"Hello, my love."

That soft voice set off firecrackers up my spine. "Tamoko?" No. I'd had my nightcap. She shouldn't be here.

"Have you missed me?" She glided into my arms. Every curve burned like cold fire, awakening memories that were better left forgotten.

"This isn't happening," I said, more to myself than to her. "You aren't real."

Those rouged lips parted in a feral smile. "Am I not?"

"I hate to point out the obvious, but you're dead, doll."

"You always were a smart one."

She brushed my cheek with an icy finger. I could smell her perfume, orange blossoms and musk, hanging around her like a shroud.

"Why do you fear me, Sarevok?"

She'd always been able to see more than she should. That was why I fell in love with her. That was also why she'd ended up dead. "I'm not afraid of anybody," I told her, but she wasn't buying it.

"Then why do you try so hard to keep me away?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" She knew. Dammit, she knew.

"Of course I do. I know how many drinks you put away each night. I can see the empty bottles in your bed." She leaned forward so that all I could see were those sad, ancient eyes. "If only you had been able to think clearly, Sarevok. You could have loved me. We could have been so happy together."

It always came back to that same sob story, and I always came off as the biggest bastard who'd ever lived. Things would have been different if I'd won the battle with Sis over our father's abandoned throne. I would have been a god, and messing with cosmic power would have left little time for dames like Tamoko. Of course, she'd never understood the jackpot I was after. All she knew was that I was headed somewhere she couldn't follow. So she'd tried to change me, tried to hang on. Even in death, she was still trying.

"Forget it, doll." I looked away. "It's too late for what could have been."

"Yes." She wound her arms around me, soft and slow. Her clever hands stroked the back of my neck. "Too late."

Her body exploded into flames. I shouted and tried to shove her off me, but she only clung tighter. Our skins sizzled and we screamed together, a desperate cry that reached the heights of rage and the depths of despair.

I jerked my eyes open. My heart pounded like a thousand insane drummers. The noise came again, loud and shrill. I groaned and rolled over the empty whiskey bottle, reaching for the amulet on the nightstand. Flipping it open with one hand, I brought it to my lips. "Anchev," I muttered.

"Good morning, Sarry!" Imoen's voice chirped in my ear. "How's Miri?"

I propped myself up against a pillow, scowling as the damned bottle poked me right in the small of the back. "Probably crying again."

Her sigh was heavy in my ear. "Would it kill you to check on her?"

"She's a big Bhaalspawn. She can take care of herself. Any word on the Jansen case?"

"No, but there's been another gnome slaying. A copycat, I think, not one of Vaelag's boys. This one caught a crossbow bolt right in the very top of his head. I think he was trying to duck."

"Perhaps he was trying for a head-butt."

"You're sick."

"I try."

"Oh, and your accountant stopped by. He wants to talk to you about your taxes. Something about filling out another form."

That poky old Lloyd! This was the last thing I needed. "Oh, for the love of Bhaal! Can't you deal with this?"

"Only if I get a raise. A big one."

"I'll think about it." Fat chance she was getting anything out of me, not after the taxman took it all. "When are you going to get here? I can't stand crying at breakfast. It gives me indigestion."

"Give me an hour, maybe two. And, hey, save me some bacon, will ya?" The amulet clicked and she was gone.

I thought about going back to sleep, but decided not to push my luck. I might dream about her again. I fished out the bottle and placed it under the nightstand, where the pesky maids would leave it alone. If a full bottle of whiskey couldn't keep Tamoko out of my head, what would? Two bottles might do it, but it was too early to think about that. Even I had my limits.

The maid came in with a steaming bowl. She set it down on the dresser, slopping some liquid over the chipped rim. "Your hot water, my lord," she said, her voice as drab as her face.

"Thanks." I reached out and pulled back the curtain. The sun was just peeking over the horizon. "I'm guessing Sis isn't awake yet."

"Lady Mirielle has already risen. She is downstairs in the library with her guest."

"Guest?"

The maid winced. "Oh, I shouldn't have said that. The mistress doesn't like me to talk about her private affairs..."

Most folks wouldn't have noticed her hand open. If I hadn't been ready for it, I might have missed it myself. I felt around on the nightstand for a gold piece and flipped it into her palm. She started talking even before her fingers closed around it.

"...of course, there's no harm in your knowing. You're family, after all. She's downstairs with Sir Delryn."

Business in Amn was such a joy. I thanked her with another coin before sending her on her way. Delryn, eh? I'd never met the guy, but he was famous around town. One of those hoity-toity Radiant Heart knights, I'd heard, with a stick so far up his ass that you could almost see it coming out of his nose. Imoen liked him, but then again, she liked anyone who talked like a romance novel.

After a quick shave, I headed downstairs. I could hear voices ahead as I padfooted down the hall.

"My Lady, this is highly irregular."

"I know, Anomen, but trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"But if you would only allow me to..."

"No!"

I poked my nose around the doorframe. Sis stood in the center of the room, her curls just catching the first rays of morning light. She wore a filmy blue gown that clung in all the right places. There was a black ribbon fastened around her white neck, which I guessed meant that she was in mourning.

She was chatting with a guy who looked like he spent as much time in front of a mirror as he did on the battlefield. Despite the early hour, he was tricked out in brightly polished plate. A large silver medallion in the shape of a hand spilled over his armor. I only needed to squint a little to make out the engravings typical of Helm's symbol.

"I'm sorry, Anomen," said Sis, "but a number of priests have already tried and failed to raise him. I'm afraid my Kelsey is lost to me." Her rosebud lips quivered.

He took her in his arms and let her weep all over his shoulder. Contrition was written plainly on Anomen's features as he looked down at her bent head, along with something else. The man had it bad. Yeah, she was a walking sauna, and he was ready to sit down on her bench. It was a shame. Sis was way out of his league.

"Miri, if I had only known this would end in such tragedy, I would have--" His eyes flicked towards the door, and he shoved Sis away as though she'd burned him. He was pretty quick for such a big guy. "Did you want something?" he growled.

I stepped into the room. "Didn't mean to interrupt. Morning, Sis."

"Good morning." Sis dabbed at her puffy eyes with one of those lacy handkerchiefs she liked. "Anomen, I don't believe you've met my brother. Sarevok, this is Sir Anomen Delryn."

"Charmed," he said, making it clear that he wasn't. He extended a wide, square hand with some impressive calluses. This guy wore fancy duds, but he kept his mace arm in great shape.

"Likewise." We shook on it, making it into a not-so-friendly contest. I won, of course, but not by much.

The maid came in and led the way to the breakfast table. Nobody seemed to want to talk, so I tucked into my food. Anomen took off his shiny gauntlets, toyed with some bacon, and pretended he wasn't staring at Sis. As for Sis, she pushed away her plate, choosing instead to drink large quantities of water. Knowing her, she was restoring her reservoir of tears.

Imoen came in when we were halfway through with the meal. Anomen jumped to his feet when he saw her. He looked like he'd just been told a painful joke and hadn't decided whether to laugh or cry. "Purple?" he asked. "Why is your hair purple?"

"I got bored! Wait till next week. I'm thinking of going blue." She winked and punched him in the arm. "Still got that armor polish fetish, I see."

The stiff didn't even crack a smile. "It is hardly a fetish, Lady Imoen. It is called proper grooming."

"Whatever you say, Ano. Whatever you say."

Anomen grumbled as Imoen sat down and heaped her plate with everything in reach. I could've told him she'd twit him on his armor, but Sis always said not to speak with my mouth full.

"So, what's new, big boy? You're not exactly the easiest guy to keep in touch with."

"I do apologize, Lady Imoen, if I have given any offense by my unavailability. I have recently returned from a campaign in the south to mop up the remnants of the Sythillisian forces." He smirked at Imoen, who rolled her eyes. "If I may be pardoned for saying so, 'twas quite a simple affair after the enemies we faced together in the service of Lady Mirielle."

"Yeah, I get it," I said, spearing a piece of ham on my knife. "Not much left to scare you after you've battled your way through the forces of the Abyss. Maybe you'd know that if you went to Tethyr with Sis like I did."

Sis shifted in her seat. "Don't, Sarevok. Anomen had other business to take care of."

"Sure, Sis. I'll lay off. No hard feelings, huh?"

Anomen's gaze rested on Sis for a second before skittering away. "Erm... yes... well, as I said, I returned only recently. I have been in residence at the Order for the past week."

"The Order?" asked Imoen, surprised. "What about your family estate? That's a nicer place to sleep than a barracks."

"I sold the house to the Jysstevs a few years ago, after Father died. I could not bear to live there. Memories of Moira haunted every corridor." Anomen bowed his head over his plate.

I looked at Imoen, but she shot me a "tell you later" look and said, "Gee, I'm sorry, Ano. I'm really sticking my foot in it."

"It is all right, Lady Imoen. You did not know."

We finished our grub in strained silence.