though? His room is thataway, sweetie." she added, gripping my shoulder and pointing with her chin. "At least go and tell him all is OK with you...I don't think he relished the idea of you talking to Bishop at all."

"You know, that's the first sensible thing…" I started to say, then swallowed the rest of it. I didn't want to say something that I might regret later, and right now all my nerves were taut as a drawn bowstring, which didn't bode well for aasimar-tiefling interaction. She was right: Casavir didn't like this whole idea of keeping Bishop on a new leash from the very start of hatching the plan during our briefings with Nasher and Nevalle. "Anyhow, I better be going. He, um, waited long enough as it is. As my second-in-command, he obviously deserves a briefing, right?"

"Yep." Neeshka nodded sagely. "And lemme tell you, that's the first real smile I saw on your face today."

"Get away from me, fiendling." I muttered, miming to swat at her. "Shoo!" She ducked and shrieked in mock terror, fleeing towards the back of the manor house, not missing the opportunity to turn back and stick her tongue out at me before disappearing on the corridor.

She was right, though. I was smiling, at the mere thought of seeing Casavir again, even though I was still tense from my meeting with Bishop. But I was done with analyzing my emotions for the night. It really was rather late, but it was true that I couldn't just go to bed without at least letting him know what transpired. And I could feel his aura extending all the way out of his room down the corridor as I stopped in front of his door and rapped on the wood. The silver and blue waves hummed almost audibly with nervous energy, and I felt the bonds of my inadvertent spell come alive with a gold-tinted shimmer answering their call.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting." I started as soon as the door opened, and I really tried to sound businesslike. "Neeshka said you were worried." I smoothed a loose tendril of my hair back from my face and tilted my head to one side. "Can I come in?"

"Forgive me." Casavir said simply and stood aside, allowing me to enter the room. "I couldn't help it." He had traces of dark circles under his eyes. "I know full well that you're perfectly capable of dealing with demons, devils, evil sorcerers and extraplanar creatures…and yet...This is not something I am proud of, but I must confess that the side of me which wishes to…protect you from harm is in full uproar every time you as much as speak to Bishop."

I appreciated the hells out of the fact that, instead of dancing around the issue with his usual politeness and circumvallation, he walked straight into the fray. I didn't want to think it was my influence of him, but there was no denying of the fact that months ago he'd never have allowed himself to be this blunt with me.

"So I noticed. " I allowed myself a little smile as I touched his arm. "From the very first time you two have met, if I remember right."

"The gods know I don't like to judge someone without sufficient facts." he said slowly. I watched him pace a little bit back and forth in front of his fireplace, and waited."I listened during Torio's interrogations and trial enough to know what was at stake, and I reluctantly agreed to this…this method of binding Bishop to us with a new bond so we have him close and he can be watched, just like Torio can." His eyes flashed azure and in an instant he was in front of me, his hands clutching at my shoulders. "But no one can tell me how I feel about the fact that I might have willingly allowed you to stray from the path of Light so you can serve Neverwinter!"

His voice got rough and choked on emotions that made his aura awash in little flashes of lighting so bright I almost had to close my eyes. He was angry, I had to realize, angrier than I suspected, and that perfect self-control of his could only hold off so far. He utterly hated this deception and the games I had to play in the service of Nasher now and in the future, and there was only so much he could take. Especially since political games and Nasher's direct judgment and orders were what made him go into exile in the first place. On top of all that, as well, was the fact that this place held way too many memories for him, good or bad, about the family he had, and the family he lost, about the love and laughter here as a child, about the responsibilities coming to him as an heir apparent, about the darkness that came to visit his family…

"That is way too close to how my life almost careened out of control, and I will now allow it!" he continued and I sensed that old fault-line on his soul to throb with deep pain that reverberated in his voice. "He is full of lies, deception and festering wounds that poisoned him thoroughly, exactly like Torio. You'll have not just one, but two of those here, right next to you, and…"

"Casavir." My voice came from somewhere deep inside me, drawing on my powers, more resonant and stronger than my own.

He swallowed and fell silent, his eyes searching my face.

"I know this." I continued; the tension that I had thought I could finally let out started to return to my body and I wasn't sure how much longer I was able to keep upright before I collapsed out of sheer exhaustion. The slow trickle of power certainly helped; I felt a stirring of white feathers around me as my heavenly self rose to the surface. I welcomed the help: Tyr knew that my human side was almost half-asleep already and definitely not equipped to deal with this crisis right now.

"Don't you think that there's no better place to contain Torio and Bishop than under the watchful eye of His Chosen and her Champion?" I smoothed a palm on his cheek and I felt him tremble. "This is one of those times, dear one, when I can see the wisdom of our god in Nasher's orders."

My mouth twisted into a sad smile as I saw his countenance soften. It was one of the most wonderful things between us that I rarely had to resort to long, drawn-out explanations: the bond we've created, still getting stronger with each day allowed for understanding on a much deeper level than mere words would have provided.

"It doesn't mean I have to like it, though…" I added, my voice catching. I clutched at Casavir's arm as the god's sparkle of power slowly left me, feeling even more drained than before. I didn't quite understand why, until I saw his face closing up and his head bow.

"I'm sorry…" His voice was tinged with deep sadness and the edges of shame. "I'm so sorry, lady, for doubting you." He went on one knee before me, head bowed, holding my hand still, like a supplicant. "Will the Chosen of the Even-Handed forgive her servant?"

He was utterly serious, I had to realize; and dread enveloped me, seeing him slipping back to his old self this easily.

"Oh no, you don't. " I said between my clenched teeth and he looked up, lips slightly parted, disbelief in his eyes. "We're so not doing this again, dammit."

I knelt as well, grabbing his shoulders and forcing him to look into my eyes.

"Equals." I said, and the force of my emotions got through him, rocking back on his heels. "This we vowed, and this we swore; you gave your blood and I gave mine; you gave your ring and I wore it. We made a vow, Casavir. Don't you ever forget. " I shook my head. "Don't shut me out again by elevating me up on a pedestal. It's not there with you." I slid my hands up to cup his face, my voice lowering into a rough whisper as I leaned closer. "It's not. There. Understand me?"

Gods, I was such a mess. This whole being-a-captain business was like a huge Mere leech attached to me, constantly sapping away my strength, my will, my whole self. It forced me to consider things I've never thought I would ever consider, to do things that once I thought were impossible…This whole business with Bishop went almost directly against strict paladin code: no wonder I've felt like I was drained, no wonder Casavir felt like I was forced to abandon values I always held dear.

But I could be me, with him. I could be weak, and he would support me. I could cry, and he would wipe away my tears. I could scream, and he would hush me.

I could love him, and he would love me back.

If he let me. If I let him.

"Arrighan." His voice was hoarse. 'I…"

"Shh." I shook my head. "I know."

And I did.

"Just…don't move." I whispered into that barest of space separating us. "Stay."

I wished I could sear this into my memory, to remember him, just like that, with his azure eyes half-hidden beneath his lids, pupils slightly dilated, the line of his jaw softening as his lips opened oh so readily under mine…

Possibilities, so many possibilities... My mind went dizzy with it as time stretched in all directions. Streaks of silver, azure and crimson: all the different paths we could go from here… from the deepest of passion to the coldest of rejection, all possible, all there, all balanced on the edge of a deep ravine, in that moment that didn't want to end.

Ah, the possibilities… I shook with the force of it as the vision took me and brought me back, making my spine arch and my body press desperately against him.

Casavir obeyed me; he remained still for a long time as that kiss went on and on, until I released my hands from his face, and brought his, fingers clasped with mine, to rest on my waist.

"Don't shut me out." I repeated as I broke away from his mouth for a second, for a desperate gasp of air to descend again into the swirling riot of colors and emotions: all those reds and purples and brilliant golds! "Don't…please."

I swayed as his stillness broke at last and he finally returned my kiss with a bruising force that took my breath away. He made a sound that was nearly a sob and I almost physically felt the barriers of his self-restraint shake and start to dissolve, along with my own.

"Never again." he promised in a ragged whisper against the corner of my mouth, the trembling vein in my neck, my collarbone. "Never." He repeated it, over and over again as I closed my eyes and clutched at his shoulder, as I let my head fall back and allowed his lips and his hands-oh, those hands!- move all over me at last, desperate and frenzied, clasps and buttons opening in their wake. His fingers slid along the hem of my clothes and my outer garments fell away, searing heat trailing on my skin, so sweet, so sweet...

"Sistinae mea…My Chosen." he rumbled. The swirling colors slowed down somewhat against my burning eyelids, and I felt some semblance of sanity replace the raging, aching feel of 'want' that surged up almost unbearably high just a moment ago. "Do you…trust me?"

"I…oh, gods…" I could barely speak; this was overwhelming, so much, too much, the feel of him, the touch, the scent, the sensations: hands, lips, skin…But it was something I needed to answer, it was truth, and I could not not say it. "I…do. I do."

"Then stay." He stopped, went still, with his forehead against mine, warm hands resting on my hips. "Stay here. With me."

"Here?" My head was spinning; I wanted to make sure I heard him right over the pounding of my heart. "You mean…?"

"Trust me?" One hand cupped my face and I leaned into it, breathing a kiss into his palm. "Please…" he said in a barely audible whisper. "I…I don't want to spend my first night between these walls alone. The…" He swallowed. "The memories…"

Oh, sweet Tyr.

I thought my heart was about to burst; I felt tears stinging my eyes. What that cost him, asking that…It hit me right in the chest, with the force of a hammer-bolt.

Did I have any chance to even hesitate? Did I have the right?

Did I not trust him?

"I just... need to hear another heartbeat." The silver lights in his eyes threatened to overwhelm me completely. The same fire danced in his voice. "Yours. Only yours." He tilted his head: I've never seen him this vulnerable. "Please."

It was a hard, narrow, and uncomfortable mattress they found for his bed; but it didn't matter much. Nothing outside of that room mattered just then. I've never in my life had a better night of sleep that that one spent covered in a coarse blanket, fully clothed, curled up on my side, feeling his warm body press against my back, listening to his heartbeat and his steady breathing, his arms, his scent, his aura and his love around me.

I trusted him.