The Crooked Crane Inn was a squalid dive, situated a stone's throw from Athkatla's main gate. Location was all it had going for it. The Innkeeper prided himself on treating every guest equally, but all he meant by this was equally badly. The beds were bales of straw that stank of rat urine and the glasses were washed so infrequently that each one lent the ale its own unique flavour.
All of which might have suited Dorn, who also never washed, but the boredom was driving him wild with frustration. It was with some impatience, therefore, that he happened to look out of one of the grubby windows just as Jaheira's party were walking past it.
No. Leave her be. It is not time, not yet. Soon.
Dorn hurled Rancor across the room. It buried half-a-blade deep in the flimsy wall, much to the alarm of the other customers. The Innkeeper said nothing. He did not like the half-orc, who often scared off his other patrons. However, unlike most of his regulars Dorn always paid his tab on time. Add to that the fact that the Blackguard was a lot bigger than he was, and he let it go.
"You have been saying soon for over a year!" Dorn growled at the sword, wrenching it out by its hilt. "When does soon become now?"
Difficult to say. Soon.
Ur-Gothoz's voice spoke to him unhelpfully through the blade. Dorn let out a great roar and stormed around the pub overturning tables. Yet it was no good. He was bound to obey the demon, and the demon said; stay. So stay he must.
Is she wearing the ring we gave her?
Dorn glared resentfully down into the street below. He couldn't see Arowan's finger, but even from this distance the difference in her appearance was obvious. She was wearing the Charisma Ring, no doubt about it.
"Yes," he grunted resentfully. "Dense little sheep that she is. I assumed she'd drop it off the nearest bridge."
A young squire, dressed in the livery of the Firecam household, was speaking urgently with Jaheira. She nodded and the page went on his way. A moment later the party disappeared around a street corner.
Patience Il-Khan. I promise you, when the time comes it will all be worth it. They will come for you very soon. Try to make yourself… presentable.
"It is a lovely day," Rasaad was saying to Viconia. "It cannot compare with your beauty, but it is lovely nonetheless."
"Few things can," replied Viconia, to whom modesty was still an alien concept. "You also have a pleasing look about you, I think. The sort of musculature that does make a woman swoon with desire."
She looked back at Arowan smugly, but the ranger was not listening. Yoshimo was in secret conversation with her, but whatever they were talking about their expressions suggested that it wasn't romantic. They kept looking about them anxiously and paling any time a stranger in the street made eye contact with them. Almost as though they were expecting bad news.
"Truly?" Rasaad said, drawing Viconia's attention back. "You find my body desirable?"
"If I didn't then I certainly would not have put up with you for this long," she replied truthfully. "And what do you think of Viconia, hmm? Do you yearn to sate your lust with her at night? Does her beauty make you salivate like a starving dog?"
The monk grimaced. He did not particularly appreciate the dog comparison. Acknowledging their mutual attraction had not inspired the drow to insult him any less frequently. Nor had she softened the harshness of her words. Yet there was a definite change in tone. More teasing than tormenting. He took a deep breath and recited the lines Anomen had given him to practise.
"Viconia, you are the most beautiful, astounding creature in all of Faerun," he said. "Your grace and elegance entrance me. Your umbra eclipses my heart."
He was quite proud of it. The former squire had fed him the first two lines from some manual of chivalry, but the umbra part he had managed all by himself.
"Good," she replied.
There was a pause. The monk looked utterly crestfallen, and Viconia recalled a similar conversation that she had once had. One with a certain male darthiir whose head she one day cherished hopes of placing upon a spike. She had not met Xan's surface expectation of soppy sentimentality and as a result their romance had come to an abrupt end. It occurred to her that the same thing might be happening again.
How to avert disaster? What to say? What sort of revolting, syrupy drivel would a rivvil woman spew up in response to Rasaad's compliment?
"Give me a moment to think. What do surfacers like? Wait, I have it!" she exclaimed.
"Have what?" he puzzled.
"Rasaad yn Bashir, you are like a kitten spliced with a puppy covered in sunshine and riding a unicorn?" Viconia hazarded. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a sad, trampled yellow dandelion poking out of a crack between the cobblestones. Hastily she snatched it up. "Here, I picked you a flower! There male. Will that suffice?"
Rasaad blinked a few times. Then his tattooed face split into a rare smile.
"That is, without a doubt, the strangest thing anyone has ever said to me," he grinned. The drow scowled at him. "It was charming Viconia. Thank you."
Suddenly he looked up, and a frown line appeared between his eyes. She followed his gaze to see Arowan and Yoshimo hurrying away from Jaheira. The pair had a shifty look about them.
"Where are they going?" Viconia called.
"They'll meet us tomorrow morning at the Copper Coronet," Jaheira replied. "They say they have some ritual to see to but I've never known Arowan to disappear for an Ilmatari ritual before. I suspect they may seek the privacy of a separate tavern."
"On our first night here?" Anomen scowled. "With all due respect, shouldn't we be planning our next move?"
"Our next move is to answer Sir Keldorn's summons," Jaheira said. "Though I wonder at him inviting us to his home instead of the Order Headquarters."
"It's probably because of me," Anomen replied bitterly. This did seem the most likely explanation. He and the paladins had not parted on good terms.
"Whatever he wants can wait until after we've rested," she sighed. "We'll hear him out, but we no longer need the Order's help. Not now that Arowan is clean of numbing potions. I do not intend to spend any more time running around at their bidding."
"Good," he sniffed.
"You don't have to come if you don't want to."
"I'll come." Anomen looked up and took a deep breath. "I'll not give the bastards the satisfaction of hiding from them. I'll come."
Arowan and Yoshimo approached the wreckage of Irenicus's workshop. Nobody had dared to clean it and he did not care enough to do it himself. None of his possessions remained save for the broken tanks and his portal to Spellhold. Except for Brufwuf even his servants had gone.
"Oh. You it is being," the svirfneblin acknowledged Yoshimo in a sulky tone. Then Arowan followed him into the complex and Brufwuf turned pale. "Why her you is bringing back here?" he squealed.
"Have we met?" Arowan asked.
"Seeing you carrying that body everywhere we is! Just like the master you are. Stay away from me!"
Like the imprisoned dryads, the svirfneblin had only known her on numbing potions and was afraid of her. Thief and ranger watched him fleeing into the complex. His shrill wailing and pattering footsteps could still be heard long after he had gone.
Arowan looked down at the floor. There was a sweep of long-dried blood leading down into the complex. Possibly Khalid's from when she had dragged his body around. Both of her feet seemed to have turned to lead. It was hard to bring herself to walk back down there.
"Look on the bright side," Yoshimo said bracingly. "If you die, you get to come back as that giant killer dog-thing and kick his arse!"
"I don't care what Freya or that crazy old bat in the temple say. I am not going to become Bhaal!" Arowan snapped.
"I'm not sure you get a choice," Yoshimo said. "Though I would be lying if I said the idea of you merging personalities with my sister's murderer fills my heart with joy."
"There is always a choice! I will find a way!" Arowan repeated. "One way or another. I refuse to become him."
Yoshimo smiled at her. Even in this horrible place he lifted her spirits a little. She followed him to the large blue portal leading to Spellhold. Through it they could make out Irenicus's office in the asylum. The mage was at his desk once more, but they were both taken aback by how unwell he looked. When he saw them, he could not even summon the energy to be unpleasant. He simply beckoned them in.
"What is this? I didn't send for you yet!" Irenicus greeted them. Then he put his head into his hands and groaned. "No matter. I was about to."
He was disturbing even to look at. A being of lesser power would already have died from the injuries he was sporting. It looked as though his legs already had. They hung limply out from his robes, shrivelled and grey. Part of his face had been ripped away, revealing bone beneath. His jaw was partially held on by wires and when he opened his mouth to speak, his tongue was swimming in black bile.
Slowly, he opened his hand. There were many more bolts in it now than before. In his palm sat a thick band of gold. Its nine facets each sported a tiny gemstone. Even from a distance, the artefact radiated evil, and the Ilmatari recoiled from it.
"Is that it?" Arowan asked, eventually finding her voice. "The Ring of Gaax?"
"Indeed," Irenicus replied coldly. "Courtesy of your letter we were finally able to locate Kangaax. Between the three of us, we managed to destroy him, but as you can see it came at a price. Bodhi was defeated and will need to regenerate. Bubbles is currently being resurrected in the temple district."
He shifted in his chair, and it seemed to them that even the smallest movements were causing him pain.
"I am almost out of time, Arowan, and so are you if Bubbles fails to bring Eric back."
"Actually, that is what we came to speak to you about," Arowan began timidly. Irenicus stared at them impassively. "This journal fell into our possession. It belonged to a man named Ajantis Ilvastarr…"
Vexation blazed in the mage's eyes and his lip began to curl.
"You know this man?" Yoshimo asked incredulously. It was hard to imagine a less likely acquaintance.
"No, but I came to know of him recently," Irenicus replied. Whatever the association, he clearly found it irksome. "I used Bodhi and Imoen as test subjects for my procedure. To restore my sister, I chose to use one of Imoen's soul fragments rather than gifting her the power of an intact Bhaalspawn. For reasons which, having met her, will be obvious to you."
He held out his hand for the diary. Yoshimo handed it to him, and he seemed to have difficulty even holding it up. For a split second, Arowan wondered if he might be weak enough for them to kill him, but then he whispered something and Ajantis's journal soared to comfortable reading-level and opened itself.
"I chose the soul of the Bhaalspawn Draxle," he said, reading as he spoke. "Of all the pieces I got to know probing Imoen's mind, hers was the one I judged least likely to pose any threat. However, I underestimated how much influence it would have on my 'sister's' behaviour. She has developed a preoccupation with knights in general, and Ajantis in particular, that I find most irritating. But I digress. Do continue."
Arowan swallowed.
"I do not believe that Eric will come back willingly," she said. "It was his fear of hell that drove him to go to the lengths he did to stay alive. We know now that if he waits in the Abyss until all the Bhaalspawn are dead, he and the rest of them will reform as Bhaal. He'll fight resurrection."
Irenicus flicked a page of the journal and smiled, a thin-lipped smile.
"He'll come back as a god, will he? That is worth knowing. If Freya and Eric ascend before I do, that could end very badly for me. No doubt they will seek their revenge," the mage mused. Then he added suddenly; "And fortunate for you that you told me, Arowan. I had some interesting experiments lined up for you. Still, if keeping you alive postpones the godhood of your siblings then I am minded to let you go."
"Th- thank you?" she replied, recalling what she had seen of his experiments and feeling very ill.
"Assuming of course that we can revive Eric," he went on. "I take it that you would not have come to me with this problem unless you also have a solution?"
"The answer lies in Ajantis Ilvastarr's journal," Yoshimo replied, steadying Arowan. "Read the last page."
Irenicus pursed his lips and turned the floating book to its final entry.
"'When I was certain that I was alone, I crept from my coffin and perused her notes.' Well, well Bubbles, that was exceedingly careless of you…"
He read on
"'The time to act is soon. At the end of the ritual Bubbles will cry out the word 'Vita' followed by the name of the Bhaalspawn she means to summon. Before she can call for Eric, I will call for Draxle.'"
He stopped reading abruptly, tried to rise to his feet, then remembered that he couldn't. His useless legs, deadened by the battle with Kangaax, might as well not even be there. The mage slumped down in his chair, peeved but exhausted.
"Draxle?" he thundered. "Unacceptable! She was even weaker than you are!"
"Ajantis won't be able to call for her. He's dead," Yoshimo reassured him, "We killed him."
"Not on purpose!" Arowan added, before remembering who it was she was talking to. What would Irenicus care whether or not she was a killer? His sadism ran far beyond vanilla-murder. "It wasn't Draxle we had in mind."
Irenicus skipped down to the very bottom. Slowly, a sly, mirthless smile crept over his face. For Yoshimo had crossed out the name 'Draxle' and in her place inked in, 'Sarevok Anchev.'
"Sarevok Anchev?" Irenicus said slowly. For all his default hostility, they could tell that he was intrigued. "And what makes you think that he will come when Eric won't?"
"He'll come," Arowan replied, more confidently than she felt. Still, she listed their reasons for thinking so, which at least convinced Irenicus that Sarevok was a safer bet than Eric.
"You realise that this plan will destroy Bubbles in the process?" he asked. Yoshimo and Arowan exchanged a nervous glance. It was true that her geas ring commanded her to restore Eric. Failure to her meant death. "Do not mistake me. I consider the demise of that cursed whore one of the highlights of your plan. I have not forgotten her assault on my complex nor the damage she inflicted on my test subjects."
"Then you… then you agree?" Arowan asked, hardly daring to believe it.
"Indeed."
"What… what about Yoshimo?" she asked quickly.
Irenicus gave her a look as if to say, 'what about him?'
"He's done everything you asked, and if you plan to ascend like you said then what further use could he be?" Arowan pleaded. "And I'll stay alive much longer with him than alone. He's saved my life so many times. What if we had children? A brand new Bhaalspawn? That could put off Freya's and Eric's ascension even longer!"
The mage considered this. Technically, once he had harvested Sarevok's essence, he would be a living piece of Bhaalspawn himself. It might be that Bhaal could not reform unless he and Bodhi died, and their stolen souls returned to the Abyss. However, the keyword in this was 'might.' It was not a risk worth taking for the mild entertainment of experimenting on Arowan. Who knew how many Bhaalspawn still lived, and how close his victims were to returning with all the divine power of a major deity? Better to keep her alive.
"Very well," he snapped with an impatient wave of his hand. "When the ritual is completed, I will have Bodhi remove your geas. And now I am tired. Begone! Return in two days. That should give my 'sister' and her pet necromancer time to recover."
They left him in the gloom of Spellhold, still perusing the diary.
Arowan and Yoshimo made their way toward the daylight. She would not have thought it possible to find herself smiling in this of all places, but freedom was so close! Yoshimo felt so elated that he was fighting himself not to skip. Soon they would finally be able to put this nightmare behind them!
"But," he said, stopping suddenly as the fresh outdoor air hit them, "What if Sarevok won't come?"
"Then it's over," Arowan said with a sad half-smile. "If he doesn't answer the summons then I'll die."
"Run!" Yoshimo said abruptly
"What are you talking about?"
"Run, take Jaheira and hide in the forests, go as far as you can!" he insisted. "If Sarevok comes back, Irenicus won't follow you. If the ritual fails then… you saw how weak he is. He won't last much longer. You can hide until his curse overcomes him. You'll have a good chance!"
"Have you lost your mind?" she retorted. "The geas! You'll die!"
Yoshimo had run the full gauntlet of emotions from petrified, to elated, to utterly miserable. He ought to have suggested this sooner but just like Arowan he was no great hero. Only a normal person, hopelessly out of his depth.
He hadn't really had a plan. He'd just carried on, trying to survive from one disaster to the next, and hoping that things would sort themselves out. They had, to a point. If they both left for Spellhold there was a chance, and a good one, that they could both walk away. But there was also a chance that she wouldn't.
"I do not want to die," he admitted, ashamed of himself. "And especially not under this geas, with the hell that Irenicus has promised me. "Do not mistake me for some gallant Order-knight. I believe I could sacrifice anyone else in the world to save myself. Just not you."
Arowan felt tears prickling behind her eyes. She buried her face into his chest while he stroked her hair. He loved the way her hair smelled. Like coffee, honey and earth.
"Nobody is going to die," she told him. Then she took a shuddering breath and lifted her face to look at him. "No, that isn't true. Some people are going to die in that asylum, but not us."
"Not us," Yoshimo echoed.
They held each other a little longer feeling relieved. Then they meandered out onto Waukeen's promenade. Arowan, whose stomach had been winding itself in knots, had not eaten all day. Now that their meeting with Irenicus was over, she found herself powerfully hungry. Luckily the circus had not moved on yet, though it was far less crowded than when it had first arrived. They found a vendor selling bread and roasted meat on a stick, then sat on the rubble to eat it. The pair had this vantage point to themselves, for ever since the battle for Irenicus's dungeon, the locals had given the spot a wide berth.
"What do you suppose this is?" Arowan asked, biting into the meat and wiping her chin with a napkin.
"Why would you ask a question like that?" replied Yoshimo, grinning. She smiled and shook her head. It tasted like nothing else she had ever eaten and her prime suspects were horse and cat. It had an unpleasant, bitter aftertaste and as soon as the edge was taken from her hunger she gave up on it.
"Oh," he said. "It's pigeon."
"This is not pigeon," Arowan replied emphatically. "I've shot dozens of pigeons in the woods and none of them tasted like this. It tastes like an alchemist smells."
"Not wood pigeon. City pigeon," Yoshimo grimaced. He pointed at the scraggly, thread-bare birds circling the promenade in search of scraps. "One of those."
"How do you know?" she asked.
"Because mine still has feathers in it."
Both Ilmatari set their meat aside and settled for the bread instead. They were soon surrounded by flocks of pigeons, pecking at the skewers of their fallen comrades. Arowan winced and wrinkled her nose.
"That's not right."
"Forget the pigeons," Yoshimo said. "We have until tomorrow morning before we rejoin the others. There are some things we must figure out. About going to Spellhold. Practically, I mean."
"Such as?"
"Are you going to try to rescue Imoen?"
"No."
"Well that was a short conversation."
"She killed my Dad!" Arowan spat. "In the highly unlikely event that Irenicus releases her, then I'll try to find her somewhere safe to go, but I'm not risking my neck or yours to do it."
"You do not forgive her then?" he asked. It wasn't a judgemental question, yet she still felt defensive.
"How can I forgive her?" Arowan exploded suddenly. "There's no her to forgive! Imoen the human being died almost twenty years ago. Gorion was right all along; this chimera he created isn't a real person! She killed Khalid because he killed Freya, with no thought or freewill of her own. She was as automatic as a gnomish contraption. It's as meaningless as trying to forgive a golem or a zombie."
"I am relieved, if surprised," he said. "Attempting to free her would make everything exponentially more dangerous."
"Surprised?" she retorted, forcefully. Her resentment over Khalid's death had grown over time rather than waned. "You might as well have suggested that we try to save Shank and Carbos. What's the point? Shank and Carbos are dead!"
She sat in fuming silence for a while.
"You mentioned there was more than one thing we needed to plan," she said at length. "What else is there?"
"The main problem is what to do about your mother and the others," Yoshimo said. "I cannot tell them directly because of the geas. You will have to do it."
"Tell them? Are you mad?" Arowan cried. Her exclamation was so loud that it scattered the feasting pigeons, though they were soon back. "We're not bringing the Servant of all Faiths to that place and we're certainly not bringing Mum."
"You cannot just slip away," he replied. "Jaheira will assume Irenicus took you and hunt him to the ends of Toril. That cannot end well for her."
There was no denying the truth in this.
"Why don't we tell her that we're taking a short break to visit your parents in Kara-Tur?" Arowan asked. "That way when we're finished with Spellhold we can carry on protecting our Servant of all Faiths until she has done whatever it is she needs to do."
Yoshimo didn't say anything for a moment. His hand slipped into his pocket, pulled its contents halfway out and put it back in again. Then he yanked it out abruptly, placed his closed fist on his knee and took a deep breath.
"Supposing… supposing we really do go to Kara-Tur?" he asked nervously.
"I don't know Yoshi," Arowan grinned. "Your mother was pretty clear in her letter. I don't think she's going to thank you for bringing home an unwed girlfriend." Yoshimo wasn't laughing. She frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Not here," he said, looking around him at the rubble of the dungeon. "Come with me."
He led her to the temple district, and onto one of the long bridges that ran over the waterways. Over the rim of the city walls the sky was turning pink and purple as the sun set. The colours reflected off the twinkling water below them and highlighted the polished marble buildings. Yoshimo had not said a word the whole walk and Arowan was growing concerned.
Overlooking the water, with his back to her, he still wasn't speaking. She reached out to touch his arm.
"Yoshimo? What is it?"
He turned back to her and opened his palm. In it sat a ring. A thin silver band, shaped into the bound hands of Ilmater. Her breath caught in her throat. He dropped down to one knee, holding it out to her between finger and thumb.
"Arowan, will you marry me?"
