A warning for some suggestive and disturbing references in this chapter (most specifically the paragraph that begins with Elatharia falling asleep and dropping her book).
Many thanks for the reviews! Let me know what you think of this installment. ;)

Chapter 5: Temptations, Bargains and Lies

The tavern had soon proven too loud and smoke-filled, at least for anyone less drunk than Korgan and the many rowdy patrons who had gathered around Haer'Dalis while he played his lute; so Elatharia, Edwin and Viconia had bought a bottle of wine, borrowed some glasses and headed to the waterside terrace just outside. Before this, the tiefling had been speaking intently with Aerie before and had begun to offer her the occasional smile whilst playing some cheerful tune. Viconia had muttered something about whether or not the avariel would catch onto the tiefling's intent and if Anomen would ever stop shooting looks towards where Elatharia was sitting – and then abruptly Edwin had suggested they leave the tavern.

Though the two companions had said that they needed to talk to her about something – and it must have been something too secretive and nefarious for the ears of the likes of Aerie or Jaheira – they did not seem in a hurry to discuss it with her. Instead the three of them watched the river, drinking from their wine glasses on the wooden terrace of the Bridge District which spanned the water. To their left across one bank stood the city walls and to their right the rest of the night-quiet district arcing its way towards the city proper. Small boats were moored at the docking points on the level of the terrace below them, bobbing gentle in the faintly shimmering black water.

Edwin had gone to lean against the railing a few paces away, flicking through one of the books he and Elatharia had taken from the wizard's lair, twirling his half-empty wine glass in one hand and reading under the illumination of conjured light. The Transmuter found herself watching him thoughtfully, recalling meeting him in Nashkel and her many arguments with him and Dynaheir ever after. She remembered waking from her Bhaal-induced nightmares to see him watching her across the fire…and how when she had become trapped in the Cloakwood Mines it had been him and Imoen who found her with Yeslick, not Jaheira or Dynaheir. How he had aided them in killing the Red Wizards near Beregost and how his body had felt against hers when they hid from the Flaming Fist in Baldur's Gate. And again when he had demanded she kill Dynaheir in the Friendly Arm. Before abandoning her.

She had hidden her sadness and disappointment at the loss of him the next day when they moved on to Candlekeep and only Imoen had acknowledged that anything might be wrong, linking their arms and talking to her of everyone they would greet when they returned home. Then they had been captured and almost killed by the doppelgangers who waited within, and there had been no more time to think of Edwin. There had just been an empty space where once someone might have pointed out how she could cast a spell to create more power or demanded that she was not the best wizard in the party. Now, seeing his long fingers flicking through the book's pages, Elatharia's thoughts span to Imoen's diary entries again and she both longed and feared to read through that section of her journal. At least her sister had found a way of recording her torments rather than keeping them hidden.

"Some of the company you keep is counterproductive to the goals you aim for," Viconia said at last from the Transmuter's side on one of the benches arrayed along the riverside terrace.

"Is this all that you wish to speak to me of?" Elatharia demanded, half-relieved and half-annoyed.

Edwin shot her a look from the railing, closing his book slowly.

"In case you did not hear what the druid said earlier, your imbecile of a ranger believes that he saw me killing his Wychlaran whore."

"And you wouldn't have?"

"I didn't," Edwin snarled, curling his hands in annoyance in her direction. She laughed.

"Regardless, it seems unwise to bring Minsc into contact with Edwin, unless you intend to kill one of them," Viconia continued, her eyebrows raising as she watched the wizards, a little smile appearing, "Much as it is quite foolish to allow Jaheira to undermine your every move…"

"And to let Aerie or Anomen come with us to most of our city ventures, I know," Elatharia sighed, waving the words away, "If it was entirely up to me it would be just us, Yoshimo, Korgan, Jan and maybe Haer'Dalis," she admitted, "But it's not. The others have to stay because we need all the help we can get – and even if we don't all agree on life, these ventures are for Imoen and not for my peace of mind."

"Well, when one of us dies at the most inopportune moment thanks to your recklessness let it be on your head, khal'abbil," Viconia told her firmly; the Transmuter just shrugged.

Elatharia did not see a choice, really. If she told Jaheira or Minsc or any of the others that they would no longer be welcome with her they would just follow her around the city until she had to take them back. Leaning back on the bench with a long sigh and a shake of her head, the drow seemed to recognise that this argument would be pointless.

"I don't trust him," Edwin put in sharply now.

"No one trusts you either, Red Wizard," Viconia pointed out softly, earning a distracted glare.

"Who? Haer'Dalis?" Elatharia asked, elbowing the drow.

"No. He is a Doomguard – they are unpredictable regarding how much they may be willing to die on any given day, but terribly predictable regarding loyalty." He paused. Elatharia recognised the hesitation in his voice but Viconia did not and stood with a stretch, leaving them the wine bottle rather pointedly.

"Well, if that is all the Red Wizard has to say of trust, I believe I would rather be sitting inside watching the Helmite fail to recognise the avariel's adoring gaze," the priestess informed them, and began to stroll away back up the terrace to the Five Flagons Inn.

"I speak of Yoshimo, this bounty hunter you have left so callously in charge of our hard won Guild House," Edwin elaborated once the drow had vanished into the night.

"Empty words, blank eyes," Elatharia agreed thoughtfully as the Thayvian approached at last, sitting beside her as she continued to watch the boats bobbing in the river.

Few lights were lit in the houses along the bridge and it was dark out here away from the glow streaming from the Five Flagons Inn. She felt the wizard's presence at her side as an ache on her skin, a dark shadow lingering at the corner of perceptions. She heard him pour the wine, his fingertips on hers to suggest she have some more. Swallowing nervously, she nodded reflexively and his touch lingered while he poured for her too. Needless to say that once he let go she took a hearty swallow of the alcohol, the sudden truth of his return making her as dizzy as she hoped the wine would. Ah to have something other than the fear of her nightmares to think of before bed!

"I would have thought from the way that you left him at the Guild House and how I hear from the drow that you keep him at your side that you do trust him, Bhaalspawn. (One could almost believe that she is as much a simian as the others.)"

"Don't call me that!"

"A simian?" he sounded like he was smiling but there was something in his voice, low and thoughtful, that put her in mind of the way he had looked at her in the cellar after they had killed Mae'Var and she did not want to look at him.

"No, Edwin," Elatharia sighed, downing the rest of her wine. She caught his eyes still lingering on her throat as she turned sharply to look at him now, if only to prove that she could do so without fear, "Don't call me a Bhaalspawn."

"Out here in the open?" his eyes were glinting in his conjured light as he leaned closer, his voice a whisper in her ear that made her go rigid, his lips so close that her skin tingled in expectation of touch, "Because that would be a valid reason," he moved back an inch, watching her from a distance that was neither close enough nor far enough, "But to deny it because you are afraid is foolish and childish."

"It's why Irenicus captured me!" she blurted, shoving at his chest uselessly, "Don't call me that! Don't talk like him!"

He frowned at the break in her voice, catching her chin in his hand.

"Did he come that close to you? Did he rape you?" his voice was harsh now, his blatant wording taking the fight out of the Transmuter. How had he known to ask that just from one moment of panic?

"No," she denied in a high voice, eyes wide.

"But he let someone else do it?"

She did not answer, shaking where she sat on the bench, not sure of the Red Wizard's intent. But once he saw the reality in her eyes, at least a little piece of it, he sat back with a sigh, running a hand through his hair, finishing his wine and staring out at nothing.

"Well, as if you needed any more reasons to kill him," he agreed softly, "Such wasteful torments are the choices of madmen and fools. Both of which he assuredly is."

"It was worse than that," she whispered, dispelling his conjured light and plunging them into darkness, "Just one of the torments he made for me. But it was…worse than what you are thinking. I can't…I can't say. I won't tell you."

"It may one day be necessary," the Red Wizard warned her. And the silence stretched.

"Edwin?" His arm was warm against hers, moving as he breathed; in the darkness it was easy to put a hand against his arm and lean closer to speak. She wanted to weep for how alive he felt.

"What?" he managed to maintain something of his usual annoyance, though faltered a little as her hand moved to fiddle with one of the golden buttons of the Archmagi jacket. There was no way he could see her in this low light; she could only just make out his shape beside her.

"Why are you travelling with us again?" she asked and he turned to look at her all the same. An inch, no less, and she could do what had not been finished in the Friendly Arm. She got the impression that he was waiting for something more to be said, so she continued, "It has been so long since you travelled with me. You could have moved on, gone back to Thay. But you came with us through the sewers today and you're…" Here drinking wine with me in the dark and treating me as you did before, just like Viconia said. It seemed they had their confrontation at the Friendly Arm as the final encounter from which to calibrate everything thereafter. It was as if they had remained trapped in that frustrated state of almost. Only now there was that great, shrieking panic in her that told her never to dare.

"(It is as if she is fishing for compliments, or too stupid to understand). Was I actually alone in the Friendly Arm that night?" he asked her ferociously. His body against hers, his hand on her hip, his eyes on her mouth, fingers on her skin, his lips parting, eyes black with lust…

"…Edwin…" her grip tightened on his arm, her heart pounding. He was hard to deny.

"Perhaps I linger because I did not want to leave. Perhaps there have been fewer choices on this path than you think. Perhaps the power in you and following you is too great to pass up."

"Thay won't have you back, will they?" Elatharia realised softly, lowering her head to his shoulder because the darkness made this so much easier. He grunted and made no move to put an arm around her but she stayed in that attitude all the same, "Dynaheir was the last straw. Your last chance. And you didn't kill her…because I wouldn't let you. Now you're here because this is the only place that will put up with your nefarious ways and will protect you at the same time. What did you do, Edwin? What drove you from Thay?"

"Be content that we have this in common, incompetent Transmuter," he muttered, his voice vibrating through her and making her smile in spite of everything, "That we are both unable to go home."

That had her thinking of the reasons for all of this, of Bhaal and the golden light.

"It was glorious, wasn't it?" she did not need to tell him of what she referred; the inferno they had created in the cellar should not have been possible by rights. She tugged at one of the buttons on the jacket again, "Is it because of that? That you stay? Because of the power you saw? That you will stay." And not really because of me at all.

"That power was both of us, egotistical creature. Perhaps more me than you (as if she could compete with me in such matters). If you are attempting to disassemble what happened in such a childish manner then perhaps I will suggest that you should sit up, child that you are proving yourself to be. Power is seductive because it is beautiful and addictive. You claim to be a wizard – you should know this, in spite of your School. Anything you saw today was as it should be; it was the essence in you that drove you to delirium. Until that point I was as you were. Seduced. The quest for more is the reason why we are wizards, is it not?"

Elatharia could not let a silence descend after that. He was a Red Wizard, and she would have expected nothing else. He was too warm against her, breathing steadily with his heart beating beneath her ear. Her voice should have been incredulous but it sounded breathy to her as she put her hands on his shoulders and pulled herself up to find the glint of his eyes.

"A day in my company and you speak to me like that?"

"Would you have me lie?"

"No," she admitted as his hands slid to her waist.

How clear could someone be about wanting her? Or at least…the promise of power that dogged her steps. She could almost feel the touch of his lips against hers. She could almost accept it and she certainly wanted it...but…

"It's not that simple," she told him instead, "I am not as I was. It will take…more…time."

And really, what was she doing? Sex and seduction were just a game in Thay, were they not? Exile though he may be he was still a Red Wizard. She would be mad to expect anything more than his short temper and flashes of desire. This would not linger. He would move on. Perhaps to Viconia, whose greater beauty ought to have been more important to one of his fleeting, selfish desires.

But all he said was:

"Yes." And for all the world it sounded like he meant it, there in the darkness when he could not see her face.

Only then did she realise that Viconia had claimed to want to speak to her of something that had happened during the day…and that the drow had not, after all.

"Some passions burn brightly and pass in an instant – others linger as embers, in need of a breath to light them."

Viconia jumped to hear Haer'Dalis's voice close by her side where she leaned on the corner of the Five Flagon's Inn; it was not easy to sneak up on her, trained for a hundred years in the Underdark as she had been. It had swiftly become clear to her whilst with the wizards that Elatharia was anything but ready for the conversation they needed to have. If only the Transmuter realised how much she and the drow had in common it would have made it easier.

Upon leaving the scene she had been curious to see what the two wizards did when she left them. So Viconia had taken up her position out of sight by the inn and watched; she had seen them as clearly in the darkness as their feeble surfacer eyes might have observed the world in daylight. They evidently had not realised once the conjured light went out just how close they had come to each other, or somehow believed that the darkness served as a barrier of denial between them.

"I watched them for months before we came to Athkatla, tiefling," Viconia pointed out coldly, eyeing the bard as he came to join her carrying two cups of wine. She glanced disdainfully at him as he offered one to her, waving her empty glass between them, "They will always be this way. Especially now."

Haer'Dalis did not ask for clarification, just smiled and held her gaze as he took a sip from one of the mugs, running his tongue along his bottom lip where some of the liquid lingered to prove to her that he had really tasted it before offering the cup to her again. A little begrudgingly the drow took the cup and did the same; it was almost as if he knew that this was a drow custom to prove allegiance. She had a spell prepared to neutralise poison all the same, but he did not need to know that.

"What do you want of me, impudent male?" she demanded when he just continued to look at her with that little smile and those too-amused eyes. There was an honest mirth, a sparkle of interest in them that she really did not trust.

"Must I want something, beautiful Blackbird?" he asked too innocently.

"You say that to this wretched darthiir visage?" the priestess sneered, watching the road behind him now, suddenly suspicious. He may not be a surfacer of the Prime Material, but that hardly made him a creature of any society she could understand.

"I should like to see the truth of you, my Blackbird," Haer'Dalis leaned his shoulder against the wall beside her, bracing one arm against the one that held the cup and crossing his feet. It was almost as if he knew she needed him off-balance for this conversation to continue, "The berks of this city are hardly to be commended for their heartless rejection of a truth which must be surely more beautiful to behold for its honesty. Life is too short to be endured; it must be lived, do you not agree?"

"Of course not, fool," Viconia had never heard such hopeless drivel, "There is no difference in these concepts – and those who complain of their lot are both weak and undeserving of anything better. Have you nothing better to do than spout this nonsense to me? Is there not a tavern full of drunken fools awaiting your fanciful lute-playing?" she gestured back at the open doorway from which poured the painfully bright firelight along with the chatter and loud laughter of progressively more drunken patrons.

"I play only for those who can enjoy my talents, my Blackbird," Haer'Dalis still sounded amused, "I believe their drunken revelry has gone beyond such."

"Even the avariel?"

"Ah, I believe she sees only the paladin. A waste of a beautiful Dove if I were to be asked, indeed," his phrasing seemed pointed; he was not allowing her to tell him that she had not asked.

"He is not a paladin. You must be a great fool if you cannot tell the difference; as a tiefling should you not sense his aura if he were a paladin, male?"

"His heart is the same. A Peacock then. His show has caught her lovely eyes for now all the same," the tiefling seemed disinterested, still looking at the disguised drow though she had hoped her show of disdain would force him away, "And to confuse us all the War Dog of a dwarf has drunken eyes only for the other little paladin who was eating alone tonight. A pretty, Tiny Hawk with an aura made of sharpened pine needles," he grinned, "Needless to say…I avoided her, my Blackbird."

Before she could give him the satisfaction of success she twisted her almost-smile into a sneer. There was something interesting about someone who could, whether by instinct or not, recognise that someone so apparently small and harmless as Mazzy Fentan was one of the greatest fighters of the group's acquaintance. So far no surface male had come to the truthful conclusion; perhaps there was something to be said of Sigil, Haer'Dalis's home.

"You know I believe we have a little more in common than you may believe, my Blackbird," the tiefling uttered as if reading her thoughts, "Though my home lingers in the junction of the Planes floating in the open air and yours is here on this heavy Prime Material beneath the ground, Sigil has no sky and its berks are without the…polarity of these people of the surface here."

"My homeland is as full of absolutes as the surface, fool," Viconia spat, the idea of idolising Menzoberranzan as abhorrent as staying amongst the hateful surfacers forever.

"Then perhaps you would like Sigil?" the tiefling was incorrigible, leaning closer to tap his cup to hers with a wink, "Although perhaps the men there are too wilful for you. The women too, I might add. We are without prejudice in the Lady of Pain's city. Although…you would have to forego your goddess whilst there, lest risk our Lady's wrath."

"That sounds more like Menzoberranzan," Viconia muttered, suddenly finding that drinking the wine might be a good idea.

"Hmm. Yes," the tiefling's ebon gaze drifted to the side now, the multiple rings in his pointed ears glinting in the firelight behind him, "But all things change over time and I should wonder what will become of our cities," for a moment he seemed to drift off into more distant thoughts, still with that crooked smile – until his gaze sharpened and he stood suddenly, "Aha! Our errant leader returns to us! Where and wherefore goes your Red Wizard, my Raven?" the tiefling called. Viconia realised that his eyesight must have been as good as hers in the darkness, though the red hint of infravision did not show in his ebon irises.

"He went back to the Guild House…and wherefore?" Elatharia stopped by Viconia's side, holding the wine bottle loosely between her fingertips, frowning behind that mask of hers, "How should I know?" she sent a distrustful glance towards tiefling and drow both before meandering back through the inn's doors.

For his part, Haer'Dalis laughed heartily.

"She was not taken in by my ruse! Where and wherefore! Where and why!"

The Transmuter just raised the bottle in recognition of his words, lost to her dark thoughts by this time of night as Viconia knew all too well. Once the wizard had passed out of earshot Haer'Dalis turned back to the drow with a thoughtful look on his face, glancing down at his wine before watching her from beneath his brows.

"When do you think they will accept love, my Blackbird?" he asked softly.

The very question made the priestess want to gag and for a long moment she just stared at him in disgust. And still he kept his smile. Part of her wanted to hit him and the rest wanted to drag him to her bed. The only thing that stopped either response was the knowledge that he wanted her to react in one, either and both of those ways.

"Love, like trust, is for the foolish," Viconia denied eventually, "And for the dead."

"Oh, well," the tiefling pouted a little at that but, Shar damn him, his eyes sparkled, "But we all die in the end. And even the wisest person will do something foolish eventually – else their own control belies their own foolishness."

"Such thoughts are weak, male," the drow sighed.

"Are they not only weak when the possessor is weak to begin with?"

"By Shar, fool, buy me more wine before I persuade the dwarf to cut your head from your shoulders!"

"With pleasure, my Blackbird," he grinned, bowing low and offering an arm to her which she ignored, "Will you not dance with me and add to the wondrous ever-growing entropy of this world?"

Elatharia was cursed with an alcohol tolerance that rivalled Korgan's. And – unlike the dwarf – she had not drunk innumerable flagons of Dwarven Ale. Still, a gentle detachedness had ruled her body and mind as she returned to the inn to see Haer'Dalis with Viconia at the doors. They had followed her inside, the drow joining her at the table they had sat at before while the tiefling went to Aerie, who was swaying from a few glasses of the weakest cider, and asked her to dance. She had blushed and agreed just as quickly, leaving Anomen's side with only a brief, shy glance at the priest who proceeded to watch the folk-dancing which the tiefling began with confusion and a little horror.

Regardless, the clapping and stamping soon had nearly the whole tavern joining in. Aerie was wide eyed and laughing by the end when Haer'Dalis caught her about the waist, pressing her to him a little shamelessly before kissing her hands with a reverence that had Viconia grumbling viciously.

For his part Korgan had, in his drunken stupor, seen Mazzy eating innocently at the single table by the stairs and gone to slur his attempts at niceties and muddled sexual harassments at her. She had endured it with a polite bafflement until he fell asleep leaning against the newel post – and then the halfling paladin had calmly finished her ale and sent Elatharia a slightly reproachful nod before slipping upstairs. After they had freed her from the Umar Hills the halfling had promised her aid to the group but had also needed a little time before returning to adventuring ways.

Left alone at his table, Anomen's attention had swiftly turned to Elatharia and she watched him cross the room towards her and Viconia with mounting dread. The drow seemed both sickened and disturbingly fascinated by the way Haer'Dalis was twirling Aerie around the tavern floor to the shouts and cheers of various patrons.

"My lady," the Helmite's rich, polite tones seemed too well-suited to cutting audibly through the clamour of the rowdy tavern. Watching him as he sat opposite her, Elatharia noted that he had a crooked grin that could rival Haer'Dalis's, "Have you given any thought to our next venture?"

"More than you, I'd imagine," Elatharia sighed.

Anomen frowned at that, glancing at Viconia as if she might back him up.

"I know I am young – though older than you, I believe, Elatharia – and that I have not travelled so widely as you but I am willing to help," he insisted in a wounded tone, "Were it not for the kindnesses of your friends Aerie and Jaheira I would believe myself unwelcome."

"Perhaps you are," Viconia suggested haughtily, frowning now as she returned her attention to the dancing.

Elatharia just shrugged, leaning forward with her cup though getting closer to the Helmite made her feel rather uncomfortable. He watched her with close interest, his smile recurring tentatively.

"In truth, Anomen, I don't care how worthy you are so long as you help us get to Imoen. And then if we need help after that, and she wants you to stay, then you can. Trust me, you'll like her better than you like me. And I won't blame you."

"Very well," he did not sound convinced, but at least she had not told him to leave, "Would you tell me a little of your sister? You seem to love her well."

"My one good trait," Elatharia agreed, raising her wine glass in salute. The alcohol had perhaps had more of an effect on her than she had thought, "She is kind and beautiful. Maybe a little too mischievous for you. An aasimar with pink hair and silver-blue eyes," she pretended to put a hint of bardic dramatics into her words but her attempts just made Viconia snigger, "Unlike yours truly."

She downed her wine. Her head was swimming. And in the back of her thoughts the knives were ringing and she could not forget the little hurried spirals of Imoen's writing in her journal.

"She is not related to you?" Did Anomen sound a little shocked?

"Not a bit. In case you had forgotten, my father was Bhaal and my mother was…well, I don't know. Imoen is, as far as I know, not related to either of them. But we are both orphans, brought up as sisters in Candlekeep. She's even used to this," she pointed at her mask and the markings beneath.

"Well…if I may ask…why is it that you wear that mask? The tiefling's marks do not appear to disadvantage him." A glance at Aerie and Haer'Dalis. A hint of…jealousy? "Surely a scar could not be worse?"

"An accident," Elatharia dismissed with a wave of her hand. If her birth could be considered an accident.

Anything more that might have been said between them was stopped by the whooping arrival of Haer'Dalis, who swung onto the seat by Viconia with Aerie close by his side. It did not escape Elatharia's notice how the avariel turned to Anomen, still smiling from her exertion…but the Helmite could not manage the same crooked smile he had given the Transmuter before. Meanwhile, Haer'Dalis was leaning over to say something to Viconia who rather surprisingly did not move away.

Had she not been so drunk and so distracted, Elatharia might have remembered to store this information for the future. It had been a long and confusing day, full of battle and death and struggles against the maddening pull she felt towards the Red Wizard who had just come back into her life. Perhaps things would be easier after a night of rest. It was hard to imagine barely twenty hours had passed since she met him again that morning – and there they had been on the bench in the dark, her hands on his shoulders and his at her waist; her rebuffing him and him fierce and willing right in front of her. There had been few words between them after that; he had taken some of the books they had collected and teleported out of her senses with the recommendation that they reconvene at the Guild House once she had slept properly.

The revelry in the tavern rather passed Elatharia by after that. On their way out they decided to leave Korgan; the dwarf lived in a tiny room close by the Copper Coronet not far from their own dwellings but was too heavy and drunk to move without either great effort or the risk of losing a limb.

It was well after midnight when the group got back to Gaelan Bayle's house; Aerie with her arm linked through Elatharia's and both swaying a little drunkenly, Haer'Dalis and Viconia lingering behind them. It was not clear to what extent the drow welcomed the tiefling's company but he seemed determined to speak to her and had nowhere else to live now that his Troupe had gone. They were stuck with each other. As for Anomen, he had left them with bows and a kiss on Aerie's hand outside the tavern, making his way home to the Government District.

Utterly spent and rather a little too inebriated for conversation, the Transmuter and the avariel had stumbled up to bed without a word to the others. Elatharia was not so much drunk as weary and had retreated to one of the empty bedrooms, locking the door behind her and assuring Aerie beforehand that all was well; she just wanted to write in her journal and memorise some spells before bed. In truth she had intended to read through some of Imoen's journal entry to assuage some of the aching fear and curiosity it had elicited in her. But for all her trying she had fallen asleep there in that dark, empty room with its three other empty beds.

After waking up once when she dropped the journal on the floor she had entered a deep but fitful sleep and the dreams that had taken her were all too real. She was no longer in Athkatla but back in her room in the Friendly Arm with Edwin. Only in this reality, she had agreed to do as he willed to Dynaheir and he had taken that precious step forward, kissing her urgently until they were pulling at each other's clothes and stumbling to the bed. And then she was naked beneath him, his lips at her throat, moving over skin. Eventually when she was almost mad with need, golden light blinding her, his clothes were gone too and he was kissing her again, long and slow and deep, his body moving with hers until all thoughts were gone and those movements became more urgent. Her hands dug into his hips as she arched beneath him, crying out and revelling in the feeling of this person, warm and real, his skin smooth and familiar. Only…when she opened her eyes he was gone and in his place was a monster with red, serrated skin sharp as the sharpest knives.

And it was still moving.

This is to teach you humility. And you will learn.

Elatharia awoke with a scream, falling from her bed retching and shaking, drenched in sweat with tears leaking unbidden from her eyes. She barely managed to crawl to the chamber pot at the end of the bed before being violently sick. Once that was done she lay on the floor and wept. When at last her tears dried she dragged herself to her feet though her whole body shook, pulling on the robe of Vecna over her nightdress before snatching some of the standard issue cloth slippers from the cupboard because most of her things were in the room she shared with Aerie and Viconia.

It was not yet dawn, although not far off, and so there was still some difficulty in traversing the corridors of the dark building. She stopped off briefly in the kitchen for water to wash away the acidic taste in her mouth before stumbling from the utterly silent, still house out of the back door and into the gloomy street beyond. The wind was cool but gentle, bringing with it the typical bad smells of the cabbages and turnips from the Jansen residence, drowning out the equally terrible odours of the Slums. A few of the windows of the buildings across the street were open, washing hanging out; otherwise there were few sounds but for the occasional trills of early waking birds. The empty sky was deep blue, heralding the slow rise of the sun, though there were still a few stars to be seen.

Rubbing her arms against the cold, Elatharia stepped into the street and began to walk, trying to keep her mind blank – or at least to find something other than her nightmare to think about. She had not walked far when she heard a quiet scuffing. Armed with just a few cantrips and a belt knife, she realised she was hardly a threat to anyone but the sound was coming from just around the corner and it hardly sounded terribly dangerous. So, trying her best to stay quiet, Elatharia crept around the corner and down the next alley, a path which opened onto a small yard accessible by a number of shops' back doors. As soon as her eyes alighted on what was going on, she regretted coming this way.

A man dressed in the black and silver of the Shadow Thieves was struggling in vain against the hold a woman had on his throat. The word 'woman' was a loose term to describe the manner of creature that held him so tightly. Though female in form, if rather skeletal in build, wearing a thin blue dress clasped at the shoulders, her skin was icy white, two long fangs protruding down over her lower lip in the place of canines. There was a feral twist to her bony face, framed by a mass of black curls, and her slit-pupils were looked straight over the man's shoulder and at Elatharia. Her irises were too large and glowed gold-limned green.

"Elatharia," a throaty female voice greeted her gently, and when the Transmuter twisted about with a gasp she saw another pale woman standing behind her, only this one did not appear to have fangs and her figure was less starved. Dressed in a long black leather tunic split at the hips, a large and ornate silver necklace glinting at her low neckline, she was tall and graceful though her face was broad and a little coarse, fairly short black hair pulled back into a tight braid. She was smiling kindly all the same, eyes a strikingly pale grey in the dim light. Tight mithral leggings glinted into visibility as she walked around Elatharia, gesturing for calm.

"Who are you?" the Transmuter snarled, attempting to look a lot more battle-ready than she felt.

"Friends if you will have us," the new woman promised gently, gesturing with her palm out to the fanged woman in a manner that suggested patience. The creature had the Shadow Thief's head wrenched to one side now, fangs poised at his jugular. His eyes were wide and rolling with panic.

"Friends? In what way? I believe that man is a member of an organisation to which I am allied."

"A brief state of affairs, I should hope. After you hear what I have to say," the black-clothed woman suggested, crossing the otherwise empty yard to stand beside her underling and the captive man, still smiling at Elatharia, "We know of your attempts to help your sister and we know of the man responsible. We would be willing to help you get her back – sooner than your Shadow Thieves and for far less cost. A few brief errands…and we would bring her to you whole and unharmed."

"How can you promise me that? How do you know anything about me or my sister? And how well she is?"

"As you may have guessed I and my servant here are hardly mortal," the woman eyed the captive man with distaste. He just stared pleadingly at Elatharia, apparently unable to speak, "I have built contacts in my long life, and for mutual hatred of the man Jon Irenicus I am offering you my aid. You may infiltrate Spellhold directly where I may not; and trust me this is the only way to get your sister back for even now she is a captive of Irenicus. He has newly broken his bonds and taken over the place."

"The Shadow Thieves said nothing of this," Elatharia denied, taking a few uncertain steps into the yard. There was no way she was going to trust this woman, but there was no particular love keeping her tied to the thieves of the city either. If she had a better offer to get back her sister then she would take it, and the life of one Shadow Thief be damned.

"They would not, for they are hoping to continue the lie that they can return your sister to you without a fight. They must maintain this illusion because they fear me. And if you doubt me, well," she spread her arms as if no one who ever lived was more honest than her, "Then go to the Government District tomorrow and ask for yourself about Spellhold."

"I have no reason to trust you. Can you give me a name? Anything to prove that you are something other than a trap?" It was difficult to bargain with creatures like this when utterly without magic. Her heart was pounding with the thrill of her fear.

"My name is Bodhi," the woman told her instantly, "And I am not without a kind heart. From this meeting I will await your answer…at your leisure – but do not forget, your sister is Irenicus's captive now. It would be wise to respond more swiftly. Unless of course you have the money the Guild requires."

"And the tasks you would ask of me? What of them?"

Bodhi smiled a little patronisingly now, gesturing at the captive man. It took a moment to realise that she had reached out and run a long black nail down his throat; this only became clear when he squirmed, eyes bulging, and a torrent of blood spurted from the wound. The woman holding him quickly latched onto the wound with her mouth and drained him dry.

Golden light blossomed in a hungry burst behind Elatharia's eyes and she staggered back, gasping. Take control. You must take control. She balled her hands into fists and ground her teeth, forcing the madness aside though she could not turn her gaze from the dying man. Maybe once she might have run, or shouted for help. But she would not deny anyone who offered aid for Imoen. No matter how evil they may be. And she did not care what that made her in the eyes of fools like Anomen.

"No task I ask of you will ever be more…or less odious than that," Bodhi answered smugly, "And I notice that you are hardly turning away."

"You wish me to be an assassin," Elatharia surmised softly, tearing her stare from the man when he slumped to the ground in front of the Vampiric woman who held him. Her mouth was stained red, blood dripping from her fangs. Bodhi looked unfazed but hardly interested, folding her arms now and tapping her foot expectantly, "You should probably know it has been noted of me before that I am anything but subtle."

"I do not need subtlety, Elatharia," Bodhi denied, glancing at the steadily lightening sky, "Think on what I have said. And should you wish to seek me out I will be awaiting you at night at the gate of the Graveyard."

With one final dead-eyed smile, Bodhi made as if to bow with her arms spread out…and her body dissolved into a fluttering mass of bats, swiftly followed in kind by her servant. With a burst of air the creatures scattered up and outwards, leaving in their wake not a hint of their passing but for Elatharia staring after them, gaping – and the fallen Shadow Thief lying in a pool of his own blood.

Author's note:
Viconia's name for Elatharia, khal'abbil, here translates as 'most trusted friend/ally'. Sources differ regarding this translation; some say it simply means 'my friend' (which would still be a big deal in drow terms, I suppose) but others give it the above meaning. Since khaless means something like 'foolish trust' (and we all know Viconia's not the most emotionally trusting person, after all) I like the idea that khal' would add that sense to the word for friend/ally.