An alarm rang out throughout the city. They had been so preoccupied with Phaere, Ardulace and their summoned fiend that they had quite forgotten Lolth's Handmaidens were still in the summoning room. Their goddess had warned them not to harm Viconia, but had said nothing about standing still while a raging demon dragged their souls into the underworld. One of them must have slipped away and raised the alert. The party would have no option but to fight their way out of Urst Natha and the creature in front of them was the least of their problems now.

"I swear I was born into a dragon's latrine!" screamed Anomen, completely losing it. "Every time I dare to think that things cannot conceivably get worse, the gods shovel a bigger load of steaming turds upon me!"

"Stand back everyone!" Dorn cried. He pointed the tip of his sword dramatically at their demonic foe. "Now is your moment of glory, Servant of all Faiths! Send the Great Evil back to the hells from whence it came!"

Rasaad and Anomen backed up to give Viconia room, leaving her facing the demon alone. She summoned her flaming sword and braced herself to save Urst Natha. There was no option but to fight, even if finally fulfilling her destiny meant freeing Lolth to exact her vengeance.

Without warning a fire arrow hurtled past her shoulder, singeing her hair with an acrid smell. The missile struck the demon in the chest with a solid thud and bounced off harmlessly. Vines wrapped about its goat-like legs binding it, though it shook the spell off quickly. Over her shoulder she saw Jaheira summoning creatures and Arowan lining up a second shot. They both looked livid.

"Were you accursed males born yesterday?" screamed Jaheira, who had adapted to the drow lifestyle a little too easily. "Why in the name of Sylvanus are you listening to Dorn Il-Khan?"

"He wants Viconia dead, moron!" Arowan's words were directed particularly at Rasaad. "He's trying to dupe you into backing off so that she's left to face the demon alone!"

Dorn grinned tuskily and shrugged. It had been worth a try.

Rasaad startled as he realised the truth of her words, and immediately overcompensated, throwing himself at the demon with a spectacular series of kicks and punches. Feeling rather foolish, Anomen joined in with Sarevok close behind, but though they kept it at bay none of them were inflicting any real damage. They themselves suffered the occasional slash from its tail and the claws of its remaining hand, but with three healers in the party it could make little headway either. They had achieved a stalemate. Dorn looked at Arowan with a grin.

"Only a matter of time, Little Lamb," he taunted her. "None of them possess weapons powerful enough to pierce it."

"Sarevok, you do!" screamed Viconia. "That's Bhaal's sword you're carrying! Do something!"

"It seems that since Irenicus took my Bhaal essence it is not performing for me as it used to," he panted as he hacked fruitlessly at the demon's hide. "I cannot seem to harm this demon!"

The half-orc was watching them all fight, his own sword hanging loosely by his side. He was waiting, presumably, for the demise of the Servant of all Faiths. The gods had protected her from many deaths over the years but demon lords were outside of their direct control. It was unnatural, the way the horned beast fought on, even after Dorn had sliced off his hand.

"Everybody fall back!" Arowan shouted. The Blackguard stiffened in alarm as she lowered her bow. "Dorn, finish the beast or I will die first."

With that she placed herself between the party and the demon, ignoring Jaheira's yell of alarm. She wasn't frightened. After all the effort the half-orc had gone to for the sake of following her around, she was sure that he wouldn't let her die. Even if he did, she was no longer so troubled by the notion of death. Perhaps if the demon dragged her soul into hell she might even see Yoshimo again…

"Fine!" Dorn grunted resentfully. He lifted Rancor and strode forward. At the sight of him approaching, the lesser demon lord seemed to change his mind. Clinging onto the dripping stump of his arm with an expression that wished them all nothing but ill, he vanished into whatever plane he'd been dragged from and the fire flickered and died.

Jaheira hastily gathered up the eggs, splitting them between her and Anomen so that they each had less to carry.

Outside of the temple, the entire city was in uproar. There were intruders, they were under attack, but nobody seemed to know by whom or where they were. Suspicion automatically turned to anyone who was not drow. Visiting traders and many of the slaves were set upon in the chaos that ensued. The marketplace was soon a paddling pool of blood. Arowan wanted to stop and help them, but Dorn seized her roughly by the arm and dragged her along with irresistible force.

Only when the party tried to leave did their hosts remember the foreigners from Ched Nasad. Immediately the crossbows came out, and both Rasaad and Sarevok took barbed bolts to the arm that would rip their limbs when it came time to pull them out. Anomen's armour blocked another, before one ricocheted dangerously close to Viconia's head.

Must I intervene again?

There was a horrible scuttering of legs and a clicking of pincers, but this time it wasn't merely in Viconia's head. All of the spiders in Urst Natha were assembling by the entrance. As they climbed one atop the other, they constructed a vast writhing, living mass in the form of a female drider.

At once the drow dropped their weapons and prostrated themselves in terrified subservience. Lolth's personal appearances were frequent enough that this one did not induce any particular excitement, but Jaheira's group were able to flee the city without further hindrance.

They were, however, forced to pass under the goddess's many legs. As they approached her a grotesque mask of moving spiders with holes for the eyes and mouth turned to Viconia and smiled. The drow forced herself to keep running, beneath the face and under Lolth's carapace which she lowered slowly as they passed, threatening to squash them just to be cruel.

Webs appeared before them, tangling unpleasantly in their fingers and hair. Some of the smaller spiders descended on silken threads to crawl on their skin and bite at them with painful little nips. They seemed to be particularly targeting Viconia.

By the time they were clear of the city, the drow was blinded by tears and stumbling after the sound of the other's footsteps.

"You!" Rasaad blazed, rounding on Dorn Il-Khan. "You have made your last attempt on Viconia's life!"

He wrenched the barbed crossbow bolt from his shoulder, spraying the half-orc with blood. Dorn licked it off his chops, apparently savouring it, and raised his sword to fight.

Rasaad dodged the first two swings of the sword, so Dorn changed strategy. He let Rasaad hit him, splitting his lip and sending blood dribbling down his chops. In the opening that this created, he managed to seize the monk's forearm, and he had difficulty pulling away. Dorn then brought up his knee, but Rasaad was too quick and wrapped his leg about the orc's shin. Then the Blackguard pulled a move which sparring in the monastery had not prepared him for. Life as a street orphan had, but his fellow urchins had had much smaller teeth. He yelled as the other man's tusks dug into his arm and refused to let go, shaking like a terrier.

Yet he had been a street fighter before he had been a disciplined monk, and it came back to him all too easily these days. In expecting him to fight fair, Dorn had both over- and under-estimated his opponent. Rasaad tightened his leg around his thigh and used it as a spring board to bring his other knee up into his crotch. Dorn grunted and doubled over before the monk struck him a second time in the face.

For all Rasaad's skill, there was no way around the fact that Dorn was infused with demon powers. With a roar that doused the other man in spit, he lunged forward and tackled Rasaad into the dirt, ignoring his ribs cracking from the monk's punches so that he could pummel him with the hilt of his sword over and over.

"Call him off!" Viconia screamed at Arowan, as she healed Rasaad.

"Strictly speaking, your monk is attacking Dorn, not the other way around," the ranger pointed out. Viconia glared at her. "Well I can try, but I don't think he'll listen to me. Dorn! Play nicely with Rasaad."

"Stay out of this Little Lamb, it has nothing to do with you," Dorn replied indifferently.

"If you can't rein in your stinking brute, I will kill him!" Viconia screeched at her. She was still badly shaken from Lolth.

Arowan turned to face her with an uncomprehending expression. She looked around at each of them in turn, then threw open her arms in exasperation.

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" she retorted. "You lot are the ones who invited Dorn into the group, not me. I don't give a damn! You're wasting your time though. If you kill him, Ur-Gothoz will only send another Blackguard."

"I will take that chance," replied Rasaad from the floor. Viconia stepped up to aid him and they were joined by Anomen. Dorn looked decidedly unimpressed.

"Sarevok," the half-orc leered, "You still need to retrieve your soul from Irenicus if you wish to survive. Whose aid do you think will get you further. Mine or theirs?"

He broke Rasaad's nose with Rancor's hilt, by way of illustrating his point.

"Yours, but why should I trust you Blackguard?" Sarevok's eyes narrowed. "What is to stop you from simply abandoning me the moment we return to the surface?"

"A few things," replied Dorn idly, dropping Rasaad and getting to his feet. Viconia rushed forward to heal her lover, but he didn't care. He was running his thick fingers along his blade. "Principally that my patron has ordered me to stay with the Little Lamb, and I know that she will insist upon helping you. Her guilt must be crippling her by now. She will try to make amends if she can."

"I am standing right here!" Arowan snapped.

"Why else?" pressed Sarevok.

"Because stopping Irenicus is necessary," Dorn replied. For some reason he laid a delicate, mocking stress on the word. "Because it is important."

Before Sarevok could make up his mind, there was a flapping of silver wings. It stirred up an eye-stinging cloud of dust from the floor. When they opened them, they found that they had resumed their usual appearance, and Adalon was back among them. She was smiling at them, an elegant fanged smile, for her attitude toward them all was much improved.

"You have returned victorious!" she cried ecstatically. "I sense my beautiful eggs amongst you. Give them to me!"

Jaheira and Anomen hastily handed her the eggs, which she was able to carry in one claw, cradling them gently. She whispered to them in a language the rest of them were not familiar with, but the little dragons in their translucent shells responded with wriggles and wagging tails.

There was one more bundle in her talon of a similar size which was not like the others.

"Give it back," Arowan said in a constricted voice. "Now."

Even the return of her eggs did not seem to make Adalon like the ranger any better. She lifted the heart, which was now carefully wrapped in layers of silver silk, between her claws and placed it into Arowan's hands. She seemed to be taking excessive care not to touch her.

"I shall transport us all to the exit and see you safely away," Adalon said. She was addressing Viconia warmly, but her eyes kept flickering toward Arowan. She was holding Yoshimo's heart in both hands, unable to keep tears from leaking down her face.

Right now he was in hell, and even if the Painbearers could petition Ilmater to bring him out of it, they were parted forever. Her own soul was destined for the Abyss with all the other Bhaalspawn. She was determined, willing to pay any price, not to become Bhaal. Yet she could not think of any way to avoid it.

"What happens to Urst Natha now?" asked Arowan, though she no longer really cared. She just felt as though she ought to, which was not the same thing.

"What happens to me now?" Viconia asked, almost in a whimper. "The Great Evil is defeated, the city is saved and yet Lolth let me go! Why?"

"Perhaps she was grateful?" suggested Rasaad.

Adalon turned her lizard-like head in the direction of the drow city and sighed.

"The demon that Matron Mother Ardulace brought forth was evil but it was not the evil of which you speak. That time has not yet come, but it is near at hand. Urst Natha will bitterly regret forfeiting my protection." She stretched and flexed her silver wings. "Well, so be it. I will not stand in the way of their fate after what they have done to me."

"You do not mean to punish those responsible for aiding Irenicus and Ardulace in committing this crime?" Jaheira asked archly.

"Revenge would achieve nothing…" she replied.

"You are most merciful, Silver Lady," Rasaad praised her.

"…because they are all going to be butchered anyway."

A blinding flash of silver light engulfed them, along with a rush of air like the beating of Adalon's wings. They opened their eyes to find themselves in a dank cave surrounded by the bodies of drow and, to their surprise, surface elves.

"The way to the surface is clear," Adalon told them. "I refuse to continue to guard a peace that does not exist. I leave this place forever, and I suggest you do the same. Those of you who can, anyway."

For the briefest of moments, her crystal eyes fell sadly on Anomen. Then she glowed for a moment with the purest light and vanished before their eyes.


After climbing for what seemed like an age, they emerged blinking into daylight. Even Viconia was relieved to see it.

The party found themselves in an elfin temple, where a battle was rounding up between a raiding party of drow and surface elves. Fearing that they would attack her on sight, Viconia began to make a point of healing the injured darthiir, while sheltering behind Rasaad. She made a very big show of it, asking the healed elves loudly if they were alright and trying to sound as un-drow as possible. It seemed to do the trick because when the last of the raiders fell, the elf captain whipped his helmet off revealing a cascade of golden-blonde hair.

"You there! Your group are not of the drow! Get to the surface and report to Elhan immediately!" His eyes turned to Viconia. "You travel with one among you. Are you collaborators? Have you betrayed us all to the darkness below? If I had not just seen her heal our own soldiers I would have slain you all on sight, but I know not what to make of this."

He thought for a moment. His eyes lingered with distaste on Dorn Il-Khan and Sarevok's Bhaal-marked sword, but he also took in the presence of a Sun Soul monk and the symbol of Ilmater about Arowan's neck.

"Elhan will judge," he decided finally. "You will remain under guard until he is ready to see you. Make no move, you will be watched closely."

He led them past crumbling statues of elven gods, dating back from before their pantheon split into two. Even then it was easy to spot which one was Lolth. Her bent, spider like fingers and sly smile the earliest hints of what she would later become.

Most of the elves paid the prisoners little attention. They had a haggard, beleaguered look about them as they rushed to and from the front lines. It seemed they were rotating to keep back the constant raids from below.

"Who has the upper hand in this do you suppose, now that the demon is gone?" whispered Rasaad.

"Difficult to say," murmured Viconia. "It depends how long the conflict goes on for. Short-term the dathiir do, they are battling the in their own territory. Drow are always at a disadvantage on the surface, except for the few who have had time to grow accustomed to it as I have. On the other hand, darthiir have few children over the course of their very long lives. In prolonged conflicts they replace themselves too slowly. It's why they're dying out. Whereas drow can breed continually for hundreds of years. Ultimately we can win any war of attrition."

They sat down, conspicuously motionless in the bustling war camp. Arowan found a little comfort in the presence of the trees. They were ancient here, and so huge that it would take three of them to loop their arms around one trunk. She sat down, still holding Yoshimo's bandaged heart in her hands.

"Could you resurrect him from that?" suggested Dorn.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Jaheira snapped. "He has been dead for days and there is barely anything there to resurrect. Besides, if you did, the geas would still apply."

"Bubbles managed to bring back a Bhaalspawn with less than a heart," the Blackguard replied. His hand tightened on the hilt of Rancor as his patron spoke to him through it, telling him what to say. "It was only a suggestion. Pardon my ignorance, when it comes to life and death I have only ever been interested in sending traffic one way."

With the seeds of an idea planted in his comrades' minds, he leaned back and waited for them to grow. Arowan was no fool. If he directly suggested that she put on Eric's ring, she would tell him to burn in hell. Better to let her imagine that she had thought of it herself. Sure enough…

"A temple cleric could not do what Bubbles did!" Jaheira scoffed. "She had all of Eric's knowledge of necromancy in that ring."

Eric, a man who had started off very bright then stolen the intelligence tomes that Gorion had intended for Freya. Who'd had free reign of the library at Candlekeep, then the brutal real-life training of Irenicus and the Black Pits. He could do things that others couldn't.

Jaheira was right, all of that knowledge was contained in the ring. A ring now free of any geas if Dorn was to be believed.

The fingers of Arowan's left hand brushed the ring in her pocket. Her right hand closed around Yoshimo's unbeating heart. If there was a way… After everything she had done already, everything she had lost… Why not roll the dice one last time?

Because it was necromancy, that was why not. The antithesis of natural order and an ultimate betrayal of Ilmater. No. She would not slide further down the dark path her siblings were taking toward becoming Bhaal. Yoshimo's heart would go to the Temple of Ilmater and she would trust in him to save him from the hells.

"Well. I thank you for coming."

They looked up. An elf commander was glaring down his long nose at them. At least, they assumed he was an elf from the pointy ears, though he did not have the physical beauty one normally associated with elves. His ears stuck out too far and he had a rather weak chin. He reminded Arowan of the nobility of Baldur's Gate and she wondered if elfin high-ups also married their cousins.

He was flanked by three pasty faced elves in flowing white robes, each with vines woven into their hair. Their eyes glowed with ethereal light, like Sarevok's. This was, in truth, nothing but a glamour. Purely the effect of a spell which anybody with divine ancestry, however remote, could achieve. Caelar Argent had done the same thing to encourage followers to her crusade, for glowing eyes were very impressive to those who didn't know better. It was, however, a little embarrassing to run into someone else playing the same trick. He and the sages decided to ignore one another.

"Oh please," snapped Viconia. "It is clear that I am not welcome here!"

"No, you are not," agreed Elhan. "Not just you drow, but any of you. I shall keep this brief as I have little time to waste. I will ask some questions and you will speak what you know. My sages will detect any falsehood. They are very good at this sort of thing. Now then, something simple and direct to begin with. You were emerging from the home of the drow."

"Yes," replied Jaheira.

"Truth."

"Truth."

"Truth!"

"I hadn't finished my question yet!" Elhan said through gritted teeth.

"Truth."

"Truth."

"Truth!"

"Not me! Them!" Elhan snapped impatiently. "I don't need you to tell me whether I'm telling the truth. Obviously I know whether I'm telling the truth or lying! Answer for the prisoners! Only the prisoners!"

"We were fleeing the Underdark," Jaheira said. "We are not allies of the drow. Our pursuit of this man, Sarevok, led us down there. Though we have since… reconciled our differences. Some of them anyway. You are still a rancid abomination unto nature Sarevok."

"Truth."

"Truth."

"Truth!"

"Couldn't just one of you say 'truth?'" Arowan asked. "Also, what happens if two of you say truth and the other says false? Does it come down to a vote?"

"Our divination is a triangulation of the emissions given off by the currents of your nervous systems," one of the sages explained cheerfully. "There is no possibility, therefore, of us coming away with different answers. Technically one of us could say 'truth' instead of all three but if one spoke for the others it would create a hierarchy between the three of us and we consider ourselves to be an egalitarian…"

"ENOUGH!" blasted Elhan. "I ask the questions. You answer the questions, and these three tell me whether you are telling the truth or lying. Stop overcomplicating!"

"Do they follow you everywhere you go?" asked Arowan. "That must get very annoying."

"Have some respect human!" the elf commander retorted snootily. "The sages of our Elf Queen's Court are not annoying!"

"False."

"False."

"Fal- hey!"

"Let us continue," growled Elhan, pinching the bridge of his nose. "A name then, that you may know something of. Irenicus. Do you know him?"

Jaheira laughed, a dry bitter laugh.

"Yes, I know him. He is responsible for the deaths of my husband and son-in-law. He has perverted the laws of nature, tortured countless innocents and stolen the souls of at least four people."

"Four?" frowned Sarevok. "Who were the others?"

"Dynaheir, Skie Silvershield and a piece of Imoen… or Draxle depending on how you look at it," Jaheira frowned. "Or perhaps you, Imoen and Draxle all come under the heading of Bhaal. That's not important."

"Truth."

"Truth that it's not important, or truth that Jon… that Irenicus has been stealing souls?" Elhan asked. He was starting to get a headache. "You know what, forget it. They're obviously not in league with him or the drow. You three can go now. Be somewhere else. Just go."

"Can we go too?" Dorn rumbled, already bored.

"Not yet. If you seek Irenicus we may be able to assist each other," Elhan said wearily. "He has violated our city and hidden it. Suldanessellar is simply gone. We cannot dispel the magics which conceal it, and so are forced to remain here pestered by drow while our supplies dwindle. It is most unfortunate timing that they should both attack at once."

"Fortune be damned. Irenicus put the drow up to this," Anomen said. Elhan did not appear surprised.

"There is one way to reach him and the city," he mused. Within the temple ruins on which we now stand was an artefact of great power. The Rhynn Lanthorn. It is an ancient lantern attuned to the elven nation and no magic can bar its return to our homeland. If we had it, we could simply walk into Suldanessellar. Someone stole the relic when the temple fell to the drow. It was clearly a servant of Irenicus capitalizing on the chaos. Our sages have not been able to determine where it went, which makes me think that it must be outside of elven territory."

"Bodhi will have it," Jaheira replied. Anomen made a gagging noise and pretended to vomit causing the half-elf to raise an eyebrow at him. "What is the matter, not keen to see her again? She certainly appreciated you. I'm sure she would love to add you to her little court…"

"Court?" echoed Elhan, his long nose sniffing in distaste. "What filth has she sunk to now?"

"The piece of Bhaalspawn soul she stole belonged to a deceased girl named Draxle," Anomen groaned. "Apparently she was somewhat enamoured with knightly rituals and chivalric romance. A trait with which Bodhi is now infected. Irenicus said she has taken to turning young squires and paladins into vampires so that she can… I don't know what," he finished lamely.

"Use them as sex toys presumably," said Jaheira, whose bluntness on this subject was legendary. "She was quite taken with Anomen here."

Anomen thought of Bodhi in her too-tight leathers and cringed at the sort of things that was likely to involve. There had been a time that he'd have appreciated any woman in his bed, but his attitude had been tempered somewhat by his experience with Safana. He was no longer of the opinion that anything was better than nothing.

"My condolences," said Elhan. "But I must ask you to brave her presence once more, nauseating though it must be. We cannot march on human territories ourselves. Whatever our problems they will only get worse if we appear to be invading or spying upon Amn. It sounds as though you know the nature of the vile creature that you must face. Your service is now doubly appreciated. Unfortunately I must bring up a final point of contention. This drow. I cannot allow her to accompany you."

Viconia spat something in drow. Under the circumstances this hardly endeared her to her surface elf captors.

"Very well. There is one way I can allow her to participate. She must first swear loyalty to you and your cause."

"That's a little awkward," began Anomen. "Since most of us are already sworn to her and her cause. She is the Servant of all Faiths."

Whether Elhan knew what this meant or not, he was not interested. If he was anything like the lords of Baldur's Gate, Arowan reflected, he would probably have been more impressed if she'd told him her parents were brother and sister. That was the sort of status the wealthy seemed to respect.

"Finding Irenicus is mainly Sarevok's cause," nodded Rasaad, "And while stopping Irenicus and saving Suldanessellar is a quest to which I will gladly lend my aid, swearing loyalty to the butcher of Baldur's Gate seems (if you'll pardon my saying so) something of a moral step backward."

"She could swear loyalty to me?" Dorn suggested helpfully.

"For Shar's sake! I will swear loyalty to the cause of defeating Irenicus. There. Will that do?"

"No. You must also agree to a geas. It is the only way. Swear it to…" he looked around at the possible candidates and immediately decided on the Selunite or the Ilmatari. "The monk."

"The monk is her lover," chipped in Dorn. "Better have her swear it to the Ilmatari."

"No geas."

"Arowan, I hardly see how it matters if she's going to do it anyway…" Jaheira began.

"No geas."

The ranger's voice was soft and dangerous. Her dark brown eyes looked up at their captors with a hollow haunted expression. The Ilmatari had seemed so innocuous to him at first glance with her plain clothes and friendly freckled nose. Yet there was something about her cold demeanour and deadened voice that he didn't quite like. Suddenly he found himself going off the idea in a big way.

"Sir!" the sages had returned in a hurry. "The drow have launched a fresh assault to the East from underground tunnels. They've captured seven of our warriors and a priest."

"Forget the geas, I don't have time for you anymore!" Elhan snapped. "Just retrieve the Rhynn Lanthorn and hurry."

He strode away into the trees, calling for reinforcements as he went. More elves stumbled wearily from their tents as he passed and followed him. Several of them were limping. Dorn was glaring at Arowan with ill-disguised fury.

"Do you have any notion of the opportunity you just threw away?" he growled. "Well Little Lamb, when you end up as roast mutton on the end of Viconia's flaming sword, do not come crying to me!"

"There will be no geas," Arowan repeated, her hand tightening around the bundle that was Yoshimo's heart. She had not put it down since Adalon returned it to her. "This is not up for discussion."