***

Chapter 15:

Lament

***

From behind a screening outcrop of rock Saemon Havarian watched the Blades of Honor bury their fallen comrade. He had considered paying the Blades a visit as soon as they went to leave Spellhold, but he had seen their faces and chosen to wait. Sometimes, grief could be an asset in making a bargain, but he realized that this was not one of those times, and that Brynn Trueblade was teetering on the brink of either violent insanity or catatonia.

He waited until the last stone had been place on the cairn and the Blades were headed toward Brynnlaw to make his presence known, and even then he wondered if it might not be wiser to wait until logical, rather than emotion, held sway over the group. Still, he mustered up his courage and caught up to the Blades at the edge of the town just as the sun had almost set.

Anger flashed in the eyes of the mouthy druid and the halfling paladin wannabe as well as those of the arrogant knight. Remembering his throbbing nose -not for the first time since running into the Blades inside Spellhold- Saemon looked to Brynn to gauge her reaction. No anger touched that one's gaze, nothing, not even curiosity could be seen in her expression, only emptiness.

"What do you want?" Brynn Trueblade asked, her voice as empty as her eyes.

Saemon, for the first time in a long time, couldn't seem to find the right words. Funny, he had had this conversation all planned out not a moment before, but seeing the blank look Brynn was giving him -giving the whole world- was enough to steal the words from his usually golden tongue.

"I'm sorry," he said a little lamely. He was surprised to find that he was indeed sorry. He wetted his lips and continued, "I'm ashamed to say that I bear some responsibility for what happened today, and I would like to try to repay a fraction of the debt I owe you."

"How?" Brynn asked in a flat voice. "What could you do that would ever repay me, even a little bit." Her fingers flexed and opened again and her hands seemed to move toward her katanas. "And are you sure you'd like the payment I'd exact?" Her voice raised to a shout and all of a sudden a fire lit her eyes. To say the least, Saemon found this all a little disturbing, and he came to realize that Brynn was right now more volatile than even Irenicus.

"I offer you passage," Saemon replied. He gave her an apologetic smile, but she brushed it aside as easily as a dragon might brush aside a fly. "And I offer you information," he added. "Irenicus' reward was not what I was promised, and I held no love for the wizard even before that. I'll give you passage on my ship to where ever you want to go and all the information I've got on Irenicus, no cost."

"Why?" Brynn asked, cold and empty again.

That simple question through Saemon through a loop. The business reason was that he needed the Blades to help him secure a new ship -his had been sunk by the jealous Desharik, damn the man- though he wouldn't mention that yet. The personal reason was that he felt a sense of duty to help the Blades at least this much. It was in his best interests anyway.

"I'd rather be your ally than Irenicus'," he said, "and for my part in this catastrophe I am truly sorry. If you'd rather not have my help..." He let that hang in the air, taking the risk that she might not take him up on his offer.

Brynn looked at him with those flat, empty eyes of hers, and he could almost feel her looking straight into his soul. He wondered what she would find there. "Fine," she said at last.

Saemon didn't let his relief show, not a bit. "Well then," he said, throwing a little jaunty cheer into his voice, "what do you say we meet at the tavern in a few hours and then be off?"
"Fine," Brynn repeated.

Saemon turned around, feeling oddly out of sorts. He walked quickly down the dirt and gravel path into the port, and at the edge of the first white-stucco walled building, he glanced back over his shoulder. The last of the setting sun caught Brynn's blank expression, lighting up the tear tracks on her cheeks so that they sparkled. Quickly he continued down the path and around the corner of a building. He could feel Brynn's eyes following him all the way, and though he tried, he could not wipe the image of her face from his mind.

***

Imoen hesitated, hand held up to the door to Brynn's cabin, unsure about how she should go about talking to Brynn. Something had to be said, had to be done, Imoen and all the others agreed on that much, but what that something was none of them could say. A unanimous decision had made Imoen the one to try to coax Brynn out of her grief-stricken haze, partly because Imoen had known Brynn for the longest, and partly -though it had gone unsaid to spare Imoen the reminder- because Imoen too had had her soul stripped from her. Imoen could commiserate with the woman without seeming trite and insensitive. That was the plan at least. Imoen had a feeling that it wasn't going to work all that well. Hence the hesitation.

At last she bit her lip and rapped her knuckles lightly on the wooden door. As she waited for a response Imoen felt the ship lurch under her feet as it crashed over a wave or whatnot, and was nearly thrown off of her feet. Steadying herself against the door frame with one hand, Imoen lifted the other and knocked again, a little louder this time.

There was no reply.

In all honesty Imoen wasn't surprised.

Gingerly she opened the door a crack and looked in. Brynn sat at a table on the opposite side of the small, but lavishly appointed cabin -Havarian's cabin, given up to Brynn in order to appease the suave corsair's crooked sense of honor, Imoen thought. She was looking out the small round porthole, oblivious to Imoen's presence.

"Heya," Imoen ventured.

Brynn didn't even turn her head to look, and so Imoen came the rest of the way into the room and closed the door quietly behind her.

"Heya," she repeated, taking a seat on the bunk next to the table.

Brynn looked at Imoen out of the corner of her eyes, shifting only a fraction in her chair. "Hello," she mumbled.

"I thought I'd come in and see how you were..." Imoen began nervously. "So... um... how are you?"

Brynn said nothing. She blinked once, slowly, and shifted her gaze back to the porthole.

Imoen winced. "That good huh?" she said, forcing a laugh and it ended with a sigh. "I know the feeling. All cold and... empty, but I guess... I guess you get used to it after a while, and we'll find Irenicus you know. Everything will be all right then, don't you think?" She tried to smile. "Don't you think?" she prompted again.

Only the slapping of the water against the sides of the ship and the creak of the boards answered her.

"No," Brynn said suddenly, "I don't think. Are you a fool?"

Imoen rocked back in the bunk, more due to her shock at Brynn's words than the shifting of the boat. "I'm sorry," Imoen murmured. "I didn't mean..."

"Of course you didn't," Brynn bit out sarcastically. She turned in her chair and slid her legs out from under the table. Icy hot Rage burned in Brynn's blue eyes and for the first time ever Imoen felt a little afraid of her dearest friend and sister. "Why are you here?"

"B... because I wanted to see how you were," Imoen stammered. She resisted the urge to edge away, knowing that it would only make Brynn angrier.

"Pardon me if I don't believe you," Brynn bit out. "You of all people should know better. Unless you're just stupid."

"Brynn, please..." Imoen started to protest.

"'Please' what?" Brynn demanded. "'Please stop?' What do you want from me, Imoen? Why are you here right now?"

"We're worried about you," Imoen said, trying to look Brynn in the eyes.

Brynn snorted and looked away. "You mean you're worried about what you're going to do if I'm not sane enough to protect you all," she growled.

"That's not true!" Imoen blurted out, stung by the accusation and the fury and pain in Brynn's voice. "Everyone is really concerned about you! They know how much you cared about..."

"Shut up!" Brynn screamed, standing up all of a sudden and looming over Imoen. Imoen shied away, bumping her head against the wall. "None of them know anything! You don't know anything!"

Imoen slithered out of the bunk and stood up. She stood a full three inches taller than Brynn, but she felt tiny despite it. "I know that you're hurting," she said. "I know how you feel..."

"You don't know how I feel!" Brynn snarled. "Neither you or any of the others know because I've done everything in my power to keep you safe. Ever since we left Candlekeep I've been there, making sure that you can keep your little hands clean, and because of that I've been bathed in gore. You feel cold and empty? What do you know? My blood -our father's blood- is singing to me. It's crying out for me to lop off your pretty little head. I gave up my innocence so that you could keep yours and this is the price I'm paying for it! I wish I just felt cold and empty!"

"That's not fair!" Imoen retorted, a little angry herself now. "You're just mad and looking for someone to lash out at other than yourself! 'Oh woe is me,'" she mocked. "'I killed the man I love so now everyone has to watch out so I don't take out my guilt on them!'" Imoen knew as soon as the words had left her mouth that she had gone to far. She didn't see Brynn's fist, only felt her head snap back and jaw explode with pain. She slammed hard against the deck, seeing white spots before her eyes. She blinked several times to clear her vision and levered herself up on her elbows.

Brynn stood over her, hand still raised, but all the anger was gone. In its place was an expression of pure horror. Imoen scrambled to her feet ignoring how lightheaded she felt and hastened to wrap her sister in a warm hug. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Brynn repeated over and over again.

Imoen shushed her and smoother her hair with one hand. "No, it's okay," she said gently. "I... I crossed a line I shouldn't have. It's okay Brynn, I'm all right."

Brynn trembled uncontrollably and Imoen had to help her to the bunk and sit her down, afraid that her legs would come out from under her and she would tumble to the deck. "It hurts," Brynn whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. Tears trickled down her cheeks and she struggled to draw a deep breath. "It hurts so much."

Imoen felt her throat tighten up, and she held Brynn a little tighter. "It's okay," she said gently. "It's all going to be okay."

For some reason, Imoen felt like she was lying.

***

To Be Continued