Immediately after lunchtime, Garren left by the east road. He was probably going to the Radiant Heart's stronghold outside the city, possibly to the High Hall in Athkatla proper. As he disappeared into the woods, Lidia was left to wonder. He had seemed certain his errand would be successful. Where, then, was the Order when Lord Jierdan had overthrown him? They didn't help him defeat his usurper - or worse, they couldn't.
Gorion's Company spent the rest of the day in the guest house on Garren's advice, staying out of sight and not saying much. Eventually, as the evening wore on, they all fell asleep, one by one, restless and listless, wondering whether the next day would be kinder.
Lidia woke the next morning, before the sun rose. She'd had to piece together where she was, and when she realized, a profound sadness flooded her again, turning rapidly to helpless anger in her chest.
She'd slept poorly. The nightmares had returned in full force.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes. As she crossed from sleeping to waking, she could have sworn that the ground was rocking. She'd dreamed about the small boat on the river again. She'd never traveled like this in the waking world, but she could still feel the great expanse of water beneath the craft's timbers, trying to catch her in its whirlpools and eddies, determined to throw her into its depths.
She put it out of her mind. Sometimes, her dreams were more than dreams. Sometimes, they were dreams and nothing else. She'd learned not to spend too much time dwelling upon which was which.
The guest house was drafty, but after several days of sleeping outdoors, a roof over their heads was more than welcome. To afford a bit of privacy, the room was divided by a white sheet draped over one of the lower-lying beams. For a few moments, Lidia watched this sheet flutter, ghostly in the half-light. Beside her, Aerie and Jaheira were still fast asleep in their bedrolls.
It only took her a few moments to find everything she needed. She laid out her possessions the same way every night, so that she could find everything she needed without looking. It was useful for changing the watch or on early mornings like this one, and in ambushes it made the difference between life and death.
She cleaned herself in the darkness as best as she could and got dressed, putting on the gambeson this time and wrapping a scarf around her shorn head; the mornings were still cold even with the approaching spring. There was only one more thing necessary. The gray tabard bearing the symbol of Ilmater was laid out in its usual spot at the end of the bed. It had been placed there more out of habit than anything else.
The entire day before, she had been uncertain whether the Crying God had forsaken her. She had been warned about the dangers of breaking her vows, and had been led to believe that that moment, if it came, would be obvious to everyone including herself. This present ambivalence felt much worse.
But in the quiet darkness, she heard her heart of hearts. It felt like arrogance to say it aloud, but she believed she had not broken her trust. And regardless, she would continue as she did before. She would need every ounce of strength she could muster in order to bear up underneath this circumstance, to say nothing of trying to help the others. And, perhaps, the unjust deaths of the knights would be answered, if she could survive to make Lord Jierdan answer for them.
She recalled something her mentor had said. Lidia had no idea what the circumstances had been at the time - she couldn't have been more than eight. Possibly it was on account of a little thing that could wound a child's heart more deeply. But she still felt Sister Herrad's hand on her shoulder, and her voice:
"Endure this loss, and learn from it."
She put the tabard on, tucked away a hidden dagger, and took her staff. Taking some time to meditate would do her plenty of good. Perhaps she'd be able to remember what that lesson was originally about.
She found a secluded spot near the entrance to the Windspears' house and remained there for a while, as the dayglow began to stretch itself over the woods.
She heard movement, then several boisterous whispers. Something was coming over the hill.
Lidia turned, as silently as she could manage.
A band of five was approaching the house, only fifty feet away from where she had been meditating: two humans, two orcs, and a dwarf. Four of these were dressed similarly in dark blue clothes and little armor; they had clearly counted on not being seen, and aside from height they were difficult to distinguish. The fifth was a tall human woman, middle aged but with long, shock-white hair, and she wore a red robe adorned with an embroidery of black antlers. After a few shared whispers. One of the orcs tried the door, dropped to one knee, and started picking the lock.
Lidia's blood ran hot, casting away the last bit of fatigue. She forced herself to stop and think, remembering that she could not necessarily trust her eyes. She calmed her mind and cast a thought in their leader's direction.
Her left arm started to shake.
They hadn't noticed her yet. She had one valuable moment of surprise.
She leapt up, taking her staff, and started running to the guest house.
The lock-picking orc started, his concentration ruined. The white-haired woman said, "It's nothing. Pay no mind."
Lidia immediately proved her wrong. She started hammering her staff against the wall of the guesthouse, making as large a racket as she could manage. "Thieves! Thieves!" she called.
"Focus, damn it," the blue-clad dwarf snarled at the ogre.
Lidia whaled on the guest house further, with less hope of success. The intruders hadn't been scared off, and the rest of the Company was slow to wake.
"This won't do," the white-haired woman said. "Praeses, alia, fero!"
A white shimmer lit up the early morning, and both the staff and Lidia's voice fell silent.
Lidia set her jaw and strode forward. She was badly outmatched, but maybe she could take one or two of them down before they got her.
A second spell fired: "Cupio, virtus, licet!"
Suddenly, her limbs stiffened, and the spell froze her in place mid-stride.
As she stood, helpless to move or speak, Lidia realized too late that it wasn't Garren's possessions that they wanted.
The orc and the dwarf carried Iltha out. To the girl's credit, she was screaming and putting up plenty of resistance, but she left barely a scratch upon them.
One of the blue-clad bandits spoke another incantation, and a man-sized white halo opened.
The white-haired woman nodded in approval, then cast one more spell.
Lidia could feel the magic over her shattering. As though she were a puppet being cut from her strings, she stumbled forward, suddenly mobile.
"And so your ruin continues with the devastation of Garren Windspear." The white-haired woman threw Lidia a mirthful smile. "Away goes the girl from under your nose, and I wonder who shall bear the blame?"
"You don't need her," Lidia said, getting up. "Let her go, and I'll come with you to your master."
"Yes, fallen one, wouldn't you acquit yourself nicely if you did?" she said. "What matters more is watching you die a public death again and again. So much more entertaining than simple killing."
"What does Lord Jierdan want?"
"Revenge," she said. "Revenge against those that knew you and wronged him."
Iltha shouted, "Don't listen to her, Father would never-"
"Shut up!" The dwarf clapped a hand over the girl's mouth.
"Well, we shall take our leave. It's been delightful," the woman said.
The mage said, "Plath, Lord Jierdan wanted us to -"
"I'll tell you what I told him. Perhaps she'd die in shame, but they'd likely get one of us, too. And then the whole frame-up? Gone," she said, snapping her fingers. She said to Lidia, "It's much neater this way, don't you agree?"
"Cowards," Lidia spit at them.
"Cowards with decent pay, which is more than I could say about you," Plath said. She followed the rest of her group through the Dimension Door, and it closed behind her.