Disclaimer: I do not own 'Baldur's Gate', 'Forgotten Realms' or any characters there in.
Wizards of the Coast do at my last check. Lucky them.
I do, however, own Fritha and certain other characters and plot points. Basically, if you don't recognise it, it's probably mine.

Blackcross & Taylor

Beginnings

Jaheira glanced out the window, looking south over the forests and hills they would be crossing that day on their way to Beregost. She sighed tiredly as she shoved things into her pack. She hadn't slept much last night, her worries and concerns for what the future now held haunting her like hungry ghosts. Khalid had tried to reassure her, but it just felt like he was ignoring the problem rather than solving it.

Jaheira shook her head; Khalid probably had the right idea. There was nothing more they could do, so why worry about it? Their planned course may be a highly dangerous one for two such inexperienced girls, but they had nowhere safer to go and with a bounty on Fritha's head they could not travel alone. But…
Jaheira sighed again.
Gorion gave his life to keep the child safe; she didn't known what she'd do if Fritha died because of her.
The druid shook herself, suddenly angry that she felt this anxious. Where was Khalid? She'd sent him to hurry along the girls an age ago. Jaheira shouldered her pack and, grabbing Khalid's, headed for the door.

In the corridor though, it became obvious that even setting the girls the simple task of packing their own things had been a grave overestimation of their abilities. Raised voices, laughter and the occasional shriek could be heard from their open doorway, mixed with the familiar stuttering that marked Khalid.
Jaheira marched down the corridor her anger building within her…
'Here, let me-'
'Ow! Stop pulling! It's caught on my hair!'
'M-m-maybe if-'
'GET OFF!'

Jaheira groaned inwardly. She must have offended the gods in some way to be cursed with such a group. She fumed silently as she watched Fritha stumble blindly around the room stuck halfway into the new chainmail shirt she'd purchased downstairs, whilst Imoen attempted to help her at the same time as being near paralysed with laughter. Khalid stood nearby trying in vain to advise them but, on seeing Jaheira, seemed to decide that his efforts would be best employed calming his irate wife.

'Look at them! Children!' she spat, as though it was the most venomous insult she knew.
'N-n-now, Jaheira,' started Khalid, trying to placate her.
'Don't you 'Jaheira' me! This is just as I feared. To think we are to travel with those two; they act like they have not half a mind between them!'

A sharp cry from Fritha signalled Imoen had finally calmed enough to wrench the mail over her head and the couple turned to find the two girls stood watching them, Fritha looking rather pink and dishevelled, still clutching a tuft of scratty red hair.
'Problem?' Imoen asked innocently.
Jaheira stood a moment staring at her with, what Fritha described later as 'rabid fury', before turning on her heel and storming from the room, Khalid hurrying after her.
'J-J-Jaheira…'

xxx

Fritha listened to the song of unseen birds as she followed Jaheira and Khalid through the trees, Imoen at her side. It had been mid-morning by the time they'd finally left the inn and now Jaheira was driving them south at a breakneck pace. Imoen glanced to her and grinned, wiping the sweat from her brow. Fritha too felt hot, the weight of the new chainmail digging in at her neck; she'd have to buy some sort of padding once they reached Beregost.
A thrill of excitement travelled up her spine making her shiver in spite of the heat. Beregost.

She had never even set foot in a village before, let alone a town. Many of the groups and sages that visited Candlekeep stayed overnight there during their journey and she had often wondered about the town that lay so close and yet seemed so far away. She had mentioned her anticipation to Imoen earlier, but the girl had been unimpressed. She had been to a few local towns before with Winthrope and others, and though never to Beregost itself, she claimed they were all one and the same. Fritha could not comment; the only times she'd ever be allowed to leave the Keep had been the occasional summer's day when she and Imoen had been taken to the nearby beach to help dig for clams.

A hand on her arm stopped her and she looked across to Imoen who gestured ahead of them. Fritha turned to see Khalid stood, an arrow already nocked, Jaheira slowly prowling forward.
Suddenly, something screeched and small canine creatures came leaping from the undergrowth before them, a crazed barking filling the air.
Kobolds.

Jaheira had her staff in hand before she could blink and one of the creatures was already stumbling backward, an arrow through its chest. At her side she saw Imoen pulling back her bow as she herself drew her sword. A snarl to her left caught her attention and she turned just in time to defend a blow to her legs. She parried quickly, felling the kobold and stepping back to defend against another. The battle seemed to blur from that point on; just a chaos of blades and fur until-
'Look out!'

Fritha whirled just in time to see the kobold archer release its bow. She twisted clumsily, desperate to get out of the arrow's path. It missed, only grazing her hand, but that was enough. Fritha dropped her sword with a cry just as another creature jumped from the undergrowth, its teeth bared along with its sword. She leapt backward, narrowly avoiding the swipe of its blade and stumbled, half falling back against a tree. Fritha groped around her, desperate for anything to put between her and it. The kobold loomed over her before springing forward just as her hand found the neck of the lute hanging at her back.

THWACK

The lute and kobold hit mid-air, a horrible mixture of yelp and discord resonating out from them. The kobold fell back stunned only to be dealt with by Khalid and finally there was silence.

Fritha slumped back against the tree, panting, the neck still clutched in her hand while the rest of the lute dangled miserably, attached only by the strings. Suddenly Jaheira came into view, face flushed and furious, and Fritha wondered why she'd been so scared of that kobold.

xxx

Night had fallen quickly and all Fritha could hear were the sounds of the night creatures and the hiss of the rain in the campfire. In the branches above her a blanket had been hung, providing a dry spot in which she and Imoen now huddled. Across the fire she watched Khalid and Jaheira talk, their voices low. Fritha sighed, turning her attention back to the two broken halves of lute laid in her lap while Imoen threw her last crust of bread into the fire, tossing a scowl to the pair with it, before turning to her friend.
'I can't believe Jaheira; she really laid in to you!' she began with a wary glance to check they weren't being overheard.

Fritha smiled at her friend's concern.
'Oh, don't let it bother you; she was just worried.'
'She didn't sound very worried!' said Imoen with another scowl to the woman.
Fritha shrugged. Jaheira had been very angry that was true, and she'd said some rather choice things about her mental aptitude and physical state, but Fritha did not take any of it to heart. Jaheira's anger had been born from fear not malice. It was just seemed to be the druid's way of expressing her more intense emotions.

'Jaheira doesn't want us here-
'Well, that's clear!'
'It's not that she doesn't like us, she's worried for our safety, scared she can't protect us.'
Imoen looked sceptical.
'How d'you know?'
Fritha shrugged; it was obvious wasn't it?
'Yeah, well, she still shouldn't have said those things,' Imoen continued, watching her closely as though trying to gauge how hurt she'd been.

Fritha smiled.
'I've heard worse, even Gorion had his moments…'
And as soon as the words left her mouth she wished she hadn't said them, hadn't even thought them. It was as though a lump of ice had been dropped into her stomach. She hadn't thought of him all day and the guilt of this realisation lay heavy on her.
'Do you miss him?' asked Imoen quietly and Fritha wanted more than anything to say yes, to cry and grieve, but it would have been a lie.
She sighed deeply and shook her head.
'Not as much as I feel I should.'
She glanced to Imoen, ready to face her appalled look but the girl just nodded calmly for her to continue.

'It's complicated. And I, I feel so guilty about it but… I loved him and I know he loved me but… but I just felt I was becoming less of a daughter to him and more of a nuisance. Plus, this life is new to me; he was never here to miss.'
Fritha smiled weakly.
'It's almost as though he's still at home in Candlekeep waiting for me.'
She looked down at the broken lute in her hands, laying the pieces gently beside her pack.
'It's no good; I'll find someone to fix it tomorrow. Night Imoen.'

xxx

Jaheira covered her eyes against the glare of the midday sun and watched Khalid cross Beregost's main square, returning from the tavern.
'Any news?'
Khalid shook his head.
'Nothing. The contact for this area says it's the same all along the Sword Coast. The iron is rotten, the ruling council in Baldur's Gate seem content to blame Amn and they claim to have no knowledge of the matter.'
Jaheira sighed.
'We have to get to Nashkel. Find out who is behind this.'

Still, however important their mission was, they both knew that more pressing concerns now faced them. After buying the additional rations and equipment needed for the two extra people now in their company, money was definitely in short supply. She had even been reluctant to allow the girl to have her lute fixed since it was of no real use to her anyway, but Imoen had just happened to mention it had been a gift from Gorion and Khalid would hear nothing against it being mended from then on.
Jaheira frowned.
For some reason, Fritha disturbed her as much as the iron crisis did.

She had commented to Khalid about the awe with which Fritha had first entered Beregost, a small town and not an especially impressive one either. It wasn't until Imoen interrupted, explaining that Fritha had never before left Candlekeep, that her behaviour had made sense. Still, Jaheira had found Fritha, and the excitement she held for everything in Beregost, unnerving, and had sent the girls to explore at a distance at the earliest opportunity.

Jaheira glanced behind her. Imoen was talking to the town crier and Fritha was still in the workshop of a nearby carpenter having that useless instrument of hers mended. She watched as the girl finally paid the man and, calling to Imoen as she passed, skipped back to them her lute in its usual place, slung across her back.

'Hello Khalid, Jaheira,' Fritha greeted as a voice called from across the square.
'Hail adventurers.'
Fritha looked up to see a handsome youth with curly brown hair and a harp at his belt approaching them. He bowed once as he arrived and continued politely.
'How would you like a well-paid job as bodyguards for my mistress?'
Imoen voiced what they were all thinking.

'Well, we do need the money…'
Fritha nodded in agreement and the young man smiled.
'I'm Garrick and I work for Silke Rosena. She's the most skilled musician and actor along the Sword Coast. In fact, she's to play at the Ducal Palace before the month's done. But she's been having some problems of late. Some thugs have been hired by Feldpost to hurt her because she didn't perform at his inn when she was supposed to, not that you can blame her with a villain like Feldpost running the place. She needs mercenaries to protect her until she's ready to go to Baldur's Gate. She's willing to pay about three hundred gold. What do you say?'

Fritha turned to them.
'Well the month ends in a fortnight so we wouldn't be working for her longer than that. What do you think?'
'It sounds acceptable,' said Jaheira with a nod and Fritha turned back to Garrick.
'Okay. That sounds fair.'
'This way please.'

They followed the man around the corner to where a short gracile woman was stood outside the inn. She was very pretty with olive skin and a shining length of straight black hair and, like Garrick, she had a harp slung at her hip.

'Mistress, these are the mercenaries I hired.'
'Greetings, I am Silke, thespian extraordinaire,' she trilled with a smile, 'I assume that Garrick has explained what your duties are to be. You must simply dispose of the ruffians when they come to threaten me and guard me against any further attacks until I leave for Baldur's Gate. They shouldn't be too hard to deal with but be warned, one is a mage whose words can sway the wisest man-'
'No hope for you then, Fritha,' Imoen whispered, smirking.
'-So I would advise you do not speak with them.'

Silke turned to look up the street, her dark hair sweeping over elegantly over her shoulder as she did so.
'Ah, here they are now; Feldpost's thugs, strike when I tell you to,' she said and Fritha wondered at their timing as three men approached.
'Greetings Silke. We're here as you've asked and we have the…' the first began genially enough.
'Don't threaten me!' Silke snarled, the airiness suddenly gone from her voice 'I won't be easy prey for you to beat on. I've brought friends!'
'What are you talking about? We're here with the gems that-'
'Shut up! There'll be no weaselling out of this one. STRIKE NOW! KILL THEM ALL!'
'What?' questioned Fritha, confused, 'You are joking? They haven't done anything!'
Silke's smile faded and her eyes grew wide.
'What? Our deal is off! I'll deal with them myself, after I deal with you!'

The fight was painfully brief. They had just all surged forward at once, before Silke'd had a chance to raise her blade, and she was gone. Fritha had wondered how anyone's arrogance could be so overwhelming in the face of such odds. Still, it was a mistake Silke would never make again…

The men they had been instructed to kill were grateful enough though, and had given them a little gold as a token of their thanks before hurrying off again, obviously not wanting to be associated with any trouble. Behind her she heard a sigh and she turned to see Garrick staring dully at the body as Khalid gently searched it.

'Silke's dead. I guess she had it coming, but it does kind of leave me out of a job…' he sighed dejectedly.
'Here, come on,' said Fritha, trying to cheer him and ignore the body herself, 'we're going to the inn. Buy you a drink?'
Garrick looked up, his young face suddenly brighter.
'Really? Thanks.'

xxx

The inn, once crowded and noisy, had slowly emptied over the course of the evening and now only they and a few other diligent patrons remained. Fritha felt somewhat easier now there were less people about. Another bounty hunter had been waiting for her here and she'd been a little edgy ever since, unable to look at any stranger without wondering whether they too had a blade for her.
Garrick yawned and stretched in his seat, knocking over one of the many empty cups that now littered the table.

'Well, friends, it's been an enjoyable evening, but I really should get back to my lodgings.'
'Yes, it's late,' agreed Fritha, rising to shake hands with him, 'sorry about killing your patron and all. Good luck for the future.'
'Yeah, try to find someone more reputable to work for next time!' added Imoen with a grin that Garrick returned.
'Well, I'll try, but I guess I love the company of my fellow bards too much to make you a promise,' he laughed, ruffling Fritha's hair in a friendly manner. 'Are you sure you won't join me? With your skills and my looks we'd have our pick of the troupes!'
He laughed again, not noticing her horrified expression.

'She's a bard?' mouthed Khalid with disbelief.
He and Jaheira shared a look.
'Farewell, friends,' Garrick called over his shoulder, ignoring their exchange and disappearing through the doors.
Three heads turned in unison to a now scarlet Fritha. She quickly muttered something about 'being tired' and raced off upstairs.

Jaheira and Khalid turned simultaneously to Imoen with inquiring eyes.
'She's a bard?' Khalid repeated, still stunned, 'b-but she…I mean, I thought she would…er...well...bards aren't usually so… r-reticent about it, that's all.'
Imoen grinned.
'Well, that's Fritha, Faerûn's only shy bard.'
'Hmph. I for one think it's a good thing. She would be unbearable if she were anymore extrovert!' said Jaheira, though her tone suggested it was more a statement of fact than her opinion.
But then they were the same thing if you were Jaheira, mused Imoen, her lips twitching.

'So she has never performed for anyone, then?' Khalid questioned, clearly still having trouble believing Fritha could be shy about anything.
'Well, for Archmage Jesseth once, but I don't think that counted.'

xxx

Imoen walked past row after row of books muttering to herself.
'Oh, Imoen, just go up to the south library and fetch me a couple of volumes. Stupid Whelan!'
She glanced down to the scrap of paper she was holding.
'Right. The Time of Troubles, prophecies concerning. Where are we?'
She walked slowly down the aisle her fingers skimming the spines.
'No… must be round the other side. Oh!'

Imoen rounded the bookcase and was met by an unusual sight. Sat at one the library's tables, her head pillowed on a huge tome was Fritha. From the unlit stump of candle resting next to her she could tell the girl had been there at least before dawn and Imoen was shocked at how worn she looked. She barely saw her friend since she had started her classes but the girl didn't usually have to resort to studying all night.

'Gods, Fritha, you look awful.'
Fritha groaned, glancing up slightly from the open book, the page sticking to her face where she'd drooled in her sleep.
'Imoen?'
Imoen grinned as her friend freed the paper, briskly rubbing her face.
'What time is it?'
'Just before the morning bell.'
Fritha heaved a deep sigh before slamming the book shut and rising.
'Thanks for waking me,' she mumbled, grabbing her bag and heading towards the south tower. Suddenly something dawned on Imoen.

'Hey, wait, your room isn't that way.'
Fritha turned back with a look of scorn, but it couldn't last long in the face of Imoen's concern and after a moment, she sighed and shook her head.
'I know. Jesseth is holding some extra lectures since the novices from the temple of Gond are here. Told me yesterday, after class. He thinks it would be beneficial for me to attend.'
Imoen turned over the book.
"Magical devices and their origins" was stamped on the leather cover in worn gold letters.
'You think he's setting you up,' said Imoen flatly.
Fritha gave a weary shrug.
'Oh, who knows with Jesseth. I just don't want to be made a fool of in front of the others. Look, I've got to go. See you around, okay?'
And with that, she turned and left.

It was with a growing sense of trepidation that Fritha climbed the stairs of the south tower. Her classes were usually held in one of the small rooms in the second floor library and the unfamiliarity of this place did nothing to calm her nerves. Finally she reached the door, pushing it open to find herself in a large circular room, a blackboard, lectern and desk at one side while tiered seating and desks rose around it, putting her in mind of an amphitheatre, and Fritha wondered whether anyone would be fed to the lions today.

A few of the novices had already arrived and were huddled in a group before the desk chattering amongst themselves. They turned to stare at her as she passed, her loose mismatched clothing a stark difference from the crisp neat uniforms they were wearing. Fritha sighed, feeling more out of place by the moment and she skipped up the steps stopping about halfway up and moving along the row to sit by a window. She ignored the hushed talking and the feelings of self-consciousness that were rising within her and busied herself setting out parchment and quills, the room slowly filling around her as more novices arrived, and finally Jesseth appeared wearing his finest green robes and a very smug expression.

Fritha disliked Jesseth and although it had nothing to do with his appearance, she saw him as a prime example of people aging into the faces they deserve. His skin was stretched tightly over his skull; the web of lines that covered its surface put Fritha in mind of dragon hide. The only slackness was in the wattle that hung from chin to neck making it look like some had grabbed a handful of neck skin and pulled. Lank grey hair hung in a crest around the bald dome of his head and large wide set eyes scanned the room, resting on her for only the briefest moment before returning to his notes.

'Good morning, young ones, I am Archmage Jesseth, and I am here to lecture you today on the history and origins of magical devices.'

A short applause followed this statement through which Fritha believed she witnessed the impossible as Jesseth looked even more self-satisfied.
The lecture began.

Fritha thought she would have probably found it quite interesting had she not spent all night in the library researching the subject under the belief that Jesseth intended to use this opportunity to punish her. Still, live and learn.
The minutes ticked into hours and the sun rose higher, warming the room, giving it an almost cosy feeling. Fritha yawned, leaning forward, cupping her face in her hands and trying to focus on the wand Jesseth was showing them.
'Now as you can see, though a charm is required, the assembly of such items is an art in itse…'

'FRITHA!'

Fritha slowly opened her eyes and found herself lying on paper for the second time that morning.
CRACK
Her scream echoed round the room and she sprang upright as Jesseth's staff was slammed down onto her hand. Jesseth was stood at her side, his lizard-like features contorted into an expression of pure rage.
'You!' he breathed, his face a horrible mix of red and puce.
'Jesseth, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I never meant to fall asleep it's just-'
'Silence!' he roared, dragging her to her feet and down to the front, her bag trailing from her hand.

'Falling asleep in class,' he hissed almost as thought such a crime could not be spoken of out loud, 'your apologies are no longer enough.'
'What do you mean no longer enough?' Fritha burst out, her temper finally getting the better of her, 'this is the first time it's happened!'
'You insolent brat!' he shrieked, giving her a shake for good measure, 'get out! Get out! GET OUT!'
And with that, he hurled her through the door and slammed it behind her.

xxx

The refectory was always quiet that time of day. Light streamed in from the high windows and the only sound was from one of the cooks marching in and out of the kitchens bringing through great cauldrons of stew. Imoen reached for the one that had just been placed on her table, filled her bowl and slowly began her lunch.

She was so lost in her own thoughts, sat enjoying the peace before the midday rush, that she nearly choked when a familiar bag suddenly landed on the table next to her with a resounding thud. She looked round to see Fritha pull out a chair and throw herself into it, her face like thunder.

'Fritha, what happened? Shouldn't you still be in class?'
'No! That saurian bastard threw me out for falling a sleep!' she fumed, serving herself some stew with such violence that most of it ended up splattered across the table, 'look at my hand!'
Imoen winced. A thick welt ran diagonally across the back of her hand and one of the knuckles was split; he must have really hit her.

'What are you going to do?'
Fritha narrowed her eyes slightly for a moment and Imoen almost felt quite sorry for Jesseth.
'I'm going to apologise.'
'What? How?'
Fritha grinned malevolently.
'Well, they do say nothing touches the heart like a song.'

xxx

Fritha was sat in her usual spot in the chair before Gorion's desk, tiredly picking her nails. Behind her stood Jesseth and Whelan, who, having been the first on the scene when she'd clambered out the haystack, had obviously not wanted to miss a chance to see her punished and, once Jesseth arrived, he'd insisted on accompanying them to Gorion. She winced slightly, rubbing the ache in her shoulder. For an old man, Jesseth was a bloody good shot. He'd managed to get that bookend all the way from his room to her position on the battlements in practically pitch darkness; she doubted even Imoen could have hit her!
And it had been a good job she'd picked that area above the stables or she'd have a lot worse than a bruised shoulder right now.

Fritha smiled in spite of herself, recalling the look on his face when he'd finally appeared at his window on her third chorus of 'Jesseth the Happy Iguana'; a song of her own invention and one she was quite proud of. His wispy grey hair standing out at odd angles and eyes even wider than usual, he'd looked as though he'd been electrocuted.

Still, however late it was and however annoying her song had been, Jesseth should really learn to control his temper; advice that had only seemed to rile him further at the time.
The First Reader should really look into starting an anger management group for some of the sages; maybe Whelan could join too…

Gorion, dressed with his robes thrown over his nightshirt, sat on the other side of his desk surveying them all with an air of polite interest.

'Now Jesseth, if you would like to explain why you required my presence here at this, ah…unsociable hour.'
'Happily,' he replied in a strained sort of way, glaring at Fritha. 'I was presenting my first of three lectures today for the novices of Gond, ones which I generously invited your ward to attend-'
'He didn't invite me!' Fritha burst out indignantly, 'He implied I had to-'
'Silence!' shouted Whelan, cuffing her round the ear.

'Fritha, please let the Archmage finish. We will hear what you have to say in a moment,' said Gorion calmly, sending Whelan a dark look, 'Jesseth, please continue.'
'Well, as I was saying, Fritha came to my lecture, but she had no desire to pay attention. Gods forbid she may actually learn something. No, the only reason she attended was to make a fool of me…'
Fritha smiled ruefully to herself. She couldn't help but be amused at the irony of the fact that she had believed Jesseth had invited her along only to make a fool of her and here he was worrying about exactly the same thing.

'…halfway through the class, I asked her to open a window only to find she had fallen asleep!'
'Ah,' said Gorion knowingly, turning to Fritha his eyes stern. 'And what did you do, Fritha?'
'Well, I apologised.'
This seemed to take Gorion by surprise.
'Oh?'
'Yes, I apologised even though he'd just hit me!' she said showing Gorion the angry black line across her hand, 'it could have broken my fingers!'
Jesseth and Whelan shared a look that seemed to indicated that they were only sorry it hadn't.
Gorion turned back to the men gravely.

'Have you anything else to add?'
'Yes, yes, most definitely!' said Jesseth all in a rush, seemingly worried that so far his case may not look so reasonable.
'In her anger, she played loudly outside my window tonight in an effort to disturb my sleep and wake me.'
'And wake you…' repeated Gorion doubtfully.
'Ah yes, it may seem petty, but for one as spiteful as that little-' a look from Gorion stopped him, 'ah, Fritha… Well, it is all her feeble mind could conceive,' he finished snidely.
'It was tit for tat. He woke me up so I woke him!'
'Tit for tat? TIT FOR TAT?' he shouted, spittle flecking his whiskers, 'you ruined my chance! My only chance to become a Chosen of Mystra!'

'What?' the three chorused as Jesseth shook with rage, his face slowly taking on the colour Fritha would later describe as 'boiled baby'.
'She came to me as I was sleeping and told me I was to be one of Her Chosen!'
Even Whelan looked a touch embarrassed by this turn of events.
'What? By way of a dream?' Fritha interjected sceptically, before shrugging in acceptance. 'Bad luck, Jesseth, even Elminster got a shag out of it.'

This comment had the dual effect of turning Jesseth an even darker shade of red and earning Fritha another cuff round the ear from Father Whelan. Gorion seemed the only one who remained unaffected. In fact, if anything, Fritha thought he seemed vaguely amused by the whole affair.
'Fritha, please apologise for your actions,' Gorion asked evenly.

Fritha opened her mouth, ready to complain that she had already apologised several times, but at the look on his face, shut it again without a sound. Fritha lowered her eyes and continued wearily.

'Archmage Jesseth, I apologise. I am sorry for falling asleep in class, I am sorry for deliberately waking you and I am sorry you have missed your chance to become one of Mystra's Chosen,' though she sounded a little more sceptical towards the end of her speech.
Gorion nodded his head, satisfied.
'Fine, Fritha, you may go.'

Fritha rose, hurrying through the door, clearly wanting to be well away from the room when Jesseth finally stopped silently shaking, his rage beyond words.

'Is that it?' he finally gasped, his eyes bloodshot and bulging, making him look even more lizard-like. Gorion sighed, knowing where this would lead.
'Jesseth, please calm yourself. Fritha is but a child, and no real harm was done.'
'NO REAL HARM? Well, this is the last straw! If you are unwilling to discipline the girl properly then I am forced to take up the matter of her residence here with the First Reader! Goodnight!'
Gorion sighed again, rubbing his temples in an effort to forestall the inevitable headache. When he looked up Whelan was still before him, watching him with grave eyes.

'I suppose you also believe she should be sent from here?'
The priest remained silent a moment before slowly shaking his head.
'I know what she is as well as you. She must remain here that she can be observed, kept in check.'
'You think she is evil,' said Gorion flatly.
'No, but we cannot deny that what she houses is. You give her freedom when she needs discipline. She must be kept in line or lost to the forces of evil and chaos forever!'
'Is that so? And what evidence do you have for this?'
'E-evidence?' Whelan repeated with venom, as though angry that his opinion should not be held as fact. 'It shows in her lack of respect, her unruly behaviour, the way she speaks of Helm! All these things are indicators to her complete lack of morals!'

'I'm sure Helm is big enough to look after himself. And as for her 'lack of morals', the priests of Oghma have nothing but praise for her. She's always over there helping out, asking questions.'
'Do not mistake me, Gorion,' he snarled angrily, 'the pursuit of knowledge is to be commended, but it is how this knowledge is being applied that we should be wary of. You teach her to sing and she torments poor Jesseth-'
'Really!'
'You teach her to use a sword…'
'That is enough!' Gorion roared, finally loosing his temper, 'I fear we will never agree on this subject, Whelan. Where I see a young girl, you are determined to see a monster!'
Whelan stared at him in silence a moment before giving a curt nod and finally turning to leave.

'Your closeness to the girl clouds your judgement, but do not forget what she is, or it may well be your undoing.'