Thanks for the reviews, Kendris and Treymane -hope you like the look at the Candlekeep Bhaalspawn in this chapter.
I did not forget the disclaimer-this chapter might be mature, but it's not dark ;-)
Heritage of Evil:Masquerade
The stone walls of Baldur's Gate appeared in the distance as a dark line that stretched across the horizon. Travel weary guards began to relax when small carriages and farmer's carts joined them on the widening road. The guards, who had been tense for most of the journey from Waterdeep, started joking and laughing as they approached their destination. Bandits were not likely to attack even a rich prize like the heavily laden merchant caravan this close to the city.
After a cursory inspection, the caravan was allowed to pass the city gates, and soon the extra guards hired for the trip were paid for their escort duties, and sent on their way. Most headed for the nearest taverns, but one headed off for the poorer section of town, navigating the maze of streets with an ease that suggested she was familiar with the city.
She walked through the rubbish strewn streets of the slums with confidence, aware that she was being watched, but certain the weapons she carried openly, and more importantly, her evident lack of wealth, would help keep muggers away from her. She stopped outside a narrow townhouse, and looked at it with a small smile. Few who did not live in the neighbourhood would guess that the row of eight normal looking houses were all joined together to form one massive complex.
She rang the bell, and argued with the woman who talked to her through the closed door. Soon, however, she threw her hands up in a gesture of defeat, and walked away.
Across from the rowhouses was a small square which provided space for a collection of vendors, selling everything from fresh fish to spell components. The former guard went to one of the stalls, and purchased a meat pie which she ate with evident enjoyment, before settling down against the wall and resting with half-closed eyes. Few took notice of the lounging figure as the hours passed, and she startled the nearest vendor when she suddenly jumped up, and darted across the street.
"Marte!" she cried as she approached a shuffling, white-haired man on the steps of the disguised complex.
"Who are ye?" he asked, squinting at the young woman while surreptitiously flicking a throwing dagger out of his sleeve into the palm of his hand with an agility that suggested he was younger than he looked.
"It's alright, Marte," she said soothingly. "It's me, Shann. I hope you remember me. I used to scout targets for you and others in this guild. I went away for a while, and now that darn door warden wouldn't let me in."
"I remember you well enough, youngster," Marte said, chuckling to himself. "Glad to see you're still alive. After that fire gutted the house of your master Arboral, Salla the Sly started taking bets on whether or not you were dead too. She tried to declare you dead, and collect from those of us who thought you had survived, a few months ago, but the Guildmaster insisted on keeping the books open a while longer. So, I'd be more than happy to escort you into the Thieves Guild, and collect my winnings from the old girl."
Shann was chatting with her old locksmithing teacher, trading information about events in Waterdeep and Baldur's Gate, when a new arrival, a fine-featured, dark haired halfling youth, shouted her name, with a mixture of disbelief and surprise.
"Jarond," she grinned, and stood up to embrace her old friend.
Jarond stepped back, and scowled up at the perplexed woman. "It's been well over two years since you disappeared without a word," he said. "I wasn't sure if you were dead in that fire, lass, or not. You should have found some way to let me know."
"I'm sorry," Shann said, biting her lip. "I had things to do, and never gave a thought to anything but my task."
"Ay, killing those masters of yours," Jarond said with distaste.
"Yes, well, it didn't work out quite like I thought it would," Shann said, her eyes fixed on the wall behind Jarond.
"I should say not," Jarond replied, eying the fine lines in Shann's face. "You've aged terribly. I told you listening to that father of yours was a bad idea."
There was a short silence, while Shann and Jarond looked at each other, both reluctant to discuss matters further. Eventually they began talking of old times, and laughed at the antics of the newer members of the guild. Shann was not fooled, however, and knew that letting Jarond think she might be dead had hurt him terribly.
Several days later, Shann knew she would not be joining the guild again. Somehow her old home just did not feel the same anymore, and she no longer felt comfortable with her old companions.
Shann was trying to decide where to go next, when one of the assassins mentioned Sarevok Anchev was recruiting talent from the criminal classes. It was generally believed that Sarevok was working on behalf of his father, Reiltar Anchev, who was playing his own power games among the legitimate elite of Baldur's Gate. Sarevok hates Reiltar, and his cruelty. I'm sure he's planning something that will destroy Reiltar in the end, Shann thought, remembering the youth she had known briefly when she was last in Baldur's Gate. I wonder if Sarev will be happy to see me.
Crouching on a thin ledge, Shann peered into a large, sparsely decorated room. A muscular man, clad in a simple dark tunic, sat at his desk studying old battle records. Shann muttered an incantation under her breath, and smiled when the man looked up, every muscle visibly tensing, when a light thump sounded just outside his door. He looked longingly towards his armour, but settled for speed, and simply picked up a large sword, nearly as long as he was, and moved beside the door, ready to ambush whoever came through.
"Wrong move, Sarev," Shann called merrily from her perch. Sarevok whirled with his sword raised, then relaxed when he recognized the grinning girl who was climbing in to his room.
"Shann Drowkiller!" he shouted happily, "I knew you didn't die in that explosion." Shann just looked smug, and Sarevok gestured in the direction the noise had come from. "How?" he asked.
"Simple spell of misdirection, you've no idea how useful that one has been," Shann explained as she seated herself on Sarevok's desk. "Oh, and I've dropped the Drowkiller, I call myself Lightfoot now."
"Why the name change?"
"I'm done with killing Drow," she said, as she unconsciously clasped a pouch that hung from her waist. "I never did tell you that my owners were Drow," she added, answering Sarevok's unspoken question.
"You've grown up quite a bit," Shann said to change the subject. Sarevok was indeed almost a foot taller than the last time she had seen him.
"And you, um, haven't." Sarevok said, and laughed when Shann glared at him. He knew she never did like being shorter than most of the humans she dealt with.
"Word on the street is that Sarevok Anchev is building himself a private little army," Shann stated.
"I will be strong, in time I will control the Iron throne itself," Sarevok said.
"You mean, you will help destroy the corruption that lies within the Iron throne," Shann said, startled by Sarevok's passionate declaration.
"Corruption?" Sarevok said, wrinkling his brow with confusion.
"Yes, the corruption that allows the cruelty of men like Reiltar to destroy lives with no retribution," Shann said, summing up statements Sarevok had made years ago.
"Oh, yes, that too," Sarevok said, after staring at her blankly for a moment. "But, most of all, I want the Iron Throne under my command
"To what end?"
"For power, and control!" Sarevok said, his eyes shining with desire.
"What about justice? You used to want power because of what you could do with it," Shann said sharply. "Now it sounds like power has become an end in itself."
"I deserve to rule!" Sarevok said wildly. "I am destined to become a god, and all shall be beneath me."
Shann looked searchingly at Sarevok. For a moment, she wondered if he was playing some sort of strange game, but one look at the intense fire in his eyes convinced her he was speaking in earnest. Actually, Sarevok sounded insane. What did he mean about becoming a god? She looked around the room and saw his armour on its stand. It was an unusual design that had long spikes decorating it.
"Your armour," she said, "the spikes are not exactly practical. Actually, it almost looks like…" her voice trailed off. It looked like Bhaal's armour that he wore when he had come to Shann in dreams. Now that the thought had come to her, Shann found that if she concentrated she could sense the Bhaaltaint in Sarevok. It was guiding him, pushing him towards chaos and bloodlust.
"Sarevok," she said quietly. "Power is not a goal in itself. I know Bhaal is seductive, but his sort of strength is without justice, or mercy."
"Ah, now I understand," Sarevok said, and it seemed he was listening to an inner voice. A dangerous glint came into his eyes. For a moment Shann thought he would attack her, but he calmed down and almost seemed like the old Sarevok. "Sister, could you have destroyed those Drow masters of yours without the power Bhaal gave you?"
"No," Shann said truthfully. "But it did not stop there." She hated admitting it, but she had to. Haltingly, she told Sarevok about her actions in the Drow colony. She had been eager to embrace Bhaal, and even now had a hard time explaining to Sarevok why she thought Bhaal's promises were nothing but seductive lies, designed to ultimately destroy the one who believes them.
"By the end the Bhaaltaint started driving me to prey on the slaves, not just the masters. I would have slain an infant without remorse. Bhaal was the god of murder, and the bloodlust cares not for justice or right and wrong. Death is all that matters," Shann stated, but was afraid her voice lacked conviction. How can I convince Sarevok to renounce Bhaal, when part of me still desperately longs to embrace him again?
"You were weak, sister. I control my Bhaalblood, and with it I shall reign supreme," Sarevok said with confidence. "If you chose to throw away your chance at power, that was your loss," he looked at Shann, and then smiled. "But I am glad that your rejection of our Father's gifts means that I will not have to fight you, my friend. There can only be one successor to Bhaal, you know. Perhaps you can stay and aid in my rise to glory?"
"I might do that," Shann said thoughtfully. "But first, I have a last bit of business to do. It may take a while but I will be back."
Before she left on her journey, Shann let Jarond know she was going away. "You were right," she told him. "Listening to Bhaal is a mistake. This time it is not me who is making the mistake, though, and I have to try to find out more about my heritage for the sake of my brother."
Shann searched the cities of the sword coast for information on ways to shield Sarevok from Bhaal's influence. Neither the arcane libraries, nor the temples, yielded any helpful knowledge. Little was known about the Bhaalspawn, and what information she could find was usually based on the prophecies of Alaundo. Reluctantly, Shann decided to go to the library founded by Alaundo himself. They live and breathe Alaundo's prophecies there, no doubt the monks will suspect I know a Bhaalspawn. I cannot let them identify Sarevok through me. They may try to destroy him; to prevent the chaos the Bhaalspawn are fated to bring.
Business was slow at the Friendly Arms Inn, just a few regulars drinking their way to forgetfulness, when Shann walked in. Her confident stride masked an inner turmoil. Can they see through my disguise? Surely it will not work, any moment now I will hear the laughter start. She stifled a sigh of relief when most patrons just glanced at her once, and then looked away. Shann was wearing a weather-beaten cloak, and carried no visible weapons. All she wanted the denizens of the inn to see when the looked at her was a dark complexioned, bearded man. That's right, she thought, watching the humans dismiss her. I'm harmless. Humans often underestimate the abilities of those that are shorter than themselves. Shann made no effort to engage any of the customers at the bar as she ate a quick meal before renting a modest room for the night.
The innkeeper looked pleased the next morning when Shann requested a private bath. Most patrons used the common bathhouse and the extra charge he could get for privacy was welcome. After scrubbing a week's worth of travel grime away, Shann began to dress. She sighed as she tightly bound her breasts again. This was not one of my better ideas, Shann thought. I know I want to enter Candlekeep in secret but I really hate having to grow my beard out and pretend to be a man. But it's going to be dangerous enough searching for information on the Bhaalspawn prophecies without being identified now or later. Gods forbid anyone finds out I'm a Bhaalspawn myself.
She frowned, and since she lacked a mirror, cast a mirror image and inspected herself. A hard-eyed male human, of indeterminate age, neither young nor old, stared back at her. Shann sighed, it might be useful for a disguise, but her shoulder-length greying hair and bushy black beard made her look much older than her seventeen years. I suppose I'm lucky my voice is deeper than most women's voices. Actually, she smiled, I'm lucky I'm half-dwarf, I don't think I could ever pull this off without the beard to mask my face; an illusion would be sure to be spotted by the Candlekeep wards.
Shann dispelled her magical duplicates, and then grimaced. Once she had learned magic as a means to kill more effectively. Now, after losing much she had learned before, Shann had painstakingly relearned the most basic of her old spells, only to use them in the most frivolous manner. This is much more fun, she realized, and her grimace turned into a grin.
A short time later, Shann walked up to the Candlekeep gate. The gatekeeper saw a middle-aged man wearing the robes of a wizard and a travel cape with a hood. Before he could ask, Shann offered a book for the entrance fee. One of the rarest I could steal from the Baldur's Gate library, she thought, it had better be acceptable. Once inside, Shann introduced herself as the scholar Tallman and let it be known that she was researching the prophecies of Alaundo about the Bhaalspawn. There is no point in hiding the fact, I doubt my use of the library will be unmonitored, Shann reasoned.
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Shann's movements were indeed being monitored, and by more than the Candlekeep guards too. Two young teenagers were hiding in the shadows, and raptly watching the stranger. At least, they thought they were hiding, the people of Candlekeep were used to ignoring Gorion's wards when they played their games of stealth. At fifteen, the sandy-haired, serious looking youth Tiswash was bored with his normal life and relished any change to the routine. His best friend, the much more mischievous Imoen, was interested too, but her focus was different. "Did you see the way he favoured that black pouch of his?" She asked.
"Immy, it's just a money pouch."
"I'll bet it's more than that, maybe jewels or something even better."
"Immy," he groaned. "Do not try robbing the stranger. You know what happened the last time you attempted something like that."
"It's not like I ever keep anything, I just like looking at the pretty baubles," she pouted, but privately resolved to keep an eye on Tallman. Imoen loved the challenge of planning a successful pickpocket.
Imoen was at first excited by the prospect of watching Tallman in secret, but soon grew bored when he showed no signs of doing anything remotely interesting. Tallman spent days in the library, restlessly roaming the shelves, studying book after book. Some he opened, and discarded almost at once, others he studied intently. He never seemed to find what he was looking for, and often frowned or sighed after closing yet another book.
The only time he looked the least bit happy was when his fingers roamed over the contents of his black pouch. Try as she might, Imoen could not identify the baubles. They were not jewels, although from the shape they looked as though they could be some strange sort of runes or amulets. Imoen looked up as Gorion entered the library and approached Tallman. She shrank back, and then carefully sidled up close to the table where the two men were now sitting, so she could hear what they talked about.
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"Greetings, Tallman, Have you found what you were searching for?" Gorion asked Shann.
"It's all rubbish!" Shann answered angrily. "All those prophecies about the Bhaalspawn written by Alaundo tell me nothing useful. A score of mortal progeny …, shall murder one another …, one shall reign supreme …, not one hint at how to help a Bhaalspawn fight that supposed destiny of sowing chaos and murder!"
Gorion's eyes widened slightly, "Help a Bhaalspawn? Then I take it your interest is not purely a scholastic one. You know of a Bhaalspawn?"
"Yes," Shann admitted. "I think I might, a young lad I've known for years. He's changed, become more chaotic and bloodthirsty. I think it's the influence of Bhaal. I don't know how to help him." It is the truth, Shann thought. I don't need to mention my own Bhaalspawn nature; it really is Sarevok I'm here to help. Grandmother shielded me from Father's influence, but I cannot find a way to do the same for Sarev.
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Tallman knows an actual Bhaalspawn? Imoen thought with fascination. What a tragic character that Bhaalspawn must be. Born to a destiny of murder. It's almost like he's in one of those tales of heroism and adventure. She shivered with delight. And Tallman, he's working so hard to thwart a prophecy of doom. How perfectly heroic.
Imoen was concentrating on watching Gorion and the intriguing stranger, Tallman, and did not notice Tiswash come up behind her. She barely muffled a yelp when he put a hand on her shoulder. Imoen knew better than to protest when he dragged her deeper into the library stacks.
"Imoen, are you out of your mind?" Tiswash asked. "You don't spy on Gorion. It's just one of those things," he said as he ran his hand nervously through his hair. "You never, ever, do."
"Ya worry too much," Imoen said breezily, "I was just looking for a book. Is it my fault if I happened to overhear some really interesting things?" She looked at Tiswash expectantly, but he only looked sternly at her. Imoen sighed, "I'll tell you anyway. Tallman knows a Bhaalspawn. Isn't that the most exciting news ever?" she whispered.
Imoen let Tiswash lead her out of the library, but crept back in after he left. She waited patiently until Gorion left, and Tallman got up to search the stacks for more books. Pretending to read a book, Imoen bumped into Tallman and deftly swiped his pouch. She apologized to him, and then strolled leisurely out of the library. Imoen was feeling very proud of herself, but she did not see Tallman turn invisible and start to follow her.
Tiswash had not been happy when Imoen rushed into his room brandishing her stolen treasure. Despite his disapproval, he could not resist looking over the contents of Tallman's pouch. Neither Imoen nor Tiswash could figure out what the strange symbols were.
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Shann followed Imoen and marvelled that an adolescent's room could be as pristine and orderly as this one. She leaned against a wall, cloaked by her spell of invisibility, and watched the two chattering friends. She smiled at the sight of their puzzlement, and knew they would never identify her treasures.
"They're Drow house insignia," Shann said, and resisted the urge to laugh when both youths yelped with surprise. She dropped her invisibility shield, and started putting the insignia back into her pouch.
Tiswash looked at her suspiciously. "Why would you be carrying symbols of the Dark Elves?"
Shann smiled as she tied her pouch back on. "I'm not working for them, if that foolish thought has entered your head. Each insignia belonged to a Drow noble I killed."
Imoen's eyes were round as she looked at Shann with awe. "There are eight symbols here. You've personally slain eight Drow?"
"Oh more than that," Shann said carelessly. "I've no symbols for the commoners I destroyed." Or the children, she thought, with a touch of guilt
Imoen looked impressed, but Tiswash frowned. "Do you mean to say," he said with a look of distaste. "That you have been gloating over trophies." Shann was confused, since she did not see why that bothered him. Tiswash saw the look of incomprehension and continued. "Why didn't you just take the ears of the slain as proof of your prowess?"
"That would be barbaric!" Shann protested, and then realized that to Tiswash the insignia were equally as barbaric. "How dare you presume to judge me!" Shann bristled. "You who have had such an easy life. The Drow deserved to die!"
"Maybe so," Tiswash admitted. "But you harm yourself by gloating over dead enemies. Such obsession with death and the past can hinder your actions today."
"Why you pompous young fool!" Shann said, ignoring the fact that she herself was not more than a couple years older than Tiswash. "Perhaps you should preach to your larcenous young friend. In parts of Toril she could lose a hand for a bungled theft like the one she pulled on me." Shann stormed out of the room before either Tiswash or Imoen could respond to her last statement.
After that incident, both Imoen and Tiswash were careful to stay out of Tallman's way for the duration of his visit. Nevertheless, they still found themselves watching when he left a few days later. Tiswash wondered if one so filled with anger as Tallman could help a Bhaalspawn overcome his own dark nature. Imoen cheered him up a little when she whispered that Tallman had thrown his pouch of trophies away.
As she left Candlekeep behind her, Shann wondered why Tiswash had annoyed her so much. He sounded like Grandmother, she finally realized, she always preached forgiveness too. I was wrong to view my actions with pride. It may have been right to kill the masters, but I must not gloat over any deaths, or Father will control me again.