Chapter 63: Love's Logic
It was a day later. They had returned to Trademeet, encountering Keldorn and the others in the middle of a fight during their trip, and discovered that the animal attacks had come to an abrupt halt. The head of the rakshasa which the others had obtained left the genies particularly gleeful, and the Dao had departed the town within an hour.
All they had heard from Cernd, apparently acting as temporary grand druid, was a brief message from the young man who had encountered them at the entrance to the grove. All the shapeshifter had offered were his thanks. Harrian, not particularly caring for the thanks of 'meddling druids', had taken much perverse delight in offering the young man a gold coin for his troubles. It was about the most useless thing you could give someone who shunned civilization.
The moment they'd returned, Anomen had taken Jaheira to her room in the inn, insisted on being left alone as he tended to her multiple and varied wounds, then had only emerged several hours later to ban Harrian – or anyone else, for that matter – from seeing her until he said it was acceptable.
Lord Coprith had been ecstatic at the news that the party had not just removed the threats of the animal attacks, but had sent the genies on their way, thus leaving Trademeet safe and economically flourishing once again. He had also promised them a surprise he would unveil at midday.
It was eleven o' clock now, and Harrian was considering beating Anomen until the squire let him see Jaheira. He knew that she needed rest, but had a feeling the cleric was being overly cautious. She'd already been stuck in the room for eighteen hours, and had been tended to with the best healing spells Helm could offer.
The thief looked around Vyatri's pub despondently, sipping his tea tentatively. He wasn't too sure about the food and drink of this place, but maybe that was just because he'd been spoilt by Thunderburp's extensive alcoholic selection.
The others were littered in pairs around the tavern area. Waving his arms dramatically to aid explanation, Haer'Dalis was retelling the version of the hunt for the rakshasa which was tinted with artistic licence, and sounded far more dramatic than the version Keldorn had told Harrian. Yoshimo seemed to be relating another, more reasonable – though not necessarily correct – version to Anomen, who was obviously only half-listening. Tired from tending to Jaheira, Corias thought mildly. Keldorn and Minsc, who had developed whatever kind of friendship anyone could have with the gentle ranger, seemed to be comparing sword size. The Warblade beat Hallowed Redeemer, but didn't quite have the same divine edge to it. Nobody was paying attention to Harrian.
The thief stood and headed for the stairs immediately. To the hells with Doctor Delryn.
Due to the fact that his party had suddenly grown and his pocket shrunk, Harrian had done his best to convince people to share rooms to cut down on costs. Jaheira and Imoen had shared, he and Anomen, Yoshimo and Haer'Dalis, and Keldorn and Minsc. Because Anomen had kept watch on Jaheira all night, Imoen had decided to take his bed. Although she and Harrian hadn't shared a room since they were young children, it had hardly been a shock to the routine.
Corias strode past his own door confidently, and moved on to the next one down, knocking abruptly and barely waiting for an answer before striding in with his usual, professional disregard for closed doors and privacy.
Fortunately, Jaheira was fully dressed, perched on the end of her bed and polishing her muddy scimitar with what looked like the second tub of Anomen's armour polish, which he claimed had gone missing. She looked up, and managed a relatively bright smile as she saw him. The paleness was gone from her face, and she seemed fully healed.
"I see you have yet to learn the values of the simple courtesy of knocking," the druid commented dryly, though there was still the quiet unhappiness in there which had grown since their encounter with Courtierdale.
He shrugged. "I'm a thief," Corias pointed out lightly. "Simple courtesies get me captured or killed. Besides, I knew you wouldn't mind." He grinned briefly if a little unconvincingly, then pulled a stool up beside the bed.
"How insightful of you," Jaheira murmured, frowning and returning her attention to her blade. A long silence fell upon them.
"Yoshimo and the others picked up a pair of very nice scimitars on their quest," Harrian commented helpfully and blandly. "If you don't want them, we can sell them. Might help pay for some new robes for Imoen, but I'm sure she'll get perfectly nice ones with the money from one sword."
"I'll take a look at them," the druid answered in a rather non-committal tone.
Another silence fell upon them, in which Harrian played with his bandolier a little absently, before finally blurting out what he had been trying to work himself up to say since he'd stepped in the room. "Why did you fail to dodge?"
Jaheira blinked, then looked up at him. "What?" Her expression showed mild surprise and a lack of comprehension he was sure was false.
"Faldorn's quarterstaff. If I could get a throwing knife in my hand, aim it, and chuck it at her before she hit you, you could roll out of the way. I know you, Jaheira. I've seen you dodge a blow from the fastest assassin when you were about to drop dead. There is no way I should have needed to save you," Harrian declared. Although it came out in a tumble and a rush, his expression and tone were hard and relentless.
Jaheira looked away, staring out the window at the bright Amnian sunlight. The climate was definitely pleasant this far south. "If you were astute enough to notice all that, then I am sure you do not need to ask the question," she declared, folding her arms across her chest.
He leant forward to face her, frowning a little. "You can't change the past, Jaheira," he said, a little more harshly than he intended. "Nor can you make everything that's happened suddenly alright. You can't bring Khalid back."
"I was not seeking to bring him back, to make things all alright once more! I know that is not possible," Jaheira snapped back, rolling her eyes and glaring to hide just how deeply Harrian's words had hit her.
"No, you were just seeking to go to him," Corias retorted, standing up. "You were perfectly happy to perish on the off-chance that laying down and allowing yourself to die will allow you to go and meet Khalid."
"That is an unjust accusation!" Jaheira retorted harshly, also getting to her feet. "And a baseless assumption! Am I not allowed a single moment of lack of concentration when I have been beaten and poisoned, not to mention struck by lightning?"
"You are, but my accusation is still correct," Harrian answered, calming down and simply fixing her with a firm, confident look.
She looked away, visibly angry. "I had not expected you to be as harsh as this," she muttered, then threw him a quick glare. "I had thought you might have some modicum of comprehension. There is no shame in honest sorrow…"
"…'Only in succumbing to depression over what cannot be changed', I know," Harrian finished, rolling his eyes. "Don't try to quote Alaundo at me – I grew up in Candlekeep, for Ao's sake, I had to study his writings until they were coming out of my bloody ears."
They stared at each other for a long time, until Jaheira bowed her head. "Why not? Why shouldn't I?" she asked, her voice low. "What do I have to keep on living for? Vengeance? What kind of a life is that?" She looked up at him. "I no longer have the Harpers, I no longer have Khalid…"
Harrian stepped up to her and, without thinking, pulled her into his arms, holding her close to him. "You have… us. We all need you." He took a deep, faltering breath. "I made a promise to Khalid that I would keep you safe. He'd want you to go on living, to find something to live for if you had nothing." He pulled back a little and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. "You know… we haven't really spoken since your encounter with… well…"
His voice trailed off, but comprehension filled her eyes, along with frustration as she stepped away from him. "Harrian? I don't know what to… I am not used to this! I am the one in control! I am… I…"
Corias frowned slightly, looking at her. "Jaheira, why did you leave the Harpers? I mean, I know 'why', but why for me?" he asked, placing his hands on his hips and giving her as searching a gaze as he could manage.
"Selfish, selfish, selfish!" Jaheira snapped, the frustration rising up in her again. "People have died because of… what I want, what I see in… you." She coughed, then cleared her throat before continuing. "The Harpers have rightfully turned their backs! Rightfully! I…"
Harrian sighed, shaking his head as he stepped back up to her. "There is no shame in this. You did what you thought was right," he assured her, and managed to project absolute certainty quite well.
"Did I?" Jaheira demanded challengingly. "What if I am wrong? What if my own stupid thoughts have coloured what I see? What if you…" Her voice trailed off as she saw his eyes widen with a mixture of concern, defensiveness and indignation, and she shook her head, looking away.
"What if it all goes wrong? What happens to what is lost?" she murmured, quiet and calm once again, staring out of the window, resolutely failing to meet his gaze. "I can't risk any more… so much is gone."
He wandered over to the window, thinking hard, trying to come up with anything that could stop her morbid line of thought. Then he finally took a look at the view, just as the town clock struck midday, and his eyes bulged.
Jaheira frowned. "What?" she asked, seeing his expression, and stepped up beside him, glancing down at the town to try and work out just what the source of his shock and discomfort was.
Then she saw it, and, much to Harrian's delight, started to laugh.