~*-{/=I=\}-*~

"Too bad I didn't hang onto that belt, huh? You remember the one, what switches your gender?" Imoen adjusted her skirts. Only good thing about 'em was how easy it was to hide a dagger in those ruffles, but how much better to wear a blade openly on her hip, like Aldeth? Didn't need the scrutiny that came with, though. "Now, there'd be a disguise."

Aldeth looked downright horrified—but, just for a second; his good humor had it hiding pretty quick. "You two look far too lovely to deprive anyone of such a vision," he declared, all graciously. "And, I shouldn't know what to think, if I saw you thus."

Sajantha gave her head a shake. With her hair done up, she didn't even have any curls left to bounce a bit. "We'd best hope our preparations are enough."

Be hard to mistake them two for the ruffians breaking out of prison the day before, at least; it'd be some work to recognize them. At least that's what Aldeth had assured them, trying not to trip over his words with just how jarring the difference must be. The dresses were all the latest fashion (or so the clerk had insisted), and Sajantha sure looked right smart in that pearly-blue floaty stuff, but Imoen felt like a trussed-up chicken. Not the most comfortable comparison when they were stepping into a scene that could end with their heads served up on a platter.

Plenty of other fancy folk milled around, but the fire-light didn't glint off too many armored ones. Torches had lit up all along the Duchal Palace, giving off enough glow to liven up its cold stone walls. Real high, those walls. Maybe they didn't even need no guards; wasn't no one getting out if they didn't want them to.

Imoen took in a deep breath. Maybe they could hope their preparations measured up enough? "Only one fellow at the door?" The nerve! Couldn't be as easy as it looked.

"Surely there are others, within." Aldeth peered, though they couldn't see much past the outer gate. "Most events here have far more security, never mind one organized with such designs as this." His eyebrows rose. "Sarevok may be even more overconfident than you supposed. Perhaps this will be simpler than we had thought."

"He'll not be able to defend against the truth." Sajantha patted at the bag of holding, draped all discrete over her arm. "Did you get a chance to look at it? His journal."

"Nah, I've been busy memorizing sounds that don't make a lick of sense." Hopefully they didn't jumble up the wrong way in her head; one chaotic spellcaster was plenty. "Who cares what he's writ in there? We can give him a weak spot." Even if Gorion's magic hadn't gotten through Sarevok's defenses, this scroll of Edwin's oughta do the trick; a bloke like that wouldn't go down, without a fight. They knew he was guilty, what else did they need to know?

Sajantha shook her head. "This is his weak spot. What he's written, what's between the lines."

"Let us hope it is enough." As they got closer, Aldeth drew himself up into a fancy fop, staring down his nose at the guard.

"Lord Aldeth Sashenstar, and..." the guard glanced real quick at their invitations, "representatives of the Merchants' Guild." He nodded. "Looks like everything is in order. Good evening to you, m'lord. Ladies." No scrutiny, at all. Even gave them a smile! Was he really that oblivious, or just faking? Damn this skulking about in plain sight; the shadows outside the torch-light looked way more welcoming.

Aldeth slid the papers back into his vest. "I hope you've a plan, from here?"

Plan, idea. Imoen shrugged. "He's been a step ahead, this whole time. Maybe us not having one will work in our favor." Maybe Sajantha was right, and just waving around his diary would be enough to get him on the defensive; he could blow his cover, all his own.

The great big wooden doors stood open, towering up half as high as the walls. The inside didn't seem nearly so massive, though, not packed as it was with people; wasn't much room to do more than breathe with all these noble-folk and their big dresses shoving at every side. Between the poofy clothes and the plush carpet underfoot, it was like getting smothered in one of Winthrop's puff cakes, except that actually sounded fun.

At least the high walls helped stretch out the insides; those arced ceilings kept the space from squishing down too tight. Even if all the air was up there, too. Nobles acted like they were so high above everyone else, like rolling around in oils and perfumes was so much better a stink than good, clean dirt.

The Ducal Palace was about all you'd expect: riches and decorations weighing down the walls and shelves, and piles too many guards to do anything about it. Piles too many people for the guards to do much, either. Hopefully.

Sajantha got distracted by a big ol' harp that filled up a whole corner; her fingers brushed across it as they walked on by, but the noise got buried under the argument rising up in the next room.

"You'd best think fast," Aldeth gestured up ahead, "sounds as if it's already started."

Figured. "Can't lock too many of your sort together before y'all start bickering, hey?"

Aldeth looked like he couldn't decide whether to be offended or agree; he settled on a sheepish sort of shrug.

"Entar was killed by Shadow Thieves, agents of Amn," one of the nobles was saying, a pinch-faced fellow who probably sucked on lemons for fun. "If it's not obvious to the rest of you, it's obvious to me: Amn wants a war."

Casting a shadow over the whole front of the room, Sarevok stood there looking all proper and polished up—that had to be him! A good head taller than most of the guests, and no one else wearing that big of a smirk. Here was a man getting just what he was expecting. Oh, he was gonna get something, alright.

The woman beside him glared, a bit of a hawk-nose to her, to match those piercing eyes. "It is not obvious to us all—the very obviousness of the evidence left behind calls it into question."

Aldeth broke away as they got closer, walking right into the middle of the clucking nobles. He sure cut a fine figure, dressed that sharp; he snapped right into place, sweeping up their attention. "Duchess Liia is right. I know you are seeking guidance in these troubled times, but you must not turn to the man responsible for sowing the discord to begin with."

"Who is this?" The sour man turned to him. "How dare you imply–"

"Lord Sashenstar?" Least the lady was more polite, however skeptical that raised eyebrow of hers.

Aldeth let out a sigh. "Just how behind are you on the gossip? There's been one outbreak after another of doppelgangers. Such creatures aren't deployed for any purpose but misdirection and misleading: there is quite the plot going on, beneath our very noses."

"Who is that with you, Aldeth?" another noble asked. With another raised eyebrow, and a whole lot of snoot.

That threw him for a half-second. Imoen straightened a little, tried to look professional. Noble. Being used to slinking around invisible to these sorts made it kind of hard.

Sajantha's own back was straight as a stave as she stared at Sarevok; he was looking back at her with the weirdest sort of smile lurking on his lips. Maybe she'd been right—he sure didn't look worried. Imoen took a breath. Not yet.

"I've had the privilege to discourse with Duke Eltan, himself," Aldeth continued, ignoring the question, "and I can assure you that he very strongly wishes to bring those responsible to justice. 'Tis not his injuries from Commander Scar's doppel most giving him trouble, but the poison which left him unable to speak up about it."

"Just who are you accusing? You'd best have some evidence to back up your assertions–"

Someone let out a scream, a yelp that got cut off, and like a fire lit under them, the crowd burst to life, pushing every which-way—leaving every flailing person as confused as Imoen was—how to make sense of all the shouts as everyone jostled? Half the crowd took up arms, falling upon the other. The dukes—they were going after the last two Grand Dukes!—and clawing into anyone between them.

Hard to tell who was who, though, with this storm of petticoats and nobles just trying to scramble out of the way, some cowering down right on the floor—staying in the way—how was she supposed to swing a blade in this mess? Her own dress didn't seem half the bother she'd worried it; the skirts only got in the way for a second as she whipped out her dagger.

"The dukes!" Imoen shouted to the others, but she couldn't catch a glimpse of Sajantha's golden hair and shiny hair-clips in this swarm of bodies. The guards were still stuck around the edges, doing nothing because they couldn't? Or, because they were all in Sarevok's pocket?

Aldeth heard her, though. He'd drawn his sword—one of them thin rapiers, for dueling, but it would do (if he knew how to use it)—giving her a wink as they moved to intercept. "Not just for show," he said.

Imoen sliced through one of the fellows with his hands around the lady-duke's throat, but the blow didn't do too much—like his skin was armored—and his return strike sent her flying through the air, blinking away stars as she struck the ground. Feet stomped around her; she rolled clear, blade ready, and bounced up, just to get knocked in the side, again. A sword-blow that dug deep into her, but the enchantment on her dress did its duty. Aching, but not bleeding, she struck back.

Her sword got real heavy, of a sudden—dipped right for the ground instead of into his chest—but her opponent didn't spring for the opening. Something tugged at her ears—her attention—quiet, at first, but she wasn't the only one to notice it; the battle kind of staggered, til only music filled her head into a soft haze, and the sounds of battle faded to nothing. The man she fought slumped, limp as a rag doll, to the floor. Where he turned all gray.

"What—what are they!" a voice cried. Their strange bodies were all tumbling down, stretched-out all across the ground. A goodly handful of them, but not near so many as it had seemed, with the crowd quieted down. Dead?

"Doppelgangers," Aldeth answered, his blade hovering above them. Ready, waiting. Wondering the same as Imoen: strike while they could?

But, there came Sajantha, stepping out of the other room. The room with the harp. "Unconsciousness reverts them to their natural form," she said.

At least they could tell the bad guys all apart, now. But where the hells had Sarevok run off to? "Think we should tie them up?" Imoen swallowed. "Or, just..."

Vines crept up from beneath the rugs, pushing aside patterned tiles as they broke through the floor and twisted around the bodies, lassoing them up firm as any ropes.

That answered that. Imoen tucked her blade back in with the ruffles. "Jaheira! How did you get in?"

Their friends walked past the still-cowering crowd. With all their armor, their group looked just as out-of-place with these frilly folk as the ugly doppelgangers had. But, not quite as scary: the nobles were starting to calm down a bit, enough to start whining. Probably that wrecked floor wouldn't go over so well.

"It took some doing," Jaheira answered. "A long detour through the sewers, as well as some other... less-reputable locales."

"Minsc and Boo have some strange stories to tell!"

"We g-got your message, Sajantha. Thank you. 'Twas heartening to know you were safe."

"I'm glad." She smiled at them. "It's good to see you."

Imoen patted at her skirts. "I dunno. They didn't even try to dress up, and they still got in." Didn't seem much fair.

" 'Tis a bit chaotic, at this point. Most of the guards have left their posts." Jaheira shook her head. "At any rate, it seems we've arrived just in time." She turned towards the duke: "Duke Belt? These might serve you. You'll find that Sarevok himself is the one behind this madness."

The duke took the papers, frowning. "That is a strong accusation to make. If you're wrong–"

"Angelo!" Sarevok's voice boomed. Not so embarrassing that Imoen almost jumped, when so many other people in the room actually did, like a ripple through the crowd. He'd stepped out from behind the pillars, some more lackeys in tow. Angelo, that smug-faced boot-licker. "These are the villains wanted for multiple counts of murder!"

The guards bristled, but didn't do too much more when Duke Belt raised his hand, not even looking up. "No one is to move, until I have finished reading these."

Sarevok's face looked like a kettle left on too long, close to steaming.

Sajantha—hand on hips—gave him something like a glare. You wouldn't know she'd ever been scared, not at all, except how she still stood like all her muscles were wound-up tight. "You've lost. It's over, Sarevok."

He bared his teeth. Blade out, he swung through the crowd—sending the rest of the nobles skittering off—as Khalid and his shield jumped between them with an echoing crack. The blow slammed Khalid right into the ground, but Jaheira sent a gust of wind right back, staggering Sarevok back a step. She did more damage to the furnishings, knocking some furniture right to the floor and some paintings right off the walls.

Sarevok dropped out of his battle stance—standing all straight—with his mouth opening wide as he grinned at Sajantha. Like the rest of them didn't matter, weren't even there. "You think this is over?" he asked her, taking a step forward. Everyone tensed, and Sajantha bit her cheeks, but she didn't blink.

"It only just begins. You cannot hide, not forever. Will you follow me—or will you run? Do you think if you run, you can ever find peace? Do you think if you run, I won't still find you? Come," he held out his hand, "do you feel the pull?" His smile flattened out til it just peeked at the edges of his mouth. "Death, or peace: we first wade through blood." A magic door folded him away, cutting off his laughter, but it might as well have kept echoing, with the goosebumps it left on Imoen's skin.

"Wow." She looked over at her friend. "He really is obsessed with you, huh?"

And then, everyone else was looking at Sajantha, too; her face got all red as she stared at the ground, rubbing at the pointed ears her pinned-up hair left bare. "He's mad."

Aldeth touched her arm. "As dangerous as it might be, I rather think it's best for you all to go after him. Ignoring him could prove far worse." Yeah, couldn't leave that kettle on to stew any longer.

Sajantha's head snapped up, eyes sharp. "I'm not going to run."

"Aye." Jaheira helped pull her husband to his feet; she'd healed up his arm, but he still held onto it. "We have him on the run, this time. He cannot be allowed more time to regroup."

"And, 'tis clear he'll hunt you down, if you don't." Duke Belt cleared his throat, holding up the papers. "Well. Doesn't look as if I'll be needing to read these, with this sudden landslide of proof, though I thank you for bringing it to my attention."

"As well as for saving our lives," said the duchess. "We can trace the trail of their dimension doors, if you wish to pursue them?"

"We can do you better," Belt said. "We can send you straight after them."

"It's not as though we've much of a choice." Sajantha looked around at the rest of the group, then nodded. "Do it."


~*-{/=S=\}-*~

When the spell ended enough to recover their equilibrium, they opened eyes to find themselves in a dim, dingy room, surrounded by several less-than-pleased armed men. Sarevok was not among them.

One stepped forward, blade raised. "Everyone's crashing in on us today! You lot better tell me why you're here—and right quick—else you're in trouble."

More unsettled than angry, this one, and the same tension threaded through his entire team as they held their blades aloft. Sajantha stepped forward to meet him at the center of the ringed watchers, raising her hands a bit. "You've our apologies, sir, but we're in a fair spot of trouble, already."

Imoen hopped right up to her side—not half so polite—and pointed a finger at him. "Sarevok's gonna be in more, when we catch up. You'd better just get gone."

"Sarevok? Sarevok Anchev? The new duke?" The man glanced at the staircase behind him. "Was that...?"

"Well, he won't be a duke, now." However this ended.

"Not after we exposed his little killing spree," Imoen added. "But we ain't quite interrupted it, yet, if you wanna just scoot out of our way."

"Duke on a killing spree, hm?" The man sheathed his blade, and the others followed his lead. "Now, there's a tale, if you live to tell it. He sure didn't let any of us stop him." He gestured. "They headed down those stairs, to the thief warrens. It's more 'n a spot dangerous, down there." He eyed them. "You might want to gear up some, first."

Sajantha looked down at her gown.

"Good thing we've got our own little merchant shop in here, eh? We can suit you up." He grinned. "For a price."

Thief warrens? Was this the Thieves' Guild, then? Small wonder they'd not be so receptive to strangers, armed or not. Several rooms branched off from their own, full of shadowed figures. Sajantha drew her gaze back to her friends; the rest of the group had spread out amongst the supply tables.

Imoen lit up. "Arrows of dispelling?" She poked through the items. "Wow! Holy hells, would you look at the price on these things! Running a bit of a racket, aren't ya? That's—that's five thousand, each?"

The woman at the counter smiled.

Imoen picked an arrow up. "Better not miss, huh?"

"We've enough coin to spare for some potions, I believe?" Jaheira pointed. "The fire giant ones." She shook her head. "His strength was remarkable."

Khalid rubbed his arm. "Inhuman."

"Poisons, hm. Worked on the duke, didn't they?" Imoen added some small bottles to the pile. "Why not give it a try."

"What else did we stow, in the bag of holding? Anything helpful—anything we can share?" Sajantha had brought her harp and books, but how useful would those be? 'Twould be a battle, after all. That diary... any way to make use of it? It must be the key!

"Just our gear, mostly."

Sajantha looked back to the store-keep. "Do you mind if we use this side room, to change?"

She shrugged. "You gave us some business, you bought a few minutes, at least."

The storage room door shut, leaving them in near-darkness.

"Do you need any help out of your dress?" Imoen certainly had little practice with such things.

"Nah, I just sliced right out of it; guess the protections don't work from the inside. Ain't as if I'm gonna wear it ever again. Can patch it up, if we wanna sell it, later, I guess."

Such a chill in the air! Goosebumps prickled on Sajantha's damp skin as she put on her old clothes. "I don't like this."

"What's to like?"

"When you stop to think about it." She pulled on her blouse. "It's one thing, chasing him in the heat of the moment, but, now..." She shivered.

"Second thoughts?"

Sajantha fastened her armor. "No. Not like that, we still have to stop him. But, he's gaining ground, now, retreating. He'll be expecting us. He'll be ready." He had a mage.

"You saw how angry he got, when his plans all fell apart. I don't think he's got a cool-enough head for all them cold calculations as he did, before."

Yet, he had enough confidence to taunt her: he wanted this. Wanted her there.

"We've got everyone with us, now," Imoen continued. "He can't stop all of us."

Sajantha pressed her lips together, tried to smile. "Aye."

Equipment secure, Sajantha closed the storeroom door, and as she looked up from straightening her skirts, a wave of cascading crimson caught her attention, her breath. Could it be? She took a step towards the robed figure down the hall. "I heard you were here, I–"

And the proud back turned, the disgust on his face striking her to stillness—but, not just his expression—the man wearing these red robes was not one she recognized.

"Don't bother me!" He gave her a sneer. "Do you know who I am?" No. It didn't matter; it wasn't him. "I'm an envoy of the mighty nation of Halruaa, and if you value your miserable life, you'll step away, immediately."

Her face surely matched the red of his clothes. This mage was not even wearing a hood! Not him, no, and so obvious, now, even for the glare he leveled at her. Sajantha stepped back, drawing her arms to her sides as she lifted her chin. "My mistake. I thought you were someone else. Someone taller."

" 'Bug up his butt,' alright." Imoen put an arm on her shoulder. "You can't let folk talk to you like that." She raised her voice. "Whyn't you go blow your hot air somewhere else, you nasty bag of gas?"

Now it was the mage's face reddening—but the rest of their group filled the hall, now, too—and he turned up his nose and turned around.

"Mages," Imoen scoffed.


"You heard that poor lady what got run over by Sarevok." Imoen glanced behind them. Out of sight, now, but the woman they'd encountered had been badly injured before they'd attended to her wounds. "No one's ever made it through here, alive?"

"We can hope it's slowed them down as much." Jaheira eyed the tall wooden walls that blocked them in.

These 'thief warrens' were a sprawling underground labyrinth: a literal maze. And, Sarevok—though he had a bare head-start—had made enough use of that handful of minutes to disappear so far out of reach that he may well have been miles away, though perhaps mere feet separated them. He could be right on the other side of this partition, and the winding twists and turns of these wooden walls might keep them from ever meeting.

Will you follow me—or will you run? No more running. Like a burning beneath her skin, the urge to find him itched.

"At least we know where they're heading to. A whole city, under this one? Any of y'all hear of something like that?"

Sajantha tapped at her lip; it sounded somewhat familiar: "I think Volo might have mentioned it."

"Did he? Anything useful?"

"I don't recall." It hardly seemed relevant at the time. "Do we really have the time to go over it?"

"Why not?" said Imoen. "My eyes'll be peeled, looking for traps, and you can walk around oblivious, with your nose in a book. Just like always." She winked.

"Ha." But a warmth filled Sajantha, all the same. Several pages in, 'twas clear why she'd forgotten it; face warm, she stuffed the book back into her pack. "The 'Undercellar.' " She shook her head. "Not the same thing, at all."

"This is where we were last night!" Minsc remembered. "Boo did not care so much for the ambiance."

"We were chasing leads," Jaheira explained, as Khalid grinned, ears pink.

" 'Under?' Under the Blushing Mermaid, maybe?" Imoen perked up. "See, my spell totally worked! How did y'all get away from the guards, anyway?"

"We were not held b-back overlong."

Jaheira nodded. "The Harpers have more eyes than does Sarevok, and more allies, as well."

He'd had the whole town on his side, not hours ago. Who did he have remaining? Sajantha fingered the new wand at her belt.

" 'Allies' is a pretty strong word," Imoen said. "Might be he can't trust them anymore 'n they trust him."

"I wondered that my own detection spells failed to reach thee. Didst thou keep a concealment upon thee?" Dynaheir touched Sajantha's shoulder.

"No." She looked down, folding her arms. "Not on purpose."

The dim light around them flickeredits source still hiddensending shadows jumping. Or, were those shadows actually–?

A blast of wind rocked into her—through her—and all the air burst from Sajantha as she struck the ground, lungs squeezing.

Minsc jumped over her, sword tangling in the space above her, almost yanked from his grip.

"Invisible!" Khalid cried.

Evnek nurocuirgarh. Evnek nurocuirgarh. Blinking away the black spots in her eyes, Sajantha raised her hands–

"Evnek nurocuirgarh," came Dynaheir's chant.

Little outlines now blurred edges to the air—a wisp of warning as the creature struck. Sajantha activated her wand; the spray of magic missiles rocked the attacker back where the others sent waves of magic after it.

Imoen helped her to her feet. Between the wrong turns and traps and the undead on endless patrol, it would take hours to travel mere paces. Were they even gaining any ground? Sarevok could not have come this way, else their path would have been left far clearer.

Sajantha shook her head, eyes hot. "This is ridiculous." Why waste time fighting the monsters, when it was the maze itself which was their obstacle? If Edwin were here, he'd blast right through these annoying walls. "Stand back." She aimed the fire wand down the hallway.

The fireball had nowhere to go—unable to expand fully outward, it roared much further down the tunnel than she'd anticipated; they all ducked as the flames devoured closer.

When the blaze died down, it had left little more than scorch lines across the walls.

"If the maze was truly created through magic," Dynaheir said, "it shall require far more effort to break through."

"Ayup." Imoen made a face. "They'd probably prepare for something like that, don't you think? Some of them snares were fire-loaded, too; they wouldn't want their own traps to tear it down."

But, surely there were means to! A piercing dispel of some kind, aligned in conjunction with a strong evocation... and, how many times to recast it, to blast a path through each wall? A flutter caught in Sajantha's chest, a restless energy that trembled her fingers. She needed to get out of here. The walls pressed in around her, their pressure tightening all her muscles; she clenched her hands. "Edwin could do it. I bet Edwin could do it." The wand he had left her hung heavy on the other side of her belt—magic missiles—far too simple a thing, what use did he expect her to make of it?

"He is not here, child."

And, so, too, did the energy leave her, a cold stillness in its wake. "I know that."

"That spell of his worked, at least," Imoen pointed out. "On those skeleton fellers, when Dynaheir tried it. Dunno how something like that was so resistant to magic, but them scrolls worked out fine." She shrugged. "Good to know, yeah?"


~*-{/=I=\}-*~

First time they'd turned a corner and found something that didn't spring up to attack them—but it was probably just the big slash across his chest that stopped him—a man lay slumped across the floor, the leftovers of some skeletons spread out, bones mixed all around. One of Sarevok's followers, for there wasn't no one else stupid enough to be down here, if they had a choice.

"How could you follow someone like that?" Sajantha asked him. "Someone who would cast you aside, without a second thought?"

"I was his mentor—polishing his power paved the way for my own." He coughed, his hand coming away bloody. "Some of us must carve our own place, by whatever means necessary."

So, Sarevok had left one of his lackeys bleeding out on the floor. Didn't want him slowing them down? Wouldn't have taken so much work to patch him up, if he hadn't been laying there a good while, already. Sajantha gave him a potion, but it was probably too late.

He stared up at her with something like confusion. "You've chosen a different path than he."

She jerked back, fast, like he'd slapped her. "I'm not a Bhaalspawn. I'm not like him!"

He shrugged, slouching back against the wall. "I wonder if it will really matter, in the end?" His eyes closed. Dead, or passed out, it didn't much matter. Might be there'd be one more skeleton laying here, soon enough; Imoen shivered.

Sajantha was still worked up, though. "Why are you all looking at me like that? Because Sarevok thinks I'm a Bhaalspawn, and managed to convince all of his insane followers of it? That doesn't mean anything, except that they're all crazy! Which we already knew!" She stalked down the passageway, wand gripped tight in her hands.

Imoen turned to the Harpers, rubbing her neck. "Gorion, he... he didn't say anything to y'all, did he? I mean, he would have, right? If she really..."

Jaheira shook her head. "It does, indeed, seem the sort of thing he should have shared."

"If he d-did not, he surely had a reason."

"A reason, like, it's all a big lie Sarevok came up with?" It had made so much sense, back in Candlekeep—to believe Sajantha—that it was part of him trying to frame her. But, what was it, now? If he didn't have a reason. If Sarevok was a Bhaalspawn. She really should've paid more attention to all them prophecies the monks were always chanting.

"There are a disturbing amount of coincidences. And yet, I do not find it easy to believe, all the same."

"Twenty-two years ago," Khalid said, "Gorion was with the Mirrorshades. When they b-brought down the fortress of Bhaal."

"The Friendly Arm..." Imoen gave her head a shake. "So, Mister G's got some connection with Bhaal, after all. Maybe it's some twisted revenge thing, why Sarevok went after him?" The fellow was crazy, anyway, couldn't argue that.

"Why don't you ask Sajantha." Jaheira stared down the hall after her. "She's the one who studied Sarevok's journal, you said?"

"Aw, I'm not getting her more riled up, not right now. Guess it's no good time to worry about it." Imoen shrugged. "Afterward, if it's still in the air, we can go talk to Gellana." But, boy, oh, boy, that conversation was going to be about as welcome as a battle with Sarevok. Probably scarier.


~*-{/=S=\}-*~

However large these caverns, she could not escape the heaviness of the city above this ceiling of rock; the weight of it bowed her down. Only the barest remains of any buildings left, here, all half-crumbled walls and spiked fencing, lining the path up to a great temple in the distance, its sharp edges cutting out of the gloom.

"Guess we know where we're going," Imoen said brightly.

Shadows obscured the figure walking towards them til it grew closer; shoulders slouched, the woman slowly raised her head, dark hair falling across her face.

"Tamoko!"

She'd raised her head, but not her eyes. "Sarevok has forsaken me. He knows of my treachery, has sent me to die in your path. I must fight you, to regain his trust—his attention—and, even winning, I will lose him to his plans. Losing here, you will go on to kill him." She drew her sword. "I... I see no choice."

"One hath always a choice."

"Aye," Khalid said. "Even when it may b-be difficult to see."

Tamoko's voice caught. "Two choices, yes, and both unbearable."

"That ain't cause to throw your life away," said Imoen.

"We won't harm you, Tamoko." Sajantha shook her head. "You're not our enemy." Sarevok was, as if he needed to make it clearer and clearer with all the 'allies' he left behind.

"But, he is yours. How can I let you kill him?" The blade trembled.

"You have to do what you believe in; I understand. But, I have to, too. And I can't hurt you."

"What else is there, for me?" Tears flashed in her eyes as she leveled her weapon. "I am an obstacle that blocks your path! You must fight me!"

"How is that going to help anyone? You think it would be better, to be dead?"

"Than to betray him? Than to live beside him, but to never have him?" She shook her head, long hair whipping across her face. "I am not so strong as that."

"This thing with Amn?" Imoen bit her lip. "He was all set to kill thousands of people. Whether that's on him, or Bhaal, he's done lost it."

Tamoko's blade rasped against the gravelly ground as she lowered it. "I... I still love him," she said, slumping. "I can't bear it. Was he a monster all along, and I failed to see it? I wanted to believe in him. Did he fool me, or did I fool myself?" She looked up. "You, though—you're not like him, not at all. If not all the Children are this way... then, it was his choice, and his alone. And, and mine, to stay with him. How can I, now? Knowing..." Her hand covered her mouth; she shook her head. "It's on you, then." Her eyes locked with Sajantha's. "To stop him. To end this."

"Can you help us?" Imoen asked.

Tamoko looked away. "I... I cannot. Gods forgive me, I cannot. This was never an arena I should have entered. We mortals are not meant to tangle with the doings of gods." She lowered her hand to her chest. "Chaos shall be sown in their passage: in the land, in the heart, in the mind."

She glanced back once more, to Sajantha. What was that look on her face? Sajantha swallowed. "I'm not one of them. I'm not one of the Children!"

Tamoko's lips moved, not quite a smile. "Is there anything more difficult to face than an unwelcome truth? Yet, to accept it..." She looked off. "Perhaps there will be a freedom for us, at last. Ganbatte kudasai." She laid a hand upon Sajantha's shoulder.

Head spinning as vision and memory collided, Sajantha stepped back, pulse pounding in her ears. "You—you were the one who shot me." She still had a scar, there. Where the flaming arrow had struck her. When Sarevok had murdered her father.

Tamoko withdrew her hand. "Not the worst thing I have done. But one of many regrets. I am sorry for the part I've played, for what that is worth."

Apologies are worthless, came Edwin's voice. Sajantha shook her head, looked away. "I don't suppose as it matters, now."

"Ready yourself for the fire to come." Tamoko's voice followed her. "All that matters is how you walk through it."


(( Ganbatte kudasai = Japanese/Kara-Turan = "good luck."))