"What did you just say?" Arowan asked, shocked.
"The Shade Lord is right, we are as one now," Mazzy choked. "I cannot fight him forever, he will overcome me in the end. He's incapable of staying here in our world alone and without a consort. It's the only way to defeat him. Kill me, do it quickly,"
"I can't!" she replied, horrified.
"You must!" Mazzy insisted. "I would do it myself but he is always fighting me… I feel his will in my soul… it is so cold…"
"We'll find a way to cure you," the ranger insisted. "There are two clerics and a druid in my party, just the other side of the shadow dragon. It won't attack you if you're carrying the Shade Lord. Just walk past the dragon and…"
"You don't understand," Mazzy replied forcefully. "I cannot do anything without his consent and he cannot do anything without mine. Right now I am holding him back from destroying you, but that is all I can do, and I won't be able to hold him off much longer. He will butcher your friends on this altar… Just as he killed mine…"
"No…" Arowan moaned.
"For your companions' sake and mine, if not for your own," Mazzy pressed, "For the villagers of Umar who will be next to fall to his wrath and for all those whose souls will be stolen before he is defeated. Kill me. Kill me now! Please, it is almost too late! Do it now! Do it-"
Mazzy's last words were cut off. Arowan lowered her bow, staring in horror at what she had just done. There was no sound at all except for the ghastly noises the halfling made while she choked on her own blood. Her small hands scrabbling at the arrow embedded in her throat, eyes rolling back into her head.
The ranger had expected her shot to be an instant kill. Yet, perhaps due to the power of the Shade Lord, the halfling was taking too long to die. Too stunned by her own actions to rectify the situation, Arowan watched helplessly, until she could bear it no more. She shot Mazzy again, this time through the eye and a third time through the heart.
Finally the halfling keeled back over the altar. An unearthly screech like the howling of the shade wolves ripped through the land, reverberating for miles around. In a whirlwind of darkness, the Shade Lord left Mazzy's body and returned to wherever he had come from.
"By the gods, what have I done?" Arowan breathed.
Rats and cattle were slaughtered routinely in Candlekeep and as a ranger it was taken as a given that she would hunt. Despite this, she had managed to make it through to adulthood avoiding killing anything larger than a bug. Life as an adventurer had robbed her of that privilege step by step. She had found herself killing first animals for food and then kobolds, goblins and other semi-sentient creatures. Though only when they left her no other option. Her earliest casualties, she had taken to the temple to revive until she ran out of gold to do so. Gradually she had come to terms with slaying those who, for evil reasons, were intent on killing her first.
Caelar's doomed crusade had been another significant fall. The faces of the enemy soldiers still haunted her dreams; men and women who believed that they were doing good. She'd had to fight. Failure to do so would have been by far the greater of two evils. Only those soldiers had been trying to slay her first. This was different. She had killed in cold blood a brave, noble and defenceless woman who had done her no harm.
Not war. Murder.
Yoshimo and Rasaad lay unconscious on the ground. She poured healing potions down their throats with shaking hands, before collapsing into a heap. With the departure of the Shade Lord the land about her was brightening. Beams of sunlight shone through the leaves of restored trees. Yet rather than comforting her they scorched her eyes.
Now that the evil influence on the altar had been destroyed, some of Amaunator's golden colouring could be seen beneath the filth of the Shade Lord. To Arowan his statue seemed to glare down at her accusingly from atop the altar.
"What else could I have done?" she cried hoarsely. Her hair was strewn across her face as she conversed with a statue. In that moment the ranger seemed more thoroughly deranged than even the numbing potions had left her. "The Shade Lord would have conquered the entire region. She asked me to do it, she begged me to!"
The statue stared blankly, cold and unresponsive. In her unhinged state, Arowan took it as a personal insult.
"I didn't do it to save myself!" her throaty scream rang through the woods, though it was drowned out by the joyful chirruping of flocks of returning birds. This was true, yet deep down she had not done it to spare the local peasantry either. She had killed Mazzy to save Jaheira and Yoshimo. Her family.
Besides to her conscience it made no difference why she had done it. The point was that she had. She was now truly, unambiguously, a murderer. It was a line that she could never uncross.
However, Arowan had not survived as much as she had for as long as she had without possessing considerable resilience. She was the last survivor of the Candlekeep Bhaalspawn, the sole representative of twelve, and this was not only the product of fortune. Her durable and stoical personality was also a large factor in having successfully outlived her siblings. Becoming a fully-fledged murderer was more than the Ilmatari could accept, so her mind began to erect a peculiar defence.
"I can't have killed you," she said suddenly, speaking to Mazzy's body like a lawyer addressing a judge. Her own arrows jutting from the halfling's throat, heart and eye seemed to suggest differently, but the ranger pressed ahead with her case. "You were already dead."
Mazzy didn't argue. Arowan took a deep, defiant breath and continued to address the body.
"You were already dead. The shades said so. They said so!" She clawed the side of her face, tracing her nails over the grooves that already ran across her cheek. Three slash marks along her jaw that Viconia had scarred her with, what felt like a lifetime ago.
She stood there staring wide-eyed at Mazzy and clawing her scar over and over until it turned from white to red, and drops of blood began oozing from the newly opened wound. Scratching at her scar in this way was to become a habit that she would continue for the rest of her life.
"The halfling was already dead," Arowan said to herself, calming down. "I didn't murder her, she was already dead."
She kept repeating this mantra, muttering it to herself over and over. Until she heard the rest of her party, who had escaped the dungeon the same way they'd come in, crunching through the bracken behind her. Viconia's healing soon saw Yoshimo sitting up and rubbing his head, though Rasaad barely had the strength left to lift his hand and would need rest to recover.
By now she had adopted the lie so thoroughly that she really believed it herself, and so when asked what had happened she had no hesitation in saying;
"We were too late. The Shade Lord took over Mazzy, but I destroyed him before he could harm anybody else."
Anomen clapped her on the back, Jaheira nodded proudly and Yoshimo was just thoroughly relieved that it was all over. Even Viconia expressed a begrudging admiration that the ranger had saved them all single-handed.
The party settled down to rest, regaining some of the energy that they had lost to the shades, until hunger and thirst pressed them to move again. None of them were strong enough to carry the corpses of Merella and Mazzy, nor even to dig them a grave.
"Nature will reclaim them for her own," Jaheira said.
By which she meant that they would be dragged away and eaten by wild animals. Such a notion might have held some appeal for a druid. It did little to comfort Arowan.
The sun had returned to the blighted land. Wrens and finches warbled with joy at the restoration of their homes. All the world seemed so bright and fresh that they could almost put to the back of their mind the bodies they had been forced to leave behind.
Harder to ignore was the pain in their feet, for both Arowan and Yoshimo had lost their boots back in the dragon's den. Viconia saw no difficulty. Mazzy and Merella had no further use for theirs. Footwear problem solved! However, both Ilmatari had baulked at this suggestion, and now the drow's lip was curling as she watched them limping needlessly over nettles and sharp bits of bracken.
Eventually, with a sigh, Arowan told the others to walk on ahead of them for they could not keep up with their shoeless feet. They picked their way gingerly along, trying to find routes through grass and soft mud, while avoiding the worst of the brambles. It was a slow business and when they reached a stream, the thief begged to stop and soak their feet for a while. Cool water felt like heaven between their toes and it was a long time before they could bring themselves to move on.
She told him what Valygar had unwittingly revealed about the location of Kangaax. His skull was just sitting there, unprotected, beneath a pub in the docks. He had not said which pub, but there were only so many taverns in Athkatla, and Bodhi had plenty of servants to search them for her.
"You should let Bubbles and Irenicus know as soon as possible," Arowan said to him, splashing her feet in the stream idly. "I believe that Safana will have discovered Freya's missing remains by now. She'll come after me, tell the others and then we'll have a fine mess on our hands."
"Crazy lady!" retorted Yoshimo. He watched the ripples she made dance about the lily pads with dull eyes. "So keen to leap into the tiger's jaws. If this ritual fails, he will turn his attention to you. Well, your unwise wish shall be granted. Bodhi has already informed me that he wants you present for the summoning. Apparently his soul-harvesting set up is rather elaborate and he refuses to waste any more time. He wants his backup on standby in case Bubbles can't bring back Eric."
Arowan shuddered. She knew that Yoshimo had only withheld this information so as not to worry her. It wasn't as though there were a thing that either of them could do about it.
"I was supposed to drug you with these herbs he provided, then trick you into thinking you were rescuing Imoen to get you into Spellhold," Yoshimo explained. Arowan frowned.
"Why bother tricking me if I'm already drugged?" she asked. "And why do either when he could pop out of thin air and kidnap me at any time?"
"Come, my friend, you know by now that logic plays no part in that madman's operations," Yoshimo said wearily. "When does he ever choose a simple solution when a an overcomplicated machination will do?"
"And we need to decide whether to tell Irenicus ahead of time that we are calling Sarevok," Arowan said.
"I think we had better," Yoshimo replied emphatically.
"If we do, there's a chance he won't agree to the plan."
"If we don't, there's a chance he'll blow us to pieces for failing to consult him."
"Good point."
Across the stream from them, a fat toad leaped from the water onto a damp rock. They watched it squatting there, while it croaked at them obnoxiously.
"There's another reason to tell them now where to find Kangaax," Arowan said after a pause. "They made Edwin help them in their fight against the first lich. What if they decide to take some of their stronger servants to fight Kangaax himself? What if they take you?"
He could hear the worry in her voice and see it in her eyes. Keeping his aching feet firmly in the water, he shuffled over so that he could hold her. The thought of him dying was making her heart race so fast that he could feel it through their clothes. Losing her frightened him as badly, so much so that he couldn't even think about it. Yoshimo imagined many possible futures awaiting them, and in almost all of them he would die or they would die together. Yet he could not bring himself to envisage a scenario where she died and he lived. He held her, breathing in the comforting honey-scent of her hair.
"Crazy lady," he murmured again, lovingly. "What possible use could I be against Kangaax?"
Arowan pulled away abruptly and looked at him seriously.
"Cannon fodder!"
Yoshimo grimaced. He had not considered that. Yes, now that he stopped to think about it, of course they would take some of their servants to absorb the Demi-Lich's first wave of spells. They had a great many to choose from, of course, but he was as likely to be volunteered as anybody else in their service.
"Which is why, when we get back to the village, the first thing we should do is write to Bubbles," she said quickly. It had to be Bubbles. She was the only one out of her, Bodhi and Irenicus who could be relied upon not to eat or maim the innocent messenger. "Tell her where they can find Kangaax's skull, and that our party are going to the temple of the Twofold Trust. Before they can send a reply, we'll set out at once to find Rasaad's heretics!"
"You still mean to waste time helping Rasaad with that?" Yoshimo looked bemused. "It could take days! We don't even know where the heretics' temple is!"
"Nobody does," she replied with a half-smile. "That's the point. I'm sure Irenicus could locate it if he put his mind to it, but that would take more time than it's worth. If they can't find you fast enough, they'll have to use someone else, and Rasaad's stupid quest is a plausible excuse to be unavailable."
"Yes," agreed Yoshimo hesitantly. Then he took her hand and said more firmly, "Yes. I have long dreaded what is to come, but perhaps it is best to get it out of the way. Tell me, have you given any thought to what we will do once this is over?"
"No," replied Arowan honestly. She'd had some vague notion of returning to her ranger post in the Cloud Peaks, but after meeting Irenicus she was not sure that they would be as keen on having her as before. The mountain villages had enough problems without their own ranger proving a magnet for evil sorcerers.
"Perhaps you might like to travel a little?" the thief suggested. For some reason he sounded nervous. "See the world?"
"Yoshi, when do we ever do anything but travel?" she laughed.
Yoshimo went rather quiet at this, and stayed so as they continued on. She looked at him sideways now and then while they walked. His moustache kept twitching and he seemed to be grimacing a lot. Although that might be because his toes were starting to resemble cauliflower stalks and a large blister on his heel had exploded painfully.
All at once they found themselves enveloped in what, at first, the ranger mistook for a very small blizzard.
"Blossom!" Yoshimo cried suddenly, brightening.
Arowan looked up from her feet, which had brushed some suspect leaves and were swelling alarmingly. She found herself in the midst of a snowfall of white petals, tumbling from a nearby tree. Yoshimo caught a few in his hands, rubbing the delicate blooms between his thumb and forefinger.
"These trees are common in my home town," he told her. "I would not have expected to come across one in this region, nor blooming so late in the year."
"The Shade Lord's curse must have paused the seasons," the ranger observed.
"This is a good omen my friend," Yoshimo said happily.
He stroked Arowan's coffee brown hair, which like his own was peppered with the stuff. She had a half-hearted go at brushing it away, but it clung on determinedly all the way back to the village.
The pair stopped briefly at Valygar's cabin. Arowan felt that the least he could do after trying to throw her over a cliff was to lend them some boots. She was pleased to discover that Colette was already there. So, to her surprise, was her father Jermien. It turned out that Colette had been on her way to see him with a 'welcome to the neighbourhood' basket of cakes, when she stumbled into her father's escaped golem halfway up the cliff path.
"It was simply awful!" she gushed, though she seemed very happy for a woman who'd just brushed with death. "It was lurching and spinning so fast. I was sure it was going to knock me over the edge the way it was flailing about. Then Valygar here came running down from his cabin and drove it off with his spear, and it's lying in pieces down on the rocks now."
She paused smiling, waiting for her hero to say something. Valygar, whose head was buried in a closet looking for spare boots, merely grunted in acknowledgement and looked surly.
"I was shaking all over, so he invited me in for a cup of tea," Colette smiled, "And then there was a banging on the door. You'll never guess who it was. It was father!"
"It was me!" confirmed Jermien cheerfully, spilling some of his tea. Valygar noted the longing look Yoshimo was giving it and put the kettle on silently.
"When I didn't come home on time he thought I'd run off to Baldur's Gate with Eldoth. As if I would! So he came looking for me," Colette trilled. "He was so mad!"
"As you may have guessed, it almost ended very badly," Valygar said grimly, pouring hot water over two cups of leaves for his latest guests. "A Cowled Wizard trying to break down my door... You can imagine how I responded."
"I don't need to imagine," scowled Arowan. She had first-hand experience of her fellow ranger's treatment of trespassers.
"I paralysed him," Jermien said, grinning proudly with his blackened teeth. "I was just about to jab him with one of his own spears, when my Colette starts bawling her eyes out. And I thought to myself; 'This man might be a miserable, violent son of a bitch not to mention a wanted criminal. But you know what? At least he isn't Eldoth!' So I let him go."
"Eldoth left all of the papers he used to fake his identity," Colette smiled, "So we gave them to Valygar. He's going to stay in Umar and be Daar now."
"Congratulations?" Yoshimo hazarded.
"Never liked cities much anyway," muttered the other ranger.
They drank their tea, and left the house feeling somewhat refreshed. Colette linked arms with Valygar, led him to the door like a St Bernard on a leash and waved them off as though she were already the mistress of the house. The Ilmatari got the impression that she was quite determined to be, and it didn't appear as though the man she'd set her sights on had the will to resist. What he did have was very large feet. His shoes did not fit them particularly well, but they were better than nothing.
"That's alright. At the rate my feet are swelling, they should fit perfectly by the time we catch up with the others," Arowan sighed.
"When we reach the village we can buy you some better boots," Yoshimo said bracingly.
Arowan doubted that very much. Hers had been enchanted to protect against cold, a gift from the mayor of the village where she had briefly been ranger. On the other hand, it was summer in Athkatla and her fur-lined boots had been starting to get rather sweaty. So perhaps it was all for the best.
They arrived in the village to a rapturous welcome. Jaheira and the others had already informed them that the Shade Lord was defeated and by the time Arowan and Yoshimo got there, the people were already singing and stringing up bunting. Great barrels of ale had been rolled outside to get the celebrations going, and already people were swigging from their tankards on the steps of the fountain. Some of the local boys had managed to sneak some beer from the kegs and had climbed to the top of the henge with it, while their mothers hollered at them to come down.
A beaming, portly man came running out of the crowd to wring her hand. Puffy breeches and a dusty official waistcoat that looked as though it got little regular use had been flung onto him hastily. He coughed loudly and called to the people in a carrying voice;
"Here she is everybody! The girl who slew the Shade Lord! Three cheers; Hip! Hip!"
The hoorays were loud and good-natured. Arowan turned a little pink, but half-smiled. It felt nice to be appreciated. There was little mention of Merella who had only come into the village occasionally and none at all of Mazzy. She found her party sitting around a little wooden table in the sunshine. Anomen gave her the Charisma Ring back without her even asking for it.
"Careful with that thing, it's dangerous," he said bitterly. Jaheira had given him some cream for his intimate issue, but Arowan noticed that he was still shuffling around a lot as though dying to scratch.
She laughed, put it on, and enjoyed the most pleasant afternoon she'd had in a long time. Villagers kept coming up to thank her, a stream of free drinks flowed liberally from the bar, and when Rasaad wandered off to meditate she even found herself joking with Viconia and Yoshimo over Anomen's affliction. Knowing there was little he could do but wait for them to tire of laughing at him, he scowled and said nothing.
As soon as he could politely do so, Yoshimo slipped upstairs to write his letter to Bubbles. Jaheira watched him go with narrowed eyes. When he handed the note to the innkeeper, he was surprised to discover that a letter had already arrived for him by courier. He took it to a dark corner of the inn, read it discretely and was just shoving it into his bag when Rasaad slipped out of the shadows and snatched it from his hand.
"Return my letter please," Yoshimo demanded, making a grab for it but missing.
"Forgive me, my friend," Rasaad replied, though he was looking at the thief with pronounced mistrust. "Party leader's orders."
He strode outside, handing the letter to Jaheira. Yoshimo followed him furiously, reaching for it back. She unfolded it with a stern expression.
"Excuse me madam, but I must insist," the thief said tersely. He held out his hand, dark brows knotting angrily.
"I believe that I will read it first," Jaheira said, striking him across the back of his legs with her staff and knocking him over.
"What is the matter Yoshimo?" she taunted him sarcastically. "So secretive about your correspondence, so evasive when asked how you came to be in Athkatla and why. Anyone would think that you have something to hide."
"Stop it! What are you doing?" demanded Arowan. Her eyes were wide with fright. The letter could have come from Bodhi, Irenicus or even Firkraag now that the dragon had volunteered the pair of them as his spies. Any one of whom would earn Yoshimo a one way trip to the afterlife from the rest of her party.
She ought to have seen this coming. Jaheira had been suspicious of Yoshimo from the very outset. The ease of their escape from Irenicus's dungeon, the fact that they'd just happened to find him walking about unchained and unharmed with all his equipment on him. Now she had seen him send one secret letter and receive another. Doubtless spurred on by alcohol, the druid had decided that now was the time to finally get to the bottom of it.
"Dear Yoshimo," the druid began loudly. "We received your letter concerning your 'friend' Arowan with great interest."
"I knew it!" Rasaad cried, reaching to the ground and seizing the thief by the throat. "You are selling her out to Irenicus. You are betraying us all!"
Yoshimo did not want his letter read aloud, particularly not in front of Arowan herself. Normally the vast, muscular Sun Soul monk had the strength to squash Yoshimo like an insect, but he had been drained by the shadows. It made the ensuing struggle far more equal than Rasaad had expected it to be. The thief jabbed his fingers hard into the monk's armpits, forcing him to drop him, then struck him in the windpipe.
Rasaad let go coughing, only to find Yoshimo's fist connecting with his eye. He was not without allies, however. Viconia flung herself at Yoshimo from behind, like a backpack, clinging to him and making it hard to move, while Rasaad aimed a foot into his chest. It did not land with the usual force of one of his kicks, so nothing broke, but the thief still doubled over in pain.
Unfortunately this gave Arowan an excuse to act on the irrational hatred she had been nursing for Viconia. She notched a fire arrow into her bow and pulled it back. The drow felt the heat of it smouldering very close to her cheek. Red eyes swivelled to meet the ranger's own and found them as cold as the arrow was hot. Very slowly and carefully she released Yoshimo.
"She is bluffing!" Rasaad cried impatiently. Both women ignored him.
"What do you think Viconia, am I bluffing?" Arowan asked softly, and for a split second she wasn't sure herself.
Suddenly Jaheira, who had buried her nose into the letter, cleared her throat loudly to get everybody's attention. Then she scanned the last paragraph and snorted with laughter.
"I owe our thief an apology. It seems that he is guilty of no greater crime than not changing his underwear frequently enough," she chuckled tipsily. "Here, take your letter back."
She held it out, but before Yoshimo could reclaim it, the slip of parchment was intercepted by Anomen's gauntlet.
"No, no. Our thief has spent the afternoon making merry at my misfortune. It is only fair that he should provide his share of the entertainment," the cleric declared. "Let us see what is so embarrassing about this letter that he would engage in fisticuffs with a monk just to avoid having it read! 'Dear Yoshimo.' Great heavens, it's from his parents!"
"…received your letter… Arowan… ah yes, here we go: 'It comes as a great relief to hear that you are finally settling down. Even if, at this rate, you will become a father at the same age we first became grandparents. Being, as she is, a nice Ilmatari girl, we are sure that most of the congregation would welcome her and we look forward to meeting. That said, we hardly need remind you of the shame you brought down on us over that business with Ashuma. You be sure that this one has a ring on her finger before she comes within ten miles of the temple!'"
"Please stop," Yoshimo groaned, hiding his face in his hands and turning scarlet. Anomen, however, had reached his limit on humiliation and was eager to pass on the baton to somebody else.
Arowan herself was staring at the letter, stunned. She was so distracted that she forgot to lower her bow. Viconia discretely slipped out of the way of the arrow's point and went to stand beside Rasaad. He too was staring at the letter, his expression unreadable.
"'Since we are not here to do it for you; be sure to slip some gold to her cleric. Just to make sure everything is in working order.' What in Helm's name does that mean?" Anomen read on in a falsetto voice, as he imagined Yoshimo's mother might sound. "Oh, I see: 'Remember what happened to cousin Yokino. Eight years married and not a baby in sight. His poor mother is beside herself, but it's too late now!"
The ranger's mouth dropped open, and hung there like a dead carp.
"I apologise," Yoshimo addressed her pleadingly. "I only wrote to them to suggest that maybe the two of us might, at some point in the distant future, possibly visit Kara-Tur. On reflection, it may not have been one of my better ideas. My family can be somewhat intense."
"No kidding?" Arowan replied weakly.
"Let's see. What else have we got?" Anomen mused, perusing the letter, while the thief's ears burned. "Yoshimo has three new nephews, a niece and a baby uncle. One married cousin, one ordained sister… Huh. They don't pull their punches about which sibling they think did better do they? And… aha! Back to the meat of the letter: 'Ps. Remember what we said last time about changing your socks and washing daily. Especially your armpits and your naughty bits. It took you long enough to find a half-decent Ilmatari girl. Do not put her off by going around smelling like a damp kobold!'"
Poor Yoshimo let out a dry sob, but Anomen felt no pity after the way they'd all been mercilessly teasing him about Safana. He handed the letter back to his companion, who snatched it and stuffed it back into his pack.
"I do have one question though," smiled Jaheira, when they had all stopped laughing. "Why ever is your Kara-Turan mother writing to you in Sword Coast common?"
"Because that is the only common she speaks," Yoshimo replied sulkily.
"There is no Kara-Turan equivalent of common?"
"There is, but she doesn't speak it," he snapped. Then he realised that this was his chance to change the subject from his underwear and Arowan's childbearing plumbing. He seized upon it gratefully. "In our sect, children are raised speaking your common instead. It was the tongue of our founder, an Ilmatari missionary. My own great-grandfather as it happens. Most of us are descended from him."
"But you must have picked up the majority language, surely?" frowned Rasaad.
"Bits and pieces," shrugged Yoshimo, taking a large gulp of ale to steady his nerves after his horrible ordeal. "But our parents tried to prevent it. We were discouraged from mixing. I can order food in a tavern, ask for directions and tell you how many siblings I have but that's about it."
"They 'discouraged mixing!?' That's the polar opposite of what Ilmatari are supposed to…" Arowan trailed off. "Yoshimo, are you trying to tell me that you grew up in a cult?"
Everybody stared at him. He pushed his long black hair behind his ears and squirmed uncomfortably in the spotlight. It was an awkward question. He had been raised never to think or speak ill of the family, and certainly not of the temple. Besides, he loved his parents. They were harmless, and sweet, albeit in a suffocating sort of way.
"It is a fine line," he said carefully. "No. I think calling it a cult might be going a bit far. But we were definitely considered weird."
"Why did you come to the Sword Coast?" Rasaad asked him curiously.
"I was looking for my sister," Yoshimo admitted, deciding it was easier to tell part of the truth than try to remember a lie. "She wanted adventure not domesticity and since she only spoke common it made sense to come here. Tamoko would not have got very far as an adventurer in Kara-Tur, unable to converse with anyone outside her own hometown. When her letters dried up, I came after her."
"Dare I ask?" Rasaad began.
"Dead."
There was an uncomfortable silence around the table, interrupted by a loud fly buzzing about their drinks. Around them the party atmosphere continued. The boys on the henge had gotten thoroughly drunk and were trying to shove one another into the fountain below.
"Forgive me for prying," Jaheira said after a while. "I should not have asked so many questions about your past. It has been a difficult time, we have been betrayed so often. Sometimes I fear I am forgetting how to trust."
"Accept my apologies also," Anomen said. He was now so deep into his cups that he was swaying slightly in his seat, but he seemed sincere all the same. "I too have lost a sister." He raised his tankard. "To Moira and Tamoko."
Their mugs clashed mid-air. In his tipsy state, Anomen slightly misjudged his aim and slopped ale over the table.
"And my brother Gamaz," Rasaad added quietly, his own tankard joining theirs.
"Valas," whispered Viconia, unexpectedly.
Half of the party were now looking at Arowan, and she knew that they were waiting for her to raise her mug to Imoen. She didn't want to. Especially now that Jaheira knew that the pink-haired girl had been the one to kill Khalid. She did not want to sully what was a heartfelt moment between the party with an insincere tribute to her 'sister.' Only then did she remember that she had more dead siblings than the rest of them put together.
"Eric and Freya," she mumbled finally, "Draxle, Thorg, Afoxe and the rest of the poor bastards."
There. They could take that to include Imoen or not, as they saw fit.
"To my husband Khalid," Jaheira said throatily.
An afternoon of drinking turned to a large dinner, evening by the fire and comfortable bed. In the morning the party were treated to a huge complimentary breakfast of eggs and bacon before being waved away to great fanfare. They were more recovered from the shades, and a few days of waiting in the woods for the secret heretic meeting would put the whole business behind them.
Though Arowan did not bring up the subject of Yoshimo's letter, she was secretly quite pleased. Not that they would marry so soon as his parents seemed to think they ought, of course. Which meant that he could not take her to meet them after all. Still, she felt a certain happiness and security that he was, perhaps, thinking along those sorts of lines.
She was happy and, with her suspicions finally allayed, Jaheira was happy for her. There was one person who was not convinced of Arowan's wellbeing, however. While the others divided the loot from their victory (hardly a dragon's hoard, but enough to replace their worn-out clothes) Rasaad limped over to her.
"It seems to me that your account of your battle with the Shade Lord left out some important details," he said, too softly for the others to hear. Arowan tensed and made no reply. "Mazzy was conscious and fighting back when we first encountered her."
"After you passed out the Shade Lord won," Arowan said hastily, telling herself that it was merely a white lie. Mazzy had already been dead by that point. She was already dead. She was. Only Rasaad wouldn't understand that.
"Another point that you neglected to mention," Rasaad growled. "Is that you threw me to the shades."
"If I hadn't distracted them, they'd have knocked me out before I could defeat them all!" Arowan hissed angrily. "It was the only way to save all of us, you included. I had no choice!"
"Like you had no choice but to kill Mazzy Fentan?" the monk asked.
This time the anger in his voice was gone. He sounded understanding, sympathetic even. A lump rose in her throat, but she forced it down. There was no need for this. She hadn't murdered her!
"Talk to me Arowan," Rasaad implored her. "I am worried about you. No, more than that. I have always been worried about you, but before you were walking only into physical danger. Now for the first time, I fear you are in moral danger as well."
"Save your worry for Viconia," Arowan replied poisonously.
"I still consider you my friend!" Rasaad pressed, with grossly misplaced optimism. "Just because we are not together doesn't mean that I no longer care. I am not judging you for what you had to do."
"Really? Because it sounds to me a lot like you are."
"Believe me, I understand what you are going through," the monk said vehemently. "You won't thank me for bringing this up, but I have had to carry the guilt of killing Gamaz. As with Mazzy, it was the right thing to do, but I will always have to live with the doubt that somehow he might have been saveable."
Arowan wondered if it would be terribly bad form to hit him. Now, when he was so drained by the shades that her blow might actually hurt him. What happened to Gamaz had been the main source of their conflicts throughout their ill-fated romance. Rasaad was right; she did not thank him for bringing it up.
"The others will understand," Rasaad reassured her.
"There is nothing to understand," she replied contemptuously. "I did not kill the halfling, she was already dead. Now get out of my sight."
Her brown eyes locked with his. The warmth and affection which had once glowed in them when she looked at him had been replaced by nothing but loathing and ill-will. Despite what he had hoped, they were not friends, and beneath her venomous glower he could have no doubt of it.
"My apologies," he said stiffly. "Clearly I have made a mistake."
"Think nothing of it," Arowan replied acidly.
She walked as far from Rasaad as she could for the rest of the journey, relying on Yoshimo to distract her from thoughts of Mazzy mouldering away with an arrow in her throat.
