Forcing himself to be calm, he resisted the urge to sink down into the Lotus and escape into his mind.

Ever smiling, the Drow commented;

-"If I didn't know you better, I'd say you were afraid of me."

-"You know me better?" Negrath mumbled to himself.

-"Oh, but I do!" she exclaimed, stopping as she stabbed a finger in his chest;

-"I know your kind well enough to know that all the divine influence in existence could not make any of you include a Drow in their party. And yet…You Did!"

-"Well,…" he began, closing his mouth to ponder the point of his statement further…

-"Well what?" she prodded.

-"Well, It wasn't like I didn't know who I was dealing with…"

-"You talking about our little cooperation on the other side of the mountains?"

-"I reckon I do. I seem to recall the one making sure our group were able to continue fighting, were you, more often than not."

-"I'm Drow. If I can get someone on my side, I make Very Sure they do not leave before I let them."

-"So, in your mind, you didn't join up with us, we joined up with you, is that it?"

-"So to speak…small as the difference is, I believe you'll agree…"

-"That it's there….indeed." he nodded.

-"I take it though, " he continued, as an idea sprang to mind…*it just might work*… "that you didn't lure me in here just to talk?"

Studying him quietly, smile still lingering, he got the impression, once she answered, that she had simply decided to play along…for now: a flash of the unmistakable Drow Humor in her eyes, before he found himself lying at his side, holding his jaw…she had played along, all right.

Looking up at her, he couldn't help shrinking just a little as she bent down to hiss at him;

-"Don't -ever- presume to know my plans, human! Not Ever!"

Rubbing his jaw, he couldn't help but smile, feeling a maniacal laughter building in his gut;

-"All right, I won't…What…what was it you wanted then?"

Kneeling beside him where he leaned on his elbow, she leaned forward, brushing a finger down his nose;

-"I only told you not to claim knowing my plans, I never said you were wrong…"

………

As he faded off to sleep, he idly recognized the sounds of someone exiting the tent…his mind to tired to remember who, he suddenly, in the back of his exhausted, next-to-comatose mind, found himself listening to the sly comment of a voice he hadn't heard since talking with the guards at Candlekeep…

**That was one…**



Stepping out of the tent as the presumably last to leave it before it was taken down, Negrath, stumbling slightly as he attempted a jog, directed his steps to the local Inn, still trying to comprehend what had just happened…

He could only assume that whatever was said about having a Drow between ones sheets, were 100 % correct…and still, she had claimed that he "had seen nothing yet."…

Shaking his head, he suddenly remembered what his ultimate goal was…Imoen, trapped in Spellhold…and Irenicus.

Between that crazed mage, Viconia, and the almost inaudible, but sinister voice whispering from the more shady corners of his mind, He'd be lucky to the extreme if he didn't end up earning a genuine one-way ticket to Spellhold, himself…

Walking through the doors of the inn, he could feel eyes following him from every corner…or was it just Viconia's universal distrust of humans that had infected him?

Pondering the avenues that thought produced, he looked around at the pub's patrons…Aside from a ever-attentive Minsc, no-one was even looking in his direction.

If what he had just felt, where any indication of what Viconia walked in a constant state of…he shut his eyes, heart overflowing with a pity she would have killed him for ever showing signs of, and mind clouding up with the idea of making sure she would never have to walk in fear again…she would walk amongst friends 'til the end of her days, and never again be assaulted by jackasses like the fool who had charged babbling at her by the fountain in Waukeen's Promenade…if he so had to remove every single one of his race from the face of Faerun!

He were quite certain he would be able to run from one end of the land to the other, if it meant being able to run his katanas trough the heart of the suspicion the surfacers had infused their children with for Helm knew how long…

Feeling someone approach, he opened his eyes, only to see a farmer-looking type stumble backwards in fear.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he took a solid hold on himself. The man only wanted to leave, and he was blocking the door…and he was quite certain his eyes would have killed, had they been able to.

**They can**

No.

Since when had the voice stopped whispering?!?

Since when had it become something he could almost feel crawl between his thoughts???

**Anger**

**Anger at the "innocent"**

-"NO!" he yelled, immediately realizing his mistake, and disappearing back out the door, heading for the forest as fast as his feet could carry him.

**Yes**

**Give them reason to call you mad**

**Show them your destructive power**

**Make them send you to your goal**

**And make the little upstart mage make you what you truly are**

Irenicus…"little upstart mage"?

**He is nothing**

**compared to you**

In the midst of a cacophony of other remembered voices, screaming battlecries and hurling insults, he could over it all hear the filth within him, take on the voice of Viconia, stating what she had ended an oft-made claim with, whenever a battle seemed to be unwinnable…"Victory is ours…", he mumbled, just as the din concluded;

**You Know This!!!**

And the world went black…



Opening his eyes, he quickly shut them again…just his luck to have the sun as the first thing he sees upon regaining his senses.

Hearing something heavy start moving nearby, he looked to find Minsc looking down at him;

-"Do you think you would be able to kick some sorry evils butt?" the ranger rumbled, with something that evidently were his tone of concern…idly, Negrath mused that it sooner would send people running, than calm them down, before carefully nodding. Discovering that he could do so relatively trouble-free, he sat up, finding himself in a field outside a construction remarkably similar to the one he had gained ownership of…

Looking at Minsc, his eyes slid past the ranger to land on a palisade of wooden poles a quick jog away.

Getting to his feet, he saw, from his new vantage point, farms and the people tending them…the nearby keep would either have had to go trough the same trials as he had seen the other through, or be a masterfully put up copy…it simply couldn't be the same…the damn thing would have been a good 2 days march from Trademeet!

And if he had gone the distance, how had Minsc…then he caught on…he were looking at the De'Arnise Keep, and Minsc, presumably at the others request, had tracked him down.



Just then another voice broke the silence, from someone coming from behind him.

Whirling around, and immediately regretting it, as his legs proved unable to stop the motion, he saw, with Minsc's hands under his shoulders, Viconia come walking toward him, pointing at a familiar rodent that sat chittering in her other hand;

-"This Boo of yours suddenly started making noise for no good reason, And Jaheira assumed it meant you had found something important…which you quite obviously have not." She concluded, discovering the rangers latest "catch".

Negrath could only hope it wasn't just wishful thinking that he heard a tiny, pleasing new tone in her voice as she made her remark…

He decided he would make it part of his mission to let that tone become clear enough for the deaf to hear…Jaheira were suddenly just a name on a dear Harper friend…and she would never be any more to him again…

Dumping down in a relaxed lotus at his feet, she reached up, gesturing for Minsc that she had him.

-"Tired feet?" she commented with a brief expulsion of air, as his body, unaided by his feet, fell into her hands.

-"Guess so, he mumbled, settling into an equally relaxed position opposite her, as Minsc walked off, chatting companionably with his pet.

Idly giving his kneecaps a fist or two, he scolded them;

-"-Bad- legs, -bad-. Not to go anywhere without being told! You know thi…"

Freezing, he realized what he had said. Turning worried eyes on the Drow, he positively pleaded;

-"Viconia, never tell me that I "know this", ever again! That statement have been used by some…someone who has made it filthy."

Having her look directly at his forehead, he could have sworn he saw a worried look pass across her face.

-"Bhaal getting noisy up there?" she quipped, knocking him not-so-lightly upside the head, whatever trace of care she might have entertained, vanished from sight…he could only be grateful she hadn't found herself "acceptable"(A.K.A. "extremely damaging") fighting gloves yet.

Grabbing her hand, and noticing she made no immediate move to pull it away, he tried again;

-"Please, Viconia! Don't use those words anymore! They will feed confusion, confusion will lead to anger, and anger will feed "him"! Promise me!"

-"…fine. I may be Drow, but that doesn't mean I have any more interest in bringing the next Bhaal into the world than your everyday surface elf."

Recognizing her expression, he prodded;

-"But…?"

"But I wouldn't be against you trying to gain what you can of his abilities…As you well know, there is no need to be a god to appear invincible…all I say is that I'd like you to BE it, for the creatures normal to these lands…I want you to be able to travel from one end of the map to the other, above or below ground, without ever worrying whether or not you'll survive the next fool to challenge you. Is that not a worthy goal, Negrath? You are a son of Bhaal…and Imoen, she is a daughter of same! You will both be hunted by such brainrot-victims as this Irenicus that now has the two of you split, because you didn't do what was smart in Baldur's Gate!"

-"And what would that be? Loose to Sarevok?"

-"NO!" she objected, evidently loosing control for a moment, before becoming aware that he was still holding her hand, and pulling it free;

-"No, I would never suggest that…well, aside from those first weeks, that is."

He waited for a smile that never came.

-"I was saying that you should not be going against him before you had a method with which to siphon off -his- strength and abilities, thereby growing stronger!"

-"I am stronger now than I was then…" he defended himself.

-"-Much- to little, much to late." She concluded, almost automatically, before dealing her triumph card;

-"There will -always- be -someone- of some race or another, who will be stronger, faster, smarter, or just a lot more enduring. Is that the situation you want for Imoen, in a world that is guaranteed to produce opponents twice as fast as you can remove them, -on top of- the inevitable confrontations with other children of Bhaal? As the story goes, there's even supposed to be one or two from the DRAGON-bloodline! You want to meet one of -them- with the skills of a top-trained -human- fighter, without enough control of his power to snuff out a candle at two feet's distance?"

-"…" looking down at his palms, he tried to imagine them dealing damage without physical contact…to his Kensai-trained mind, it was a disturbing notion.

Another part of him though, buried deeper in his mind than he ever liked to look, a slithering voice oozed it's acceptance of the idea…

**YESSSS…**

Lowering his head, he balled his fist in near cramps, driving the intruder from his senses with all the mental force his training could provide him with.

Feeling a tender hand on his shoulder, he opened his eyes to see if Jaheira had come to the scene.

Seeing the object of his curiosity walk through the gates of the Keep with Minsc and Aerie, a good walk away, he looked down to his shoulder to find a very dark, very smooth arm being hurriedly withdrawn.

Following it with his eyes, he saw her studying the offending limb for a moment, before impassively grabbing the wrist with the hand of the other, squeezing strongly enough to make the knuckles go white, and holding it there.

As Negrath watched Mesmerized, the captive hand slowly grew darker, before falling limp like a piece of scorched meat.

Face blank, she released it, applying what seemed to be a simplified Minor Heal, and closed her eyes, turning her face heavenward as what color the hand usually held, tripled in intensity, before fading back to normal.

At this point, Negrath snapped out of it, and noticed that the other hand had dug itself down into the soft dirt they both sat on, slowing to a stop as he watched.

Turning to face her as she lowered her head to look at him, he could only look back, completely dumbstruck at what he had seen…

-"What?" she asked, after a good while of mutual silence.

-"You…you basically killed your own hand…because it expressed a need to comfort me?"

-"Not a problem when one can heal oneself."

-"But…the blood rushing back in the revived fingers…the pain…"

-"Is manageable."

-"Cyric's Lies it is!"

-"…It was necessary."

-"Says who?!? You?!?!?"

-"…yes."

-"Why?!? Is control important enough to treat parts of your body worse than your companions?"

-"Yes." Were the immediate, toneless reply.

-"WHY?!?!?!?"

-"…"

-"Oh, is it the "I'm Drow, so you won't understand a cursed thing", or "Stop bothering me about things I didn't start talking about"?

Or Perhaps you claim rights to the oh-so-original "shut up male, I'll call you when I want you to amuse me again"?

If that is it, then perhaps you belong among your fellow Drow, begging the spider queen to cleanse your mind and body of all that does not crave child- killing or terminal sibling rivalry. Why don't you just…"

He faded to silence when he became aware of her face…

With an agility born of desperate need, and combined with years of physical and mental exercise, he was on his feet and running by the time she came howling after him, the sound, he was sure, doomed to haunt his dreams for the rest of his life…however short that might end up to be…