Chapter 21…A Fool's Game
I was very aware that Ammon's hands were still resting on my hips, a bit of warmth in the chilly darkness. I hadn't planned on staying so long by the river and I needed my heavy tunic. I wasn't cold enough to be miserable but I wasn't particularly comfortable either. I've never liked cold weather. I'd rather sweat all day than shiver one time.
Ammon's touch was possessive; his words had fit the part of a man stirred by jealousy but something wasn't ringing quite true. What reason had I ever given him to doubt me? He might have little understanding of Casavir's character but surely by now he had some grasp of mine.
"Do you actually believe I set Bodo to watch you so I could sneak away and cuddle with Casavir? Does that sound like something either one of us would do?"
"I know you are upset about Riverguard. But Jess, you must see that Casavir is the last person you should seek out for advice. I'd rather see you look to the githzerai for guidance, truth be known. She understands our priorities."
Praise for Zhjaeve? He'd have something nice to say about Bishop next. He answered my look of elaborate surprise by squeezing his hands around my waist.
"Do you wish to be infected with Casavir's doubts and guilt? How can this help you? I feared he was going to upset you further or…"
"Or what?" I asked through my growing irritation.
"I thought you might turn to him for comfort."
"And what if I did? Why does that bother you?"
"Because…it does."
"That makes no sense. Casavir is my friend. And you're right; I do value his opinion, despite your irrational disapproval." I gave him an exasperated look. "Should your voice be the only one I heed? Should I never leave your side or speak to another man? What do you want from me?"
I was having trouble reading the look he gave me. The light shining up from the sword held loosely in my hand cast strange shadows across his face. Could he really be as baffled as I felt? I knew he cared for me, in his way, but I didn't know what that meant to him. Could he be feeling the same uncertainty?
"Ammon, is it possible that you don't know…are you asking me for some sort of declaration?"
He hesitated. When he spoke, his voice was even rougher than usual.
"No. Now is not the time for such things."
"Of course it isn't. I daresay it never will be." I spoke lightly but his words had felt like a slap out of nowhere, sharp and unexpected. I shouldn't have been surprised or disappointed—after all, it would have been fairly shocking if he'd said something sweet and romantic—but I was still taken aback. It wasn't his words that wounded me; it was his bitter and dismissive tone.
I pulled out of his hold so I could sheathe the sword before I jabbed it into my own foot—or his. Ammon could see in the dark and I figured he would keep me from stepping into anything too foul. Once the sword was secured, he took my arm. I could feel him searching my face. I was trying to swallow down an uncomfortable roil of emotions that I didn't want to examine too closely and that I certainly didn't want him probing in his gentle and oh so comforting way.
"Are you angry?"
Oh, dear, the direct approach. Damn him for embarrassing me worse than I already was.
"Of course I am," I said. "But that's because you're driving me mad. I'm getting accustomed to it though, as much as that's possible."
"Indeed." I took a step towards the camp but he tightened his grip on my arm. Apparently we weren't done yet. The evening breeze picked up, rustling through the winter-killed weeds. The wind blew a tiny flurry of leaves against my boots. I had the sudden urge to send the shards dancing after them but I was a little afraid to experiment with the sword until I'd had time to talk to Zhjaeve about this new ability.
"I'm sure this is another of my annoying weaknesses but sometimes I need comfort," I said. "And sometimes I need to know that what we are doing is right. If we're all going to die, maybe it doesn't matter…but I think it does. We will be judged by our actions, won't we?" Ammon didn't say anything but the light of his tattoos showed his face was serious and grave. "And what if we survive? If I have to live with myself and the choices I've made after this is all over, then I need to understand what I've done."
I turned away a little but his hand caught my other arm to stop me. I sighed.
"Have you never thought about what happens…after?" I asked. "Of what we'll do with our lives if we still have them after we've cleaned up this Illefarn mess? Don't our feelings for each other matter at all? Is it really better to leave them unspoken? You say that now is not the time for such things, but how much time do you think we have?"
"It is a fool's game to wish that events had played out differently—to wish that we had made different choices or met under different circumstances and to feel regret for lost opportunities. And it is a fool's game to plan for a future that we cannot control." Instead of their normal amber, the evening's shadows made his eyes seem very dark.
"And you are no fool, are you, Ammon?"
His hands slid along my upper arms; his hold softening to a caress.
"I would not say that. But to indulge in this game—how can it help us?"
"Must everything we do serve a practical purpose?" I asked. "What harm does it do to dream of what might be? Is there no place for the hope that one day we may be free of this destiny?"
"Hope is not something I often indulge myself in. Does it bring you comfort? For me, it brings something closer to despair, I think. I leave that particular indulgence to the paladin."
I frowned.
"But let's not speak of him," he said. "Are sweet lies what you wish to hear from me?"
"Not really. Is that all there is between us?"
"You do understand that there is little I can offer you other than what I have already pledged," he said slowly. "We are bound together against the shadow but beyond that I dare not…even my name would be a burden to you and not a protection."
I looked up from my feet. Did he think this was my way of hinting for marriage? Gods, the man was dense.
"I don't need a name," I said. "I have one. In fact, I have several. Kalach-Cha or Shard-Bearer, take your pick. Or Farlong. That's what they call me—called me—in West Harbor, after my foster father. But that's only because they had to call me something. No one remembered my mother and no one ever knew who my father was." He didn't say anything. Surely my sorry history was no news to him. "I didn't mean to sound maudlin. I'm trying to say that marriage is not very important to me. I know you have a fine and noble name but I have no desire to join the nobility."
"Nasher knighted you, Jess. You are a member of the nobility whether you like it or not."
"Oh, that. That's just a technicality so I can levy taxes and raise troops without the real nobles squawking. They don't want me around, trust me. Half of them still believe I managed to get away with the slaughter of Ember. I suppose it's flattering that they think I'm clever enough to pull a fast one on Tyr." I rolled my eyes. "I'm like that other knight they whisper about—Edmund Cebari—do you know him? In other words, I'm someone handy to keep around as long as I stay decently away from the court and do what I'm told."
"Such cynicism is unbecoming in one so young." There was a smile in his voice however.
"Don't think you can take any credit for it," I said tartly. If he didn't stop harping about my age, I was going to return the favor and let him see how pleasant it was. "I've been taught by masters. Let me tell you that Sand was a bad influence on me long before you were. Even my first teacher, Tarmas, wasn't exactly a cheery ray of sunshine and some of the tales he told of the court—well, you probably know them all but they were pretty shocking stuff for West Harbor."
"I don't believe Nasher would have made you one of the Nine if he didn't plan to keep you close by his side when this is over. That is not an honor he bestows lightly. Still, my problems—and my enemies—reach far beyond Nasher's court and I do not wish you to become embroiled in any of them."
"If you're talking about our planar friends, at this point I'd say that the githyanki hate me even more than they hate you. But Zeeaire said they wouldn't be sending anyone else after me."
"Since she's dead, she's likely to keep her word. However there is always another Zeeaire. That's no ordinary silver sword you carry, you know. Do you think the Lich Queen will ever give up the chance to recover Gith's own blade?"
"You sure know how to cheer a gal up," I grumbled. Well, thank goodness I hadn't missed my daily reminder of our impending doom. Trust Ammon to take what could have been a tender moment and turn it into yet another depressing litany of the problems ahead. Now why would I ever turn to another for comfort when I got so much reassurance from him?
"Still, I took all of Zeeaire's shards and without them, it will be hard for the githyanki to track me down." At his expression, I added, "Won't it?"
"All the shards are not accounted for and the ones that are missing must have been taken away from West Harbor. Otherwise, they would have been drawn to you when you remade the sword. I would very much like to know who has them now." He shrugged. "But Jess, as I told you before, the power of the shard within you has changed. It was detectable before but now it shines like a beacon. Still, the githyanki are not my worry as yet. The King of Shadows is a more pressing concern for them, as he is for us. If they cross to this plane, I believe they will seek out his stronghold in the Mere. No doubt they have realized that it is there that our paths must intersect."
I let out a loud sigh that was only a slight exaggeration of my weariness with this conversation.
"Enough, warlock. I've changed my mind. I'd rather hear the sweet lies." I gave him an expectant look. "And make them good ones."
He put his arms around me and I nestled my head under his chin. I could feel his beard against the top of my head.
"Shall we talk of our future life together? Shall we talk of the sons the shaman promised you?" I felt his breath stir my hair. "Jess, how can these lies cause anything but pain?"
"Is there harm in hoping for happiness one day?" I said wistfully. "Can't you at least try to imagine it?"
"I cannot. What happiness lies in store for us together? If we succeed against the King of Shadows, do you think Nasher will forgive my crimes? Will he forgive the deaths of three of his nobles?"
"I'm pretty sure he'll forgive you for Dalren," I muttered. Sand had filled me in on the man's traitorous activities during the war with Luskan.
"Privately perhaps, but never publicly," Ammon said. "He won't risk having his own court turn on him and there are certain truths that could harm Neverwinter if they were brought into the light. Leaving that aside, do you think he will give up vengeance for the murder of one of his Nine?"
I remembered the stony expression on Nasher's face when I had told him of Melia's death at the Moonstone Mask. Nasher himself had acknowledged my words with naught but a curt nod that could have been interpreted as indifference. However I had seen enough repressed grief in my life to know it well. I hadn't needed Sir Nevalle's white and stricken look or the concern in his eyes when he looked at our king to tell me the truth. No, I did not think Melia's death was one that Nasher would be willing to overlook.
"He stays his hand now because it is in Neverwinter's best interests," Ammon said. "Do you think he will not move against me when the threat is gone? I doubt he would be so cruel as to order you to bring me to justice but neither will he spare me for your sake."
"We don't have to stay in Neverwinter."
"So you would give up your family and your friends and all the honors and responsibilities you have received to go into exile with me. To what end? Even if we prevail against the King of Shadows—and both survive—I still have the little matter of my debts to the Lower Planes to settle."
"I thought they would not come due until your death."
"Those of the Lower Planes can afford to be patient when dealing with mortals but I don't think they will be, not in my case. They know me too well. They must fear that, given enough time and enough power, I may find a way to renegotiate or even nullify my debts."
"Is that possible?"
He shrugged.
"I doubt it. I have given it little thought, to be honest. If we defeat the King of Shadows then that is where I must turn my attention, I suppose." His eyes narrowed for a moment in consideration and then he gave another shrug, as if pushing the idea away. "There are some in my bloodline with very long life spans, if the tales can be believed. And there are ways to extend my life—lichdom, perhaps."
I made a sound of distaste. Ammon stroked my back.
"I did not say I'd choose that path. My point is that in the unlikely event that I survive the battles before us, I doubt I shall be left to live out my remaining years in peace."
"Then you will need my help. I don't want to lose you, Ammon. I love you."
It was the first time I'd said those three little words—to him or to anyone—and I had hoped for a better reception than the one I received.
"Let us speak of love then, if you insist," he said harshly. "Love would have you fight by my side, would it? Love would have you pit yourself against some of the vilest creatures of the Lower Planes? Love would have you make yourself a target for their schemes? So generous, this love of yours. I know you don't think much of the choices I have had to make in my life but do you believe I am such a man as to take advantage of your naïveté?"
His thumbs dug painfully into my sides, right above the straps of my sword belt.
"It is my choice to make, not yours."
"In that, you are wrong. I neither want nor need your aid. Should I drain your life and your strength to prolong mine, to defy my just fate? Perhaps I could ask you to take some of my blood debt upon yourself. Would love compel you to do so?" He gave me an angry shake. "Do you believe I am in such fear of my fate that I would accept such a sacrifice?"
I twined my arms around his waist.
"If you loved me, you'd be thinking of ways to make this work instead of telling me how impossible it is."
"No, Jess." He pulled back a little, put his hand under my chin to make me look at him. "You know better."
"No, I don't. It sounds like you're planning on giving up."
"I don't suppose it is in my nature to give up without a fight, no matter how hopeless it may be," he said. "But this is my fight, not yours. You have your own life ahead of you. Mine is…spent."
"So you're just going to leave me, when this is over? Crawl back to your Haven and wait for the demons to come after you?"
"I will do what I must and so will you."
"If I were the one in trouble, would you just walk off and leave me when our task is done? You know you wouldn't. Why would you expect it of me? Don't be such a hypocrite, Ammon."
"The cases are not the same and you know it. My problems are of my own making and…there is little you can do to help. All you can do is to throw your life away for nothing."
"If this is all for nothing then why did you bother coming to my bed in the first place?" I could feel the tears standing in my eyes. Dark as it was, he could probably still see them. That made me a little ashamed and a little angry. When he brushed the hair out of my face I had to squash the urge to strike his hand away. "Am I supposed to believe that this is all meaningless to you? That you feel nothing?"
"You seemed determined to take someone to your bed and I thought—I would cause less harm there, perhaps. Less distraction. And I will admit that it occurred to me that if someone was to be intimate with you, to have your ear, that it was best that I do so."
Yes, he had it all planned out, all logical and rational. I might have bought this motive—if not for the heat in his eyes, the desire for ownership I felt in his hands and the way he leaned into me. He lowered his head and I raised mine.
"And I was attracted, of course."
"Of course," I breathed. Attraction is a strange and unaccountable gift from Sharess. I knew that what had first attracted me to Ammon was the fire I saw inside him like a volcano ready to vent, the sensation of a seemingly endless fountain of dangerous power barely constrained by his force of will. To live with Ammon would be as exhilarating and terrifying as keeping a dragon for a watchdog. He could say what he liked about us doing what we must do. Ammon lied to himself as easily as he lied to others. I could feel the truth of what he wanted. When the time came, it would not be logic that would rule him.
I felt his beard against my face and then his lips brushed mine.
"I thought I was wise enough to avoid the temptation of…attachment." His arms pulled me in so tight that I had to arch my back to see his face. I could feel his power curl around me like a warm blanket on a cold night.
"And are you?" I murmured. My arms went around his neck. I was vaguely aware of the sheathed sword caught between us, its silver hilt digging into my flesh and no doubt into his as well. It would have been painful if I had been able to feel anything but breathless anticipation.
"No. I am not."
"Because you love me."
"Yes, hells take me. I do."
Author's Note: And so we reach the end of my little tale. I hope you've enjoyed the ride, Dear Reader. I've gone back and revised all the previous chapters, making little improvements here and there but nothing that will make you have to go reread the whole thing. Unless you just want to…
:)