Noon came and went. With it, the sun disappeared behind the mountain and the temple was plunged into shadow. There was still plenty of light to see by, for it was only the middle of the day, but under the shade of the peak they walked in gloom.
"I can see why the heretics like it here," Viconia scowled. "Half the time in the glare of your hateful sun, the other half bathed in shadow."
"The entrance to the temple is heavily guarded," Rasaad whispered to the party. "We'll have to find some other way in. There are steps leading to the roof. If I can hide in the shadows without being detected, I may be able to get in that way. Yoshimo, may I borrow your rope?"
"Of course, my friend," the thief said, "But…"
"Wait here!" Rasaad cut him off.
He detached himself from the group and moved purposefully toward the temple steps. They soon lost sight of his ascent, only to see his shadow moving across the lower roof moments later. It was chilly now that they were out of the sun's glare, and the party began to shiver.
"Another cult, with another stupid initiation ritual," grumbled Yoshimo. "I suppose the Unseeing Eye was worse. At least Collus Darathon isn't demanding that we pluck out our eyes."
"What's your problem?" Anomen laughed. He was in a much better mood now that his itchiness was finally subsiding. "You were raised in a cult. You should feel right at home."
"We have been through this; I was not raised in a cult!" Yoshimo snapped defensively.
"Quit if both of you, or I'll bang your heads together!" chided Jaheira.
Brothers Kelner and Hammerhelm were meandering across the bridge behind them. They had built up a sweat climbing the mountain, but otherwise looked cheerful. As they approached they gave the party a friendly wave. Arowan and Yoshimo waved back enthusiastically.
"An unholy affront to Shar!" Viconia seethed. "These apostates should be thrown down the mountain, or chained naked to the peak that they might freeze slowly."
"And deprive the world of Faerun's best baker? Repent Viconia! Though I'll admit I'm not wild about this quest either," admitted Arowan. "The last time I trekked up a mountain with Rasaad to avenge his brother the monks locked me in a cage, shaved my head and tried to pull out my teeth. It took me this long to grow it back to a reasonable length."
"I am not shaving my head for Rasaad," said Yoshimo firmly.
"Me neither," agreed Anomen. These two men understood better than anyone his yearning to avenge his murdered sibling, but fraternity had its limits.
Rasaad splayed his fingers, creeping like a gecko across the domed roof of the upper temple. He carried the rope deftly between his teeth, though it grated on his tongue. One misstep and he risked sliding down to injury and discovery.
Time seemed to slow as he approached the centre, which dipped sharply into a skylight. It was a smooth, slippery surface to navigate, requiring his utmost skill. There was little in the way of footholds and his large hands were not well equipped to unscrew the wooden skylight pane. Worse, he discovered, there was nothing to tie his rope to. Below him, shadowy figures were moving around.
Quietly, carefully he opened the skylight enough to slip through it and hung from the top of the temple. He would need all his training now. There were long wooden beams supporting the ceiling. Stealthily, he swung himself from one to another, scarcely daring to breathe. All it would take was one monk milling about the temple floor to look up and he would be caught.
Moving like a gibbon from rafter to rafter, he eventually made it to the upper-floor balcony. It was lined with doors, presumably leading to the rooms of the monks. He dropped to all fours, so that he could not be seen from ground level and crept determinedly toward a flight of stairs leading down.
The monk pressed his back against the wall and inched downward step-by-step. His heart was in his mouth, for a single creaking step would give him away. If anyone were to come up or down the stairs now there was nowhere he could hide. When he reached the bottom, he risked the briefest of glances around the corner to spy on the Twofold heretics.
What he saw gave him a horrible shock.
"Hello Rasaad!"
"How are you doing mate?"
"Having fun?"
His own party, standing in the middle of the room, bold as brass! The Twofold monks didn't seem the least bit perturbed by their presence. Someone was even bringing them tea on a trolley!
"There you go dears!" trilled a freckled woman in late middle-age. She was clearly not a monk herself, for her brown wavy hair had not been shaved off. Rasaad gawped in disbelief as she handed out steaming cups with a good-natured smile. "The usual, Brother Kelner? Brother Hammerhelm?"
"Thank you Erowan."
The woman prepared another cup (milk, two sugars) then pushed the trolley away, humming contentedly to herself. Rasaad stepped forward, in utter confusion. Jaheira gave him a sarcastic little wave.
"How did the five of you get in?" Rasaad almost howled. He could not believe that they had beaten him to it!
"We walked through the front door," Jaheira said, her lip twitching. "Hammerhelm did give us the password at the amphitheatre meeting. Had you forgotten?"
Rasaad's jaw dropped. He massaged his aching arms, and looked up at the roof supports high above them. He'd risked his life and his fingers were full of splinters, and for what? To give the party a good laugh by the looks of things.
"Why didn't you say something?" he exclaimed.
"We did try!" Anomen grinned. "But you were in too much of a hurry to listen."
"Besides, you looked like you were having such fun up there," added Yoshimo. "Doing the whole ninja monk thing with the scaling the roof and the death defying stunts! It was very exciting!"
"You… you all saw me?" Rasaad asked weakly.
"Oh yes, most impressive," Brother Kelner replied, sipping his tea. Hammerhelm nodded cordially. "May we tempt you to a hot beverage? I'd offer you one of my profiteroles but I'm afraid they were devoured within seconds of your friends' arrival."
"I do not want any profiteroles," he replied, disapprovingly. "And I hardly think that this is the time for tea. I am astounded that you have hired a tea lady! The Twofold Trust is not at all what I expected."
"We didn't exactly hire Erowan. Collus Darathon found her here when we first arrived," Hammerhelm said. He looked around conspiratorially and dropped his voice, stretching up to whisper to Rasaad. "She's an honest-to-the-goddess Bhaal cultist! All the rest of them ran off when their god died, but she stayed on here dusting and looking after the garden like nothing had happened. Don't worry though, she's harmless."
"I would like a word with her later," Jaheira said thoughtfully.
"Not a problem. You'll find her with me in the kitchen when she's not on her rounds," Kelner shrugged. "Tends to avoid the gardens these days since Collus turned them into a sparring ground. Faints at the sight of blood does Erowan.
"A bit of a drawback when you worship the Lord of Murder, wouldn't you say?" laughed Hammerhelm. "Ah, but it takes all sorts I suppose."
Rasaad looked around the temple hall. Nobody else from the amphitheatre meeting had arrived yet, but that didn't mean much. It was a tiring climb and the monk had driven them here as quickly as possible. More sensible converts were probably taking the journey in easier stages.
"Now what?" he asked impatiently.
"Now we begin the trials," Hammerhelm replied soberly. "There are four of them in total."
"I am ready!" Rasaad said at once. The dwarf threw back his beardless chin and laughed again.
"Hold your horses lad," he chuckled. "You might have been my most promising student but these trials are no bake sale. I doubt you'd even survive all of them in one go, never mind pass them. Completing one trial will gain you the status of initiate. You'll get to face the others over the coming weeks."
This was a relief and the party readily agreed. Initiates would do just fine, if it meant only facing one of the horrible trials. It wasn't like they were planning an extended stay.
"Do we get to pick which trial we do first?" asked Yoshimo, hoping to avoid the Room of Pain.
"Aye," nodded Hammerhelm. He pointed to four ornate doors leading away from the main room. All at once, his tone of voice changed and he started to go into proper priest-mode. "Four trials must thou face to prove thine worth before the Twofold goddess. You must experience pain and penance! The Blinding Sun and the Bright Moon!"
"Pick one." Arowan said dryly. Hammerhelm broke off his sermon and stared at the heckler. "You started with 'thou' and then switched to 'you' midway through your bit. You need to pick one and stick with it, otherwise it sounds wrong."
"Be silent a moment Arowan," Rasaad dismissed her. The look he received in response could have splintered teeth.
"Rasaad? Brother Kelner tells me that he is making scones later," Arowan said coolly. "Just for that, I am going to spit in yours."
"He won't eat it now you've warned him!" Viconia scoffed. "Amateur."
"He will. He won't be able to resist it," the ranger assured them. Brother Kelner looked rather touched.
"Enough!" Hammerhelm interrupted. "Choose your first trial!"
The party looked from one locked room to the next. Arowan may only have been semi-literate, but what she lacked in academics she made up for in common sense. Hammerhelm laid a dramatic emphasis on the Room of Pain, but she studied the expressions of the other monks. The ones who had already done these trials. They were looking at the Blinding Sun and the Bright Moon rooms with more trepidation than the Room of Pain. Yet what was even more telling was that none of them would look at the Room of Penitence at all.
"Fine. I choose the Trial of Pain," Arowan sighed, reluctantly.
"Same," said Anomen. "I know how these things go."
Hammerhelm peered into Arowan's face, his large nose wobbling very close to her own.
"You do realise that you are expected to endure the pain, not be a pain?" the dwarf growled. "I only ask in case that influences your decision? No? Very well. HEAR YE FAITHFUL OF THE TWOFOLD! These supplicants have chosen the Trial of Pain!"
Somewhere in the temple a gong sounded ominously and one of the doors swung slowly open. Inside there were a lot of blood splatters. The walls were lined with spiky implements. Four shaven headed monks were cracking their knuckles. They looked more like hired goons than meditators in search of inner peace.
"Arowan no! What are you doing?" Yoshimo whispered frantically, grabbing her arm. "You cannot be serious!"
"We should all do this one!" she insisted. "Quick, volunteer while there's still time!"
"Mad rivvil! You saw what happened to the woman who failed!" Viconia replied, aghast.
"Yeah! She took an easily healable beating and was allowed to walk away!" Arowan whispered. "Listen, the Room of Pain is the only trial where they're being upfront about what you're getting. They haven't offered us a clue as to what's involved in the other three. That's not a good sign!"
The gong sounded a second time. It must have served as a sort of summons, for monks were progressing solemnly from their rooms upstairs and from the sparring grounds outside. They formed a circle about the room, chanting prayers to the Twofold goddess.
"Which of the hopefuls have chosen the Trial of Pain?" Hammerhelm cried, raising his hands to the heavens. They looked at him quizzically. It seemed a bizarre question given that they had stepped forward only seconds before. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and hissed; "Your names!"
"Oh! Right. Sorry!" Arowan said. "We have. We have chosen the Trial of Pain. Arowan and Anomen Delryn."
"Arowan Delryn and Anomen Delryn!" Hammerhelm declared loudly. This, of course, was not what they had meant. They had left Arowan's surname out for the simple reason that she didn't have a proper one. Freya had adopted 'Candlekeep' for a while, but this seemed a bad time to advertise the relationship. A Bhaalspawn returning to a stolen temple of Bhaal might cause a panic.
The dwarf glanced at the pair's left hands and, seeing no wedding rings, jumped to the obvious conclusion. Same age, same hair and eye colour, his and hers matching names… Wonderful!
"Leave your weapons and equipment by the door," Hammerhelm instructed. "You won't need them where you're going. Twin recruits! You will face your trial together. Twins are sacred to the Twofold trust."
"We're not-" Arowan began.
"Supposed to be separated!" Anomen said pointedly.
"So you shall not be. Pass or fail as one," he said. "I shall await you in the Room of Pain when you are disarmed. You may want to remove any garments that you do not want dented or bloodstained."
"Thanks for the heads up," Arowan muttered.
There was an unpleasant coppery smell coming from the room, but at least they could not see any teeth scattered amongst the dried blood. Cleric and ranger began struggling off their outer layers and handing things to their companions.
"Arowan, Anomen are you two sure you want to do this?" Rasaad asked them in an urgent whisper. "There are other trials!"
Anomen nodded resolutely, his jaw set. The ranger's response was rather more heated.
"No! Absolutely not!" Arowan hissed vehemently. "I very much do not want to do this! Only the Servant of all Faiths has insisted on having you, so now I get no choice in the matter. Either I admit to hundreds of angry monks that I lied about wanting to join the Twofold Trust, or I have to get the shit beaten out of me so that you can avenge your brother. The same brother who once locked me in a cage and tortured me. Are you feeling at all guilty about this Rasaad? Hmm?"
"Yes," he admitted.
"Not nearly guilty enough!" the ranger snarled. "You were a terrible boyfriend and you make for a pain-in-the-arse ex."
"I would prefer you to choose one of the other trials," he snapped in reply. "Nobody forced you to do this one."
"Arowan is right. This will be the lesser of four evils," Anomen said grimly. "I tell you; I faced trials as a squire too. Obviously, the Order of the Radiant Heart did not go in for anything this extreme, but it was a similar sort of idea. The trial that sounded worst would always be the most benign, while those that sounded simple would have some hidden sting to them. I strongly advise that nobody pick the Trial of Penance. It sounds easy, which means it will be the worst of the four, you mark my words."
Yoshimo was distraught. As he handed the thief his shirt and breeches, Anomen noticed his hand on his katana, and whispered something in his ear. Whatever he said, it had the effect of calming him down a little, though he still looked very worried.
They entered the Room of Pain wearing only their underwear. Though in Arowan's case, being a strict Ilmatari, this covered more than the average Amnian's day clothes. Anomen had nothing but long underpants, into which he discretely stuffed his symbol of Helm. For a moment she wondered why it wasn't falling out of the legs, then realised the answer and wished she hadn't questioned it.
"Soon you will be tempted to renounce the Twofold goddess. Regardless of your suffering you must hold onto her truth," Hammerhelm said solemnly. "Do you understand?"
"We do."
The four monks stepped forward. One held their arms behind their backs while his partner bound their hands. At the top of the room was a round viewing gallery. Arowan looked up at the spectators filing in. Among them was Viconia. The drow was watching her and rubbing her hands together gleefully. Yoshimo was also there, anxiety painted over his face. Arowan tried to make him feel better by winking, and in return she thought she saw him mouth the words; 'crazy lady.'
"You have entered the Room of Pain, your only armour is the Twofold truth. Is it enough to hold and keep you through the trial that awaits?"
"Verily," Anomen replied.
"Very well. A Twofold Blessing upon you. Let us commence."
Jaheira was worried for her adopted daughter, but she had also been married to another Harper for almost a decade. She was used to being worried, and what's more, she was a pragmatist. It occurred to her that while everybody was distracted, this might be a good time to seek out Erowan.
The Bhaal cultist was in the kitchens, cleaning the oven for Brother Kelner in an untroubled sort of way. She smiled when Jaheira came in and reflexively offered her a cup of tea. To the druid's astonishment she made no attempt to conceal her involvement with the Lord of Murder, but nor did she seem particularly proud of it.
"Oh, I were born and raised in it, me," she trilled. "We had temples all over back then. I'm from Baldur's Gate originally but I were apprenticed to the temple chef up near Boareskyr, you know it?"
"I'm familiar with Boareskyr. How did you end up here?" Jaheira asked.
"We was attacked! Don't know why, we never done nowt to provoke them nor nothing. A few of us made it out with some of the wee ones but we couldn't take them back, not now the Harpers knew where we was. So we brought them here instead."
"Where you then sacrificed them?" Jaheira accused her. Again, to her surprise, Erowan made no attempt to deny this.
"Of course! Well, not personally," she admitted, "I can't stand the sight of blood, me. The fountain outside was still running red when I took my morning walk the next day and I threw up everywhere. It spoiled the begonias. The old gardener gave me a proper telling off."
"You didn't try to save them?"
"Oh yes, but it's not easy to get vomit off flowers. The acid seeps into the roots and-"
"I was referring to the children."
"Why would I do that?" Erowan asked in polite bemusement, twirling a strand of wavy dark hair. "The master wants us to end his mortal lives so that he can come back as a god. They were meant to die. That was the whole point of us having them in the first place."
"I doubt the children wanted death."
"The children are Bhaal," she said, as though explaining something very straightforward to a simpleton. "He knew that suffering through their short lives was the price he'd have to pay for surviving the Time of Troubles. It's horrible, but he did volunteer for it. We tried to make the nursery as fun for our Master as possible until it was time."
"So now what?" Jaheira asked dumbfounded. "You're just going to stay here and wait for your dead god to return?"
"He's not dead, silly!" laughed Erowan. "Collecting all the little droplets is just taking a bit longer than expected, that's all. The lake will reform eventually, don't you fret."
"I wasn't worried," Jaheira assured her. "But your temple is full of Twofold followers now. Doesn't that bother you? I mean, you're making them drinks for crying out loud!"
"Bother me? No dear, not in the slightest. In time the last of the droplets will fall to the lake. Our master will return and rain down his fiery vengeance unto the infidels. Yea, until the mountain does run red with their heathen blood!" Erowan replied cheerfully. "But there's no reason they can't enjoy a nice cup of tea in the meantime."
Jaheira shook her head despairingly. She had been concerned that this last follower of Bhaal was a threat who would need neutralizing. Yet there was not a shred of malice in what she was saying. The woman might have been commenting on the weather.
As she walked away, a glance back told her that Erowan was busing herself with the cleaning again. Her large backside poked out of the temple oven and she was singing to herself. A merry little ditty, though each verse detailed a different gruesome way to murder somebody.
The Room of Pain was living up to its name, although there was less blood involved than they had been expecting. Hammerhelm's monks were using fists and feet rather than any pointed implements. They wondered whether the huge red stains and nastier looking spiky objects might have been left over from when this was a Temple of Bhaal.
Still, their hands and feet were bound and the monks were strong and ruthless. It hurt enough.
"You people gave us cream puff pastries and moon cookies at the introductory meeting," Arowan scowled. "Talk about bait-and-switch!"
There was a loud, sharp smack as the monks struck her again. Arowan flopped forward, her head ringing with pain, though it subsided remarkably quickly. She looked up at Hammerhelm, who stood on a raised platform wearing a grim expression.
"Brother Kelner will bake you all the cookies you can eat, if you will only renounce the Twofold goddess," he offered.
"Damn, that is a really tempting offer," she groaned. "But no."
The monks closed in on them again, raining down another round of punches. Perhaps she had been beaten so badly that her nerves were damaged, but Arowan was surprising herself by her own endurance.
When they had met the fleeing monk on the way in, she had said that she endured three rounds and the fourth broke her. They were long past that already. Once they got into double-digits both of the victims lost count.
Every time the monks paused and Hammerhelm demanded that they renounce the Twofold. After a while it dawned on Arowan that this was not nearly so hard as she had expected. Nor was she in as much pain as she ought to be from this many blows. It wasn't exactly comfortable. Certainly not her first choice of afternoon activity. Yet bearable.
It was then that she noticed Anomen's lips moving in silent prayer every time the monks stepped away. This was why he had not wanted them separated. He was healing them both as he went along.
"What is your name?" cried Hammerhelm at long last.
"Arowan," she wheezed.
"Anomen," he croaked.
"Rejoice, twins of the Twofold Trust!" he cried. "You have successfully endured the Trial of Pain. You are true champions of shadow and light, and will make honoured additions to our ranks."
"Praise be," Arowan groaned.
The two of them limped out of the Room of Pain, leaning on each other heavily. Arowan mouthed the words 'thank you' and in return Anomen managed the ghost of a smile though his lips were swollen.
As soon as they emerged, the monks' chanting abruptly ceased and without so much as a round of applause they dispersed back to whatever they had been doing before. Arowan coughed up a palmful of frothy blood, but it was only a cut on the inside of her mouth. The Helmite's skills had offset any more serious injury.
Since he was out of healing spells it fell to Viconia and Jaheira to finish their recovery off. Yoshimo was fussing terribly, annoyed with himself for letting her go, but he was not to be allowed to remain by her side for long. Non-initiates were not permitted to remain in the temple overnight and the beatings had taken a long time. The others must each complete a trial before sundown.
"Rasaad? Viconia?" Arowan coughed, weakly. Sharran and Selunite crouched down either side of her. "I just want you to know…"
"Yes, Arowan?" Rasaad asked gently, taking her bloodied hand.
She looked up at him with sincere dark eyes, and then to Viconia. It seemed as though the ranger was about to give her blessing to their union. What a mature and sensible thing to do. Jaheira nodded approvingly.
"I just want you to know… that I hate both of you from the very bottom of my heart."
Jaheira sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Though she could not help smiling as she did so.
"I see." Rasaad replied tersely.
"But Rasaad, seriously," she went on, and now her tone took on some gravity. "I know you have to take on your own trial now. It might be dangerous, and after everything we've been through…"
"Yes? Arowan?"
"I hope it kills you, you bastard."
With that, beaten and exhausted, she flopped down. Even with healing, she was too achy and fatigued to move another muscle. Everything hurt.
"My 'twin' speaks for both of us," Anomen added, rubbing his own battered jaw resentfully. "Your goddesses can lick my backside. Both of them."
"You are severely concussed, my friend," the monk replied, cracking his knuckles. "So I will ignore your misjudged remark about the Moon Maiden. On this occasion."
"Even your insult, objectionable though it was, pales into insignificance," Viconia noted, "When compared with the doctrine being promoted here. To call Shar one and the same as that feeble milk maid! Come Rasaad, let us pick a trial and be done with these nauseating heretics."
