Oh my, exponential chapter word limit expansion! Well I suppose it is Chapter 50, a kind of special milestone, so I hope that's okay with you!
This is one of my favourite chapters ever...it has everything; drama, comedy, romance, and lots of Bishop! Well except it doesn't move the plot on all that much but it's all very important character work I assure you. Chapter 50 seemed a good time to take a break for character development.
Thanks to voltagelisa for some important help with Sand (who I loved writing). And I know I promised a Bishop point of view, Gaspode, this chapter but...arrggh...couldn't fit it in! Next time?
Enjoy!
The journey to Port Llast was a pleasant, rustic kind of route…it was somewhat different to any of the many others Phaedra had taken since this vast, winding journey had begun. Partly, Phaedra supposed, it was because the threat they were journeying against was something far less immediate than, say, the Githyanki or the Shadow Priests. Luskan's malice hung like a pall over the road ahead, and yet it was something that was so hard to grasp, and the outcome of this engagement against it was so nebulous, so uncertain…that it was so hard to speak of it, to make plans, as they could have against, say, the Githyanki or even the Shadow Priests. This was an arena which none of them except Sand were quite equipped to fight in. So they were largely silent, or spoke of smaller things but what they were trying to ignore was always there: a hum on the edge of hearing, a shadow on the edge of sight. And, of course, there was Sand, a new addition to their rapidly growing party and he was never one to keep his opinions to himself. Phaedra found herself answering probing questions about her journey, seemingly simple questions whose answers revealed a little more than she intended each time. Nonetheless she found it was easy to like Sand, his urbane sophistication reminded her a little of Tarmas, but his sarcastic wit was all his own, and he could certainly hold his own amidst the group. He was unfailingly polite and courteous, at least to her. Yet she kept wondering about his intentions…he knew she had channelled infernal magic, when was he going to approach her about it, or was he actually waiting for her to speak to him first? She felt oddly, unexplainably reluctant to do so, as though somewhere she suspected that only ill luck would come of such a discourse…
"Good, now lunge…" Casavir's voice, cutting across Phaedra's thoughts. She glanced up again to where the paladin was engaged in a lesson with Shandra, just in time to see him pull his shield expertly upwards to catch Shandra's untrained thrust of her blade. They'd been training since the party had come to a stop this evening, and everyone had settled in around the fire. Shandra had finally plucked up the courage to request a lesson, and Casavir, of course, had agreed… "That's right, then block the parry…" He swung his warhammer around to attack her unprotected flank, but, with a rather improvised stumble she managed to catch the swing on her own shield. "Speed is everything with a smaller weapon…" The paladin nodded "It shouldn't be too much of a problem for you, you have excellent reflexes, but make sure you're the one to strike first, especially if you reach the kind of impasse" Shandra glowed with the praise, but it wasn't like Casavir noticed. He was deeply professional, an excellent teacher, which shouldn't really have surprised Phaedra if she thought about it. Even as she watched from where she sat in the glade, she'd seen Shandra improve under Casavir's gentle admonitions, mild but firm touches to correct her posture and hold on the blade, everything down to her footwork he had his eye on. Well, you wanted him to do it, she thought to herself. As he did everything, he was going to do it perfectly. She could hardly complain now when he got rather close to Shandra while they were sparring, he was scrupulously careful after all. You can't have it both ways, Phaedra…
"Having fun, aren't they?" Bishop, in one awkward motion she leapt to her feet and turned to face him. How did he do it? Sneak up so easily? Sometimes she thought he was better at it than Neeshka. "It looks like things are getting a little…heated between them" He grinned crudely.
"Please," She rolled her eyes "Can't you even try to be civilised?"
"Now where would be the fun in that?" He stepped over, leant with that undeniably compelling casualness against the nearest tree and let his tawny eyes travel lingeringly over Casavir and Shandra, who by now were full-on engaged in a mock fight. Clearly Casavir was going easy on his opponent, but it was a rather intense duel nonetheless. Shandra was trying to impress him Phaedra realised… "Looks like a good time, want to give it a go, princess?"
"Excuse me?" Phaedra's gaze snapped back to him "Sparring with you? Forget it, Bishop" It wasn't like she would last five seconds. Even if he normally used his bow, he could still wield that short sword at his belt, and that was far more than she would even attempt.
"Too bad" Bishop shrugged "Or how about we have a couple of one-on-one lessons ourselves then, want to learn how to actually hit with that bow of yours?"
"Don't be ridiculous" Phaedra snapped, that was actually a little offensive "I know how to fire my bow, and I can do it with a hair more accuracy than you I might add" Well, maybe, she wasn't quite as sure of that as she wanted to appear. But there was no way he was getting away with criticising her archery…
"Oh really?" He raised an eyebrow sceptically "Who taught you, because I'll say he was a little more interested in sparing your pretty hands the calluses than giving you the full works"
"My foster-father taught me" Phaedra answered acidly "Daeghun, the best ranger in the North, and I'll have you know I have plenty of calluses"
"Best ranger in the North my arse!" He glanced at her, looking insulted. Ha, that got to him.
"I thought you'd like that" She grinned triumphantly.
"How about you prove it?" He leaned forward, and suddenly he was all animal charm again. Oh damn, that was not exactly what she wanted to do.
"Well sorry, but he's not exactly here, is he?" Phaedra answered, with a shrug that would have been worthy of Amie at her most contrary.
"You learnt from him, didn't you?" Bishop pressed "So make father proud…didn't you say you were a hair more accurate than me, anyway?"
"I am" There was no turning back now…her pride wouldn't allow it.
"So what are you so afraid of then?" Gods, his smile was infuriating.
"I am not afraid" She snapped "And I'll face you right here, right now, any kind of contest you like" That just sounded like she actually was afraid. How utterly annoying. She wasn't afraid, okay?
"How about we move off a little way, spare you the humiliation of losing in front of your beloved paladin?" Bishop suggested "Not that he'd notice…" He shot Casavir another mocking glance "Looks like the farmgirl has his full attention"
"Maybe this glade's already too big for you" Phaedra said "But if we're going to make this any kind of real contest, we're going to need just a little more space" Though she remained firm on the outside, inwardly she was delighted with herself. She could be more assertive when things came to a more competitive situation…and she kind of liked it.
"Is that so?" Bishop said "Well then, lead the way…" Phaedra swiftly found she also rather enjoyed flouncing. There was a technique to it…she thought she did it rather well. She found to her astonishment that she was actually having fun, if for this brief moment…
"This looks promising" She noted, once they'd trekked a couple of paces into the forest, and now they were far enough away from the rest of the party to discreetly avoid embarrassment, should it come to that, although she tried to convince herself she actually had a chance. The forest here was peaceful, dappled light danced across the leafy floor, the line of tall, thick trunks of the trees was a shield, a cocoon… "Okay, how do we do this?" She turned to Bishop, he'd been following at her footsteps quite closely. His amused smile still told her he thought this would be easy. She was going to wipe that right off his face…well, hopefully.
"Well, we need some kind of target" Bishop leant forward, lifting his leg up on a moss-covered log. "Preferably a live one"
"A live target?" Phaedra blanched, then realised he had to be joking, right? "I'm afraid we're a little short of those right now, sorry"
"There's plenty back at camp" Bishop offered, okay he was definitely joking. She could play along with that.
"You know you don't have to do that" She glanced up coyly "With me, I mean"
"Do what, princess?" He smiled, with a roguish edge of mockery.
"No one would know if you were a little nicer while it was just us" Wait just a moment, a little alarmed thought cried out in her mind, was she actually flirting with him? "I wouldn't tell anyone" And not very well, she might say…oh just shut it!
"But…" He bent in closer, the stirring of his breath in every rough syllable was enough to send her head spinning "I know that you love it" And just like that she was in too deep. Perhaps she could flirt with him now, just a bit, that she could deal with. This…the heat from his body, the raw, masculine energy she felt now, this she definitely could not…
"Ah, the contest!" She leapt back almost as though she'd been burned, which in a way she had been… "I'm not letting you off that easily!" She glanced around her quickly. "How about I just scour a mark in that tree, whoever hits closest wins? Sounds good?" She leapt over to the base of the nearest tree, without waiting for an answer, and, taking up Daeghun's old dagger, attempted to dig the blade into the tree, trying to make a mark. Hells, it was harder than she'd thought it would be…
"That's so tame…" Bishop commented, stepping over to her. Thank the Gods he was acting like nothing had happened. She needed that…but then he reached down and took her hand over the hilt of the dagger, his fingers closing over her own. She gave an indrawn breath at his touch, at the strength of his grip, and it was with his usual perfunctory directness with which he guided her to dig the dagger into the suddenly yielding bark. "Can't you make it just a little more…exciting?" He shrugged, his fingers lingering over hers once the mark had been carved into the tree. "We should have a forfeit"
"A forfeit?" Phaedra tore her hand quickly from under his own, alongside the dagger which she swiftly hung from her belt again. She glanced up at him, alarmed. That didn't sound good. "What kind of forfeit?"
"Unless you're scared…" He leant on one shoulder against the tree by which she crouched, he was disgustingly self-satisfied.
"No, I'm not" Phaedra stood to her feet, slowly, drawing her bow. If he thought he could intimidate her like this he had another thing coming. If she backed down now, she would lose what respect he had for her, and she would never respect herself either. "Name the forfeit, Bishop." She demanded
"Well…" He was obviously only pretending to consider, he knew well what he wanted. "How about a kiss?"
"What?" Phaedra breathed, knowing she shouldn't be so surprised, but the thought that he, that anyone, could be so brazen, so… "You must be joking!"
"It's just a kiss" He shrugged "Doesn't mean anything, besides, none of them will ever know…" That might be true for him, but she'd never actually kissed anyone in her life, and she wasn't about to start now, with an impudent, ill-bred scoundrel with an indifference to personal hygiene and common good manners…
"Fine, that's my forfeit" She heard her mouth say, what? By Lathander, where in the name of the Gods did that come from? Oh, curse her pride… "And what about you? Because I certainly don't want a kiss from you." He shot her a mocking glance, more leer than anything else
"Right, of course" And there was a deeply mortifying edge of sarcasm to his voice "Well, think about it then, don't tell me there's nothing a fine young lady like yourself wants from a rogue like me? Not that you'll get it, of course…" Wait, there was just one thing; yes, it was perfect, if she could only win, of course…
"If I win, I don't owe you anything" She said firmly
"Harsh penalty" Bishop commented thoughtfully "Considering just how much you owe me…"
"Well, unless you're scared…" She mimicked, ha, she'd turned the tables alright.
"Fine, let's do this" He pulled his bow from his shoulders. Suddenly she didn't feel so pleased with herself. It was the largest bow she'd ever seen; next to her own delicate, slender elven bow it was rough and graceless, but the re-curve must have such a force…no doubt the range was greater than her own also. She looked up, met Bishop's mocking gaze. He must have crafted the weapon himself, where Daeghun had been the one who had made hers. No matter, she would trust to Daeghun's skill over Bishop's any day.
Neither of them spoke, as they paced out about twenty paces from their minute target. Phaedra stopped there, but Bishop carried onwards, turning only halfway into another stride forward. "We're doing thirty paces, princess…" He said "Unless that's too much for you?"
"Of course not" Phaedra feigned indifference, but wondered immediately if he had seen through it. Suddenly she wasn't so sure; thirty paces, that was an incredible distance for so small a target. Yet he seemed so confident.
They set up there, thirty paces away but Phaedra's keen elven eyes could still pick out her marking in the bark of the tree clearly, she just had to trust to her aim. She shot a covert glance at Bishop, he was stringing his bow with quick, practiced motions…
"You going first?" He glanced at her, saw her staring. She nodded quickly and drew a single arrow from her quiver, one of the old ones she'd saved from West Harbour, again crafted by Daeghun to fly true. Murmuring a prayer to Lathander, more of a way to focus than an appeal to divine intervention, she slotted the arrow into place and drew the bowstring back in a single, fluid motion. Lathander would want her to win by her own devices…which she planned to. Her eye travelled along the line of her arm focused straight upon that minute point; focus, Phaedra. Daeghun's voice sounded in her mind 'Bow and target alike, unify yourself with them, Phaedra, be one with them. Archery is not merely a function of eye and arm, it is the whole…the one'. The thought of their lessons disquieted her suddenly. Daeghun had hated her, hadn't he? She'd been so sure of that after hearing what he'd kept from her, then why? Her hands shook suddenly, the bow straining in her grasp…no, focus, stop it, clear these thoughts. She had to be nothing save the bow and target, she had to empty her mind. Even Bishop who stood by her, watching her every motion impassively, had to be nothing to her. At once, she let loose and the arrow whistled into the still, evening air. Her heart leapt into her mouth as it soared upward in a graceful arc…come on, she had tried hard, but had it been enough? And she felt her stomach lurch as it fell once again towards the tree, towards the target, Bishop was watching as closely as she was. Then it hit, oh thank the Gods, she had actually hit the tree. That had to count for something, but how close, her eyes narrowed. It was about halfway up the tree from the tiny mark, a fine shot, she knew she should be proud, but as she glanced quickly at Bishop, saw the small, satisfied smile touch his lips…she suddenly realised that fine wasn't going to be good enough.
"Well, you go now…I guess" She murmured, feeling suddenly very uncomfortable. She hadn't been going to lose, she'd been so sure she wasn't going to lose but now…why had she even done this anyway? It had been a stupid idea from the start. Surely it would be worse to back out quickly now rather than be forced to kiss Bishop once he won? Her pride, though, wouldn't be convinced, plus she had agreed to comply. He wouldn't be impressed if she backed out. There had to be another way…
"I'm going to be your first, aren't I?" Bishop shot her a considering glance. She stared at him, the way he said it…it sounded like something a lot more sordid than the simple kiss he'd demanded. Plus, that wasn't as self-evident as he made it sound…well, yet. She didn't answer, but of course he knew "First time's always a good one…" He smirked with approval "Always feels just that little bit more…satisfying" Heavens, she couldn't let this happen, she couldn't let this go his way. A first kiss was supposed to be something special, wonderful, something magical. She wasn't letting it be Bishop! She couldn't! But what could she do? There had to be something. She watched him give her target, and her arrow stuck that all too large distance up the tree, another glare, his tawny eyes narrowing. Ah, of course, there was that…she should have thought of it from the beginning. Could she do it? Dared she do it?
Yes, she did. Slowly she shrank back a little, as he drew one of his arrows in a fluid motion, just enough so that he wouldn't be able to see her, even if he did hazard a glance to the side. This would have to be done delicately…a slight tendril of magic slipped up from the flame of her sorcery, so light that it was almost invisible, she grasped at it quickly…Illusions weren't exactly her speciality, but this wasn't going to be a big one. She whispered a few words, banking that Bishop would be a bit too focused on what was ahead of him to notice. Ah there we are, she could just blur the tree just that little bit. Focus was everything, if he was just a little bit off she would win and then, thank every God in the Heavens, she wouldn't have to kiss him. This was cheating, she felt a slight shame settle in the pit of her stomach, but she had to do it, clearly it had never been a fair contest in the first place. Yes…she shot him a covert glance, saw his brow furrowing with confusion, as he drew back that vast bow string with one tug. He was falling for it…she just had to hold it for a little while. Good Heavens, how did he even hold that monster of a bow back? His muscles were straining, even through his padded leather armour, she could see the tension running through his rippling body…he was so strong, as honed as the very arrow he was aiming. She found herself longing for the moment of release as much as every sinew in his lean body…ah, Gods…what was she doing? For that matter, what in Lathander's name was she thinking? Concentrate, hells, hells…the illusion…hold onto it Phaedra. She barely caught the moment he fired, barely heard the twang of the bowstring as he let it go, but she saw the arrow fly through the air…and saw suddenly that, despite the illusion, he was about to hit right on target. How was that even possible? She flung forth her hand at the soaring arrow, utterly instinctively, everything disintegrating in a whirl of total panic, and then her sorcery responded instantly, she hadn't even summoned it, had she? The arrow burst into flame, it disintegrated in an instant into a shower of sparks and flying fletching, burning in glowing strands into the air. She gasped, her breaths heaving in her chest…what was that, exactly? She hadn't spoken a spell; not at all. She hadn't done anything, it had just come…and there was Bishop. She glanced guiltily under her lashes at the ranger, he was already staring at her, his eyes slowly narrowing, oh Gods, there had to be some way to salvage this…
"Last one to the bank forfeits!" She cried out, totally instinctively, as though this were still some game with Amie and Bevil. She was still utterly shocked, from the instinctive outburst of magic and from being caught blatantly cheating, but suddenly she was running at full-pelt speed, the wind rushing past her, branches whipping over her head. Heavens, Heavens…what had she done? What was she doing? She must have meant that bank up ahead, where the forest floor gave way suddenly to what must have been an old river bank, dry now, but still a steep drop nonetheless. She careered forward, where was Bishop…what was he doing?
Something hit her suddenly, in the back of her shoulders, a force so heavy and moving fast that she had absolutely no chance. She fell, in a whirl of her silken robes, into the heavy, leafy undergrowth, but that wasn't the end of it, her forward momentum sent her slamming right over the bank just ahead, and she was tumbling over everything, sticks, grassy knolls, leaves, rocks. She couldn't see anything, feel anything, but suddenly she felt that she was falling over not merely all that, but Bishop was with her, rolling down through the grass with her, and his hands were clasped at her shoulders, he'd…tackled her? Oh, curses…she hit the bottom of the bank…hard, all the wind was knocked out of her in an instant, and she felt suddenly all the scrapes, grazes of the utterly uncomfortable way down. She felt dizzy, everything was spinning around her…but she knew suddenly that she was lying on her back in the midst of a rough stony river-bed, now all dried up. She shook her head, her vision focused slowly…and what she saw first she saw Bishop's face over hers…oh Gods, he was on top of her, pinning her down with remarkably little effort…how deeply uncomfortable…
"Now…" He said slowly, savouring each word. His hair was even more tousled, with pieces of the forest caught in it, his cheeks just a little flushed beneath the shadow of his stubble and he'd never looked quite so rugged…and plus she could far too easily feel the whole length of his body pressed against hers… "About that kiss…"
"You didn't win" She coughed "So…sorry…"
"You cheated, I'd say that means you forfeited" He scowled darkly.
"We didn't say that" Phaedra murmured. She was in far too uncomfortable a position, with far too little breath in her lungs to argue so important a point "We didn't make any rules…so I won…" He was still then, studying her for a moment, but she couldn't read the fire in his tawny eyes.
"Clever, princess" He said at last, and he shifted above her, lowering his face closer to hers, so she could feel his breath upon her lips "Was that your idea all along, I wonder?" Well, it wasn't actually, but she'd better turn it to her advantage, though somehow it hardly felt like that right now. "But what's to stop me just taking my kiss right now?" He paused a moment "I think I like it better this way, anyway" Oh, that; she shifted a little, tried to see just how much leverage she had…but she was pinned good and proper. And right now she couldn't exactly trust herself to use magic after what had just happened. There was a chance she'd just obliterate him, and he didn't quite deserve that…not yet.
"We'll say it's a stalemate?" She suggested, in a disgustingly high-pitched and trembling voice. "No one loses…" He shrugged, considering that for a moment…
"Fine" He said at last, and lifted himself from her with ease to a crouching position. She struggled for a moment where she lay. She was so winded that she could scarcely move.
"Help…" She coughed, and he wordlessly offered her his arm. She levered herself up after a few failed attempts to sit by him…breathing heavily to try to bring life back into her body…
"You know I'll have that kiss eventually" He said softly. She glanced at him uncomfortably…a joke? Yes, she'd take that as a joke. She laughed nervously, but he wasn't laughing so she stopped.
"Who taught you?" She asked, at last "To use a bow? That shot was incredible, before I burned it, I mean…" She smiled weakly.
"Why do you care?" He smouldered
"Just curious, I guess" Phaedra answered uncomfortably "I mean, I told you about Daeghun. It's only fair…"
"Fair doesn't come into it, princess" Bishop shrugged "It never does." She fell silent, but then he gave a rough sigh "There was an old tracker…" He said at last "In my village, when I was a boy. You could call him my 'mentor', though that's a loose definition. He taught me, at least in the beginning, used to take me hunting sometimes, in the Mere. He'd teach me scraps of what he knew, just for fun, then left me out there during the night, to see if I could make it back home. Then he'd put gold on how long it would take me, whether I'd get back at all…" Phaedra's eyes widened as he spoke, it wasn't merely the horror of this small glimpse into his childhood, the thought of which froze her blood, or even the offhand remark that had suddenly revealed that he too came from the Mere…it was the deadpan way he reported it, as though it had happened to someone else, and also the way his eyes never left her own, as though he were scrutinising her reaction, relishing it…
"He gave you the knife…the one you gave to Marcus?" Phaedra whispered, realising that he was waiting for her to speak once more. She could have offered pity, or horror, she felt plenty of either, but she knew now that Bishop would be impressed by neither and probably wouldn't care either way. If he was going to be open with her no doubt he had a reason for it, but using people was a two-way street, as she had begun to learn. She would use this opportunity to discover as much as she could.
"Actually you gave it to that flea-ridden beggar, not me" Bishop snapped and Phaedra held her breath, wondering if she'd messed things up, but then he frowned darkly, and shot her a suspicious glance "How did you know anyway?" He muttered.
"Your hand went to the scabbard" She had to swallow a few times before she could even answer, a testament to just how much her outward attempt to match his impassivity was a lie. "The moment you mentioned him, as though you wanted to check it was still there, except…"
"Except it wasn't" He was gazing at her steadily, he'd never looked at her quite like that; she couldn't quite describe it. It was as though he was surprised to hear that she had read him like this, respected it, and hated her for it at the same time…no, it was gone. She must be imagining things. "Yeah, it was him" He said softly, and his eyes were fixed upon hers, so that she could not look away, even had she wanted to, as though she were nothing but a young doe transfixed by the deadly beauty of the approaching wolf "That was his skinning knife." Bishop continued remorselessly "He was drunk one night, said I'd been a nuisance to him too long, and he'd decided he'd gut me just like one of his animals, but he gave me that dagger first of all 'just to make it fair' he said. So then I knifed him in the leg, and made a run for it" He was trying to make her shocked, she realised, trying to make her appalled, but at the same time forcing her to confront that within her, deep within her, a dark part of herself was fixated, fascinated at the same time. And she couldn't hide from him how well he'd succeeded.
"What happened…?" She breathed, knowing as she said it that it was exactly what he wanted her to say, so that she was undeniably a player, a performer, in his dark tale, so she was as culpable as him in the telling. And she would never be able to forget it, what a fool she'd been to think she could use him.
"Well, it took him three days to track me down" He smiled darkly across at her "And then…let's just say we reached an 'arrangement'" His eyes glittered, daring her to ask what kind of arrangement.
"You grew up in the Mere, in a Mere village?" She asked instead, the thought that he might come from the Mere, from home, was such a strikingly powerful one that she managed to break through the coils of pity and horror that his story wove about her so effortlessly. How could she never have suspected it? There had always been a hint of a Harbourman's fierce independence about him. "Like West Harbour?"
"Yeah" He nodded, whatever he felt about the question, he wasn't giving anything away. She wished a moment that she might be able to emulate, even just a little, his self-possession. The thought shocked her…how could she wish to be anything at all like him? Especially after hearing these horrors that had made him who he was… "But it wasn't" He continued "West Harbour's a different kind of place. There they teach you to look after yourself, or at least they taught you that, so you should count yourself lucky. From what I've heard, it's one of the last places left out in the Mere. There's a reason for that, girl; Harbourmen fight, like they did when the village was attacked by those Gith. The other villages, they just scrape by when they can, scrounging everything they can off those weaker than they are…until one day they can't do it anymore, and then…they get what's coming to them…" She didn't miss the implication, his own village…was one of these? Gone, vanished into the Mere? There'd been so little contact between West Harbour and the other Mere settlements that she couldn't even guess which one it had been. "For every West Harbour that spawns a gracious heroine" Bishop said with a mocking nod to her, and suddenly this wasn't really about West Harbour, or his village, anymore. "There's one that makes a hundred brigands, killers and cowards. And then there's me…"
"Bishop," She lowered her head, stunned at the thought of him drawing such a comparison between them. She could not believe, despite what he had said, what he'd threatened to do, that he was a brigand or coward. But he hadn't said he was, she realised slowly, he'd hinted that he was something far worse.
"Lucky me" He smiled cynically, sarcastically "Now I've got you to show me what I could have been" He was mocking her…she might not have had to knife her mentor in the leg, but it hadn't been exactly easy growing up in West Harbour either.
"Don't…" She raised her hand towards him "I'm not, I never wanted to…" Her voice faltered, but then she tried to gather her strength and looked up into his eyes again. "What do you want from me Bishop?" She demanded, with the kind of daring she'd never been able to quite muster with him before "Why? Why tell me all of this?"
"I want that kiss, princess" He leaned in towards her, as soft, as slow as the growl of his voice. "And then…we'll see, won't we?" He leapt to his feet in an instant, leaving her upon the ground, and loped away with a silent tread down the old river, vanishing before her muddled mind could even think of what she might have called out to stop him around the next sweeping meander. He was gone…Phaedra looked down at her hands upon the leaf-strewn grounds. Since he'd joined them, since she'd first seen him in fact watching her across the Flagon floor, Bishop had found endless ways to confuse her. But she'd never been quite as confused as she was now, or as shocked. The story, that brief glimpse into his past, it had been sickening…how young had he been then? She didn't know, but she sensed somehow that he had been young, far too young. How callously he had told it though…throwing the horror of his childhood at her feet as casually as he had ever treated the troubles of others. Despite his indifference, she knew it had to have marked him…she tried to look through the words, hearing them again in her mind, had there been hints of any kind of feeling in it? There had to be…
"Phaedra!" Elanee's voice, raised to call for her. She quickly ran her hands over her cheeks, staggering to her feet and desperately trying to tidy herself up. It was hopeless…she was covered in moss, twigs, leaves, and she couldn't shake the shock that seemed frozen into her now. She'd been more badly shaken than she'd thought. "Phaedra!" That sounded closer, a lot closer, Phaedra almost didn't want to be found suddenly. Bishop was still out here…no, what was she thinking? He'd never tell her anymore, not without asking for something in return, something she couldn't give. She had to clear her throat several times before she could even call out to the elf, though…
"Elanee!" She cried "I'm down here!" The elf's face suddenly appeared over the side of the bank, luminous with relief.
"What in Silvanus' name happened?" Elanee looked shocked, and embarrassingly worried. Was there always going to be such a furore when she wandered away for just a few moments? No, stop it, she tried to chide her own resentful thoughts, Elanee just wanted to help her…
"I fell" Phaedra answered, the half-truth came strikingly easily to her lips, but what else could she say? That she'd been rolling down riverbanks with Bishop? "It was nothing; I'm okay, just a little shaken up"
"Wait a moment, I'm coming down" Elanee glided down the bank, gracefully and effortlessly. Phaedra couldn't imagine her falling anywhere, which only added to the embarrassment as she instantly took it upon herself to seize Phaedra's arm and examine her closely for injuries. She must think Phaedra was like a child…
"I said I'm fine" Phaedra tugged her arm out from under Elanee's scrutiny, more sharply than she'd intended. Elanee's eyes snapped back to Phaedra's, looking surprised, so she forced herself to soften her tone "It was a small fall" She said "Nothing happened."
"Sand felt magic, Phaedra" Elanee raised an elegant eyebrow. Oh curses, she'd forgotten about the wizard in the party now. She should have been more careful, but just what had Sand sensed? Elanee was giving nothing away…
"Oh, that, I was just practicing a little" Phaedra gave an awkward lurch which she quickly and unconvincingly transmitted into a shrug. Elanee was never going to believe this. "I was trying to see how things were doing with my magic."
"You haven't spoken to him, about the infernal magic yet, have you?" Elanee murmured, and there was a note of recrimination in her voice. What? How dare she…? How dare she lecture Phaedra like that? She fought for calm, trying to tell herself that she wasn't really angry with Elanee, but really simply shocked and near-hysterical from what had just occurred with Bishop, but anger, as though to prove her wrong, choked down on her throat…
"Well, I hardly saw the point since you've already taken it upon yourself to do that for me" Phaedra snapped. Her gaze swung back to Elanee's eyes, they seemed only bemused and shocked that she was getting quite so annoyed. Clearly she didn't think she'd done anything wrong…
"You're stalling him Phaedra" Elanee said softly "What are you trying to avoid?"
"I'm not avoiding anything" Phaedra hissed "Nothing, except you always trying to decide everything for me. What gives you that right? You're not the one infected with infernal magic, you're not the one carrying this shard in her chest…you're not the one accused of slaughtering a village full of people!" She could never have imagined getting this angry with Elanee, if it was Elanee alone, but it wasn't, it never could be. The way everything had gone so wrong, everything, she simply couldn't do this anymore; keep up a gracious smile, believe that everything was going to be alright. Because it wasn't…even if she won the trial, if she escaped Black Garius, if she magically found a way to go home safely, save West Harbour, do everything she had promised herself she would do…she could never bring back Ember, bring back the people killed because of her.
"Don't do this, Phaedra" Elanee shook her head, there was such pity, such compassion in her eyes, that Phaedra almost couldn't bear it. Her anger faded, it wasn't gone, but she could not direct it against Elanee. "Don't shut me out" The elf murmured "Don't shut us all out like this…"
"Don't you see, Elanee?" She said, and her voice trembled "I've got to learn to stand on my own." Bishop was right. In the end she had to be strong enough in herself to face what was to come, or else it would put everyone else around her in danger. She couldn't ask anyone else to risk themselves on her behalf, enough people had been hurt, been killed because of her. If one of them, if one of her friends did, and it was her fault, her own weakness, she wouldn't be able to bear it…
"Yes," Elanee reached forward and took Phaedra's hand, her touch soft and gentle as the brush of silk "I know you do, and you will, Phaedra. But that doesn't mean being alone" She lowered her head closer to Phaedra's, as close as a mother over a sleeping daughter "I'll always be here for you, you know that…" She said softly "I will always be standing by you"
"Will you trust me then?" Phaedra murmured quietly, she just wanted to be allowed to fight her own battles. Elanee nodded right away.
"It was wrong of me to speak to Sand" She admitted "I was just so worried about you." Her hand touched Phaedra's hair a moment, parting it away from her face, a surprisingly intimate gesture but it felt right… "Please, will you get him to scry your magic now?"
"I will" Phaedra nodded, she'd delayed far too long, allowed a vague fear to rule her in this. If she was truly to be her own person, she had to discover the truth about herself, about all these things. And though she would have to decide what was to be done about it, she would not be alone no matter what Sand found…
"Good" Elanee smiled faintly "Thank you Phaedra…" She stepped away, glancing curiously around the old river-bank "Now how in Chauntea's name do we get out of here?"
ooo0000ooo
"You're thinking about him, aren't you?" Phaedra started the moment Elanee spoke, and the elf's voice, suddenly serious once again, sounded an instant alarm in Phaedra's mind. Walking back towards the camp so far, Elanee had been rather quieter, gently teasing Phaedra about the state of her hair and dress but in a way which had allowed Phaedra to only half-concentrate on the presence of the elf beside her, while she desperately tried to sort through what had happened with Bishop. Of course, she'd missed entirely the fact that the elf had been observing her closely the entire time, and now, it seemed, had managed to piece together exactly what had made her so distracted.
"Thinking about who?" She asked innocently. Though she knew well that Elanee knew exactly who, it was a vain hope to think the elf might have mistakenly assumed she was thinking about Casavir, or Sand, or whoever else it might have been.
"Bishop" Elanee said softly "You always blush when you think about him" Phaedra swallowed awkwardly…blushing, oh dear…what would Elanee think she was really thinking about? It wasn't exactly as though she was trying to remember the feel of his body against hers, a couple of times as they were walking the thought might have just drifted into her mind, but she had always got rid of it right away. "Phaedra…may I ask you something, something quite personal?" But Elanee was still deadly serious, she wondered if the elf would try to warn her away from Bishop, condemn the foolishness, the utter recklessness of thinking that just maybe what she had heard in that dry river bank was a sign that perhaps Bishop was struggling with his feelings just as much as she was. But she nodded her assent nonetheless. "Do you find Bishop attractive?" Elanee asked. What? Phaedra's gaze snapped right back to the elf immediately and she saw no hint of humour in her set features. What kind of question was that? Surely she didn't mean…?
"What do you mean?" She managed to choke out
"Do you find him physically attractive?" Elanee qualified, and Phaedra instantly felt a burning flush wash through her cheeks. If she'd been blushing before, she must be crimson from head to toe right now. That sort of question…you didn't just say it, like that, out loud, as though it were the most normal thing in the world. You didn't just talk about that kind of thing…it wasn't proper…you just didn't. She closed her eyes, quite unable to look at Elanee another second. It wasn't fair to ask that. What could she say, what did you say when someone asked you something like that? The truth, something in her murmured, there's been too many lies lately, but the truth…the truth was that…oh Gods, it was almost as much of a struggle to even admit to herself. She raised her head, and managed to look Elanee in the eye, the elf was waiting for an answer. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she allowed herself to nod… "I see" Elanee said simply, and there was no judgement, no feverish demand for more details, nothing…just clear and open honesty. It was actually a release in a way, to finally have it out in the open. It was far past time she stopped hiding, it clearly wasn't helping, since her feelings about Bishop had only grown more confused and more out of control the more she had attempted to bury them. Maybe Elanee could give her some advice, just as long as she didn't tell Casavir, oh please don't let Casavir find out.
"You…won't tell Casavir?" She gasped breathlessly
"No" Elanee answered firmly "Casavir has…difficulties where Bishop is concerned. He would not understand, Phaedra, as I understand." Did she truly…understand? These feelings, her own confusion, could Elanee truly understand?
"What are you going to do?" Phaedra murmured, trying to imagine what Elanee intended by these words, by bringing this, which she had clearly suspected for some time, out into the open.
"I am going to trust you" Elanee replied simply "As I promised I would. I am going to trust that you understand that there is a danger in this, I am going to trust that you will not allow it to go further than is wise." She smiled suddenly, brightly "You are young, Phaedra, and though you have led them, us, through what most could not ever imagine, you have not lived much, as a young woman should be able to live. Life is not all sadness and duty, you know. Bishop, he may be dangerous, wildly unsuitable, but…" She gave a polite cough "He is a rather attractive specimen." Phaedra snorted with laughter suddenly, Elanee…talking like this, she could never have imagined it. "It is no crime to enjoy yourself a little, flirt a little with danger" Elanee said softly "But" And she grew serious again "I have one warning for you, be certain that you do not give him any kind of claim over you."
"I won't" Phaedra smiled softly. Somehow, in this moment, she'd never felt closer to Elanee than she did briefly now. She was so wise, why had Phaedra avoided telling her for so long of her turmoil? But…she was painfully conscious that Elanee was still not quite aware of some of the things Bishop had said, of how close they'd come just a few times to something far more serious…and still she couldn't bring herself to tell the elf.
"Ah… so sorry to interrupt this rather touching moment" Elanee started in exactly the same shocked, hunted manner that Phaedra did, whirling instantly alongside her to see Sand standing nonchalantly at the other edge of the clearing. "But may I offer a rather more direct, perhaps more pragmatic, suggestion? If, Mystra alone knows why, you're finding Bishop a distracting pull on your affections, surely the obvious solution is to, well, call his bluff?"
"What in Silvanus' name do you mean Sand?" Elanee managed to splutter, Phaedra beside her was utterly speechless with shock and embarrassment. How could Sand have been there? And for how long exactly?
"Come now Elanee, we're all adults here" Sand smiled urbanely "And you, my dear, are a druid. What Phaedra's body is really telling here, as I'm sure you are aware, is that Bishop is a prime prospect for a partner. Surely the next step she should take is to offer to sleep with him? Either he's all bark and no bite, in which case he'll run off scared and we'll all be free of his obnoxious posturing, or he'll be delighted to comply, in which case, well…you take things from there…"
"How will that solve anything?" Elanee's voice was dangerously close to a screech.
"A forbidden fruit, once tasted, loses its allure" Sand answered, raising his hand as though to proffer said fruit. Phaedra longed suddenly, the only coherent thought she could manage at the moment, to sink into the ground for ever. She'd never been quite so embarrassed in her life… "You will leave your desire behind with the bedclothes, and thus Bishop shall no longer trouble your sensibilities, and you are free to move onto other partners more suitable for long-term commitment, such as well, say, Casavir"
"Sand…" Elanee was shaking with fury "Phaedra has never…slept with anyone in her life." In the midst of her mortification at having her sex life, or lack thereof, being discussed in front of her by a woman she had long thought of as a motherly figure and Sand, who she barely knew, Phaedra was suddenly struck by an obvious, if rather uncouth, thought? How did Elanee know that…? "She is not starting now" Elanee continued, oblivious "And certainly not with a man so uncaring of female delicacy!"
"You are a virgin?" Sand's gaze travelled to Phaedra instantly "Sincerest condolences, my dear. You are young, and beautiful. Why not take advantage of the time you have, at least"
"Please, dear Gods, that is enough!" Phaedra managed to scream out at last "What in Lathander's name gave you the right to listen in on our conversation, Sand? And comment…on that?" She fell silent, breathing heavily, unable to even speak of it any further
"I merely came to find you" Sand didn't look at all shamefaced "Thinking that perhaps a moment of privacy would be better when we come to examine your magic. Unfortunately I entered the glade at the moment Elanee spoke of flirting with danger, and, as an inadvertent consequence of a prodigious intellect which is scarcely my fault, came to an instant conclusion as to the contents of the conversation, correct as it turned out. Was it so wrong for me to wish to offer a perfectly sensible suggestion?"
"You came to scry my magic?" That was an instantly sobering thought. Sobering enough, indeed, for her to leave behind all trace of that ghastly conversation.
"We have delayed far too long, my dear" Sand shook his head, a chiding note to his voice "You should have come to me right away. But…" He raised a hand, he had very expressive hands, almost theatrical "What is done is done. May we proceed as planned, Phaedra?"
"Yes" Phaedra nodded "I can't do this anymore. I've got to know I can trust my own sorcery" He was right, she had drawn this out too long. It was time to know, to understand, no matter how painful that understanding was."
"I will leave, if that is preferred" Elanee offered, suddenly sobre also.
"That would be wise, I am afraid" Sand nodded, before Phaedra could protest "Seclusion will eliminate all possible distractions, the consequences of which could be dire" Elanee, as she padded silently from the glade, turned her gaze on Phaedra for one last second, a momentary glance which nonetheless communicated so much. She would be waiting, it said…and no matter what Sand discovered, she would still stand at Phaedra's side. Then she vanished back towards the camp. "Now, I hope you understand the limitations of what I am about to do" Sand leaned in, he was utterly different now, focused, precise, in his every word and mannerism "Infernal magic is more subtle than it would seem and what's become clear to me is that whatever the truth of the matter is, we are dealing with an extraordinary case. I will do my best, my dear but I am afraid I cannot promise anything. It is possible the root cause shall evade me, as it did with your shards…"
"Anything would be a help" Phaedra answered "I just need to know…why…"
"Well, I am glad you have the right idea" Sand said "There are some sorcerors who become sloppy with their power, careless. They don't care to understand what they're unleashing upon the world. I am glad to see you haven't taken that path…"
"My mentor, back in West Harbour, would have killed me first" Phaedra smiled despite herself, thinking of Tarmas' strictness, his utter insistence that she learn control just as a wizard had to. What would he think if he knew that she was channelling pure infernal power…?
"A wise man" Sand answered, with the kind of sarcastic twist that told her he was joking, but then instantly he was all the academic once again "Excuse my forwardness" He said "But I will need to touch you"
"That's okay" She bowed her head towards him, and slowly he reached forward, his long, pale, delicate fingers curling to gently, ever so gently touch her on each of her temples. She looked intently into his light blue eyes, but he didn't seem to be looking back into her face, perhaps into something deeper. His magic, when she felt it move in him, was of a very different quality to her own. Obviously she couldn't feel it as intently as he was trying to discover her's, but she took the opportunity to intuit a little sense of his own power. It was as carefully guarded, structured, ordered, and yet there were hidden depths to it, depths that it was hard to glimpse. He was powerful that was for sure, more powerful than a hedge wizard ought to be.
"Phaedra…" Sand muttered, and she almost recoiled and flushed intensely, wandering if he'd sensed her spying on him "Your magic is utterly unstable, I'm having a great deal of trouble getting any kind of idea of it. Please…you need to relax"
"Alright" She closed her eyes, it hadn't exactly been polite to snatch a peek at Sand's magic…better that she simply did her best to help him find her own magic. She tried to concentrate only on the vague sense of Sand's power moving inside her, tried to gather the loose ends of her magic. He was right, she realised, under his scrutiny, her magic had grown so much, so fast…that she scarcely knew its scope, its capabilities. Strands of it were all woven together and tangled, like the over-grown weeds of the Mere. If Sand could find anything in this, it would be a credit to his abilities. But, she wondered suddenly if he would see further than that. Would he be able to sense Garius' taint inside her? The thought was deeply disquieting…
"Tell me, Phaedra…" She heard Sand's voice suddenly, casual and conversational "Have you ever had a special affinity for the conjuration of fire?"
"Not particularly, no" She answered, slightly confused, but willing to help any way she could. Despite the infernal events seeming to be based in hellfire, before them she'd used fire as much as any other kind of magic.
"And have you any particular gift with summoning?" Sand continued
"I've never actually tried it" Phaedra admitted. She had no taste for harnessing the power of demons and devils, and the other strands of summoning, be they celestial, or from some other plane, were so esoteric that she'd simply had no time to learn them. She had been forced rather by this journey to pour all her power into attack spells, evocation had become by default her speciality…
"Interesting" Sand murmured…as though that did actually reveal anything. Well, perhaps it did to him. But she wished he would give something to her soon other than maddeningly enigmatic comments. Suddenly, without saying anything else, his fingers left her forehead, and the sense of his magic inside her slipped from her grasp. Her eyes snapped open instantly, so she caught the moment of confusion, perhaps of anxiety, flashing across his features. Perhaps it was something he hadn't meant her to see, because in the next instant it was gone and he was in complete control once again, he looked serious and cool-headed "Understand, Phaedra that sorcery is quite unlike wizardry, it is more organic…more adaptable, and it is quite prepared to evolve beyond its wielder's will" He said slowly, cautiously "If is not given a firm hand, kept under control…it begins to take on increasingly unstable attributes…"
"What?" Phaedra glanced at him "What do you mean?"
"When you came to Neverwinter, your Gift was still in its infancy" Sand explained gravely "But I could tell the moment that I met you that it was strong, stronger than any I've ever sensed. Since then you've routinely allowed your sorcery free reign, you've used it to an extent that should have destroyed a novice of your level…and you've been entirely without a mentor, without any kind of guidance. Were you a wizard, you would have burnt out already, reached your limit long ago. But instead your sorcery compensated…it took power from elsewhere."
"From the Hells?" Phaedra breathed, shocked
"Not in the beginning…" Sand answered "These earlier events…you channelled the Weave pure and whole…rather like an old Illefarn technique in fact. Thank Mystra they lasted only moments each time, or it's likely you would have been consumed entirely. But in the caves, there was clearly a great deal of infernal magic…your sorcery recognised an opportunity, it was an entirely instinctive move on your part. But unfortunately, the Hells are a deeply invasive influence…infernal magic has latched onto your magic like…a parasite." She nodded, recognising her own words as she had tried to analyse the infection.
"What can I do?" Phaedra whispered "Can I…get rid of it?"
"Unfortunately nothing is as simple as that, especially when we speak of sorcery" Sand replied "But there are certainly ways to lessen its influence…this will require some more detailed analysis but right now if I request that you avoid large-scale spells, especially those involving fire. In addition…you've been pushing your sorcery further and further into greater and greater power of attack, which certainly isn't helping matters. We need to work on your subtlety and your precision, make sure you only expend what power you need to when you do use magic. There are a number of exercises designed to do just that…aimed at wizards of course, but I'm sure we can adapt them to your…circumstances."
"Right" Phaedra nodded with relief and determination, at last there was something, at last there was a way to fight this malign influence inside her, to engage with the horror that had invaded her. And in a way she agreed with Sand, she did need guidance, she'd been rather marooned without it for some time. No one else in the group, though she was sure they'd be sympathetic to it, could ever quite understand her need to learn, to gain more spells, to feed the flame of her sorcery and to use it. Sand seemed highly knowledgeable, and her momentary glimpse of his power had revealed his expertise in using it. Without a doubt he would be able to teach her some useful techniques as they attempted to refine her craft and eradicate this infernal infection. But she could not ignore the one wrong note in all this, Garius…he had promised that her power would consume her if she did not submit to his teachings. Had that simply been a lie, a way to claim her allegiance? Sand simply did not seem concerned enough for him to have sensed what Garius claimed to know. Perhaps these excercises would be what saved her, without Garius' intervention…perhaps…
"Excellent, we will no doubt have some time on hand during this expedition" Sand continued "The work will be rather arduous, at first…but I think it will aid you more prosaically in how you use your magic as well. Now…" He glanced back towards where he had laid down his book "Shall we return to the camp? I should like to examine the pitifully small number of books I've managed to bring on this journey, in case there is some element to this that may be better illuminated by study"
"Of course" Phaedra stepped back, though she longed to start as soon as possible, she understood Sand's caution. Clearly they were dealing with dangerous forces… "Sand…" She murmured, just as the wizard turned away "Thank you so much…" Despite his alarming lack of tact and understanding of common propriety, Sand was alright…
"It's a pleasure, my dear" Sand glanced back at her, with a courteous smile, but then his features darkened once again, and once again she was reminded that this was perhaps far more serious than he, clearly wishing to put her at ease, had indicated. As he turned away she could have sworn that he murmured something else, something she scarcely caught but for the added keenness of her elven senses; "As well as a necessity"
ooo0000ooo
"Tyr, Evenhanded, I understand if I am to be punished, and I accept it" Casavir murmured into the darkening velvet sky "But, Lord of Justice, do not punish her for my mistakes. She is innocent, guide her to be strong, always, as I know she can be" Words, whispers into an unfeeling eternity, to comfort himself. Each night he had prayed for her, vigils kept hour after hour, and each time there was no answer. And each time she turned further from him. Was there even any meaning to any of it? Tyr, do you even listen? Do you even care? He rebuked himself instantly for the disobedient thought; Tyr's will would become clear in time. He had to trust to that. If he did not believe it, then he had nothing. At least by holding to his duty, by holding to justice, he would serve something greater than himself, this broken vessel. And there was her, Phaedra…her face floated before his closed eyes, a golden smile upon her lips, could he ever be worthy of her? He could not even protect her…
"Casavir…" His eyes opened and he glanced back slowly; Elanee, of course. The elf stood framed in the flickering firelight which burned just behind her. He had left the glade where the others had settled down in order to be alone, but she had followed. Lately he found it difficult to understand exactly what Elanee wished from him, she had always insisted she wanted to protect Phaedra, then she ignored the clear threat that Bishop represented, even argued in the ranger's favour. He could not understand why she, and Phaedra like her, could so easily ignore Bishop's repulsive demeanour. But he did not wish to antagonise her again, there was already far too much disagreement within this group… "This, the trial, it is Luskan's fault." The elf moved over to him gracefully "You cannot blame yourself"
"Of course" Casavir turned to her, and nodded slowly "I understand that"
"Then why are you punishing yourself?" Elanee murmured, her light steps made barely an impact upon the leaves at her feet. "Why will you speak these words every night to Tyr, yet ignore Phaedra each day? She blames herself, you know, that you will not speak to her…"
"She cannot" Casavir breathed, the thought was deeply uncomfortable. He knew that Phaedra had made mistakes, done things he disagreed with. She had lied to him, to all of them, Bishop's influence, but he knew, whatever the truth of the matter, that she must have done so because she believed it was right. If that was so she had no grounds to believe that it was anything other than his own judgements, his own weakness, that tore them apart…
"Why, then Casavir?" Elanee said, and there was something deeply compassionate in her voice, the voice of a friend who understood, or at least tried to. "Do you truly believe that Tyr would punish her for your sins?"
"If this is punishment, it is not for her" Casavir answered bleakly "It must be my own weakness." He had meditated long and hard…and always it was his own failures that floated before him. There was some meaning to this, that Luskan chose to use a twisted mockery of Tyr's justice to condemn this woman who meant so much more to him than Tyr's own self.
"Your weakness, so Tyr strikes an innocent girl?" Elanee shook her head "How could such a God be called just?"
"The ways of the Gods are mysterious" Casavir turned away. Even she could not understand. Neverwinter was cruel, and in death there would be no meaning to gold, or power or pleasure, even the self, as we understand it here, would pass away…only the Gods, only service to them, had any lasting meaning. Whatever else he did not know or understand, he would always believe that Tyr was greater than any man, greater than him, and wiser also. In a world of shifting allegiance, of treachery and cruelty, he had to trust to that wisdom, even now when Tyr's will seemed remote and obscure. He had to trust that there was meaning behind this, that Tyr meant this to happen. If he abandoned his faith in a time of trial, only clinging to it when things went the way he wished them to, was he any better than the basest hypocrite? As a paladin he served more than his own vanity, he was an example to others, he had to be. He could not abandon his duty.
"She needs you, Casavir" Elanee continued, she stepped up to him, laid a gentle hand upon his shoulder "Now, more than ever. The more we lose her, the more we all fall apart" Casavir started at the thought, at her touch, though the armour still stood between them, but beside him Elanee shook her head, auburn hair falling in shimmering strands to her shoulders "Surely you sense it as I do? As Phaedra withdraws, everything around her unwinds" He thought of Neeshka, the tiefling, how withdrawn she had been, Khelgar's snappishness on the journey, Shandra's silence, but there was only one cause as far as Casavir was concerned.
"It is his fault" Casavir said firmly "Bishop…"
"No" Elanee smiled sadly, but there was no anger in her voice this time "Bishop…is a part of us also, and Phaedra needs him"
"It is an irrational, dangerous…" Casavir began severely, but the look on Elanee's face silenced him. It was still not anger, perhaps closer to pity…
"Phaedra is young, but as we have watched her here she has become a woman" Elanee said gently "Bishop represents something she has never experienced…I think she finds his attentions rather flattering. Is that so irrational, so dangerous…?"
"She cannot fall for him, Elanee" Casavir shook his head, desperate to convey something of what he sensed every time he gazed upon Bishop. His cruelty, his desire, they were one and the same. "Any feeling she has for him, he will use it bitterly…can you not see it? I must protect her from that"
"I did not say anything of love, Casavir, or feeling" Elanee answered "She flirts with Bishop, yes, but she is far too wise to give him her heart, she sees further than you believe she does Casavir. Her life has been so empty of even the merest happiness, now she amuses herself briefly by playing the kind of game every girl her age plays…but I know that she also understands the rules. She will not fall for him, Casavir…"
"So you are saying that I should allow him to use her?" Casavir asked coldly. "Simply because she believes this is a game…"
"I am saying, Casavir, that you should trust Phaedra more" Elanee murmured gently, she reached forward, laid her hand upon his shoulder for a brief instant, then she let him go. Trust….he trusted her… but every time he saw her with Bishop, saw the man's eyes travel down her body like some foul animal, and she still laughed, and her beautiful eyes were turned toward him, and shining the way they never shined for Casavir…for him they always looked sad, and distant and older than she was…he hated it so much, and he felt so angry, an anger the likes of which he had not know for years. And he knew envy and jealousy were not the ways of justice, were wrong for a paladin…but the thought of them together seared him to the bone. It was not simply envy, though, Bishop was so unworthy of her…every moment, every smile, every glance, she gave him was like a diamond sullied in the foulest slime of his lust and hatred. He just wanted to protect her. But he felt a moment's doubt, at last…was he protecting her by condemning her from afar like this? He had not even spoken to her, asked her about her feelings, as Elanee, it seemed had. He glanced back into Elanee's green elven eyes, she was waiting a moment, and he remembered suddenly how he had resolved to always trust Elanee, who knew and loved Phaedra so well. She thought, she was quietly certain, that he had allowed hatred of Bishop to consume him, to cloud his mind. If it was so, he had betrayed Phaedra once again…
"What can I do?" He asked roughly, at last "I…have wronged her."
"Come back to her, Casavir" Elanee murmured "Come back to all of us."
"What can I say?" Casavir shook his hand, glancing down at his two empty hands. They had wielded weapons for so long now…could he ever be anything other than a warrior? "I do not know what to say to her…" He said desolately "I do not know what to do…"
"She is like my daughter, Casavir" Elanee answered "And I know that she wants nothing more than what you are…all of what you are" He sighed, broken as he was, he could not quite believe it. Phaedra was so young, all beauty and life…he was aged by battle and service, chained to duty, empty of all but dust, like a wasted sepulchre. But with her, sometimes, there was moments, as bright and precious as droplets of silver, when he felt alive again. Even if Luskan's actions were Tyr's rebuke, he could not cut himself off from her entirely…he owed her more than that after all she had given him. And he owed her more than to so savagely mistrust her, that was not just.
"Thank you Elanee" He nodded to her. It had been wrong for him to cast aside her advice so swiftly also…he should have known better.
"I will keep an eye on her, and on Bishop" Elanee said, with a rare, sweet smile that for a moment glowed with an echo of Phaedra's own beauty. "But once things return to normal between the two of you…I do not think he will be a problem" Yes, Bishop was still a danger, he could not believe Elanee in that quite so easily…but he would better serve Phaedra by being near her when she needed him and not simply trying to order her from a distance like one of the austere presbyters of the temple. He trusted her…now he resolved firmly to show her that he did. Instantly he stepped back towards the fire, leaving Elanee standing there alone amongst the trees, seeming strangely sad but he scarcely noticed…it was still light, there was still time to talk…
There she was…she sat by the fire, bending over the steaming pot and she was laughing, silvery, beautiful…like the peal of the bells in Tyr's temple that once had drawn him in when all his life had been as empty and desolate as the mountains of Old Owl Well. She was with Shandra, the two young women giggling over something…he could never make her laugh like that…and, even now, her beauty entirely overshadowed the elder girl. Next to her, even Shandra's rustic prettiness, considerable in its own right, seemed crude and unsophisticated. Shandra, Casavir paused a moment, if he could have chosen this moment himself, he would not have had Shandra there. He knew well what Shandra felt about him, this girlish infatuation, he had experience of such things already, and he knew it would pass in time. That was what made Phaedra so special…she did not look upon him as Shandra did, as a knight, protector, an ideal…with her he felt like nothing but a man, and that was enough. Yet…he did not wish to hurt Shandra. But he had a duty nonetheless, he could not let another moment pass by without apologising to Phaedra…
He stepped over slowly, his gaze firmly fixed upon her as though she were the beacon, the lodestone of all his steps. Then she saw him, and instantly the laughter faded from her face. Shandra too fell silent, tensing, awkwardly looking away. He felt a stab to the core, as that familiar wistful sadness came over Phaedra's face as she glanced up at him, her eyes glittering. Tyr…how did such beauty exist? How did he protect something so precious? "Casavir…" She said softly. He saw he had hurt her, the thought shook him, how could he have been so careless? Sometimes it seemed as though he always destroyed that which mattered most.
"My lady," He said softly, and hated himself for it. "I have treated you unfairly."
"I don't need…" She began, shaking her head, so that every golden strand burned in the reflected glow of the fire. But she would not look at him…
"But I do, Phaedra" He lowered himself to crouch down next to her, and her eyes widened, settling upon his, it was the old way between them for an instant…before she had gotten older, and sadder and he had wasted the feelings they had on jealousy and his own cowardice. He would have to work hard to earn her faith once again, to prove himself worthy. Neither noticed Shandra, frozen out, embarrassed but unable to look away "Once before I promised you I would stand by you no matter what. I have broken that promise…will you give me another chance, Phaedra?"
"Casavir, if you only understood…" She breathed, then faltered,
"It does not matter what you believe you have done, I know you have done what you know is right, always" Casavir answered "I am sworn to stand by your side, my hammer, my allegience, they are yours..."
"I know" She said, at last "If you ever want my forgiveness, Casavir…it will always be yours" He stared into her radiant green eyes for one precious moment, burning emeralds, with that deep, untouchable sorrow at their depth. This time, as before, though it was her who looked away. Casavir understood…he knew all too well that faith, once lost, could not be easily regained. But he would bend all his efforts, all his will, into restoring her faith in him once again. Then, one day, when she smiled for him again, he would finally find the courage to confess his feelings…at last…
ooo0000ooo
Yes, it had been rather a good hypothesis, Sand considered as he ran a finger along the rough, parchment pages of 'Thesis on the Displacement of Evocation', even if he said so himself. Skirting around the edge of magical theory, a place where highly speculative supposition was a necessity, it had nonetheless acquired a vaguely plausible bent since they were dealing with the inherent instability of sorcery. To a student at the Academy, perhaps, it would have seemed conceivable, to an erratic but hugely powerful, sorceress from the Mere desperate to solve an inconceivable mystery, it had been taken as a salvation. And it had appealed to Phaedra's barely-acknowledged vanity concerning the strength of her sorcery. Too bad, then, that it had been utterly a lie. He'd sensed the moment he had laid his hands upon Phaedra exactly what they were dealing with, and in that same moment he had made the lightning-fast decision to hide the truth from her. He'd lied, yes, but because he had to. The law of necessity meant so much more to Sand than hysterical ramblings about right and wrong, and he was absolutely certain that his lie had been a necessary one. One part of all of it had been true, though, that they were dealing with something utterly extraordinary here…and a wrong move, the most minute mistake, would destabilise Phaedra entirely. With the trial approaching, that had to be his greatest priority and one thing he knew, Phaedra herself was to be a key part of his defence and she had to be ready. The revelation of what she really was would not merely cast the flux of her magic into utter chaos, it would certainly deeply undermine her emotional stability also…and she needed to be focused, ready for the battle of words and wills that Torio would no doubt have prepared for them. So did he…but his instincts told him that he had to be on the highest of alerts for Phaedra at the same time. And his instincts were rarely wrong…
He wished he had his whole collection of books out here in this barbarous wilderness. There was one, a particularly elegant theory from Candlekeep, and elegance was hard to come by amidst the obtuse philosophical meanderings common to that school…he remembered it almost verbatim even now. It had theorised the existence of so-called latent warlocks. One master, obviously more interested in his upcoming breakfast than the intellectual integrity of his works, had presented the analogy of an egg. The shell of a normal sorcerous gift, almost indistinguishable from any other sorcerer, concealed the core, all the power, the yolk, which was a hidden affinity with the arts of a warlock. It had been simply a theory, a logical extension of the natural affinity between some sorcerers and infernal beings. Simply a theory…until now. Now, slowly he raised his eyes over the cover of the book and glanced across the fire to where Phaedra was now sitting, her laughter as she inclined her head graciously toward some banality on the part of that farmgirl, was like the ring of crystal…in this, the most unlikely of places, here was the proof that latent warlocks existed. His gaze narrowed a brief moment…even from here he could sense her power, it was streaming out from her like a vast pillar of fire. It was a marvel she'd only lost control so few times, by Mystra it was a miracle she hadn't obliterated herself and everyone around her already. As a sorcerer she was already deeply vulnerable to the instability of emotion, sorcery was so chaotic…so…messy, Sand preferred magic when it could be quantified, studied, controlled and pinned down. But here was Phaedra, an exception to every rule. And Sand knew she had to learn to be controlled, or else her already deeply unstable sorcery would lose the battle to direct the vein of her power, and…then her warlock powers would burst from her, the long years of repression would only have made them far stronger. If sorcerers were bad enough, warlocks were far worse. Normally Sand found the prejudices of the Neverwinter folk with which he was forced to discourse as laughable as they were distasteful, but he was forced to agree with the long-held hatred of warlocks in the city. If Phaedra was revealed to be a warlock, forget about the destruction of Ember…she would be lynched on the streets. And Sand, having learned what he had about Phaedra's journey, the seismic role she seemed to be playing in the re-shaping of things around Neverwinter…had more than a personal interest in insuring that didn't happen. Meanwhile, while he tried to work out what could be done…the exercises and precautions that he'd suggested certainly wouldn't hurt. Right now Phaedra seriously needed to be controlled…
One thing he could state for certain. The instability of Phaedra's powers was directly linked to the instability of her emotions. She was already in a deeply unsound state, naturally she seemed to be high-strung, and these recent events had hugely unsettled her. And as she insisted in addition upon pursuing ill-advised, hormonal and relentlessly coy flirtations with the two men that Sand had already decided were equally bad for her (how human of her), Sand had to see to it that she was allowed a serenity and peace of mind elsewhere, even if he had to lie to her. That settled, he returned to his book, knowing well that he would find nothing within it to guide him. Everything about this situation was new, and it was up to him entirely, Sand alone, to see to it that Phaedra did not inadvertently unleash an evil that could be worse by far than anything she had fought already.
