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Chapter 3: A Deliciously Bad Influence

"Hello, Edwin," Elatharia greeted, one eyebrow arching enough that he could make it out above her velvet mask.

Edwin knew he was gaping, that he had lost control of his expression, and with effort dragged himself back to sense, raking a hand through his hair to give himself a moment. He had not expected this. But there she was, standing in the doorway with Viconia glaring at her side and an unfamiliar Kara-Turan watching the proceedings curiously.

For a moment he was confused. When was the last time he had seen her? Regardless, it was hard to miss her, with that black cloth band covering her face from eyebrows to cheekbones, tied behind dark hair which had never been that tangled when they had travelled together. And it was a different mask, but the large green eyes watching him were the same. With that cloth covering her face, all he could see of her was her lips – pursed now as she tried to contain her amusement – and the smooth, familiar features of jaw, eyes and brow. She held herself so still, so poised, that her expressions might have been considered distant, hard even, her chin a little pointed though set in a fairly oval face.

Edwin watched the Transmuter, trying to reign in his previous rage, as well as his newer confusion and surprise.

Yes, it was Elatharia behind that mask and that cloak, but with that pale, flattering robe beneath; narrow waist, one shapely leg visible, pale hands fiddling with the clasp of her cloak when the silence stretched. Recalling their last interaction, his gaze traced the line of her neck upwards from where her hand lingered. Seeing his stare, she shifted uncomfortably, opening her mouth to speak.

At last he mastered himself, coughing sharply and relaxing his stance, clasping his hands behind his back. Levelling Viconia with a hard glare, Edwin prayed to Kossuth that she would not say something foolish and blow his cover. Fortunately she proved wise enough to realise his intent. And looking back at Elatharia, seeing her green eyes dart back to his from the sight of the swirling tattoos just visible at his tunic's neckline he knew that there was going to have be a change of plan. There was no way he was going to pass up the chance to increase his own power – and a creature of her heritage would always be surrounded with such prospects. The fact that she had always been so…predisposed…to him made this a lot easier.

"I thought I told you to meet me at the tavern?" he bluffed, rolling his eyes and hoping she remembered him well enough after six months to know that those wretched guild members were all listening in to their conversation and she needed to play along.

"Your man failed to relay any details so we came here," Elatharia shrugged. That dress…

"Well this is no place for a man of my stature to speak of business. Come. It is a little way to the Bridge District."

He swept past her, raising a warning eyebrow towards Viconia as he grasped his black cloak from its place by the door and swung it around his shoulders.

The last time Elatharia had seen Edwin Odesseiron he had been very angry. He had confronted her about Dynaheir at the Friendly Arm Inn just before they went to Candlekeep. He had demanded that she help him kill the Wychlaran; for her spellbook, for the fun of it, and because she could never be permitted to enter such a place of forbidden knowledge. Really it was because his father's fellow Tharchions had demanded it as a part of some elaborate, politically motivated plan. He had seemed to think that her innocence, and her poorly veiled interest in him, would make it easier to hide this from her, and that seducing her would be the best way to persuade her. She had been foolish in those days, she realised. She had wanted to believe that he wanted her and for a moment or two she had actually considered agreeing.

All red robes and blazing eyes he had been then, his long Houppelande robe a vibrant ruby shade, his hair black and short, just curling around his ears. He had shaken her by the shoulders, pressing her up against the wall and grinding his teeth in frustration. It was an uncommon display of strength from him, but it had hardly been violent. If anything, her heart had been racing for every reason but fear.

Sensing that he was not getting through to her he had growled and pressed his forehead to hers as if somehow hoping to impart his thoughts in this manner. Her disbelieving laughter had died in her throat then. She may have been fighting a war against the Iron Throne and she may have been an increasingly accomplished spellcaster. But she was also young, and insecure, and having this wizard whose power blazed like an igniting inferno holding her like that, eyes darkening as they drifted to her mouth…it had made her feel wanted.

He had barged into her room when she was preparing her spells, her mask off, and not for a moment had he balked at the dark, indented markings across her cheeks. Instead he had stood so close to her, eyes clouding as he traced patterns thoughtfully over those lines as if he found them fascinating and maybe even beautiful. In those days she had almost been fooled.

He had taken a step closer, one hand moving to her hip as his other thumb slid over her cheek to the tip of her chin, his lips parting subconsciously when he looked at hers as if he wanted…nothing more… But then with a growl he had straightened, stepping back, and demanded that she do as he wished. She had come to realise that this act of seduction had been just that – a way of getting her to agree to his whim regarding Dynaheir. When she had denied him he left in the night and vanished from her world. And now, seemingly purely by chance, they had met once more in Athkatla. The odds seemed…unlikely.

With a sneer to Viconia, entirely unaware of how the drow had lamented his departure the night before, Edwin had caught Elatharia by the elbow and guided her to a two person table, leaving the priestess and Yoshimo to wait at the bar (and hopefully watch for any eavesdroppers). The tavern hall of the Five Flagons Inn was small and not very busy at this time of day, just serving breakfast to a few tired-looking patrons.

No one seemed to have followed them, but Edwin watched the door closely, his eyes occasionally flitting over to the open stairway at one side of the room. In the quiet it was possible to hear the Sigil Troupe practicing their music and the month's plays on the floor below, as well as the shouts of town criers just starting up on the streets outside. Somewhere in the distance the great city gates ground open to let a few caravans rumble through, accompanied by the clopping of horses' hooves on the cobbles.

The Red Wizard stayed quiet once they were seated, his dark hood drawn up most likely to hide his face from those who may have been listening in. Elatharia fidgeted, feeling the familiar weight of his presence with the same sort of heavy pressure on her consciousness as she might have expected to endure a geas…perhaps under the effects of strong drugs and alcohol. It had been a long time since anyone had made her feel anything more than a vague amusement or wild anger. Having him looming there across the table, staring around the room and not once at her, made her want to grasp onto his arm and beg him not to go. But then that kind of weakness made her want to storm out of the inn and never seek him out.

At last a serving girl emerged from the kitchen and brought their order to them. When she had settled the pot of herbal tea along with peculiarly presented pancakes complete with fruit and syrup, the Transmuter understood. Edwin looked up sharply when she laughed at her realisation. Her merriment made her dizzy. When was the last time she had felt like laughing? Gods.

"How long did it take you to find a place that would serve you Thayvian fare?" she inquired, not bothering to hide the teasing note in her voice.

"Much less long than it would take you, I imagine," he grunted dismissively, pouring himself a cup of tea before hesitating and pouring hers too with a sneer, "(Let it not be said that Edwin Odesseiron is a poor host)."

"Contentious," Elatharia smirked when he glared, watching him pulling a few pancakes onto his plate before continuing. Looking at the food was making her hungry and painfully nostalgic, "So what brings you so far from Thay, Edwin? I would have thought that you would have gone home."

She paused when he just watched her with that same unreadable hard expression. Her eyes fell to her tea, where she cradled the hot mug, seeing the steam rise.

"I could ask you the same question, Elatharia. Among several," his eyes narrowed, long lashes flashing as he glanced down momentarily to watch her spinning the cup in her hands, "Such as what all this is that I heard on the road about you and Sarevok. About your father." His voice was low, over-pronounced as usual, and his dark eyes – that smooth, deep brown shade that could look red in the sunlight – were watching her steadily.

"It's true. We were…I am…a Bhaalspawn," she told him as evenly as possible. She had been telling it to all of her new allies, and he had left before she had learned the truth for certain. She had even told Korgan, Jan and Yoshimo. Aerie had been determined to judge her on who she was for herself regardless. And if any of them were going to betray her then they would do it anyway.

Edwin's expression hardly changed, except for a slight softening of his eyes, the slightest hint of a smile. One long-fingered hand clasped and unclasped his tea cup. After a moment he just raised an eyebrow at her and gave a little nod. He hardly seemed alarmed, or surprised. Perhaps he was pleased, after their last encounter at the Friendly Arm had been so…friendly… that she had turned out to be part god. Maybe it helped his self-esteem.

"It may please you to learn that Dynaheir is dead," she muttered reflexively when her thoughts began to wheel away to old times.

"The death of any Rashemi witch lightens the load of filth on this world," he hardly sounded interested, actually. He would have killed her because he had been told to and he would not have cared.

It was Edwin who broke the silence when Elatharia failed to respond, her eyes fixed on the rising steam from her cup once more.

"Might I enquire as to how she died? A sudden conflagration in my honour, I hope?" he poured syrup and cut up the pancakes neatly, as if discussing the weather. That callousness used to disappoint her, or at least make her uncomfortable. Now she…did not care.

"Live dissection," she blurted, "That's what Imoen told me," she added softly, sipping her tea and slowly raising her eyes to meet his, "I don't think she was tortured before that, though. Made Minsc watch…but I get the impression it was for Imoen's benefit, really," Elatharia shrugged, her skin prickling at the thought of that dungeon, confused by her own outward nonchalance, "The same for Khalid."

"Well. Your little troop really has depleted," his tone sounded curious, not bothered. His eyebrow twitched when she took a raspberry from his plate instead of her own, but he made no comment, "What calamity befell to lead to such horrors? Gnolls, ogres? Hobgoblins?" he leaned closer, eyes glinting, "Did you open a portal to the Hells, incompetent Transmuter?"

"No."

He sat back when she utterly failed to humour his teasing. It was beyond inappropriate. Not out of any sense of half-hearted morality, but simply because it made her feel angry.

"Regardless," his tone was serious again now, quieter and more rushed, "You should not be in this city, Elatharia," he told her when she began to choose her own pancakes, chewing angrily on her raspberry to stop herself from blurting out any more information, "There is a ban on unlicensed magic in this place. And rumours of a spellcaster caught recently…a 'Jon Irenicus'." She wondered why he was saying this; it seemed unlikely that he really cared.

"He took us. That's why we're here," she started tearing at her pancakes rather than meet his eyes, but the words came pouring out, "He captured us on the road between Baldur's Gate and Waterdeep, dragged us here to Athkatla gods know how long ago. I haven't thought about it. I don't want to know. Killed Khalid and Dynaheir, locked up Jaheira and Minsc. And to Imoen and me…" she looked up, angry now and aware that she was at last admitting far more than she had to anyone else, "Torture. Dissection. Mental disassembly. Too late to warn me, Edwin. A shame for you that he knew so well how to heal our wounds so he could do it again. And now he's taken my sister with him to Spellhold. And we're raising the funds for the Thieves' Guild to get her out."

Edwin possibly looked a little more serious, lips pursed and frown deepened.

"Ah," he said at last, leaning back and folding his arms slowly. His boots pressed against her feet as his legs stretched…neither relinquished, "Then in that case – on the condition that you return the favour when necessary – I believe I will just give you what you need to bring down Mae'Var and help you burn him alive."

He did, and all before dinner. Elatharia took Edwin at his word when he told her there were incriminating documents in Mae'Var's quarters, and they sent Yoshimo up to get the evidence whilst the two wizards and Viconia headed to the basement to confront the Thieves' Guild leader. He was, as ever, surrounded by his lackeys and actually in the process of strapping a young, bloodied man to a rack. No one stayed in this dungeon for long. Mae'Var loved killing too much.

He turned with a glower to face Elatharia as she strode past the empty cages towards him, his men bristling in the poorly lit, foul smelling room. She knew Edwin was already chanting for his first spell just out of the Guild House tyrant's sight, but all the same prayed that Yoshimo would arrive on time.

"What in all the Hells are you doing here, wizard?" Mae'Var snarled, his sallow face twisting readily into such a vicious expression.

He wore a dark apron over his Shadow Thief leathers and his spidery hands were covered in blood to the elbows. The other men in the room turned to watch, all of them the wiry well-armoured types favoured by the Guild. Several had their hands on weapons. Imbued with enhanced hearing (in truth to make it possible to know when Edwin's spell was completed) Elatharia could hear a few of those lackeys stalking around behind the cages even as they slipped out of sight.

"Well, I had just come to see which poor fool you were tormenting this fine morning," she shrugged, flipping back the sides of her cloak to free her arms. Mae'Var tensed, still glaring between her and Viconia, "But then it was brought to my attention that you have been keeping more than your fair share of the takings for yourself. And I thought…well, isn't this just one of many wonderful reasons to kill you?"

"You have no proof!" Mae'Var unsheathed his blade then in one long ringing movement, pale eyes gleaming, and teeth bared.

"Oh, but I do," Elatharia told him with an icy smile, her enchanted hearing picking up the faintest of sounds outside. It was enough. "Yoshimo!" she called, and with a nimble flick of her wrist, a simple twist of the Weave and a spellword, she heard the click of the lock in the door which led up to the street. The Kara-Turan stepped through behind Mae'Var and his men, brandishing his katana in one hand and a bundle of papers in the other. He threw her a wink over the heads of the treacherous Shadow Thieves between them.

"Here, Elatharia," he greeted, "I brought along some friends."

Chaos descended upon the basement. Mae'Var snarled and lunged for the Transmuter and all of his lackeys sprang into motion around them, unsheathing blades, letting crossbow bolts fly. But during his absence, Yoshimo had taken the incriminating documents straight to Renal Bloodscalp. Now he called to the men he had brought with him in his swift dash across the district, and they all flooded down the steps to intercept. Meanwhile, Edwin's Dimension Door fizzed up right on time behind Elatharia and she stepped backwards through it, still smiling at Mae'Var even as a few crossbow bolts shattered off her Stoneskin protection.

Viconia cried out to Shar for divine aid and leapt in front of Mae'Var, hammer glowing – and then Elatharia was whisked through space in a flash of white-silver air to find herself at Edwin's side. Although further down the hall, just before the myriad cages, it was possible to see the fight blooming beyond though no one may have thought to see the Red Wizard there. But he was already chanting again, flames crackling into being between his hands and alerting the rogue Shadow Thieves who had crept behind the cages to the presence of the two wizards.

"I taught you that spell," Elatharia reminded the Red Wizard, in reference to the Dimension Door. She could feel the heat of the rising fire magics he was conjuring, her hands already making the motions for her next spell. A genuine smile began to tug at her lips – this was perhaps a little exciting after all.

A few command words, and Edwin's motions sped up thanks to her Transmutation, permitting him to let the spell fly a few precious seconds sooner; bursts of fire curled away towards the closest group of advancing men, forcing them to dodge and jump aside, some crashing through the unlocked doorways of the cages. Taking her chance, and imbued by her own Haste, Elatharia sent another spell forth to lock the doors behind those unfortunate attackers, temporarily depleting the number of people they had to face at once.

A Slow spell sent to the other group of advancing men allowed Edwin to call up several acid arrows in a row. Well placed, three of those four men were picked off – only man of the previous group reached them. Elatharia stepped forward, taking him utterly off guard as she pressed one hand to his chest, whispering hissing command words and leeching the heat from him – it stopped him in his tracks, shuddering. His skin began to crack and bleed, icicles forming on his chin and frost at his lips while her other hand flicked at the air and brought forth a more familiar spell. Suddenly he went rigid, his skin becoming a dark grey as it solidified and crackled unerringly to stone. The combination of the two spells brought their usual effect: the man shattered, politely scattering dust rather than anything more unsavoury.

"Typical," Edwin muttered behind her and spat a few arcane phrases as she turned to the other four men, those she had slowed to a crawl. One had fallen to his knees, caught by two acid arrows and coughing up blood, and one was limping with an arrow through his gradually deteriorating thigh.

The Transmuter just smirked as Edwin sent a contained Fireball into the cage. The explosion still shook the cellar, shattering the bars and so intense that the men within had no chance even to scream. The remaining men recoiled – in slow motion, of course – and a few of the others in the room stumbled mid-battle. A brief glance revealed Viconia ducking beneath Mae'Var's wickedly sharp blade.

Edwin's fireball was the turning point in the battle. The slowed men provided little trouble for the two wizards, and Yoshimo helped Viconia subdue Mae'Var while Bloodscalp's men made short work of his remaining lackeys. At the last only Mae'Var remained, the man he had been tormenting already helped down from his position poised upon the rack and with Viconia begrudgingly administering some healing spells upon him. For the most part it appeared he had been saved before any serious harm could be done, however.

Yoshimo was just binding Mae'Var's hands as Elatharia and Edwin approached down the macabre hall newly littered with the dead. The former leader of this Guild House had a man holding him down at each shoulder with his harms pulled tightly behind his back; he was unable to truly raise his head but he still managed to meet Elatharia's eyes with that same hateful snarl on his face. One eye was rapidly swelling and colouring brilliantly with bruising while blood ran from the side of his head in a river. His teeth were stained red, too and he was struggling to stay upright on his knees.

"Treacherous bastard," Mae'Var spat blood at Edwin's feet, "I let you live and protected you from those who hunt you. Do you expect this masked amateur can keep you safe?" he choked out a rasping laugh and Elatharia realised one of his lungs must have been punctured. The way he held himself suggested broken ribs. But his words to the Red Wizard were far more interesting than his injuries, and the Transmuter turned her gaze upon Edwin to see him smirking calmly back at Mae'Var.

"Wrong on all counts (wretched imbecile)," the Conjurer folded his arms, his the sleeves of his tunic riding up a little and revealing the tattoos spiralling around his forearms once more, "I never betrayed you. I never worked for you. And she," he gestured to Elatharia, dark eyes flashing over her in a way that made her heart jolt, "Is no amateur. (As if I would waste my time with her troop of baboons if that were so.)"

Mae'Var's gaze lolled to Elatharia, swaying when the men at his shoulders let go. Yoshimo lingered behind him, katana gleaming in the dull torchlight. The beaten guildmaster just stared at her, struggling for breath and maybe even consciousness as Bloodscalp's men retreated with wordless nods and mocking bows.

"The Shadow Thieves have given jurisdiction of this Guild House to you, Elatharia. And Renal Bloodscalp leaves his fate to your discretion," one of the hooded men told her, pausing on the steps while the others left, jerking a hand disdainfully at Mae'Var. And with a clang of the door he left Elatharia, Edwin, Viconia and Yoshimo alone with their prisoner.

"You do not mean to let him live surely, khal'abbil?" Viconia enquired. Drying blood glistened on her black armour and shadows still crawled over her skin from her goddess's favour.

The Transmuter turned a slow smile upon the drow and held her blue gaze until Viconia nodded in understanding and gestured to Yoshimo to follow her back up the stairs. From the sounds of shouting and running above them it seemed that the Shadow Thieves were chasing out those still loyal to Mae'Var. Though the Kara-Turan paused for a long moment, something he saw in Elatharia's eyes reassured him that she knew what she was doing. With a ring of steel he sheathed his katana, face carefully blank, and followed after Viconia.

"You mean to use my own methods against me," Mae'Var stated, his eyes flickering over to the hanging cages, then to the hooks and racks of knives along the wall. A chill ran through Elatharia at the very thought and Edwin scoffed at her side, "Do not think I have failed to see how you stare at my captives with pity and my instruments with loathing," the fallen guildmaster rasped, sneering when Elatharia turned hateful eyes upon him.

"No," she told him simply, closing her eyes unconcernedly for a moment as she reached into the Weave, recalling the appropriate commands and gestures until she felt the rush of power and the air around her began to flicker with red fire. She would need this protection for what she had in mind. Edwin on the other hand would be protected by his tattoos and one very familiar ruby-topped ring.

Mae'Var's expression smoothed out in understanding. The fear lingering behind his every movement did not waver, however.

"I would never lower myself to your standards, Mae'Var," Elatharia told him with a mocking shake of her head, "Torture for the sake of torture…knives, the rack…cages," with every word her rage grew and the golden light behind her eyes rose to a blinding brightness until she could hardly see the man kneeling in his own blood before her, surrounded by the corpses of his fallen men. Shaking, she turned to Edwin instead to see him watching her curiously, eyes narrowed perceptively, "You remember what you said?"

"I said I would help you burn him alive," the Red Wizard agreed, his voice low and rough, his smile wicked and fierce and anything but gentle or kind.

"Then make good your promise," she told him almost desperately, shrugging into one of her most familiar spells as if it were her natural state; flames erupted along her arms and hands, crackling hungrily into the air in quite a different way from her summoned fire protection.

Mae'Var recoiled from her as she advanced, twisting and beginning to fall as Edwin began chanting behind her. She caught the injured guildmaster almost gently by the shoulders as he fell, the air beginning to thin and heat up, and her flaming hands ignited his clothes like fire touching oil. She lost herself in the inferno that followed, a combination of Edwin's fire magic and her own, safe behind her protections, and for several long immeasurable moments the golden light engulfed her in its hateful, murderous rapture.

Only when the fires dissipated, the magical control behind them saving the roof above, did Elatharia's eyes open. Ash drifted from her limp fingers and a laugh bubbled up from her chest. She felt Edwin's hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him slowly, and she smeared the ash onto his tunic when she swayed towards him, delirious. He did not even blanch at the mess like he normally would have and said nothing at all as her eyes took in the scene of chaos they had created. Only the stone steps remained for the door to the docks behind her; they had destroyed the exit by which Viconia and Yoshimo had left. The bars of most of the cages were half-melted and warped, white-hot light dying down within them. Not a body remained, just ash drifting back to the ground like snow around them.

"Well by the gods I have missed you," she gasped through her laughter, eyes wide and thoughts scattered as she looked up at the wizard, hands fisting in his tunic and making the mess worse. She became aware of his fingers curling around her arms, his palms still hot from the flames. He was breathing hard just like she was and his eyes were black with something a lot like lust.

"Kossuth," he whispered, "How can you have changed so much since I left? (What is she doing travelling with those baboons?)"

"You should never have left," she told him as sternly as she could when the power of the magic had still not died down, stumbling back and almost falling, relying on him to keep her upright or risk falling on top of her while her grasp lingered on his shirt. Closing her eyes she laughed again as he staggered forward a little in an attempt to steady her, hardly registering that his gaze was sharpening again, a frown appearing, "That power."

"Elatharia," his voice was a little more urgent now and his hands tightened on her shoulders. When she failed to respond, he shook her. "Elatharia!"

With the ebb of the magic and the settling of the ashes, the golden power dissipated too, coiling back into the furthest corners of her mind. Her eyes fluttered open, though the world remained blurred for a moment longer. Regaining her balance, she let go of Edwin's shirt, taking in the sight of the ash she had left behind on the previously deep red garment. His hands were still hot, large and gripping tight against her bare skin. His eyes were on hers unwaveringly – but her own gaze span and reeled and took in the chaotic room, her heart pounding now with the realisation of what they had managed. Until she caught the glint of metal to her right. Unerringly her sight snapped towards the rows of knives still hanging on the wall. Irenicus. Imoen. Bhaal. Pain. Serrated skin hot and heavy digging into her own…

Shuddering, she sagged in front of Edwin, all euphoria draining away.

"I…I have to leave this place…" The knives. She could imagine their biting edges digging through her skin, the blazing pain and trickle of hot blood, "The knives…"

One hot, long-fingered hand caught her chin, forcing her to look in the Thayvian's dark eyes. He was frowning deeply now, staring at her hard, unthinkingly close, his grip a little too tight and his lips pressed into a grimace.

"Very well, master," he sneered, "If I must. But we will speak of what happened today. And you owe me a new shirt."

Author's note: Sometimes I wonder if these two are going to prove that Valygar has the right idea. ;)