25th Day of Coldeven, 565 CY

Wooly Bay

(60 miles southeast of Safeton)

The knock on the door snapped Aslan out of his lethargy.

The paladin scowled and narrowed his eyes as he stared at the door to the spartan cabin. He slowly rose from the wooden bench he had been sitting on and pressed his lips together. He said nothing.

The knocking repeated. A series of five knocks, a short pause, and two knocks.

Aslan pushed the air out of his lungs, blowing his lips. He strode over to the door and opened it, his head already inclined upwards at the proper angle to look directly into the auburn eyes of Argo Bigfellow, Jr.

The ranger stood there, a (for him) relatively mild smile on his face. In each hand, he held a carrot.

Aslan crossed his arms across his chest.

"You realize if I'd been mindresting, you'd be overboard by now."

Argo inclined his head, his eyes twinkling. "But we're all healed up now, so I know you weren't. Unless you've been polymorphing into strange forms for devious and unnatural purposes."

The paladin didn't feel like playing this game today. He glanced down at the deck as he spoke, his voice sharp. "Do you have a purpose for bothering me, Argo?"

"Believe it or not, yes," came the response. "Here."

A carrot flew into Aslan's field of view. He fumbled but managed to catch it. He stared at it for a moment, and then stared back up at Argo.

The ranger assumed a patient expression.

"It's called a carrot, Aslan. You eat it, and it provides sustenance for your body. We rangers have special knowledge that when people don't eat for- what's it now, two days? They may actually develop a need for food."

Aslan stared coldly at Argo. "I've had quite enough of these already. I'm not a rabbit, Argo."

"Then what are you?"

The question caught Aslan by surprise. He peered at Argo's face, but Bigfellow looked deadly serious now.

"Because you sure aren't acting like a paladin."

Aslan's hand tightened around the carrot. He briefly considered throwing it back at Argo, but the ranger had stealthily moved forward so that he stood in the doorway and was too close to Aslan now for that. So instead he whirled around and strode back into the cabin.

"What the hell do you know about how a paladin acts?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the far cabin wall.

He heard Bigfellow enter behind him. The sound of creaking wood followed as Argo eased his large frame onto the wooden bench. When Aslan turned around, Argo was looking straight at him.

"Then enlighten me. How do they act?"

There was a long pause. Aslan looked back at the wall, unable to meet the ranger's gaze.

"Well, for starters," he said in a low voice, "They protect the innocent."

"No. They don't."

Aslan whirled around. Argo was still gazing at him, his expression devoid of any humor whatsoever.

"They try to protect the innocent. Sometimes they succeed, and sometimes they fail."

The paladin's scowl returned. "Stop trying to make me feel better, Argo. It isn't working, and frankly I resent it."

Argo shot up to his feet and strode up to Aslan, so that they were face-to-face.

"I'm not trying to make you feel better, Aslan! I'm trying to tell you the truth! We all have to come to grips with what happened to Tad!"

"You weren't there when he begged me to let him come with us!" Aslan shouted. "He begged me, dammit! He-"

"Tad wasn't an innocent, Aslan."

Shocked, Aslan could say nothing. He just stood there and blinked.

Argo raised a hand in an explanatory gesture. "He was a warrior! Yes, he was a child, but he was a fighter, too! We'd all made that decision long ago! He wanted to be one of us, and we agreed! Tell me, Aslan- why did Tad want to come with us? Was it because he was afraid to be left behind at the Brass Dragon, or was it just because he wanted to be with us; to be where the action was?"

The paladin was still silent.

Argo continued, more quietly now. "Nodyath took him under the very noses of the Sir Dorbin party. Do you really think it would have made any difference if we had been there, as well?"

Aslan remembered that night he had spent alone in his cabin.

"No," he whispered. "It wouldn't have." He looked back at the ranger. "But he's still alive, Argo. I know it in my heart."

"You said the sending you received from Monsrek two days ago indicated that divinations could not locate Tad, right?"

Aslan nodded. "It's The Emerald Serpent. I'm sure of it. They have him. I'd guess that their lair has powerful shieldings against divination." His expression pained. "But we can't do anything about it! We turned due north several days ago, right? So we're not heading for Fax, or Safeton, or any city on the Wild Coast!"

Argo agreed. "Thrumb is saying either Hardby or Greyhawk now."

Aslan clenched his fists.

"And if we don't stop at Greyhawk, we're into the Nyr Dyv! We might be going all the way back to Willip!" He looked back at the ranger. "Every second might be crucial, and we're trapped here on this ship until we dock!"

"You're not." Bigfellow's response was quiet but firm.

Aslan rolled his eyes. "You know I can't leave, Argo! I wouldn't be able to teleport back to-"

"Then don't!" The ranger's voice grew louder. "Go to Willip and look for him! We'll be fine! We'll meet up with you sooner or later- pack your holy symbol and go!"

Now it was the paladin's turn to grow quiet. "I can't do that, Argo."

He expected Argo to ask, "Why not?" but Bigfellow's silent expression held both the question and, Aslan knew, the answer.

The paladin gazed back out the open door. "Because this isn't over yet. Talass is still worried over her vision. Anything could happen to us here on the high seas. I won't feel safe until we make port." He looked over at Argo, his eyes moist. "I have to make a decision and live with it. I have to…" and here his voice choked up, "I have to try and save those that I can, instead of those that I might."

Slowly, Aslan lowered himself back onto the bench and lowered his face into his hands. He felt tired. So tired.

He felt Argo's hand on his shoulder.

It was the touch of a friend.

The ranger's voice was soft.

"I'm not an expert on these matters Aslan, but I do believe that's exactly how a paladin is supposed to act."

When Aslan lifted his head, Argo was already back at the doorway.

"Eat," the ranger said, the mild smile back in place now. "You'll feel better."

The paladin made a sour face but bit into the carrot, chewed and swallowed. "Tastes a little better than the others, I suppose." He gave his friend a half-smile. "Must be missing that guilt aftertaste."

Argo's mild smile widened into his mischievous one.

"Hey- watch this!" he told Aslan and then tossed his carrot in the air and maneuvered under it, his mouth opened as wide as it could go. The orange spear landed right on target, burying itself in Bigfellow's throat almost up to the root. The ranger spread his arms wide, took a bow, and said something that might have been "Ta-daah!" had not the carrot prevented it.

Aslan shook his head as Argo removed the vegetable. "That's you all over, Bigfellow. Amazing, and yet totally pointless."

"Pointless?" Argo asked slyly. "Oh, I don't know." He gave Aslan a wink.

"Just wait until I teach it to Caroline."

He took a big bite out of the carrot as he walked away.

"I hope she learns that part, too!" Aslan yelled after Argo, and slammed the door shut after him. He looked back at the bare walls, and then stopped dead as he realized what he had just said. His eyes grew wide with embarrassment as he turned his head towards the ceiling.

"Lord Odin," he began. "If I am still a paladin in your sight, then you truly are All-Forgiving."

Elrohir stood on deck amidships. He was again staring upwards at the main mast.

"Still trying to remember where you've seen it before?"

The ranger started. He hadn't known Talass had come up behind him. He gave her a weak smile of agreement, then returned his gaze to the purple banner that flew atop the mast.

It bore a silver insignia of three moons. One full, one waxing, and one waning.

"I don't recognize it," Elrohir said, trying to find the right words, "But I feel… that I should, or that I will, or… something. I don't know." He returned his gaze to Talass. "It looks somewhat like the symbol of the elven goddess Sehanine Moonbow, but there are differences. Perhaps an offshoot," he shrugged.

Talass was curious. "I've not heard that name. What position does this goddess hold for the elves?"

Elrohir thought, remembering. "She is the Daughter of the Night Skies, consort to Corellon Larethian. She is the Keeper of Dreams and Revelations."

His wife considered. "Seems propitious. Perhaps there is a connection, after all."

Elrohir turned back to her. "She also guides the spirits of elves who have died."

Talass was silent.

"How fascinating," came a sarcastic voice behind them.

The pair turned. The Slave Lord, still sitting within his proscribed circle around the mizzenmast, leered up at them, his former confidence returned. A smug smile rested on that babyish face.

Talass' hand went to the haft of her war hammer. "Not as fascinating as the pretty patterns your brains will make splayed out on deck if you don't shut your useless mouth," she snarled. "Say something useful for once, why don't you?"

Their prisoner raised an eyebrow. "How about this? All your heroics to date have been for naught. Markessa will simply establish a new base for incoming slaves, either in Highport or elsewhere. I do hope the death of this "Tad" elf you speak of was not too high a price to pay for your foolishness."

Elrohir had to restrain Talass as she drew her hammer and started to advance on the Slave Lord. "Talass! Dearest! No! He's baiting us! Don't fall for it!"

Talass struggled for a moment in her husband's arms, then stopped and breathed deeply, her blue eyes refocusing. "You're right. Of course. But I can understand Sarkos' desire. This man is fit for nothing but-"

"Care to tell us anything about this Markessa?" the ranger asked their captive, cutting his wife off.

The Slave Lord smiled that infuriating smile again. "Not really. But I do truly hope you return to the stockade in an attempt to finish her off."

Elrohir looked suspiciously at him. "Why?"

The rogue gazed at him with a superior, patronizing expression. "Because I will enjoy hearing the news of your deaths."