Chapter 6: The Mayor
Rana
"I can feel you staring at me," Rana sighed as she continued fletching arrows at her desk, her back to the door and the man standing there.
"Just making sure you're still alive."
"I've been in my room all night, with the door wide open, as you know because this the seventh time you've looked in on me. You're being a tad bit dramatic."
"I thought you were dead for good this time, Rana. I saw the area where you fought that barbarian. I saw the wounds you suffered from it. We couldn't wake you. Sarevok couldn't reach you. So get used to it."
Shaking her head, Rana set aside her arrows. Rising slowly to her feet, she turned around to look at her friend, her hand lightly grasping the back of the chair for support.
Even though she'd slept for two days straight, she felt as if she'd been fighting that entire time instead. Her legs were still a little wobbly, and she found herself spacing out for minutes at a time without realizing she was doing it. She knew this was only temporary, and she just needed to eat and take things easy for a day, which is why she'd allowed Valygar, Chauntia, and Mezoar to dose her up with food just after waking. And why she was upstairs making arrows, patiently waiting for the dawn and the rest of her companions to either wake or come back from watch.
"Do you wanna help me?"
Valygar straightened from where he'd been leaning against the doorframe and grabbed one of the spare chairs that had been used by those taking vigil while she'd slept. Setting it down next to hers, he wordlessly began picking up the crow feathers she preferred to use and cutting them in half, lengthwise. Rana sank back down in her chair and went back to notching the shafts.
They worked like this for a little while, neither saying a word, except for the occasional muttered oath when their hands slipped or their hair dropped in their eyes. It was a companionable silence at first, both content in having something to do and relishing the silence. Before long, though, Rana took notice of the tension slowly winding up in the set of his shoulders and the in way his breathing got huffier.
"Can I ask you something?" He asked after eventually throwing down his knife and resting his elbows on the desk to rub at his eyes.
"'Course," she replied, tossing the shaft she'd just finished notching aside and taking up another.
Reaching over, he plucked it out of her hands and set it down, half turning in his seat to face her.
"I want you to look at me when you answer."
Raising an eyebrow, she leaned back in her chair and tilted her head at him.
"Okay. You have my attention."
"Chauntia told me that just before Imoen barged into the room earlier this evening and called Sarevok out, he told her that the reason he couldn't reach you is because 'he's keeping me out'. Who is 'he', Rana?"
Rana sighed and slouched further in her chair, her knees hitting his.
This was a conversation that she'd been dreading to have. And as much as she wanted to lie, she was still waiting on the backlash from the others about her murdering Ara'stacia, the barbarian's mate, and lying about that. She couldn't say she'd learned her lesson, exactly, but she had entangled herself in a web of untruths so thoroughly that adding even more strands to it was unnecessarily stupid.
"Cyric."
"Cyric? The Dark Sun is responsible for you not waking up?"
"Yes."
Valygar studied her face for a moment then growled something beneath his breath that she didn't catch, but it sounded like a curse.
"How long has this been going on? Or was this the first contact you've had with him?"
"Since that visit to the temple."
"And why didn't you say anything?"
"Seriously? How do you think the others would react to me telling them that the reigning Lord of Murder has been speaking to me in my sleep? They already don't trust me anymore, you think they'd still follow me if they found that out?"
"I'm not talking about the others, Rana, I'm talking about me!" He snapped, startling her. "I am not the others. I don't abandon people over something they can't control. I won't abandon you! I don't know how to help you against something like this, but damnit I definitely can't help if I don't even know what's going on!"
Rana folded her arms across her stomach and looked away.
"I thought you weren't coming back," he whispered. "You killed the Barbarian, so I had no one to take vengeance on, nothing to do but wait and hope, and feel absolutely helpless while doing so."
"And how would knowing that Cyric was responsible for keeping me unconscious have helped? What could you have done with that information?" She murmured, not looking at him because the anguish in his eyes made her feel uncomfortably ashamed for leaving him in the dark.
Reaching out, he ran a finger down a lock of her hair before smoothing it behind her ear, and surprised by the contact, she turned back to look at him.
"Nothing, obviously. I can't fight a god. But, dammit Rana, if he'd taken you, and I knew who to blame, it would have given me something to fight for. I have nothing if you're gone."
That last sentence was spoken so softly she almost missed it.
"Val…"
She'd never hugged him before. Rarely did she initiate any sort of physical affection with anyone other than Imoen, and Sarevok only recently. But she found herself leaning into him, and then sliding her arms around his waist when he pulled her closer.
He rested his chin on her head and sighed. She nuzzled her face against his chest and closed her eyes. Neither moved for a moment or two, content to hold and be held.
"So, you gonna start being a little more open with me?" He asked her quietly.
She pulled back just enough to look him in the face.
"Yes, you manipulative bastard," she sighed.
He gave her a small smirk and tousled her hair, which made her duck away and growl at him.
"Hey, you don't get to be grumpy that I guilt tripped you and then worked my charm on you to soften you up."
"Uh, why's that?"
"Because I said so."
Rana bared her teeth at him, but just before she could lay down her righteous hammer of elbow jabs, someone at the door cleared their throat. They turned to look, and saw Anomen glaring into the room, his eyes flashing with bitter fury.
"Busted," Valygar whispered, making Rana cough to hide a laugh.
"Sir Anomen?" She inquired.
"There's a dwarf here to see you, unless you'd like me to tell him you're too busy," he sneered, flicking a scathing glance at Valygar.
Rolling her eyes, and glancing out the window in surprise that the sun had risen without her realizing it, she got to her feet and grabbed her sword belt before buckling it around her hips. This was probably about her overdue meeting with the Mayor, but she wasn't about to go anywhere unarmed.
"I'm coming," she told the knight, and he jerked a nod and stormed off.
"He's really going to be in for a surprise when he learns that it's not me he should be jealous of," Valygar chuckled.
"Which could be any moment now," Rana replied sourly.
As she'd sat downstairs eating dinner, shortly after being pulled out of sleep, Imoen had walked through the front door, walked past the dining room, stopped, took a few steps back, and looked in to see Rana sitting at the table.
The sisters had stared at one another for a moment, and Rana pretended not to see Imoen's valiant effort to keep her emotions from showing on her face.
"You're awake."
"Yep."
"How?"
"Decided it was time to get up, I guess," Rana replied around a mouthful of potatoes. "Sorry if I worried you."
"Jaheira knows."
"Jaheira knows what?" Rana had asked, raising an eyebrow.
"About you and Sarevok. And you worshipping Mask. She went to talk to Keldorn."
Her food had suddenly turned into a cold, hard lump in her stomach. Keldorn already knew about her and Sarevok, somewhat, but news of her following the god of shadows would be alarming to him. Nevermind the kind of fallout she expected from Jaheira.
"I see," was all she replied.
"So are you gonna tell Jaheira that I'm responsible for Khalid's mutilation and death? You said you would if I let your little secret slip."
"No, I won't tell her."
Imoen's surprise shone through the mask she had been trying to maintain.
"Why?"
"Because I'm not in a petty kind of mood. I'll deal with what you set in motion, sis. Thank you for warning me."
Her sister had opened her mouth to respond, then shut it and looked down at something she held in her hand. When Imoen looked back up at her, she looked a little sad. And resolved. Without another word, she'd left and gone up to her room.
"What are you going to do when they find out?" Valygar's voice gently pulled Rana back to the present.
"Nothing. The question isn't what I'm gonna do. It's what are they gonna do."
"And if they leave? Or demand Sarevok's removal from this party?"
"Where will they go, Val? We're well into Autumn, and it's a cold one, early snows will be filling up mountain passes any day now. Armies are gathering and moving, it's dangerous to try and go it alone. They'll see that. They can bitch and moan, they can scream about the fact that he's my brother, and they can rant about my lying to them about some things. At the end of the day, though, they're stuck with me. And the sooner this war ends, the sooner they can leave."
Valygar said nothing, just watched her throw her cloak on to keep the chill out, and ensure her knives were in their proper places.
"And if things turn violent?" He eventually asked.
Rana turned around to look at him.
"You said you have nothing if I'm gone. If that's really the case, Val, and I don't think it is by the way, then I hope you'll help me if things go south."
Going downstairs, and keeping her hand on the railing to ensure she didn't tumble down them since her legs were still a little shaky, she noted the sounds of Mezoar bustling around the kitchen and Chauntia setting the table.
"Rana? Are you hungry? Breakfast is ready."
"I'm late for an appointment, I'll eat when I get back."
Chauntia peeked around the dining room doorway at her, then put her hand on her hip.
"Do I need to request backup from Valygar to get you to eat? You need your strength."
Rana huffed, trying to look annoyed, but her amusement leaked through.
"You'd like that wouldn't you, Chauntia? Glad to see you've mustered up the courage to talk to him finally, though."
Chauntia glanced away, trying to hide a smile.
"It seems we have a mutual interest, worrying about you."
"Relationships have been built on far weaker foundations than that," Rana grinned. "I'll eat when I get back, I promise."
Rana opened the front door before Chauntia could argue further, and stopped short as the dwarf from the temple stood just outside, scowling around a smoking pipe in his mouth.
"Ach, there ye are. Was beginning ta think yon pompous human didnae tell ye I was here."
"Sorry to have missed the meeting with the Mayor the other day, I was-"
"Doona care what yer excuse is. I'm sure it's a good one, now come on, I don't have all blasted day. Wait, where's the tall one ye was with before?"
"Um, Sarevok? He's-"
"Mayor insists he comes, too. Go fetch him, elf, and we can be on our way."
Fetch?
Taking a deep breath to keep from snapping at the insolent dwarf, Rana tried to compose herself just enough to explain that Sarevok wouldn't be coming. He'd left to bury Winski hours ago and when he returned he went straight into his room, without a word to anyone. She also didn't want to see him again right now.
Too much had happened too fast for her to think about.
Story of my life.
She'd told him she was done with him because of his desire to bring their father back. Because it was yet another obvious grab for power. But she'd decided to commit to bringing him back, anyway. That didn't negate the original reason she felt betrayed. Nor did it necessarily mean she was still angry about it. Between her sister, Sarevok, Winski's unexpected sacrifice, the incoming confrontation with her companions, Cyric, Bhaal… Rana was officially tapped out emotionally.
"Look, he's not here, so either you take me to the Mayor right now or we call this meeting off. I'm not-"
"Let's go."
Rana jumped and whirled around to see Sarevok coming down the stairs, throwing his sheathed sword across his back, looking tired but recently bathed.
"Good," the dwarf nodded, and spun on his heel to begin marching towards town.
Rana followed the dwarf and Sarevok followed her. About three seconds after they'd left her house behind, the dwarf began rambling on about the repairs being made to the town after the drow raid. About the mines needing to be reopened- like that'll ever happen, what with the fact they're likely crawling with drow- and the influx of refugees and mercenary parties.
"I never did tell ye me name, did I? Grim Grumbler. I'd say it's nice te see ye again but that would be a lie. Don't much care for the company of elves and other tall folk. At least yer quiet this time. Can't abide all the yapping yer type usually does."
Rana gritted her teeth and fantasized about stuffing Grim's beard in his own mouth to shut him up. After a few moments, her temper under control, she realized how unusually quiet Sarevok was being. When she glanced back at him, he was scanning their surroundings. Feeling her eyes on him, he looked at her, eyebrow raised in question. She slowed her steps until they were walking side by the side, the dwarf still talking just ahead of them.
Though she didn't entirely feel up to it, she knew she needed to say something.
"I'm sorry about Winski."
"No, you're not," he replied, and she glanced sharply up at him in confusion. "You said you would kill him if you saw him again. And you kept your word."
"I didn't kill him!" Rana hissed, surprised by the accusation. "I didn't ask him to do what he did! I didn't want that kind of sacrifice!"
"And yet he gave it. I lost you in an effort to seek our father's aid, and yes, his power as well, during and after this war. And then I lost Winski, right after finding out he was alive, when he gave his life to save you from Cyric. I should be used to losing by now."
His words made her chest ache and her throat burn. This wasn't at all what she had been expecting.
"You didn't lose me…"
The words were out before she'd even thought them through, but a panic had begun to set in the moment he spoke of losing her.
"Did I not? You told me you were done, Rana. I could sense, from the moment I told you of my former mentor's return, you withdrawing from me. You were afraid of the possibilities that could come from our reunion. That I would be seduced by a renewed chance for power. You needed only the meeting with Winski to confirm it."
"Was I wrong?"
"Yes and no. I won't deny that the thought of having our father's favor is appealing to me. But my immediate concern was you. If Bhaal can help us fight Cyric, and keep him from meddling with your mind, then that alone would have been enough to convince me of returning him."
"You've been power hungry all your life. Forgive me for getting my hopes up that you'd finally let that go. And not immediately believing that you wanting Bhaal's favor was predominantly for my benefit and not your own."
"Tell me, Rana, what do you think sparked my lust for power? What was my motivation in the very beginning? Who was it that I longed to protect? When we were children, why did I desire to be stronger than those around me?"
Rana withdrew the dagger from her boot and began to spin it between her fingers, not looking at him.
She hadn't ever considered that his power hungry nature had stemmed from her. From their childhood. She should have. It was all there, laid out before her, and it was blindingly obvious.
"Imoen told Jaheira about us," she found herself saying, wanting to change the subject.
"Did she? A pity that knowledge is useless now."
His dismissive response felt like a knife in the gut. She'd meant her words, about being done with him. Or rather, she'd meant them at the time. She'd also been expecting him to fight her on it, to see straight through her anger and fear like he always did. That he let her go so easily, right when everything else was about to crash down around her, only magnified that panicked feeling.
Seducing her hadn't been easy, she liked to think, and their bond wasn't like others', so for him to just bluntly remind her that they were through… it stung. More than that, it ushered the return of the loneliness that had slowly been consuming her these past few years.
"Or did you speak in haste?" He drawled, and even though she stared straight ahead, she could feel his gaze boring into her. "Was that your anger talking when you said that? You speak of what you consider to be my flaws as if you don't have your fair share of them, as well. You sounded sincere when you told me you were done. And now you bring up the fact that your friends are about to find out the truth. Afraid to be judged for something you yourself ended? Does the thought of standing before them, without me at your side, make you uncomfortable? Tell me, little one, was I worth it?"
Her knife spun faster in her hand. The words were there on her tongue, but her lips refused to move. Her pride keeping them shut.
"I see," he rumbled. "Perhaps when the rest find out, you can convince them you had a moment, or several moments, of weakness. And that sharing my bed is no longer a concern. It should come as a comfort, though, that you are left with far more than I am, as is the usual. You'll have your sister back, at least."
"And if I told you it was in anger?" She blurted out, forcing the words out around the lump in her throat and the burning pit of guilt in her stomach. "That I don't mean it now? And that… that maybe I've come to the conclusion that bringing Bhaal back is the wisest thing to do?"
Sarevok stopped walking. She stopped, too, and turned to look at him.
"Then Winski's death was in vain. Had your faith in me been stronger, you wouldn't have pounced on the idea that I craved power more than I crave you. You wouldn't have stormed off, like a spoiled child, and gotten yourself ambushed and nearly killed. You wouldn't have been made vulnerable to Cyric, forcing Winski to kill himself just to wake you up."
Rana swallowed and crossed her arms over her stomach, hating that he was right.
You poison everything around you and everything you touch.
Imoen's words just before she'd left for that temple. Each day that passed was proof of how right she'd been. The idea that she had somehow managed to taint Sarevok, as well, would have been laughable if the implications didn't twist her up inside.
"You said he was already dying, that Melissan had cursed him."
"So it's best he died saving you rather than wasting away? Do you think yourself so important that his sacrifice was justified?"
"I didn't say that-"
"Enough of this," he snapped, and pushed past her to continue following the dwarf. "Speak no more of Winski to me, Rana, I'm warning you."
Rana stared after him a moment, completely at a loss for words, her chest aching. Blinking away a sudden stinging in her eyes, she noticed a familiar figure disappearing into the Sawtooth Inn.
The Hell is Anomen doing? Sun's barely up and he's already drinking?
Just thinking about alcohol made her crave it. So much so that she forgot about Winski telling her he had left books, and a letter, back in his room there at the inn.
Resisting the urge to join the knight in chasing oblivion, she forced herself to follow Sarevok and the dwarf, promising herself to remedy her sobriety as soon as they went home.
"Not much further," Grim growled back at them, leading them down a small side road and toward the rocky face of the mountain that the town was built up against.
Rana tried to turn her attention to the meeting with the mysterious Mayor of Tor Niedrig. He could possibly be of some help, and she needed to keep her wits about her just in case he turned out to be a problem.
But, try as she might, she couldn't shake loose the knife now lodged in her heart. She'd come to rely on Sarevok's presence at her side, not just as a fighter, but as a confidante. So for him to be so near, without feeling him lightly touching his half of their soul to hers, or reaching out to touch her physically in some small way, made the tendrils of that yawning loneliness tighten their grip around her.
I've driven away Imoen in favor of Sarevok. And now Sarevok in favor of my disappointment that he never truly gave up his hunt for power. A hunt that I now share, if only for Bhaal's help in the fight against Cyric. A hunt that began with me when I relied on him to keep me safe all those years ago.
I've fucked up literally everything in my life. And have almost nothing to show for it.
She remembered one of the dreams Cyric had shown her. Standing alone on the edge of the surf, a crimson tide rolling in to engulf her. He hadn't spoken when he showed her that. He didn't need to. The meaning was clear. Especially now.
"Here we are," the dwarf announced, stopping in front of a stone house carved right into the side of the mountain.
She'd seen all kinds of nobles' homes during her adventures. Each one was bigger, tackier, more excessive than the last.
This one looked like the entrance to a mine. Rough and crude. With almost zero ornamentation, save for a statue of Clangeddin right outside the simple front door. The marble figure was in full battle attire, with two axes crossed over his chest. It looked as if all the personal funds that the Mayor saved up had been spent on it rather than his house.
Rana's curiosity over the identity of the Mayor was finally peaked.
Grim opened the door and led them into a small, modestly furnished sitting room. A pair of double doors lay across from them.
"Now, once ye lay down all yer weapons on this table, I can go in and tell him ye've finally decided ter show up."
Rana and Sarevok exchanged a look.
"Yeah, that's not gonna happen," she said, folding her arms across her chest.
"Well, then I guess ye made the trip fer nothing. I'm not lettin' ye in there packing so much steel."
Sarevok turned and headed right back for the front door, Rana right on his heels.
A voice could be heard from the other side of the double doors, speaking in dwarvish.
"All right, fine, he says ye can keep yer shoddy weapons, the trusting old fool. Go in, then. If ye try anything funny, though, I'll be in there quick as ye blink to obliterate yer kneecaps, ye understand?"
Grim spat on the ground and swung the double doors open before stepping aside, grumbling to himself.
All thoughts of the dour dwarf and her relationship problems dwindled as she saw who sat behind the Mayor's desk.
"Yeslick Orothiar."
Jaheira
After speaking with Keldorn yesterday evening, Jaheira had scouted around the outskirts of town, too troubled to return to the house and sleep. She found that using her wolf form helped her a little, its instincts demanding she be present in the moment, not consumed with her thoughts and the future.
While she had told Keldorn everything that Imoen had told her of Rana's involvement with Sarevok, and her choice of god to worship, Keldorn had evinced little reaction. When she was done, he quietly told her he'd gather the others and talk to them.
That was it.
It unsettled her, because it meant he may have already known about some of it.
When dawn had risen, she could put off the inevitable no longer, and had returned to the town proper, weary and disheveled from the transformations. There, Haer'Dalis found her and informed her that Rana had woken sometime in the night, and that she was now on her way to meet the Mayor. And that Keldorn had called a meeting while she, and Sarevok, were out of the house, which she had already known was coming.
Sending the bard away with her word that she would be back soon, she'd ambled around town for a while, reluctant to leave just yet; possessed with a strange desire to linger, just a little longer, before rejoining the others.
She'd come to trust these intuitous little tugs over the long years of her life, attributing it to her hard earned experience, as well as the mysterious workings that surrounded the lives of those who Harp.
"Ho there, Jaheira. Fancy seeing you here."
The druid turned toward the stone bridge that spanned a small river running through part of the town. There, sitting atop the low wall that bordered it, was Elminster.
"Elminster? What are you doing here? Nevermind, that is a foolish question."
The old man's eyes twinkled as he smiled kindly at her. Patting the stone beside him, he tilted his hat back to better look at her as she took a seat.
"As much as I do not wish to bear witness to what I suspect will happen here, I'm afraid I must. Do you have the time to tarry awhile with an old friend?"
"Of course. But what do you mean? What is going to happen?"
"Fate! Destiny!" Elminster exclaimed, raising his arms to the sky for emphasis, his staff propped against the stone between his robes. "We sit on the sidelines of history, and you, my friend, have a front row seat."
"I'm afraid I'm in the thick of things, Elminster, not just a casual observer. Though I certainly feel that way at times."
"Yes, one can often feel left behind when surrounded by the vivacity of the young. However, you are indeed correct about being directly involved. Which is why I have come here to aid you."
"Gods know I could use all the help I can get. What is it you're offering?"
"Answers."
Jaheira's heart skipped a beat.
"Answers to what?"
"Questions," Elminster replied with a patient smile. "Ask them and I shall try my best to satisfy your curiosity."
Jaheira took a deep breath.
Where to start?
The thought that had taken root in her mind during her vigil over Rana began to bloom.
"Is it true?" She whispered. "Did Gorion really join one of the splinter cells and hunt down bhaalspawn younglings? Did he really wipe away Rana and Sarevok's memories of their time there and of each other?"
"Yes," Elminster replied gently.
"Then… how? He was a Harper in good standing until his dying day. Why did I never hear of this before? Why was he not exiled?"
"Because it was I who sent him."
Jaheira shot to her feet, looking at her old friend in horror.
"You?! How could-"
"Sit back down, Jaheira, and allow me to explain," he shushed her, patting the spot she had just vacated.
Reluctantly, she did so.
"The Time of Troubles was a bleak point in our history, as you well remember. When the schism formed, it interrupted the aid we could provide those caught in the crossfire between warring gods. And pulled away our numbers from helping those gods that we wished to keep safe. During all of this, Gorion heard a rumour of Alianna. He was set on finding her. On saving her. So I instructed him to join the dissenters. As an informant for the Harpers on the traitor's whereabouts and activities. I told him to do what he could to save the children without giving himself away, and that in doing so, he would find his lost lover."
The knot in her belly that had been tightening since Rana told her story of her childhood began to finally loosen.
"So he was your mole. He wasn't a traitor or a child killer."
"Correct."
"But… the memory spell…"
"Yes," Elminster sighed, suddenly looking weary. "None of us are perfect, old friend. I can tell you that he regretted his actions that fateful day. Not the outcome, so much, because he had managed to rescue Ilyrana and bring her to safety. But he hated himself for what he did to young Sarevok."
"He shouldn't have," Jaheira hissed. "If he'd known the monster that child would become…"
"A monster he himself helped create. He knew, Jaheira, what he did to him. He saw what he had become, and that he'd had a hand in it. It is why, I think, that he could not kill him. Sarevok was the reckoning for Gorion's mistake. And he chose to pay for his sins with his death, in a final act of love for Ilyrana. Protecting her with his life."
Jaheira was quiet for a long time.
"A sacrifice she no longer deserves," she finally breathed.
Elminster looked at her and gave her a kind, understanding smile. For some reason, she felt tears begin to form because of that look.
"Do not abandon hope just yet," he told her. "Dark times still lie ahead of you. Choices that will shape the outcome of this war, and the realm itself long after it is over. You will need all of that courage, and fortitude, to endure what is to come."
"And what is to come, Elminster? Tell me what I should do! Rana has fallen so far from the balance that I fear she is beyond saving."
"I cannot tell you what to do. And even if I could I would not. I trust you to know what paths to follow when they are laid before you."
"Then tell me if I'm wrong about her. Tell me how I can still fight beside her when she does things that go against everything I am, everything I believe. Tell me how I can save her from all of this, if that's even possible anymore."
"Jaheira, you cannot save someone if they do not wish to be saved. Only they can do that. Only she can do that."
"Then you will not help me? My heart is lighter for what you told me of Gorion, but I am just as lost as I was before you showed up."
Elminster stood, clutching his staff as he leaned down to peer directly into her eyes.
"You have never been lost, my friend. Even when the darkness closes in, and you can see nothing around you, you can still feel the path beneath your feet. I will tell you this: When the time comes, do not look back. Not at what you have lost. Nor what you have done. Look to the horizon, and you will see the road you must take to get there. Do not despair of what you must leave behind to get there. Your losses will not be in vain, thought it may feel that way at the time. Protect those who deserve your protection. Cast aside those who do not. Only then can you save that which truly needs saving."
Jaheira didn't know whether she should should embrace him. Or strangle him.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Elminster clucked, reaching into his robes and withdrawing a rolled up scroll. "Give this to Ilyrana. It is the letter Gorion sent to me after Sarevok visited Candlekeep, when he realized who he was and that he had somehow survived all those years ago. It may help. Or it may be too little too late. The choice is hers."
And with that, Elminster left.
Jaheira looked down at the parchment in her hands, turning it over and running her fingers across the faded material.
Rising from her seat, she headed for the house, the scroll tucked away in her pouch, and Elminster's words swirling around inside her head.
What would Khalid do? She found herself wondering.
The answer brought both comfort and sorrow.
Rana
The second the doors shut behind them, the old dwarf dropped out of his chair and walked around the desk to stand before Rana, peering into her face with his hands on his hips.
"Hmm I see the years have been unkind te you, as well, elfling. Got a lot more scars te boast of, don't ye? Ye know, not a day has gone by that I haven't asked Clangeddin to keep an eye on ya. You're still alive, so I'll thank him fer that."
"It's nice to know someone up there actually cares," Rana drawled with amusement. "How did you end up here? And as Mayor no less."
"Needed a change o' scenery after Baldur's Gate," the dwarf replied with a dismissive wave of his hand before turning to face Sarevok. "I know yer not really his son, but ye got his look. I'd recognize Rieltar's cunning anywhere, he's there alright, in yer eyes."
"Make another comparison like that, dwarf, and I'll rend you in two."
"Hmph, well ye did not get his knack fer diplomacy. Let me take a look at my sword."
"Your sword?! It is-"
"Aye my sword, ye ill-tempered oaf, I forged the thing, now hand it over. I'd like te see how it's grown."
"Just give it to him," Rana sighed, leaning a hip against the desk and folding her arms to watch the exchange.
Glaring at her, then directing that glare at the dwarf, Sarevok unsheathed the Sword of Chaos. Yeslick snatched it from him, holding the flat of the blade under one hand and the handle with the other, and ignoring the ensuing growl of irritation from the warrior.
"Well-sharpened… nicely oiled… I see ye've augmented its weight a bit in the hilt. Appropriate, I suppose, seeing as how ye've the muscle te wield it. Now, I'm not looking forward te this part, but let's take a look at its soul…"
"It's a sword, you old fool. It hasn't got a soul."
"And yer an hornery sack o' flesh and bones, yet ye've still got a soul. At least I assume ye do, anyway. Now hush so I can listen."
Rana hid her amusement at Sarevok's indignant expression. Trust Yeslick to completely throw him off of his feet.
"About what I expected," Yeslick sighed, lightly caressing the steel. "Though… its purpose has not been perverted. I suppose that's my doing."
"What are you talking about?"
"I crafted this sword because I'd hoped it would help bring an end te Rieltar. I wasn't told that his son would be the one wielding it, I learned that after the fact. I was in a dark place when Perorate approached me te make it. Both literally and figuratively. With each stroke of me hammer, I envisioned it cutting down my former friend. For what he did te me and my ancestral home. I wanted justice, aye, but it wasn't justice that kept me alive while I slaved away fer my captor. It was vengeance. Much of the blood that this sword has spilled was done fer the same reason. Much, but not all."
Yeslick handed the sword back to him and turned around, sitting back down at his desk, his face heavy with the haunted look of painful memories.
"Before we continue, I'd like te thank ye fer aiding us against the drow. And fer rescuing those kids and my assistant, Grim, from that temple. As well as taking care o' them cultists. I owe ye one, elfling. Anchev… I'd say that makes us even."
"Even? I did nothing to you, dwarf, to warrant a debt of any kind."
"Did ye not? Ye helped yer father run the mines, me home. Ye used that ore te fuel yer war. I made ye the finest weapon ye ever laid yer eyes on. I'd say there was a debt needing paid. It's settled, be happy I don't ask fer the sword back te smelt it down."
He got you there, Rana thought to herself.
"I don't care if you're the Mayor of this backwater town or if you forged my sword-"
"I do," Rana interrupted. "So shut up and let him talk."
"Thank you. Now, where was I? Ah, yes, on te business."
Sheathing his sword, Sarevok turned the full force of his ire on Rana. She looked back at him, her face giving away nothing, before deliberately turning her attention back to Yeslick, dismissing him.
She wanted this meeting over with quickly. She wanted to get away from Sarevok even quicker. As nice as it was to see her old friend again, all she wanted to do was drown herself in Berduskan Dark while she licked her wounds.
"I know there's drow holed up somewhere in the mines o' this town. And that they'll be back eventually te finish this place off. How much do ye know of why they suddenly decided te chance the surface?"
That question threw salt on the cuts festering on her heart.
"It's my fault," she admitted softly. "They're being led by another bhaalspawn. One of three remaining that possesses more power than the rest of my kin."
"So they were trying te get te you?"
"Yes. We wouldn't have stayed here if we'd known Sendai, the drow bhaalspawn, was so close. We had been led to believe her stronghold was somewhere in these mountains, but not here, not right next to this town."
"I'm not blaming ye fer what happened, Rana. Them drow are a nasty lot, they would have attacked us eventually. What I'm worried about now is when they'll strike again. And if there be some way o' stopping it from happening at all."
"We stop it by killing Sendai and wiping out the ones who follow her. We know there's a hidden passage in the mines that leads to her den. I was waiting on reinforcements before striking, and once they arrived I had some… things happen that delayed us from going. We're ready now, though, and can move on Sendai as early as tonight."
"Best wait till morning, no? In case we need te make a quick retreat. They won't follow us out o' their dark badger hole and into the sun."
"We?"
"Aye we. Ye think I'm just goona sit back while there's drow to be hunted? They killed my people, this is as much my fight as it is yer's."
"I won't turn away any help, but we have no way of knowing how many of them are down there. Or what they've got in the way of allies."
"Lucky fer you I've got a town full o' mercenaries looking fer work. I've already hired on some te bolster the guard. I can recruit some more te take with us."
Rana felt relief over a problem she hadn't even allowed herself to worry over yet. She loathed the underground with a passion. And knew fighting another one of the Five, in her own domain no less, would be fraught with danger. More bodies would definitely come in handy.
"That would be a tremendous help, Yeslick, thank you."
"No need fer thanks, Rana. I consider it no favor on my part fer sending that pack o' devils back te the Abyss. If you and yers are up te it, I'd say the sooner we get started the better."
"Tomorrow morning, at dawn then. Gather up those mercenaries and meet us at the entrance to the mines."
"Aye, will do," Yeslick confirmed, then turned a thoughtful gaze on Sarevok. "Tell me something, Sarevok. What do ye plan te do with this new life that's been bestowed upon ye? I will not ask how yer alive. I don't much care. What matters te me is what ye do now."
Rana inwardly cursed, not at all wanting to listen to whatever vitriol Sarevok would snarl at the elder dwarf.
"Whatever my plans are, they are none of your business. Are we done here?"
"Aye, tis true enough," Yeslick replied, ignoring the question. "However, ye carry my sword. I poured not only my sweat and blood into forgin' that thing, but also my hope. I don't expect one as young as ye te appreciate something like hope, at least not when that's all ye've been left with. But that sword bears a part o' me with it. My blood and yours."
"Your point, dwarf."
"My point is, if ye intend te keep using it in service te Rana, killin' her foes and takin' vengeance on those who've wronged ye, then I can do a little upgrading te it."
Rana's eyebrows went up in surprise. Sarevok's expression remained carefully neutral. Which meant he was likely intrigued. Gods forbid he show it.
"Why?" He asked.
"Why? A master blacksmith offers te make the weapon he forged ye even stronger and ye ask 'why'? I was under the impression ye were intelligent."
Rana coughed to hide her snigger. The sharp glare directed at her from Sarevok told her she wasn't successful.
"What price is there?"
"No price. Only yer word that ye'll not use the sword te kill anyone who's not deservin' death."
Sarevok snorted.
"And you would just trust that I mean it? You can't be that naive."
Yeslick studied him for a long moment before looking at Rana. She hiked a shoulder and looked down to study her nail beds, suddenly incredibly uncomfortable by the dwarf's scrutiny.
"Aye," he finally said. "I would trust yer word."
Without looking at either of them, Rana's eyes widened at this strange turn of events, feeling weirdly like her presence had become intrusive somehow.
Did Sarevok truly understand what Yeslick was offering? Did he have any idea how profound an offer of trust from Yeslick was? To extend this kind of olive branch, to Rieltar's adopted son, after everything that man did to the dwarf…
There's something perversely wrong with the male gender, she concluded.
Noticing how loud the silence was becoming, Rana glanced up from her nails to see if Sarevok was even still there. He was, trying his hardest not to let any of his thoughts show on his face.
So, so wrong.
She cleared her throat and continued to pretend that her hands were the most fascinating thing in the room.
Say something you idiot! She wanted to scream at him.
"Alright, dwarf. My word that I won't harm the innocent while I wield this blade."
That's not what he asked.
"No, yer word that ye'll not harm anyone not deservin' it. Ye and me both know that no one is truly innocent."
Rana let her hair fall across her face to hide her smirk.
Clever Yeslick.
"Semantics," Sarevok growled, clearly annoyed his little trick didn't work. "Fine, I'll not kill anyone who does not deserve it. Satisfied?"
"Aye, that'll do. Obviously I ain't got the time te work on it now, but once we've settled up with the drow, I'll get te tinkerin' on it."
"Fine. Are we finished?"
"I need a word with Yeslick," Rana responded, straightening up. "Alone."
Sarevok looked at her, eyes narrowed. She had no idea why he would fight her on this. And he must not have been able to come up with a good enough excuse, because he eventually turned and left without a word.
Yeslick slouched back in his chair and gave her a tired smile.
"What else is on yer mind, elfling? Or are ye going te berate me fer what just happened?"
"No. And while I have zero idea why you did that, I'm not going to even ask. I trust you to know what you're doing. I wanted to ask how the children are."
"I see. And is there a reason why ye did not want te ask while he was in the room?"
"I'm hoping he goes back to the house so I can walk back by myself. Just buying myself some time."
Yeslick chuckled.
"Can't say I blame ye. Well, I've got the little one settled in at the temple o' Helm. The ones that ain't been claimed, anyway. Some baths and a few good hot meals have certainly helped them, but I fear it'll take much more than that fer them te get over what they saw at that temple."
Rana nodded, needing no more explanation. Reaching into her pouch, she withdrew a sack of gold coins and plunked it on the desk.
"Give that to the Helmites, would you? For the children's care. And let me know if they need more."
Yeslick looked at the gold before reaching out to pick it up.
"Quit heavy. This is an awfully generous offering, Rana."
"Oh, it's not from me, exactly," Rana grinned and began to head for the door. "I'll see you in the morning, Yeslick."
"Wait! Who's it from then?"
"Filched it off Sarevok on the way over here. See you!"