Author's Note: Dear Reader, I honestly intended this to be a light-hearted tale but I'm afraid that Irenicus is dragging me and my poor hero down into his dark world…

Ch. 2…Out of Tune

Any hopes that I had that my conversation with Irenicus would spare me further torture were dashed. I had perhaps a few hours of broken sleep before the golem jailer dragged me back to the room with the table and strapped me in. First it had gestured for me to take off my shirt and a shiver ran through me when I saw the tray of knives laid out on a nearby counter.

I lay there for hours it seemed, alone and fearful, and waiting for the return of my captor. I tried to compose my mind and pray to my goddess, Sune, the Lady Firehair. I'm afraid my prayers sounded less like those of a man grown and more like those of a pathetic whimpering child trembling in the dark.

When Irenicus finally entered the room, it was almost a relief. He barely glanced at me and then walked over to the counter with the knives.

"Please don't," I said.

He opened a drawer and pulled out a long strip of black cloth.

"I take no pleasure from this, Lorian." His eyes were remote, withdrawn. I didn't want to believe him. Somehow the idea of methodical, impersonal torture seemed far worse than being tortured out of hatred or to satisfy a twisted desire to cause suffering. Hatred and desire I could understand.

"Your power is too great to be wasted," he said. "What I do is necessary."

"But why?" I asked. "I have no need or desire for power." He bound my eyes with the cloth so I was blind.

"One day you will understand," he said, and then he began.

xxxxx

"If you keep making him scream like that, you are going to ruin his voice," a woman said. Her own voice was breathy, almost girlish. I did not recognize it.

"That would be a pity," Irenicus said.

"Can't you silence him or gag him?"

"I do not care for gagging." Then he switched from Common to Elvish. "I spent too much effort to get him here to risk having him choke on a gag. You should not be here, sister. You have work elsewhere."

Elvish is a difficult language and I did not speak it well at all, but I had, of course, studied it, both at Candlekeep and during my travels. I am a bard and some of the Realms' most beautiful music is composed in Elvish. The gods had gifted me with an ear for languages and I could understand their words well enough as long as they did not speak too rapidly.

"You worry too much," she said. "I have matters well in hand."

"So you say," he replied dourly.

I did not hear the woman approach but her next words were said practically in my ear.

"Ulene was right," she said. "His appearance is most extraordinary." She took a fistful of my hair and then I felt her fingers trace the slight point at the tip of my ear.

"I have asked you to leave the dryads alone. I will not have you torment them."

"I have no interest in your dryads," she said. "This one, now, is a different tale. Let me have him, brother, and you can have the other. He is more to my taste than yours, surely," she added slyly.

"No. I do not trust you with him and I will not have my effort wasted. You have no discipline, sister. You are not to touch either of them until my work is complete."

"I have no discipline?" She gave a melodic laugh. "Alas, you are right. How fortunate I am that you have enough discipline for us both." I heard her voice move away from me. "Why brother, you haven't even started with the knives yet. Are you reluctant to mar his beautiful skin?"

"Put that back."

"A fine piece of steel," she said. "Did Ilyich make this?" Her voice drew closer again. "Perhaps I should commission him to make me a sword."

I shivered as she trailed the edge of the blade across my cheek and then scratched it gently along my throat.

"Clever of you to cover his eyes," she said in Common. "The unseen danger is much more frightening, is it not?" She let the point of the knife prick my throat and I flinched.

"Does this disturb you, handsome?" she breathed in my ear. She caressed my chest with the flat of the blade. Her other hand toyed with one of my nipples. Like Irenicus, she had cold hands.

"Yes." My voice was hoarse.

"Good. I very much want to…disturb you."

"That's enough!" Irenicus said harshly, also in Common. The woman drove the knife about a knuckle's length into the meat of my chest. I gasped from the shock but the blade was very sharp and caused little pain.

"Oops," she said playfully. "Now look what you made me do, Jon." Her fingers dabbled in the blood that ran down my chest in a warm trickle.

"Go now," Irenicus said. "Return to your task and amuse yourself elsewhere. You are wasting my time."

"As you wish," she said. "But I will see you later," she whispered in my ear. "One of these nights..."

Irenicus knew a spell that could light every nerve with pain, like a sheet of fire racing along my entire body. He had spells that racked my muscles with cramps and that bit along my skin like a thousand stinging insects. He cast them in silence, and with my eyes covered, I had no warning before one would strike me. After a time, I came to almost hope for the knives, as if they would bring a cleaner torment.

And when the pain became more than I could bear and I begged him to stop for a moment, just for a moment, he began to speak in my ear. His voice was low and impersonal as he spoke of things I longed to forget—of death and murder and of the beauty he said could be found therein. To a Suneite, these words were blasphemous. Only what is good is truly beautiful, and murder could never hold beauty.

He had long since drawn from me every detail of my brother Sarevok's death, for there was nothing I wouldn't have told him when he hurt me so terribly. He made me relive again and again the moment my sword had slipped through a weak spot in my brother's armor and had spilled his life's blood. He insisted that my brother's death was a turning point for me, my first steps upon the path of power that was my birthright. His voice wove a hypnotic spell as he spoke of these horrors. I shuddered and almost began to wish for the pain instead.

xxxxx

When the golem dragged me to my cell, I crawled onto the cot and lay there like a dead thing. I was totally exhausted but I could not sleep. The echo of my captor's words ran through my head like a haunting melody played off key.

Several hours later, the cell door opened again. I turned my head slowly to the door in total despair. Was I to be allowed no rest?

But it was not my jailer standing there. It was Ulene.

"Come with me," she said quietly, and my heart beat wildly for one startled instant as I believed she had come to free me. But her next words killed that hope. "He wishes you to be bathed," she said.

"Ah," I said and that one sound must have held a note of my desperation, for I saw tears spring to Ulene's kind eyes.

"I am so sorry," she whispered.

"Do not distress yourself," I said and forced myself to my feet. I ached in every muscle, it seemed. I followed her to a small bedchamber where a large tub stood ready, the water steaming hot. How it had been heated, I had no idea. Magic, most likely. Irenicus used his spells lavishly, as if he controlled an ever-flowing fountain of power.

I stripped, laying my clothes in a handy chair. I sank into the warm water with a sigh of pure gratitude, not just at the prospect of being clean again, but for the pleasure of being wet. The tub was not large enough for me to totally immerse myself, but still, it felt wonderful.

Ulene poured a pitcher of warm water over my head and then began soaping my hair.

"You needn't do that," I said, taking her hands in mine. "I can do it myself."

"These are my orders," she said softly.

"I see." It did feel very pleasant to have someone attend me. She rinsed the soap from my hair and then took a soft cloth and began washing my body.

"You really needn't do that," I said. She returned my smile.

"Would you wish me to disobey?" she asked but there was a playful note in her voice.

"Certainly not," I said and I kissed her hand. Her skin was the color of some light wood, apple perhaps, or spruce. She leaned in closer in what I hoped was a silent invitation and so I kissed her cheek. When she did not object, I kissed her lips as well and she responded with gentle passion.

"What other orders do you have?" I asked softly. She put her hand on my shoulder and pulled me even closer.

"Some things are left to my discretion," she said. My hands trembled as I touched her and she molded herself against me. After the horrors I'd endured, there was nothing I wished more than to lose myself in a willing embrace and the illusion of love.

Later, she had me sit cross legged on the bed while she worked a comb through my tangled hair.

"Please, Ulene," I said. "Can you tell me anything of my companions?" I turned to look at her. She gave a frightened shake of her head.

"I cannot," she said. "I'm sorry." But a few moments later, she pulled me down on top of her. She kissed along my neck and to my ear. Very, very softly, she whispered, "Two human women, one dark and one light."

I kissed her fervently while my brain worked in a fury. Only two were here? They were Imoen and Dynaheir, by the sound of it. Were the others dead? Held in another place? Or were they free to discover our location? Minsc was a ranger. If there was a trail to be followed, he would find it. He would not rest until he had his witch Dynaheir back under his protection. And Jaheira and Khalid were experienced warriors with powerful friends. So perhaps there was hope.

Ulene stroked my back and then she pushed against my shoulder.

"Please, Lorian, I must get you ready," she said. I rolled off her and let her finish combing my hair. She left it loose to dry and brought me clothes from the dresser. She gave me a tunic and breeches of simple cut but made of a rich silky fabric. As soon as I finished dressing, the door opened and Cania brought in a covered tray, which she placed on the little table by the wall.

"Your dinner," she said, and then left. The timing of her entry confirmed Ulene's hints that we were being watched. I sighed and uncovered the tray. It was a simple meal of bread, fruit, and cheese, but the food was fresh and wholesome. There was also a mug of wine.

Ulene sat beside me as I ate. I offered to share but she shook her head.

"Am I being prepared for some purpose?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said and then we relapsed into silence. Knowing that we were perhaps under observation kept me from asking any of the questions that fought for my tongue, and Ulene, like many dryads I have met, seemed more comfortable with silence than with idle conversation. So it was a restful silence, but I ate quickly and she rose when I did. I wrapped my arms around her and once again took in the clean woodsy scent of her hair.

"Thank you," I said. She made no reply but she rubbed her face against my chest.

I was not overly surprised when she led me to Irenicus' room. There was no one there, however, which did surprise me somewhat. My eyes were immediately drawn to the lute lying on the table and my heart rose for an instant until I realized it was not my own instrument.

"He said you would know what to do," Ulene said and then she left me.

It was an eight course lute with a deeply rounded belly. At first glance, the instrument seemed very plain, without the decorated bridge that some lutenists fancy. The wood was rich with subtle variations in color. The sound hole was carved with tiny interlocking rings and the graceful curve of the belly was a work of art all in itself. The strings appeared to be in perfect condition but the instrument itself was sadly out of tune. Ulene was right, I knew what to do.

The lute is a queen among stringed instruments but she is a demanding mistress, constantly requiring the tender attentions of the lutenist. Myself, I find tuning to be rather pleasant and soothing work. 'Creating order out of chaos', one of my teachers had called it. I was lost in my own little world, curled up on the sofa with an exquisite instrument on my lap, stroking the glorious sound from it.

"It has not been played for many years. The strings are enchanted not to break but I doubt there is any spell that will keep them in tune," Irenicus said. The lute sang out as my fingers jerked against the string. I hadn't heard him enter the room.

"I was taught this should be a labor of love," I said, using a faint smile to cover my disquiet. I wasn't sure how I should react. In this civilized setting, it was easy to pretend he was a different man from the one I faced while strapped to a table. I think most bards are trained to treat any potential patron with polite respect, and that was the mode of address I always fell back upon when nervous or uncertain.

"Tuning is a sad bore," Irenicus said.

"This is yours?" I asked. It had not occurred to me that he was a musician.

"It…" A look almost of confusion crossed his face for just a moment. "It was made for me." I held it out to him but he shook his head. "I play no longer," he said. "I have…forgotten."

I wrinkled my brow at that. Could one forget how to play a lute? Surely no mere casual player would own an instrument of such exceptional quality.

"Would it annoy you if I finished the tuning?"

"Not as much as I suspect it would annoy you to leave it half done," he said with mild sarcasm and I gave him another faint smile. He poured himself wine from a decanter on the side table and settled into his armchair with a book.

I was self conscious at first but the repetitive nature of the task helped relax me slightly—as much as it was possible to relax in the presence of one who had too much control over me.

"Do you wish me to play now?" I asked when I was done.

"Of course," he said impatiently. I waited a beat to see if he was going to suggest a piece he wanted to hear but he went back to his book. There is music one plays as a background to conversation, or for an unknown audience, pleasing but not obtrusive, and these were the pieces I chose at first. But as he continued to read, I began to play music closer to my own heart. And then a wave of sadness and self-pity caught me by surprise. My throat tightened with emotion and my fingers faltered on the strings. I felt the mage's eyes upon me. At some point, Irenicus had set aside his book. I stood and placed the lute carefully on the table.

"Forgive me," I said, when I felt my voice was under control. "I grow weary, I'm afraid. Is there…anything further you require from me?" I stood very still with my eyes lowered and awaited his answer.

He watched me for a moment with a small and enigmatic smile.

"My Ulene," he said. "Did she please you today?" This took me aback and I wasn't sure how to answer.

"She is beautiful and kind," I murmured.

"If you make another attempt to extract information from her, I will punish her, not you. I will punish her in your presence. Is that understood?"

"Yes," I said in a low voice.

"That having been said, do you wish to stay with her tonight?" I stared at him in astonishment.

"I…certainly I would, if she permits."

He gave me a rather sardonic look. Her permission apparently meant nothing to him. I looked down again to hide the flash of anger that gave me.

"You will be locked in, of course, partially for your own protection. This stronghold has many deadly traps and defenses."

How does one thank a man for allowing one to sleep with his concubine? I could think of no words, so I made him a slight bow. My jailer golem appeared and I followed it to the bedroom where I had bathed earlier. Ulene awaited me there.