Realms

by Jeffrey Vasquez

A simple mistake in heaven, and three rather important young people are ripped from their proper places in time and space, to end up… Well, God knows, but he isn't saying! Adventure Ah! Megamisama Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon Ranma crossover.

12. Chapter 10

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Disclaimer:

All characters and settings are used here without permission.

You know this part by heart now, so I'll skip to the new stuff.

Susan Sto Helit, Discworld, and the various sundries, all belong to the majestic Sir Terry Pratchett. They are his and his alone. If you haven't read any of his books, stop reading here, get out of your chair and run, RUN, to your nearest library. His work is more interesting and entertaining than mine by far.

There will be mention of a cameo from another author's work. I'd rather not ruin the surprise, but will give him full credit in the next chapter.

All original characters belong to me. Please drop me a line if you want to use them.

Author's Note:

I am taking liberties with Elven physiology and using stuff from my own campaign setting with regards to Elven and Half-elven pregnancies. The idea of inter-racial breeding has always been one of those questions none of the source material answered for me, so I came up with my own explanation.

Enjoy!

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Realms

Chapter Ten

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Providence

"Thirty six months? You gotta be kidding, right?" Ranma-kun stared at Sefaril Kalavir dumbstruck.

"Not in the least. Elven mothers carry their children for three years before giving birth." The expectant mother smiled at the grayish green hue that Ranma's face had taken on; it was always nice to humble a man now and again, and nothing humbled a person like trying to walk in a pregnant woman's shoes.

"But you ain't gonna have to go through all that right? I mean, you're human."

"True. But, carrying a half-elven child is still considerably different than a normal human pregnancy." Sefaril paused and groaned as she leaned against the railing of the balcony overlooking the main square of Providence. "I may have to carry the baby for the full elven term, then again it may be shorter. One thing is for certain though, the pregnancy will still be around a year and a half, give or take a month or two. Half-elven pregnancies are never as exact or as predictable as a purely human or elven pregnancy."

"That's just crazy." Ranma shook his head and smiled. It seemed to fit his chaotic nature to a tee though. No wonder he'd gotten stuck with the mantle. He looked at Sefaril and gestured, asking for permission to touch her swollen belly. She nodded and smiled eagerly. Ranma's hand was warm and the baby immediately wiggled in response.

"She's growing stronger everyday." He whispered. "Her spirit is so eager."

Sefaril covered Ranma's hand with her own and for just a moment, he felt a little more complete. Not as an individual, but in purpose. This whole thing was…it was him. It was who and what he was; the merging of worlds and blending of dualities. He'd never felt so excited before; not about anything!

Sefaril looked deep into his bright and energized eyes, and slowly let herself lean in to lightly kiss his lips. The young godling couldn't keep the surprised blush from his cheeks. He could feel the woman's love and devotion for him, as well as the yearning to belong to someone again. That void of loneliness was so deep and vast, he couldn't help but want to fill it in someway.

"She's responding to your presence, and the safety that you offer everyone near you." Sefaril pointed out.

Ranma-kun nodded and brushed his cheek against Sefaril's face. Her breath quickened at the feel of his perfect skin and the cocoon of warmth his mere presence was blanketing her in. The irresistible pull of his lips drew her in and she lost herself in the passion of the moment.

Things would have proceeded further had Ranma not suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of panic cut through his being. He pulled away abruptly and stared down, brow furrowed intensely, as if searching for the source of the sensation.

"What is it?" Sefaril whispered. The sudden tenseness in his muscles worried her more than the golden glow that settled in his eyes.

"She needs help."

Sefaril had no idea who "she" was, but the urgency was plain.

"Go. Save her."

Looking back on it later, she would find it amusing that she had given permission to someone as powerful as Ranma to do what needed to be done. In the now however, he simply nodded and vanished in a cloud of cool shadows, leaving her alone in the newly completed home. The feeling of security and sense of belonging vanished with Ranma, and the void in her heart grew more pronounced. Images of Maric filled her mind and the guilt of the kiss she'd shared with Ranma plagued her. Seven years of devotion and love she had shared with Maric; through blood, sweat, and tears – through illness and war, peace and plenty. And now, so soon after burying him, she had betrayed her love.

Yet nothing on Toril had ever felt so very right before – not even her relationship with Maric. The burning passion she felt in his presence was nearly suffocating. Ranma was so focused and his very breath charged her magic to transcendence. Oh Sweet Mystra! What was she to do now? Ignore her feelings? Shun Ranma in favor of her dead and beloved Maric?

So lost in her thoughts, she never noticed the unnatural shadow crawling across the floor, nor the blow gun that slowly pierced the heart of that shadow, until it was too late. She had a brief instant of panic seize her before the dart hit. The poison was instantaneous, freezing her muscles even as it put her into a deep, deep, sleep. Had she remained conscious for just a moment more, she would have recognized the pale grey skin of the Shadovar immerging from the confines of the shadow. That alone would have terrified her; if she had seen the eager expression of triumph on the Shadovar's face, she would have despaired.

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Nacacia was a half-elf. She had been named after the famous half-elven lover of Elminster Aumar, who had helped in laying the foundations of the Mythal of Myth Drannor. Her mother was a Moon-elf historian and her father a priest of Oghma that had met and fallen in love at Candlekeep. Nacacia was young, barely seven summers old, and in the clutches of drow.

The raid on their little village had been vicious. Set a day north from Waterdeep, Ramble was the home of farmers and tradesmen. Her parent's home was something of a welcome oddity for the men and women of the town. With the aid of her mother and her mother's family, her father had constructed a beautiful temple to his god amidst a natural grove of shadowtops that had been left to grow, rather than be cut to make way for more planting fields. It seemed the perfect place to establish a temple to the Lord of Knowledge; it was quiet, and close enough to a large center of trade where knowledge could be shared. The townsfolk seemed eager, if not out right proud to have the temple built in their community. And life, quiet as it was, moved on. Soon Nacacia was born and their little family seemed incredibly happy. It was the perfect life, until the drow burrowed up from their hellish, dark holes.

The glade had been destroyed, Ohgma's temple desecrated and the altar defiled with her mother's own heart blood. Her father was tortured and she was forced to watch each and every profane act as the drow priestess had done unspeakable things to the poor man. She had cried out to Oghma, vainly pleading for aid, but the god did not answer her as she was drug into the tunnels and far from her home. She continued to pray as she was towed through the streets of Karsolythiyl, a small but thriving drow city deep within the bowels of Toril's Underdark.

She despaired as the drow priestess handed her off to the matron of her house, a high priestess of Loth. And now, tied to the bloody altar as she was, with the knife of the evil matron hanging over her, all she could do was weep in terror. She knew what was coming. She knew there was no denying it. Yet, something deep inside her refused to give up; a spark of defiance that refused to die. It cried out to the heavens, praying that someone or something would come to her aid.

The knife fell, but to her surprise it did not pierce her flesh. She opened her eyes and stared in disbelief as a man…no. No man could emit so much power and sense of reverence. This being before her was a god, shrouded in golden flames and writhing shadows. His eyes burned with righteous fury and where his hand gripped the matron's wrist, she burned. The sizzling of the drow's skin filled Nacacia with hope and the power of Lloth, which had filled the chamber to the point of suffocation just moments before, evaporated as if it never were.

The Being looked down at her and smiled softly. It was a reminder of the affection her parents had for her that filled her to overflowing with a sense of warmth and peace. She hadn't felt so loved in what seemed an Age. He didn't speak. There was no need. She knew his name. How could she not know Glauenthiel, the Spirit Sentinel? She had called to him, and he had answered. He had come for her when none else would, and in the instant their eyes met, she became his.

It was just that simple.

The chains holding Nacacia turned to slag beneath his gaze, even as the other priestesses surged forward to the aid of their matron. There was no heat to burn her flesh; one moment they were whole and the next they were puddles on the floor of the chamber. The orgy of violence that followed was decidedly one sided and as she watched, her demons and the fear of these evil creatures evaporated like dew on a hot summer morning. Her god literally decimated the infidels, breaking their bodies and their magic with contemptuous ease. They were insects before his might, and he crushed them with efficient precision. Every move was an economy of motion. Every hit had its purpose. Nacacia watched enthralled by his movements, utilizing the sharp mind and eidetic memory she'd been blessed with to capture this physical demonstration of her new deity's dogma. There was no waste, there was only decisiveness. There was no show boating, only cold efficiency in defense of another.

The priestesses of Lloth ran before his might. The sheer unrelenting terror of his cold, perfectly harnessed, rage drove them out of their unholy temple and into the streets of the foul Karsolythiyl. She followed him as he marched onward, dragging the still screaming matron behind him. Nacacia watched as her former tormentor literally withered into madness beneath the purifying flames of his divinity. The drow matron clawed ineffectually at his arm and wrist, and when that did not avail her, she tore at her eyes trying to escape the perfect brightness of his aura. Nacacia bore witness as he delivered each broken slave, regardless of race and creed. Their chains, like her own, melted away granting them freedom. Some stood, uncertain as to how they should proceed. Others followed in her god's wake, picking up the weapons discarded by their former masters and seeking to avenge themselves on the fleeing drow. Nacacia ignored their ingratitude in favor of bearing witness as Glauenthiel lifted up those crippled beneath the cruel hands of these vile creatures of evil. Their wounds were healed at his touch, or at the touch of his fiery aura. And those that he healed fell in step behind her, adding their testimonies to her own.

The young half-elf would later testify, along side her brothers and sisters that were rescued that day, of her lord and master's unerring dedication; of how he sought out each and every one of those poor half-elven children – regardless of age or parentage. No matter where they were, or the cruelty of their circumstances, he found them. Slave and sacrifice, prisoner and prey, young and healthy or old and infirm; it didn't matter. She would recount with adoration of his compassion as he lifted each one up from the darkness, filling them with the light of his hope with but a small smile as he shattered the bonds that held them within the suffocating darkness.

It was incredible to witness him purge the drow city. His vengeance was a roaring flame that scoured the dark metropolis of evil. The shadows could not hide any from his sight, and he brought low each and every foe that challenged him. Yet, all those acts paled in comparison to the final confrontation with the Spider Queen's champion. Selvetarm himself appeared in the midst of the ruined city to challenge her god's might. Nacacia stood amongst her brothers and sisters, and those other worthies that were freed from the tyranny of the drow that day and watched as the Spirit Sentinel humbled the Spider that Waits with frightening ease.

The battle turned fierce then, as Selvetarm rallied, but Glauenthiel never hesitated. Reality was torn asunder by their blows, yet her savior never faltered in his protection of those unable to protect themselves. The Champion of Lloth cursed him and his fell weapons spilt his blood, and just when it seemed her lord was lost, Nacacia and her new family witnessed his indomitable will perform the impossible. He routed the Bastard of Webs and broke him before his dread queen's faithful. He pinned the warrior god's dark and handsome form, shaking the foundations of the drow city and causing more than a few drow citadels to shatter and crumble. The vile god shifted, transforming himself into a hideously demonic spider, but Glauenthiel smote his foe again and again, breaking his eight legs and spearing him to a giant stalagmite at the heart of Karsolythiyl.

Selvetarm cursed him, foul and long, before retreating back to his dark home to nurse his wounds and plot revenge. And in his wake the drow wailed and gnashed their teeth in despair at the betrayal. Nacacia and her new family cheered as the dark elves scattered, driven from their city by the might of the Spirit Sentinel. And when he turned to them, bleeding from his many wounds, they knelt as one in reverence before him. He bid them rise and when they did, he looked to their wounds; and his blood bathed them, marking them as his.

Nacacia traced the contours of the sigil that now blessed her flesh, setting the shape of the circle bisected by a curving line to memory. She and the others would leave this place of horrors behind, but they would forever remember the price their god paid to free them. For Nacacia, she would always remember his strong embrace and the whispered words he shared with her. They would define her for the rest of her long life.

"You're family now, and family looks out for one another."

She would hear stories and encounter more refugees freed from the drow and the other dark races of the Underdark by the Spirit Sentinel. These refugees had other names for him: Ranma Weavebender, Shadowbinder, Chancedancer, Guuruk the Destroyer, the Lord of Change. But in the end they all called him Father, and in turn she called them family. It would take two long years to gather these faithful into a strong community, but the bastion of hope that they became would last many life times.

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Sembia had survived.

It was saying something too, considering the amount of collateral damage that had befallen the country side. Miraculously, no one (save a few nests of Shar's most faithful) died as the country was quickly, if accidentally, conquered. By the time El had gathered Valor and Koneko-chan from his bunker, all of the merchant lords were assembled on bended knee before Ranma-chan and her Furies, waiting for the punishment of one rather infamous Hogrhim Aporos. The fool had tried to escape again, but had been quickly caught, trussed up, gagged, and presented to Ranma-chan like some sick nameday gift. First among the assembly were his father and mother, still begging forgiveness for their offspring's stupidity and pleading for clemency in the fool's punishment.

Ranma-chan, sitting distractedly on a throne conjured by one of her Furies, accepted the pleas magnanimously and in a fit of ironic justice cursed Hogrhim to be an unearthly attractive and buxom woman for the rest of her natural life. She and her family immediately fled for their lives as a lynch mob formed in the wake of Ranma-chan's divine retribution, to drive them from the borders of Sembia.

The hopes of appeasing the avatar were quietly dashed, as the Council of Sembia ignored Ranma-chan's every protest of being their queen. All of her denials seemed to drive the former ruling class to further heights in their vain attempts to jockey for her majesty's favor. Every time they spilled the dirty laundry of their rivals, Ranma-chan cringed. Every time they presented her with new and more elaborate gifts, she grimaced. Of course, the warring merchants seemed to misinterpret these expressions, and sought to rectify the situation in the only way they knew how – they hired assassins to eliminate the problem. Thus it was, by the end of the first tenday, all of the Merchant Lords had slaughtered each other under the shell-shocked gaze of their new ruler.

Wynn was the root of the problem as far as Ranma-chan was concerned. Since the young, overly eager disciple had gotten her into this mess, she was damn well going to deal with the majority of the headaches. For El, it came as no surprise that she pressed the weight of governing of Sembia on the shoulders of the young woman. He would have done the same thing had he been in her shoes.

The old mage would have found the whole scene even more amusing if he wasn't quietly restraining Koneko-chan from slipping her harness in the shadows of what was left of the Great Hall of the Council of Sembia. Valor, somehow, maintained her perch atop his head throughout the entire struggle; even after the harness finally snapped and irreverently sent the elderly archmage to his buttocks with a loud huff. The noise of his fall was enough to draw attention his way, and inevitably to Koneko-chan who promptly buried Ranma-chan beneath her weight.

It wasn't the way that he'd hoped to introduce the disparate soul fragments, but then again…was there truly a perfect way to do something like that? He didn't think so.

Sadly, the soul fragments did not fuse as El had expected, leaving the Magister to flounder under the weight of the combined gazes of Ranma-chan and her Furies. The avatar was laughing and giggling under the purring of Koneko-chan's affections, but even so, she still had enough control to wrangle the physical personification of the Neko-ken into some semblance of restraint. When Ranma-chan finally spoke, the Magister felt Doom quietly dance up and down his spine.

"What. The. Hell?"

Elminster blinked, patted himself down just to make certain that all the important bits were still there, and offered a quick prayer of gratitude to Mystra when they were. Ranma-chan simply leveled a heavy-lidded stare his way, prompting another spontaneous spine-shiver.

"Well, uh, ye see…" Elminster mentally cursed in every language, dead and alive, that he could readily think of – which was a bit strange considering he couldn't rightly think of much else. It was strange how this was playing out. He'd rehearsed this conversation a number of times, preparing himself for this very meeting, but for the life of him, he couldn't dredge up a single sentence to save his life. He could swear in Abyssal, Draconic, Halruuan, Elvish, Orcish, Dwarvish, and Abeoleth; but for the love of Mystra, he couldn't remember what he'd planned to say in this very pivotal and life-altering meeting. So he settled for speaking his mind.

"Bugger."

"'Bugger?'" Ranma-chan repeated. El nodded dutifully and shrugged.

"I think that about sums the situation up nicely." He felt very clever. He'd been alive for a very long time but, standing here as he was, he felt like a gangly youth caught daydreaming by his father all over again.

"Let me help you out here, Aumar-san." Ranma-chan scratched a spot behind Koneko-chan's ear causing a low rumble to echo throughout the throne room. "I'll ask you a question, and you provide a simple and concise answer. How does that sound?"

"Smashing!" El approved. At the very least it would jumpstart his stalled brain.

"Good. Now then, who is this?"

"Koneko-chan."

"Koneko-chan…very original." Ranma nodded her head with a very strained smile. "Now, why does she look like me?"

"Oh, well, that's easy. It's because the lass is a physical manifestation of a part of thy soul."

"My soul?" Ranma raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"Aye. Thy soul." El answered helpfully.

"Let me take a stab at guessing which part. The Neko-ken?"

El nodded eagerly.

"You know how she got separated, or why she's a she?"

El stroked his beard nervously. For all his experience in dialoguing and answering the multitude of questions that his apprentices brought to him on the deeply arcane, the aged wizard wasn't sure how to approach this one – not because the answer was difficult to explain, but because he really didn't know. How'd he let something that important slip by him?

"Well…that is to say…erhm…."

"You don't have a clue, do you?"

"Not a one." El admitted.

Ranma-chan shrugged nonchalantly and stood, causing Koneko-chan to gracefully slide to the floor on all fours. The catgirl purred happily as she rubbed her cheek against Ranma-chan's leg before settling to groom herself.

"So, what do you know, Elminster of Mystra?" Ranma settled herself back into the comfortable throne, draping one leg over an arm rest and propping her elbow on the other. "From what I can tell, you've come a long way to seek me out."

"Aye." El admitted. "I've been tasked by one of thy Sisters, to aid ye."

"Sisters?"

"Aye." El fished around in his robes for the card he'd been given oh, so long ago, and passed it off to Ranma.

"Kinhon'I, Goddess First Class, Unlimited. Department of Divine Auditing." Ranma frowned. "Never heard of her. Why'd she send you?"

El did more fishing, pulling various objects from bottomless pockets and grumbling a great deal, before producing a very worn contract. He cleared his throat and began to read.

"Elminster Aumar, Magister of the Weave, Chosen of Mystra. You are hereby charged with the following, in regards to one Saotome Ranma (Aliases include but not limited to: The Weavebender, Erwyndolyn the Lady of Change, Shade Killer, Soul Stealer, The Unbreakable, Glauenthiel The Well of Souls, Guuruk The Destroyer, Wild Mage): In the first and the last, to mentor Saotome Ranma in the intricacies of life, love, magic, and various sundries. To act as guide and protector of the same, and aid the new deity in any manner or matter that may present itself."

El carefully folded the contract and replaced it in the depths of an inner pocket of his robe, before looking at the young goddess on her throne.

"That's a pretty steep order." Ranma admitted, resting her chin in her palm. El nodded and smiled.

"Aye, but I look to discharge it as best I'm able." He bowed at the knee smoothly. "Till death and probably beyond, I am thy servant. Command me."

"What did you do?"

The question totally derailed El's expectations and his thoughts. The confusion on the faces of Ranma's Furies must have matched his own, because Ranma clarified her question.

"This sort of thing doesn't just happen, you know, getting assigned as a teacher to a newly appointed goddess and all." El nodded. It was true enough. "So what did you do to be chosen for this assignment? Did you have to apply, or go on some crazy quest, or something?"

The Magister was caught flatfooted for a moment, before blushing and scratching the back of his neck nervously. He debated lying for all of an instant, before remembering just who and what he was going to be lying to. The fact that he already been "blessed" by Fendrellinor, he had no desire to see what punishments Ranma's hand might dish out, particularly after seeing what had happened to the Aporos boy…er woman. He sighed in defeat and presented Ranma-chan with the itemized bill that Kinhon'I had presented him and watched in dread as the scarlet haired goddess read.

He watched as her mouth began to twitch. The twitch became a smirk, which evolved into a grin, which turned into a smile, and the smile gave way to laughter. Not a chuckle mind you, but a full blown gut wrenching belly laugh. The funny thing was…the laughter wasn't directed at him. It seemed to be something else entirely. El couldn't help but chuckle along with the goddess.

"Oh! Oh! That was great!" Ranma cleared the tears from her eyes with the back of a delicate hand. "I always wondered if I was the only one that had ever happened to. Bein' billed for staring at someone's boobs! Nabiki's going to be pissed someone's horning in on her racket!"

Elminster shook his head in relief and wonder. At least he wasn't alone in being charged. Someone else knew his pain.

"Well, get up Elminster. We've much to do, and you're going to help me figure out how to do it!"

The Chosen of Mystra did as he was commanded.

"What is thy bidding, my Master?"

Ranma snorted and leapt from her throne.

"Stow it, Vader."

El winced at the light punch to his shoulder.

"You're going to help me find my other half…"

"Third." El mumbled automatically, earning himself another punch. He rubbed the already forming bruise tenderly, vowing to keep his fool mouth shut from here on out.

"…after which we're going to hunt down that stupid bint, Shar, and make her sorry for ever being conceived."

Great. First day on the job and he was already waging war on a goddess. He wanted to cry. He really did. But in the end, all he could do was scratch behind Koneko's ears and listen to the new and inventive ways that Ranma-chan planned on making Shar pay for splitting her soul up.

Some days, El felt sorry he was ever conceived. Damn his parents for fools. He wished they'd never…well, you know….

Damn it all to the Abyss! He was even starting to think like a pre-teen magical cat-girl!

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Candlekeep

The Avowed were the monks of Candlekeep. Their stewardship was the protection and proliferation of knowledge throughout the realms of Abeir-Toril. At the head of this Biblio-monastary was the Keeper of the Tomes, one Ulraunt. A wizard of some considerable power and intellect, and with the hauteur and sticky self-importance that generally comes from gaining such power. Gaining admittance to the library fortress was nigh impossible, until Ellosin stepped in and brokered a deal with the Keeper of Tomes.

Keiichi wasn't sure he liked the bargain, but translating a few books for the sake of access to the knowledge he needed was a small price to pay. Ulraunt had insisted on a test, to ensure that Keiichi had both the power and ability to translate any language, dead or otherwise. Therefore, the Innovator found himself barricaded in a room for half a day, surrounded by texts and bid to read and translate passages from the lot of them. Ulraunt seemed hell-bent on disproving him, dropping book after book in front of him and forcing him to read a paragraph here or a line there. Scrolls came next, most of them seeming to be arcane in nature, but more than a few were odds and ends spanning cooking instructions to a treatise on the care and grooming of something called Cranium Rats. The idea of a swarm of rats that were telepathically linked in a hive mind sent shivers down Keiichi's spine. Who in their right mind would want to keep a pack of rats that grow more intelligent with greater numbers?

The concept was more than a little upsetting for Keiichi, but he'd had little time to dwell on the thought before Ulraunt slid another text in front of him. This one was written on leaves, of all things, and the rather risqué topic had both wizard and translator blushing after only three words. It wasn't until late afternoon that Ulraunt was at last satisfied, and Keiichi was finally freed from the torment. He was immediately given a key to a room, and instructions for his first translation which would begin before dawn the next morning. He would have to translate at minimum, five books in order to pay for his group's stay. It would take time, but Keiichi had an idea of how to speed things up just a bit.

The machine wouldn't be pretty, but slapping together a voice activated typewriter seemed much faster than using a scribe. He had heard from Ellosin that Candlekeep had their own printing press, so it shouldn't be too hard to acquire the type slugs and ink. There was a glut of paper and parchment to be found throughout the fortress, so that wouldn't be a problem either. The plans for his newest machine were coming together, and he'd entered a meditative state that would have his newest creation built in less than three hours time. Sure he'd missed the welcoming dinner Ulraunt had set for him and the more prominent guests, but that hadn't bothered Keiichi at all. He wasn't even really hungry to begin with. Ulraunt had acted offended at first, until he saw one of his Avowed testing the machine. After that, all was forgiven.

Arrangements were quickly made to move the Auto-writer into a private study, and Keiichi asked for the first text he was meant to translate. The rest of the night was spent reading and fine tuning the Auto-writer to ensure an acceptable final copy of the translation. The second day was spent in much the same way, reading aloud the translation, while the Auto-writer created a readable text. The only difference was Ulraunt's insistence that Keiichi tour Candlekeep in the early afternoon. Maerdith was adamant about bringing him breakfast and lunch, and sat next to him until he'd eaten every last crumb. Others had interrupted his work numerous times with their curiosity, which inspired him to create a pause function for the Auto-writer and a "Do Not Disturb" sign for his door. He was tired of his dictation being shanghaied by some fearful scribe trying to get a look at their mechanical replacements.

In the end, the first, second, and third books were done within the first three nights of their stay in the keep. The press of time weighed him down to such an extent that he had approached the soft spoken Tethtoril, Candlekeep's First Reader, for aid in his reason for being here in the first place. Keiichi found the First Reader to be more intelligent, regal, and sensitive than his superior; and from the manner in which Ulraunt treated the cleric of Mystra, the Keeper of Tomes knew that fact all too well. Yet Tethtoril seemed indomitably patient and unfailingly loyal to his duties as the First Reader.

His thoughtfulness surprised Keiichi on the first morning after Ulraunt's rabid testing. The cleric presented Keiichi with warm blankets, reams of cut parchment for the Auto-writer, and hot sweet rolls from the kitchens with the tome the Innovator was meant to translate. He made himself approachable and was more diligent in his duties than just about anyone he knew. Their friendship was fast built and honestly deeper on many levels than just about any other male relationship Keiichi had. It was due to this, more than anything else that Keiichi trusted Tethtoril with his quest. The results were just as surprising to Keiichi, as the Auto-writer had been to the whole of Candlekeep.

Logs and histories detailing the Time of Troubles were at the top of the stack, a treatise about the cosmology of Toril was buried somewhere beneath all of that, and a number of massive volumes about portals, doorways, and passage to different worlds were towards the bottom. The most unusual source of information however, was the crystal skull perched precariously atop the tower of books and scrolls. Tethtoril called the magical artifact a Mimir, and described it as a magical repository concerning certain subjects. It was an interactive encyclopedia of sorts that had come into the keep's possession by way of a Plane Walker. Keiichi wasn't sure just what that was, but he felt that by the time he'd gone through the material Tethtoril had provided him with, he most certainly would.

The problem he had now was time. There just wasn't enough of it, and he certainly needed more. The First Reader sympathized and had offered to cast a localized variant of the Time Stop spell. However, the magic was taxing and it wouldn't last too terribly long. He'd also asked Keiichi if he were up to a little experimentation, and once the Innovator had agreed, used both Time Stop and an empowered Haste spell on both Keiichi and the Auto-writer. The results were spectacular, with Keiichi finishing the rest of his duty to Candlekeep in a day, but had resulted in the Auto-writer exploding.

Ulraunt had not been happy, but Keiichi and Tethtoril were able to head off the building rant with promises not to repeat the experiment inside the castle proper. Keiichi even promised to build a new and improved version of the Auto-writer for Castlekeep. Ulraunt, thinking of the money and prestige such a device would bring to the castle, and through that, to him; accepted their apologies and went on his way. From then on, Keiichi forwent sleep altogether, and only ate one in five of the meals that Maerdith brought him. He became lost in the tomes and in questioning the Mimir. He digested collected folktales, mythologies, and any supplements where traveling to the homes of the gods had been mentioned. Yet, out of all of the sources provided to him, three stood out above the others: Magalager's Manual to the Planes, the Mimir, and Bantrice's Primer to the Outlands.

"Studying hard I see?"

Keiichi looked up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice and blinked tiredly.

"You look like hell, young man. You should really start taking better care of yourself."

Before him sat a familiar person, someone that he'd met once, but didn't recognize right away. He was a handsome man, and his clothing was modest and well kept, yet elegant at the same time. His dark hair and curiously verdant eyes shone with something…more than human. Before him sat an immense tome, situated as either a barrier or a bridge between them; Keiichi wasn't certain which it was meant to be. It was opened to reveal pages that had long ago turned gold with age. No. No, they were gold!

That sparked a long buried memory.

"Ty. Ty Binder!"

"It does a heart good to be remembered." The Avatar of Oghma laughed. "I do however, restate the obvious: you look terrible. When was the last time you took a break?"

"What is today?" Keiichi rubbed his hand over his face tiredly.

"The day you're taking a break." Ty smiled and motioned at a tray behind Keiichi.

The young man took the hint and stepped away from the reading table long enough to get a roll and a flagon of water. Ty shook his head and pushed Keiichi back to the overflowing tray. Keiichi was quickly inspired to fill a plate to brimming before moving back to his place at the reading table.

"Young Maerdith has been pouring her heart and soul out to me for two days straight over you. The least I can do for her is check up on you, and I'm glad I did. You might be something more than mortal now, but you are not indestructible."

"What can I say? I've been busy." Keiichi shrugged and motioned to the stacks of books and scrolls littered around the room.

"Busy is not an excuse to ignore life, Keiichi." Ty held up his hand to stop the young man's protests. "I know about your deadline, and even that doesn't justify terrifying your friends and faithful."

"Well, I wouldn't have to if someone had a map to Cynnosure!" Keiichi whined.

"You've been given enough help, Keiichi. You can't expect everyone to hold your hand through this process. Nor can you expect to be handed everything on a silver platter."

"I'm not asking them to. I'm just asking for a little more direction."

"There are people who have been in your shoes before this, Keiichi. Azuth is a prime example. He worked and bled for the opportunity to become what he is."

"What do you call all of this then?" Keiichi motioned to the tomes around him.

"A start." Ty grinned. "But you must remember not to become lost in the search. It's not like someone made a map for you to follow. You're talking about the gathering place for the gods here, Keiichi. They wouldn't exactly want mortals popping in on them unannounced and uninvited. The parents need a night away from the children every once in a while."

"I don't doubt it." He tiredly rubbed his temples. "But I can't see why I would be given an impossible task to perform."

"Every father has a right to set impossible tasks for their future son-in-law – its tradition."

Keiichi laughed and nodded.

"Seriously Keiichi, this is a test. One that you need to solve on your own. You're a big boy now, and as you know growing up changes who we are physically, as much as it changes how we perceive the world around us. Just remember that not all tests are straightforward. Some tests don't simply focus on just one thing. You know this."

Keiichi nodded and slumped back into his chair.

"You have all the knowledge you need, Keiichi." Ty rose from his chair and slipped his book under an arm. "What you need now is perspective and wisdom."

"Couldn't this be construed as helping me?"

"No. I'm answering my daughter's prayer. She begged me to ensure your health, and give you direction. This has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with her. You need to learn to recognize the distinction. The universe doesn't revolve around mortal or god; we're simply cogs in the great wheel." Ty paused at the door of Keiichi's room and leveled a stern and weighted gaze on the young man. "She loves you Morisato. She loves you as much as she loves me. To her, I am a father. But you, you are something intimately more. She wants to be close to you in a way she never wanted to be close to me."

He smiled sadly.

"You know what?" He asked lightly. "This is the second disciple you've stolen from me."

"Second?"

"I wasn't always known as Oghma, and time doesn't always flow at the rate you perceive."

The statement was as mysterious as it was troubling, but Keiichi had no response as the god slipped through the door and disappeared.

Keiichi thought on those words long after Ty had left. He thought about those words well beyond the rising of the sun, until at last he came to acknowledge that his mysterious friend was right; he was growing up and the world around him had become very different by virtue of that change. He had people that depended on him, and his selfishness had no doubt hurt them. They had followed him, changed and sacrificed for him, had given up home and family to be with him. And what does he do? Loses himself in a personal quest at their expense. As much as they had changed for him, he knew that he had changed just as much. They were changing him in subtle ways day in and day out.

But how? How was he different?

He knew things now that he shouldn't. That was the first and most obvious change he saw in himself. Skuld's gifts had opened a whole new universe to him. Ostensibly it was to aid with Duncan's problems, but in the end it had helped him more than it had aided his dear friend. Urd's gifts had been, well he still wasn't one hundred percent sure what her "Super Potion" had done to him. Bell's gift of love had been all the inspiration he needed to do his best, but there was more to her blessing than he understood. He knew that for a fact.

Still, things had changed even more for him since the Festival of Creation. His senses had become even sharper than they had been and, every once in a while, he could swear that he felt the emotions and desires of his followers; especially when they were working on a project.

He could readily recognize the needs of others, regardless of their connection to him or not. It was how he knew Ulraunt was so insecure underneath all that bravado and arrogance. And now that Ty had mentioned it, he felt Maerdith's need to be near him in intimate and excruciating detail. But sensing the needs of others wasn't all; he intuitively understood how to address or solve those needs. Giving Ulraunt a problem that he alone must solve would invariably build his confidence. If that problem forced him to serve others with compassion, his pride would slowly melt away. It seemed though that Ulraunt's solution was the easiest to effect. Returning Maerdith's love seemed impossible if he was to remain true to Belldandy; yet if he didn't, she would eventually turn bitter and lose faith in not only him, but Oghma as well. So many problems started to surface, now that he wasn't completely focused on finding a way to Cynnosure.

It made him realize that he'd become connected to, and his eyes had been opened to, the world around him in startling new ways. Even now, he could hear the pangs of someone in despair over saving their daughter from the ravages of an unknown disease. He didn't know the woman, but he could feel her and her troubles reaching out to him through the thick walls of the keep, as she slept in an inn about a mile from the fortress. And it was only getting worse.

He stood and began pacing the room. Intellectually he knew that there were too many problems to solve, yet emotionally he wanted to help all these people. Was this part of the test? Was he meant to struggle over which problems to solve, and which to allow to solve themselves? That certainly seemed like a godly dilemma. Yet, his instructions were very clear; he was to be in Cynnosure by a certain time in order to meet with Him. That wasn't an interview you could be late to by any means. So, this could also be a test of obedience. Could he do what he was told, when there was a chance for him to help those around him?

Keiichi continued to pace the floor, idly fingering a rogue screw that had somehow found its way into his pockets.

Binder said that he had all the knowledge that he needed in order to complete his task; what he was lacking was perspective. He definitely needed to step away from the problem. As it was, his nose was pressed so hard against the mirror he couldn't see his face for all the pink. Keiichi sighed and snatched the screw out of the air again.

Tomorrow he would help out around the castle. If that didn't clear his head and give him some inspiration, then he would sit down with Maerdith and Tethtoril and discuss what he knew. They might have a better understanding of what he needed to do.

**************

Silverymoon

The trip to gather Susan Sto Helit, the Duchess of Sto Helit – who was also referred to on occasion as "Susan Death", was nothing short of weird. It had been weird from the very mention of Susan's name, and because of that Serenity had done everything in her power to avoid the excursion altogether. Sadly, she only managed to postpone the adventure for all of a week, by claiming a need to rest and recover from all of the shocks that she had experienced. The excuse went only so far with Alassra.

On the tenth day of her recovery, the Simbul marched into Serenity's bedroom and drug her from beneath the covers by the ankle. She was subsequently bathed, dressed, and primped, over the course of an hour under the baleful gaze of her older sisters. All of whom were more than tired of her hiding from her future. It was one thing to acknowledge her new station in life; it was another to whole-heartedly accept it.

Her sisters, however, seemed hell-bent on dragging her kicking and screaming into that future; a future that seemed to start with meeting this Susan person. This inevitably led Serenity to scurrying behind Alassra and Laeral as they literally flowed through the halls of Alustriel's castle. She'd asked where this Susan person lived, but the only response she'd gotten was "On the Disc.", which quite frankly was less than helpful. When she'd asked what the woman was like, Laeral only smiled mysteriously and told her to "Wait and see." – as if Serenity had ever been one for patience!

It was like that with the entire conversation. She would ask a question, and it would be deflected. The whole situation made her want to scream and pull her hair! If it weren't for the fact that they were standing outside of a heavy, very menacing, rune covered door at the moment, she might have done just that. Thankfully, for her own sense of pride, if for no other reason, Serenity's attention was drawn to Alassra and the sudden flood of power the woman was putting out.

The Door, Serenity would later learn, was one of many secret portals throughout Silverymoon, which led to another Plane, world, or dimension. The concept was fairly simple to understand; she'd seen Disney's Alice in Wonderland as a child. There were doorways into new and magical lands, hidden everywhere. You just had to meet the right requirements to pass through them. Serenity watched in awe as her big sister proceeded to meet the requirements to pass through this one.

Alassra cut her index finger and began chanting while drawing eight symbols over and over across the frame of the massive door. Each glyph flashed through a rainbow of seven colors, until at last they settled on an eighth color that really wasn't a color at all. It was something altogether different. It was something akin to a taste, but it had a weight to it as well. Serenity's mind was having real trouble connecting with it.

"Octerine." Laeral supplied. "It's the source of magic on the Disc. Don't worry, you'll get used to it quick enough."

Serenity nodded, lost but accepting. She felt that adopting that attitude was going to save her a lot of headaches in the future.

In no time at all Alassra finished her chant, and there was an oddly uninspired and quiet out of place "click" of a lock opening that seemed altogether too meek for a door of such size and magnificence. Serenity found herself quite let down by the rather anti-climatic experience. The Simbul simply grinned and shrugged.

"It's like most men, when you think about it. Most are all form and little function…" Alassra wriggled her eyebrows suggestively, and was rewarded by an intense blush from Serenity at the implied metaphor. This, of course caused both sisters to erupt in laughter as Alassra grabbed the door's handle and pulled.

The smell that bum-rushed Serenity's nostrils was like being sucker punched in the gut. To say that it was foul was like saying ice cream was merely good. The Silver Princess would soon learn, against her wishes, that the unenviable smell was a highly potent mix of many things; mainly the surreptitious decay of just about everything in Ankh-Morpork mixed with a bit of silt and even less water. The source of the smell was the mighty river Ankh and the press of just about every citizen in the twin cities. If her sisters had given her the time, she would have added the sweet tang of her own vomit to the mix.

Fortunately, they didn't ease their rapid pace in the least. Instead they pushed through the crowds and weaved through the street vendors with practiced ease and a grace that came with urban familiarity. It took them the better part of an hour to navigate the streets in order to finally arrive at the veryprestigious Frout Academy. Serenity wasn't so certain it was very prestigious, but the large brass plaque proclaimed it to be very prestigious – it even italicized and underlined "very" just to make certain that everyone else understood that it was veryprestigious. So, in effect, it must be veryprestigious indeed. Had the smell of the city not been producing a very massive migraine in the Silver Princess, she would have openly wondered what made the academy very prestigious. Thankfully, her throbbing head made it a point to bludgeon her curiosity into a nice puddle of goo that rather resembled something that Serenity was standing in at that very moment.

Alassra pulled the thick cord of the door bell, and in only a few minutes time they were shuffled into the vestibule by a doorman. With a negligent wave of her hand, Laeral cleaned the muck and grime from their clothes; something that Serenity vowed to learn as soon as possible. In no time at all, the trio was ushered to the Headmistress' office.

Upon meeting Madam Frout, Serenity noted one thing right off the bat. The woman was a jolly sort, very easy going and rather soft on discipline. In effect she was the worst sort of teacher, but a wonderfully nice woman all the same. They were served tea and biscuits and it took very little effort for Alassra to negotiate an exchange of sorts for the services of one Susan Sto Helit.

Madam Frout seemed quite pleased with the transaction; wherein Miss Susan would act as an instructor on sabbatical for an indeterminate amount of time, while the school would receive a most generous donation that would no doubt put them in the black for the next ten years or so. The only sticking point that the Headmistress insisted upon was that Alassra explain the deal to Miss Susan herself. That, in itself, seemed a bit odd to Serenity; after all, what employer was afraid of speaking to their employee? Serenity had a short while to ponder that idea while an assistant was sent to fetch Miss Susan.

When the woman finally arrived, Serenity noted a few things immediately. The first was that Susan Sto Helit was a slightly built woman, very attractive in a skinny sort of way. The second and probably more notable upon first glance, was her pure white hair with the stark, black streak running through it. It was pulled back into a frizzy bun that was reminiscent of a dandelion or a stacked mushroom. On anyone else, such a thing would have seemed ludicrous – on Susan, it seemed perfectly natural in an untamed sort of way. The overall affect, gave her an ageless appearance, reminding the Silver Princess of a more severe and mysterious Setsuna…if that was even possible.

Serenity noted that she took everyone in the room at a glance. She might have lingered on Alassra and Laeral for an instant longer than anyone else, but her attention was fully riveted to the Headmistress at the end. This of course made Madam Frout squirm in her chair quite uncomfortably. Serenity could sympathize. The young woman had this way about her; she had a look that had weight to it and a manner of giving you her full attention that made people wish she wasn't.

"Good afternoon, Susan." Madam Frout began. She was immediately cut off.

"You summoned me, Headmistress."

"Er…Yes. That is…" The Headmistress fumbled and cringed. Alassra came to the woman's rescue.

"It is good to see you again, Susan."

"Simbul." Susan replied evenly. "Laeral."

"Oh, pooh! Susan, must you be so stuffy?" Laeral pouted. "We come all this way, after positively ages of being away, and this is how you greet old friends?"

"You left me stranded in the middle of Klatch."

"With a treasury full of chocolate and an army of handsome young men to wait on you hand and foot; eager to fulfill every sordid little desire your rather sensible heart could imagine." Alassra pointedly added. Susan blushed, revealing an odd birthmark on her cheek that consisted of three diagonal, finger-like slashes. "One would think you were ungrateful."

Madam Frout choked on her tea at the image of someone as prim and proper as Susan having her own harem of young and virile men.

"Why am I here?" Susan's voice struggled to compose itself, while she tried to get the meeting back on track and well away from embarrassing topics such as harems and chocolate.

"We have come to hire out your services." Laeral smiled as she fingered a biscuit. "Our baby sister is in dire need of a more expansive education, and we of course require the best of teachers."

Susan turned her gaze to Serenity and seemed to weigh her; from the tips of her hair, to the very depths of her soul.

"I see." Her voice was even. "And what of my contract with the Academy?"

"We have negotiated a hold on your contract with Madam Frout, until Serenity's education is complete. You will of course be provided room and board with Alustriel, receive suitable pay for your efforts, and an allowance for supplies. You will be given every tenth day off, to do with as you please; and I was instructed to inform you that Mr. Lobsang is more than welcome to visit at any time."

Susan blushed again under the scrutiny, but pressed forward stoically.

"What topics will I be teaching?"

"The standard fare: history, geography, the sciences – political and otherwise, mathematics, logic, philosophy, temporal mechanics, metaphysical studies, so-on-and-so-forth." Laeral waved her hand dismissively. "To be truthful, you will have a great deal of freedom in developing your own curriculum and hiring other tutors to fill in where needed. Our only desire is for Serenity to be prepared for the rigors of governing and become a well rounded woman of her unique station."

Susan frowned at the word "unique", but nodded thoughtfully.

"Might I assume you wish me to introduce her to Grandfather?"

"It would be ideal." Alassra smiled sympathetically. "According to my understanding of things, she has already met your grandfather's younger brother a time or two – so some perspective might help a bit. Still, we shouldn't wish to impose too much on you. If you think it will help, then by all means introduce her, if not…well, in the end, we have complete confidence in your abilities and methodology."

Susan nodded and again looked to Serenity. The Eighth Sister tried and failed not to squirm under the scrutiny.

"She does exude a great deal of potential." Susan admitted. "And if nothing else, I can at least ensure that one of you lot is sensible. What is the time frame of this endeavor?"

"Realistically, when she can demonstrate the ability to stand on her own two feet without aid; truthfully, I would say when you feel she is ready to stand on her own."

The severe young woman squared her shoulders and extended her hand to Alassra.

"I agree to your terms."

"Excellent!" Laeral clapped. "Shall we gather your things?"

Serenity watched in a daze as her older sisters shuffled Susan out of the Headmistress' office. They were a whirlwind of activity as they returned to her class and broke the news to a group of very disappointed children. Susan's stern scolding and short, but very effective, demand that the children keep up their studies while she was away was met with an energetic chorus of "Yes, Miss Susan!"

Susan wrote out a lesson plan for the rest of the year while Alassra and Laeral vanished with a promise to pack Susan's apartment and ensure the lease for her time away. This of course left Serenity tasked with distracting the children for the duration of the afternoon. She was bombarded with questions, most of which followed along the lines of:

"Are you a real princess?"

"Are you a magical princess?"

"Are you a magical fairy princess?

Susan simply eyed her, sending the explicit message that Serenity was to tell the truth, no matter how ludicrous the answers might sound to her children. It was the first and subsequently most important lesson Serenity learned. It didn't matter how much you might wish otherwise, but there was no point in trying to escape who and what you were. So, she answered the students to the best of her ability.

"Yes, I'm a real princess."

"Yes, I'm a magical princess." To which she was forced to prove it by performing a little magic for the class. It was only a practical demonstration of summoning a small, yet sensible ball of light, something that earned her a nod of approval from Susan, but it was a successful demonstration all the same.

"I'm not sure if being a princess of the moon counts as being a fairy princess."

The last of course earned her a number of skeptical looks, the golden crescent appearing on her brow seemed to appease their incredulity.

When they asked if she was in love with a magical prince, she blushed tomato red and nodded. Thankfully, they didn't ask for more details beyond: "Is he handsome?" and "Are you going to marry him?"

The first question was easy to answer. The fact that it applied to both Ranma and Mamoru left her feeling very uneasy and confused. While the second question left her feeling wistful and uncertain. Luckily, the class seemed content to spend the rest of the afternoon listening to her tell stories of her adventures in Faerun and on Earth. The tale of Beryl and her early adventures as a Senshi were very popular for some reason. By the time she finished, Laeral and Alassra had returned and school was almost finished for the day. Susan issued a homework assignment for the class to write a composition on what it would be like to be a prince or princess to be turned in at the end of the day. This was not accompanied with the expected groans that Serenity anticipated. Instead the boys and girls jumped at the opportunity.

When class finally ended, Susan collected the reports and bid goodbye to the children as they left one by one. The strict young woman did not demonstrate a great deal of obvious affection for her students, but it was plain that she cared. That, more than anything else, sparked a desire to work hard for this woman – if only to earn the same sense of fondness from her new teacher. It was the first time in her life that Serenity had any real desire to work hard at her studies; but she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Susan would accept nothing less than her very best. It was yet another turning point in her life; one that would make her into something greater than she ever dreamed of becoming.

**************

Providence

Sefaril's Home

He was exhausted.

How long had it been since he'd felt that wonderful burn?

Too long obviously. He'd forgotten just how satisfying it was to push yourself to the extremes of your physical limits, and recognize the subtle growth you'd achieved. He might not have been divine all that long, but Ranma found himself missing the limitations of mortality. Overcoming challenges was a part of who and what he was, but lately there just hadn't been very many physical challenges that made him reach. It was funny, the saying was true.

You really didn't know what you had until it was gone.

But the workout that he'd just been through was fruitful in more ways than one. He pushed the envelope of his abilities, discovered new skills, and collected some new precious people. Nacacia alone made all the blood and bruises worthwhile. Her radiant smile and unwavering faith in him warmed his heart and gave him purpose. That's why he'd pressed on, searching out the others that had been oppressed. Sure it had taken days to make his way through the Underdark, and even then he had only barely scratched the surface for all his efforts. But, in that he'd experienced so many new things and over come so much. He couldn't wait to tell Sefaril about the adventure.

He'd faced all manner of foes, from summoned demons to deep dragon overlords, in his systematic search and rescue mission. The dark races that made their home deep in the earth were not in the mood to release their hold on their slaves and sacrifices, so Ranma was forced to persuade them. It had been a much needed challenge, somewhere that he could really cut loose without a need to really worry; especially with Spider Dork popping up at odd moments wanting a rematch. He had to admit the moron was better than anyone he'd fought to date. Herb relied on his heritage too much, Saffron had absolutely no subtlety whatsoever, and the less said about Taro, the better. Ryouga, even if he had any true power backing him, was just too predictable to really stomach. The others didn't even rate on his scale any more. So Ranma was glad that Spider Dork had his share of skill and talent. Absolutely no brains for strategy, but he did have skill.

It sucked that he was going to have to put him down hard.

Ranma could tell that Web Boy wasn't going to let things stand as they were. He'd keep coming, just like Ryouga did; but the big difference between Ryouga and the Eight-legged Wonder, was honor. Ryouga had a little (when it suited him) and Web Boy could care less. Some day, they were going to rumble again and Ranma's new rival would get the bright idea to put someone precious to him in jeopardy. It was only a matter of time before he tried to kill someone close to Ranma, if only to get the upper hand.

As much as he hated the thought of killing anyone, Ranma knew that Spider Dork was going press him until one of them was dead. Well, this Saotome had too much to do, to become spider food. The next time the Webbed Wonder came at him, Ranma wasn't going to hold back. He'd given the moron ample opportunity to back off and mind his own business, but the message hadn't sunk in. There would be no polite beat downs or hesitation in the future. The first chance he got, Ranma was going to finish it.

Permanently.

He sighed and fell onto Sefaril's couch. He didn't feel her in the house, which meant she must have been at the inn helping out. He pushed aside the odd feeling of emptiness in the home and closed his eyes. This was the first time he'd felt fatigued in a very long while. He'd take a short nap and then make his way over to the inn for some dinner. He might not need to eat any more, but that didn't mean he didn't enjoy the exercise.

Sleep came surprisingly quickly, and Ranma's dreams revolved around a grand chase through some far off city. It was strange being the one doing the chasing for a change. Usually it was him running from the hordes of angry and insane people; he almost felt sorry for the guy being chased.

Two more days passed as Ranma slept. His dreams fluctuated between the strange happenings in that far off city, and the young woman with the silver hair. But upon waking, he knew something was wrong. Providence felt…empty; he closed his eyes and opened his senses, letting his chi drift in and out of homes looking for signs of life. He found nothing but emptiness and silence; a ghost town where but days before a vibrant and living community had been. Panic seized him as he physically searched through each and every home.

They were gone…stolen. Someone had been stupid enough to steal his people.

There was a weak taint in the shadows that was fading before his senses. He latched onto it, burning the ethereal scent in his mind's eye lest he somehow lose it. The trail leading out of Providence was already weak, but it was leading east. He needed to move quickly if he was going to track the trail.

**************

Sembia

Ranma-chan stormed through the marble halls of the palatial home that she had been given. The beauty and splendor of the mansion was lost on her, and even the laborers that were hanging off rafters and ladders, repairing the damage done by warring merchants, were ignored. Wynn Moreith struggled to keep pace at her side. The argument had been going for only a short time, but Ranma was already well beyond tired of it. Wynn had gotten to the point of begging for Ranma-chan to stay and lead the nation to some ambiguous utopia, but the young goddess was having none of it.

"Like hell! There's no way that I am taking over your mess, Wynn." Ranma-chan growled. "You opened your mouth and accepted this mess on my behalf. As far as I'm concerned that makes it your problem."

"But…" The young woman looked lost, and Ranma-chan felt like she was kicking a puppy, but the girl needed to learn that every action had consequences.

"No, Wynn. Those greedy no-good-bastards offered up the nation in order to save themselves from the larger threat. They didn't care about the people they represented, they were looking out for their own hides. If you hadn't opened your mouth and accepted their stupidity, we would have been on our way and they could have rebuilt."

"But with Sembia as a base your influence would grow rapidly! Think of all the temples that would be built in your name!"

"I don't care about that Wynn." Ranma-chan stopped dead in her tracks and shook her head.

"I do not understand. Why...?"

"Why don't I care?" Wynn nodded. "True power comes through hard work and a great deal of sacrifice. There are no short cuts to the Art. If you rely on crutches and quick fixes to solve your problems, you won't really be prepared for the power that you wield and it will eat you alive. What you did goes against the natural order. Come here."

Ranma lead her over to a tall ladder and gently pushed her up to it.

"Stand on the bottom rung." Wynn complied without question. "Good. Now I want you to reach up to the highest rung you are able."

The young woman stretched herself to the limits of her reach obediently.

"Now using only your arms I want you to pull yourself up to the top of the ladder."

Ranma-chan watched her young disciple struggle to comply with the command. Wynn was fit for her age, especially thanks to Ranma-chan's tutelage, yet for all of that she was still a young merchant's daughter from one of Sembia's minor factions. For the next twenty minutes she vainly fought her body's weakness in order to achieve the seemingly simple task that her new goddess had given her. Ranma-chan refused to say a word during this time, watching the young Fury fail time and time again. It wasn't until Wynn fell from the ladder in a weak and weeping mess that the neophyte goddess finally moved. Wrapping her arms around the trembling woman, Ranma-chan stroked her hair affectionately.

"When we reach too far beyond ourselves we fail. The same holds true for mortals and gods. We must know and respect our limits, if we are to push beyond them." Ranma-chan sighed. "I'm not ready to be responsible for the souls of a nation, Wynn. There is just too much that needs to be done right now. Hell, half the time I don't even know what I'm doing."

"But you are a goddess!" Wynn protested.

"Yeah, so? What does that have to do with anything? I've got more power to control and more responsibilities. I might have more knowledge, but that doesn't mean I have the wisdom to properly use it. Time and experience are what makes a person wise; god or man, it doesn't really matter." The passionate girl opened her mouth to interject, but Ranma lightly covered her mouth. "Wynn, you say you believe in me. What does that mean? What do you see that I stand for?"

"Greatness." The answer was automatic. "You have honed yourself to be the best of the best in the Art."

"Which Art?"

"My Lady?"

"Which Art, Wynn? Painting? Sculpture? Martial Arts? Magic? Music?" The girl looked utterly confused. "I am not the best at any of these things Wynn."

Ranma pointed up to a man repairing a sculpture.

"That man is Nicos Zora. He is forty five years old and has dedicated himself to his craft. He is a master, reputably one of the 'best of the best'. Does that make him great?" Ranma shook her head. "No. What makes him great, Wynn, is the fact that Nicos has lived his life passionately. He has five beautiful children, is still deeply in love with his wife, and eagerly wakes up almost every morning with a smile and an optimistic outlook. All of that passion and love is reflected in his craft."

Ranma sighed and frowned.

"Less than a year ago, I was mortal, Wynn. I was younger than you, saddled with more responsibility than I knew how to deal with, and walking the knife's edge between wanting to live and wanting to die. Every choice I made seemed to damn me, regardless of my intent. Then I came to Faerun, and by chance…chance! I touched the Weave for the first time. It was like riding the lightning and drowning in the forces of life and creation. By some miracle I survived and a curious series of unfortunate events unfolded, one after another, leading up to this moment. I didn't seek out godhood, Wynn. It was tossed in my lap through a number of knee-jerk reactions and one very big moment of Choice. And when the choice came between duty and self, I chose. Now I'm making the best of my choice, learning as I go, gaining the experience and wisdom I need to become better with each step. It's hard as hell; the hardest thing I've ever done, and it keeps getting harder."

She sighed again and rested her head against Wynn's.

"Shar ripped me asunder. She tore my soul apart because I told her that I wasn't ready to deal with her. I didn't even tell her 'no' – I just said I wasn't ready. And because of that the slag took offense and ripped me asunder. So, here I am, trying to find myself, dealing with crap that's way beyond anything I've ever known, and you want me to take up a throne and rule a nation."

Ranma chuckled. Wynn's tears increased and the young woman clutched at her goddess desperately.

"Forgive me, Lady!"

Ranma resumed stroking the girl's hair.

"I forgive you, Wynn. We all make stupid mistakes in life. Heaven knows I've made a library full of them."

"How do I atone for this?"

"Well, what do you think would be the best way to fix this mess?"

"I do not know. With the merchant families warring against themselves, everything is in chaos."

"Nature can't stand vacuums." Ranma agreed. "Sooner or later someone is going to step into the void. The questions become: who, when, and how will they treat the people?"

"Oh, Lady! There are so many outside factions to fear! The Zhentarim, the Shadow Theives, Shar's clergy, or the faithful of some other deity!"

"And now you're startin' to see the big picture. I can't wave my hand and magically solve this problem. Well, maybe some of it, but the truth is what does that solve? How can you and the rest of Sembia become great, if I'm the one doing all the work? Have you ever seen a kid whose parents gave him everything he wanted?"

"Aporos?" Wynn ventured with a giggle.

"Aporos." Ranma nodded her head. "A man with no discipline and entitlement issues; just look at the mess he made! I care too much to let you become someone like that, Wynn. That is why I'm not stepping in. If you want Sembia to become a haven for my people, then you are going to have to put in the time and effort to achieve that dream. It'll cost you blood, sweat, and tears – and in the end you will sacrifice much, but I can see you achieving the dream."

"Will you support me?"

"When you absolutely need it, I'll be there. I ain't going to hold your hand or wipe your nose though. You're a big girl, Wynn. If you want this, then you will become who you need to be to achieve the dream."

"Where do I start?"

"It depends on the dream you want to achieve."

"What would you have me be?"

"Uh-uh. That's taking the easy way out, Wynn. I ain't going to tell you how to live your life. I had more than my share of that crap and I ain't continuing the tradition. The one and only thing that I want from you, is to be like Nicos over there. Live. Be happy. Make other people happy, and protect those who can't protect themselves. Be the best Wynn Moreith you can be. Nothing more and nothing less."

"So I could walk away and you wouldn't punish me?"

"I wouldn't have to, would I?" Ranma smiled into her hair and squeezed her close.

"No. I suppose you wouldn't." Wynn sighed. After a long silence, the girl threaded her fingers with Ranma-chan's. "This is going to be so hard. I don't even know where to start."

"Now you know how I feel."

"Without your backing or presence, the people aren't likely to listen to anything I say."

"I was raised to never turn down a challenge, because win or lose I would always gain something from the experience. If I won, I learned from my opponent's mistakes. If I lost, I would learn from mine and I would then change accordingly – which made it easier to win when I went back for a rematch. At the end of the day, I never lost; neither to myself, nor to the challenges that threatened me. Why? Because I never gave up. I always forced myself to learn."

"Then I too will find a way to meet this hardship and overcome."

"That's my girl." Ranma kissed her forehead and helped Wynn to her feet. "I'm leaving tomorrow, but before I go I'll say a few words and smooth some ruffled feathers. It ain't going to help much, so don't go getting your hopes up. I'll just be letting everyone know I'm leaving. Everything else will be on your shoulders."

"I understand, Lady."

Good. Now come on. I'm hungry."

The next day, Ranma did indeed make her announcement. It was broadcast throughout the whole of Sembia to every home and community. The news she was leaving the capital seemed to ease an unseen weight from the shoulders of the city's populace. The announcement that Wynn Moreith would be building a temple in her name from the gifts that had been bestowed upon her by the former merchant lords was received with mixed feelings. Wynn was shocked and the people were just a bit uneasy. Ranma might be leaving, but she wasn't forgetting them in the least.

The last announcement surprised everyone the most. Ranma refused to establish a government. She simply stated that the people should know how they wanted to be governed by now and suggested, with extreme emphasis, that the majority should decide. If they wanted a king or queen, then the people should choose one. If they wanted a theocracy, then the people should embrace it wholeheartedly. At the end of the day the choice, and the responsibility of the consequences surrounding that choice, was theirs and theirs alone. She refused to tell them how to live their lives. Ranma offered Wynn and her temple as a neutral party that would judge the will of the people, with an oath of truth and honor that the will of the majority would be followed – even if Ranma had to return herself and see it set in place.

This sudden freedom was strange, yet exciting for the people of Sembia. They had never really been given the opportunity to chart their own course before. This won Ranma-chan more than her fair share of believers that day. Among them was one Nicos Zora, who had heard the words of the goddess the day before and was converted on the spot. Wynn would find that she was not alone in the dream of building a better Sembia. Nor would she be alone in the new temple of her goddess. In two years time, Sembia became a theocratic democracy, with Ranma as its patron.

**************

Candlekeep

There is something about Truth. It is eternal. It is the foundation of the Multi-verse. It does not change, in spite of encompassing a multitude of perspectives. It simply is. One can look at a color, say the color is crimson, and see its varying shades. But at its base, it will always remain red.

It is said, by many scholars and philosophers, that all truth leads back unto itself. It supports itself and defines the fabric of reality. Truth is and it cannot be undone. When faced with an ugly Truth, many people can attempt to escape its clutches, but in the end they will always be forced to acknowledge it. For Keiichi Morisato, there was only one Truth that concerned him.

He loved Belldandy.

It was by virtue of their love, he knew, that all the obstacles in his path, everything that rose up to prevent him from expressing his love to the goddess, would be overcome. The quest set for him by her Father was a small, if frustrating, test to prove his worth. It was this faith that fueled his search through the archives of Candlekeep and amongst its patrons and staff alike for that elusive answer. He'd come to one very startling realization as he had helped the denizens here and there during the day; if he wanted to be a god and stand at Belldandy's side, he needed to start thinking like one.

By virtue of their very nature, the gods were aware of their universe on a very different level than those that worshipped them. Keiichi was coming to understand that idea all too well. He could certainly sense the needs of others, and he had an understanding on how to solve those problems, but knowing something and doing something were two very different things. He needed to expand on this new awareness. Knowing that something exists, even if you can't see it, and then going on to conduct tests to prove that existence, has been the back bone of science for ages. Faith and hope were the foundation of science, since the birth of scientific thought – regardless of how far the scientific community tried to deny it now-a-days. Ty was right; he'd been looking at this problem from a mortal stand-point. Gods don't think or perceive the world as mortals do. So how does one start thinking like a god?

The thought seemed terribly absurd to the young man, but it was the only real lead he had to follow. So, what did gods think about? Belldandy seemed to enjoy doing things for others, so he supposed the majority of her thoughts centered on selflessness. That was appealing to him. The people he'd helped seemed genuinely happy, and being a contributing factor to that happiness lifted his heart. But not all gods were altruistic in that way. Gond had showed him that. That begged the question: how do gods view the world around them? He didn't have a lot of clues, beyond the attitudes displayed by the Norns and Peorth, as well as his brief interactions with Ty Binder and Oghma.

The one thing all of them seemed to have in common, with the exception of Belldandy, was a rather annoying know-it-all attitude. There had to be some truth to that, judging by what he'd been experiencing lately. They had to see things that mere mortal men could not, implying more acute senses.

Keiichi closed his eyes and tired to expand his awareness, cataloguing the differences in his hearing, touch, taste, and smell. They were all startling acute and in some cases hyper-aware. Drifting in this meditative state, he stumbled upon something different. It wasn't a taste, or a smell. It had no tactile form, nor did it make sound. It was simply there, like a ribbon of potential waiting to be used. It took him quite some time to understand that what he was sensing was an energy source. It resonated throughout him, calling to him in a manner that was difficult to categorize. Still, his curiosity was piqued, and investigating it seemed the natural thing to do.

The ribbon of energy led to the very non-descript door of a broom closet. Keiichi fingered the screw thoughtfully as he studied the energy around the doorway, trying to nail down its purpose. He knew he must have looked very strange, standing in front of a broom closet and staring at its door, but the puzzle of it all had him hooked. Curiosity getting the better of him, he opened the portal. Brooms and mops stared back at him defiantly. Frowning he closed the door again and scratched his cheek. The energy wasn't surrounding the interior of the closet, just the door frame itself. Keiichi looked up and down the hallway self consciously, before opening the door and stepping into the closet. He wasn't entirely surprised to find himself standing in a new, and very odd place. A place filled to the brim with technology far in advance of anything he'd ever seen or dealt with before.

"Well, this is new."

The child-like feminine voice startled him enough to cry out.

"I thought for certain that I'd keyed the portal so that it would be impossible for someone to enter from the other side."

The young girl standing before him couldn't have been more than eleven or twelve. Her spiky red hair was wild and untamed, and frighteningly familiar. The only problem: she was a fictional character. That of course led to another problem; how was a fictional character standing in front of him breathing the same air he was! While his mind was working through the problem, his mouth decided to voice its opinion on the situation.

"YOU'RE NOT REAL!"

The red headed girl snorted and shook her head.

"Well, that's a pretty rude thing to say."

Keiichi waved his hands in front of him frantically, muttering apologies while trying to address the problem his mind was still working on.

"I mean to say, you're an anime character."

"Fancy that! You are too!" The girl chirped triumphantly.

"Huh?"

"Multiversal planar theory kid. I'm a manga character in your world, and you're one in my world." She snapped her fingers and a small book appeared in her hand. Holding up the volume of Ah! Megami-sama for Keiichi to see made the young man twitch uncontrollably. "So, what brings you to my little corner of reality?"

"Uhm. It's hard to explain."

"Try me."

"Well, to be blunt – I'm on a quest to become a god, so that I can marry Belldandy."

Washu stared at him for a very long time before clapping him on the back.

"Well, it's about time! I was wondering if you were ever going to grow a pair and make it happen." She looked him up and down and frowned, pulling out some crab-like remote and pointing it at Keiichi. "Well, it certainly looks like you're making progress! You've jumped all the way from a three dimensional being to somewhere between a sixth and seventh! Not bad progress all in all."

"Yeah, but I've got to meet Bell's father in a little less than two weeks and I've no idea how to get to the meeting place."

"I'm guessing it's some sort of clubhouse that's completely out of phase with the rest of your reality."

"I'm assuming so." Keiichi shrugged. "Everything I've read about Cynnosure says that it isn't the home of any one god; just some sort of neutral ground."

Washu nodded and smiled.

"So, you're on the big quest, eh? Going to have a chat with the Big Man Himself?"

"Yeah." Keiichi sighed.

"Are you scared?"

"Terrified."

"Well, like I said kid. You're on the right track; especially if you were able to find and use my door from Candlekeep."

"I don't even know what I did really. I just followed an odd feeling."

"Yup. Dimensional awareness. Not bad for your first try."

"Dimensional awareness?"

Washu's clothes changed to become a professor's uniform while Keiichi suddenly found himself seated in a desk complete with note pad and paper.

"Tell me the dimensions that you are currently aware of."

"Uh, linear, planar, spatial and temporal."

"Any more?"

"Sorry. That's all I know."

"Well, there certainly are others, it's just that most people refuse to acknowledge them as such. See, most mortal species may look like three dimensional figures, but their thinking is purely two dimensional. That's not to say they don't dip into the higher dimensions from time to time, but for the most part they are content only accessing a limited amount of their awareness."

She motioned negligently with a hand, and a rather dull looking hologram of a salaryman appeared between them.

"They might use linear thinking along side temporal thinking – the result: excessive amounts of impatience. Other's might use linear and planar – these guys tend to be extremely anal and end up becoming obsessive about the weirdest things."

The salaryman hologram shifted slightly and became a salaryman dressed like a cowboy, and started singing bad country western karaoke. Keiichi winced and shifted uncomfortably.

"You mentioned accessing other dimensions. How is that accomplished?"

Washu smiled and tapped the hologram again. The salaryman disappeared and was replaced by a three dimensional display of what could only be the known universe. The model was made up of innumerable flat planes, almost like the individual floors of a skyscraper. Keiichi noted that small labels popped up here and there denoting realities he'd read about as fictional places, or planes of existence that he'd just recently studied about, but each was situated all along a micro-thin flat plane. Keiichi had the impression of looking at an infinitely layered cake, with each layer being its own reality. It was humbling. Other labels floated denoting more names, and while several caught his eye only two stood out – Earth and Abeir-Toril. Both were separated by a vast number of layers and seemed all but impossible to bridge together.

"As you can see, there are an infinite amount of dimensions out there, and the broader our knowledge becomes, the broader our perspective becomes too. We understand the concept of a line. We recognize the idea of a plane. We ourselves, in this crude form, are spatial creatures. And we acknowledge that we move through time, or that time moves around us. The broader our perspective becomes the more planes we can touch. The sad thing is…most people are afraid to take the next step by asking: what else is there to perceive? Sight, smell, taste, sound, spirit, color, pain, peace…there are so many places to start, and once you do…? That is when things really start to get interesting! You mentioned that you felt something different in the library that led you to my door. What was it?"

"I don't really know how to describe it yet." Keiichi struggled to visualize a metaphor that could describe what he had felt, but nothing adequate came to mind.

"Don't worry about it. Some things don't need words, and sometimes they don't need to be shared either. Just keep plugging through and you'll eventually find what you need." She patted his arm affectionately. "And as for Big Daddy, just be yourself, answer honestly, and know going in that no matter how hard you try – you'll never be good enough for his baby girl."

"Thanks for the advice." He frowned. "I think."

"No worries! I don't charge much for my time. Just an equal exchange of information!"

"I'm not sure I know anything that you would care about."

"Oh, poo! I'm not after anything so mundane as facts or personal experience!"

"You're not?"

"No! Of course not!" Washu shook her head. "I copy the Candlekeep library at least once a month, so whatever you've read I probably already have access to anyway. No, I'm looking for something to further my own research!"

Keiichi knew dread. He'd read the manga and seen the anime. He knew what was coming, but like anyone caught before such inevitability, he had to know the details – he had to ask. He would probably forever regret it, but he opened his mouth.

"I can't think of a way I could possibly help you. I mean, I'm not even that smart! What could I do or say that is going to further your research?"

"It's not what you can do, Keiichi-dono." Washu's grin turned predatory. "It's what you can give!"

Oh, hell.

"Give?" Traitorous voice! Why couldn't it just shut up? Cables topped with robotic hands shot from…somewhere and restrained him, lifting him completely from the floor and preventing any form of escape.

"Samples my little guinea pig!" Washu crowed. "SAMPLES! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Keiichi suddenly understood the terror Tenchi felt any time he entered Washu's lab. By the time she was done with him, he was blushing and walking funny. He couldn't say that it was a bad experience, but he did regret opening his mouth rather than running full tilt from the lab. He shivered as he curled into his bed that night, safely back in the walls of Candlekeep. He would never look at a nurse's outfit in quite the same way, nor would he ever be able to stand the sight of a syringe for as long as he lived. He had a new and abiding respect for Tenchi. The man's ability to love Washu unconditionally after undergoing her tender mercies was nothing short of incredible.

Still, he hadn't left Washu's lab empty handed. She'd given him a lot to think on, and when his mind rebuilt itself enough from his tort…er, experiences with the red headed genius, he would come to the conclusion that he needed to open his eyes just a little wider in order to perceive where he wanted to go. Recovering from that experience took him four whole days of solitude, and a helluva lot of reading. Yet, it was time well spent, as he'd learned even more about how to accomplish his goals.

He knew from his studies that there were "Celestial Stairways" littered throughout Faerun that led to Cynnosure, and from there out into the rest of the planes. Many had been destroyed during the Time of Troubles, either through the sundering of the Weave or through direct conflict between warring deities. He was glad that many did not mean all.

Their description was fairly straight forward; divinely magical construct, visible to those with a sensitivity to such, shaped in a constantly changing motif of ascendancy. One moment it could be a classical marble staircase, the next a beanstalk, and after that a floating cloud; the perception of the Celestial Stairway changed to fit all concepts and potentialities. It was taking a great deal of meditation and practice, but Keiichi was now able to "see" magic and its variants. Candlekeep was full of little tendrils of the stuff; some coming from spellbooks or enchanted items, and others from the altars of the various temples throughout the castle town. The latter looked like thick cables shooting off into heaven, connecting the divine to the mundane.

He imagined that the Celestial Stairway would look a little like the energy coming off the altars. Now, with that as his starting point, all he had to do was find the potential resting place of a Stairway and he would be home free! A day and a half later, along side Maerdith, Father Ellosin, and Tethtoril, he found himself digging through any tome or discourse he could find on the nature of portals and gateways to the planes. It was here that he stumbled across the journal of one Jhesiyra Kestellharp, a Magister and one time apprentice of Halaster the Mad.

She, having been one of the earliest authorities on portal creation and planar travel, just happened to describe something that sounded very much like a Celestial Stairway that was uncovered by Halaster, deep in what was now called Mount Waterdeep, in the early days of her apprenticeship to the wizard. He'd ended up building his tower, Halaster's Hold over its location, she assumed to protect the prize or to ensure that he was the only one with access to it. By the time she'd left, Halaster had gone off the deep end and built a series of protections around the thing that went beyond paranoia. He skimmed over the journal lightly, until he found a description of where the foot of the Stairway lay.

"At the heart…" He smiled and nodded. Waterdeep was only six hundred miles away by ship from Candlekeep, less if they were to leave immediately from Baldur's Gate. He could be there in two days, three tops. That would give him a week and six days to find the Stairway and make his way to Cynnosure. He grinned triumphantly and stood, drawing the attention of the other in the room.

"I know where to go!"

"Really?" Maerdith asked eagerly. "Where?"

"The heart of the seventeenth sublevel of some place called Undermountain!" He laughed and danced through the stacks of books, scooping Maerdith in a giddy hug that left her stunned face blushing. "The hard part's done! We're almost there!"

None of his friends had the courage to destroy his joyful celebration. It would be early the next morning when Tethtoril would finally pull him aside and burst his happy little bubble. It would be late that night when Keiichi would hook Kazuki-chan back up to the RV, and leave Candlekeep for Baldur's Gate laden with a copy of every scrap of information the library fortress had on Halaster's labyrinthine meat grinder. Father Ellosin and a number of his previous passengers would stay behind, while other guests of the Great Library would buy passage back to the port city. Some wanted the experience of riding in Keiichi's marvel, while others were hoping for a speedy trip back to the cosmopolitan life of the city.

Faithful Maerdith and loyal Ruthart could care less about these tagalongs; they spent the entire trip back to Baldur's Gate sharing worried looks at the stony visage of their dear friend. Gone was his joy, and in its place there was only stony resolve. Come what may, he would succeed. They knew this. But the idea of accompanying him down into the depths of Mount Waterdeep's Underdark didn't make them feel any better. There was a sense of foreboding hanging over them all, like a dark miasma. Keiichi neither noticed nor cared. His full focus now was on finding the Stairway and keeping his appointment with Belldandy's father.

"Give me your worst, Halaster. I'm not backing down until I reach Cynnosure."

**************

Silverymoon

Serenity found Susan to be quite different than anyone she had every known, or met for that matter. The woman reminded Serenity of a darker, more cynical version of Mary Poppins. She was a Mary Poppins with teeth, a crowbar, a sword, and little to no patience for stupid people. Since she classified approximately nine tenths of everyone living (and most of the dead) in that category, Susan said it was her purpose in life to ensure that Serenity wasn't counted among that majority. And Susan was intent on seeing the task through, even if it killed her. It should be noted here that Susan was referring to Serenity's imminent demise, not her own.

Thus after taking a day to get herself settled, and another to endure the massive feast that the Seven Sisters threw in her honor, Susan woke Serenity at a respectable time (one hour after dawn), and began the Lessons. Please note the capital letter and the emphasis, as they are important for continued health and longevity.

Over the course of their first few days together, Serenity was bombarded with what Susan termed: "Things that every young woman needs to know…"

She introduced the core subjects of math, science, literature, how to swim in full-length ball gowns weighted down by screaming hydrophobics (in order to simulate the general level of panic that comes with saving someone stupid enough to fall in the water without knowing how to swim), the subtle importance of living a structured life, the correct way to disembowel just about anything with a blunt object – spoons, hammers, and further down the road…small palm-sized metal spheres, and finally for the first semester: the all encompassing importance and appreciation of chocolate.

The schedule, such as it was, seemed fairly straight forward. Serenity's day began promptly one hour after dawn and finished two hours after dark. The classes were such that the Silver Princess wished Susan had been her teacher from the very beginning of her educational career. Sure some of the topics were strange, but they were at least interesting. Well, all of them except the disemboweling course; that had reminded Serenity too much of her seventh grade biology class. She'd never looked at frogs the same after the dissection; she still had nightmares about poor Mr. Keropi lying in a tray with his guts showing. Beyond that though, Susan was an amazing teacher.

Serenity, after an hour under Susan's care, had more desire to learn than at any other time in her life. She was actually hungry for something other than sweets! The insatiable need to know more pressed her to dig a little deeper and spend a little more time in the palace library. She didn't complain about the number of essays assigned, nor did she whine (not even once) about the mountain of books she'd been given to read. General Hugo Pilter's "Little General's Guide to War and Conflict" and Alastair Murphy's "Primer on Practical Mayhem" had not only been educational, they were filled with all of these neat activities that built on the principles in the books. Sure, she may have inadvertently started a prank war between a number of the stuffy guild leadership, and it was certainly an accident that Dove was now hunting a group of Zhentarim agents Serenity had tricked into her bath; the point was: for the first time in her life, she finally understood why Ami-chan was the way she was. She found herself thoroughly enjoying the homework for these assignments – mostly because Miss Susan thoughtfully made her apply Pilter's and Murphy's principles to every aspect of her life, from shopping for clothes to dealing with her new sisters.

It was eye opening to say the least.

But, of all the lessons, for all their power and practicality, none had impacted Serenity's life more than today's class. Susan had introduced her student to a Truth; with emphasis on the capital "T". It had nothing to do with Algebra or history. Serenity supposed that it could be loosely tied to the sciences, but she felt it lent itself more towards philosophy than any other subject. The lesson had gone thus:

"You have two Eyes."

The statement was delivered in a tone of voice that Serenity had learned to acknowledge as the: "You'd better take note of this, because if you don't, not only will you regret it, but you may even become a grand prize winner of a Darwin Award for being silly enough to believe what I'm about to say isn't important." So, beyond the fact that Miss Susan's statement was blatantly and stupidly obvious, what she said next clarified everything in Serenity's mind.

"You have a Lazy Eye, and a Business Eye. The Lazy Eye sees the surface of things and makes connections that require the least amount of thought and effort. This is how the idea of Normality came about." She paused and sipped her tea. "The Business Eye is the Working Eye. It sees through the trappings of the surface, down to the Reality buried beneath."

Serenity blinked and wondered for a moment which eye was which, before turning her attention back to Miss Susan. The woman seemed to pick up on the unspoken question and sighed deeply, folding her hands in her lap in a precise demonstration of honed patience and supreme control.

"It is a matter of Perspective, Serenity. A decision if you will. We choose to look at things in one way or another; though there are times when Reality demands that we acknowledge it for what it is, regardless of how much we try to do otherwise."

"So, how do we 'see' with the Business Eye?" Serenity asked.

"Simply put?"

Serenity nodded.

"It is a state of mind. As children, we see things primarily as they Are. Yet, as we grow older, we tend to substitute that vision with the one that most closely matches our desires. We no longer see things as they Are, we see them how we wish they were. If we prepare our minds to See and Accept the universe as it is, warts, inconvenient truths, and all, then we open our Business Eyes. We learn how to perceive the universe based on its version of logic, rather than our own. Do you understand?"

"I think so. Using the Business Eye, I can expect to see things that I won't really like. Right?"

"Assuredly. But that is only a minor part of the equation. Our personal preferences really don't matter to the Universe, so they really don't fit into the picture at all." Susan presented Serenity with a pastry. "The Business Eye sees beyond the surface. This is a lemon tart. It is more than its component parts; it is more than a confection made for our pleasure or to satisfy our hunger. It has its own purpose and place in the grander scales of reality. When you can See it for what it truly Is, only then will you have opened your Business Eye. The Business Eye understands place, purpose, and philosophy. It embraces the ugly truth about this little tart and helps us understand it. So, open your Business Eye and tell me what you See when looking at this pastry."

Serenity spent the next two hours Looking at the lemon tart. Miss Susan, in the mean while, pulled out a book to pass the time. When the mantle clock finally chimed the culmination of the second hour, it was as if a veil had been lifted from Serenity' eyes; she could See the pastry for what it truly was.

She could only stare at the little demonic dessert and shiver. And what was worse, the tooth decaying foot soldier of cholesterol stared back at her. The golden brown, doughy minion of the Overlord of Obesity seemed to sneer back at her menacingly, tempting and taunting her with its sinful sugary glaze and its tart lemony filling. Her eyes opened wide as the other offerings from the platter of treats shed the shroud of innocence, revealing their true and sinister nature.

"HOLY CRAP!"

Serenity scrambled over the back of her chair, preparing a spell that would obliterate the devilish evil before her as she went. The only thing halting her orgy of destruction, was Susan's calm and collected poise as she carefully picked up the lemon tart and promptly bit its face off.

"And now your Eyes are opened." Susan continued to primly devour the treat, uncaring of the little writhing screams it made, until it was no more.

"How could you…it was alive…and you like ate its face!" Serenity's face was pale and the need to vomit pressed her. "Oh! Oh man, I want to puke."

Susan set her book aside and carefully wiped her fingers on a napkin.

"What was the purpose of the tart?"

"The little demon was supposed to rot your teeth, clog your arteries, and bloat your thighs!"

"Those were the effects. What was it meant for?"

Serenity thought for a moment.

"To be eaten?"

"Was that a statement or a question?"

"Statement?" Serenity declared hopefully.

Susan sighed and nodded.

"Correct. The tart was meant to be eaten. Yes, the little blighter is evil. Yes it will attempt to sabotage my waistline. But, in the end, the ulterior effects of its purpose will only affect me if I choose to allow them to. Do you understand?"

Serenity nodded earning a small smile from her tutor. High praise indeed from Susan.

"You must come to accept that the universe is a messy, chaotic place, Serenity. When we acknowledge that, as well as our own pace in it, we can understand the true beauty and majesty of things."

"Really?"

"No, but it is more optimistic that saying: 'This is just the way things are.'"

"Oh."

"Now then, for your homework; I would like a two thousand word essay on the Truth about your bedroom. It will be due in three days time, so we will forego this afternoon's lessons in favor of giving you an opportunity to get started. You will have tomorrow off from regular classes, save for swimming, in order to work on your essay."

Serenity nodded and dutifully wrote down the assignment.

"The day after tomorrow, we will be attending a battle, so be certain to bring your cloak, wear a sturdy pair of shoes, and pack a sack lunch. Our purpose will be to assess the conflict and afterwards discuss the application of Pilter and Murphy's theories against the overall outcome. Questions?"

Serenity's mind was already awash in thoughts and ideas, and she shook her head. Thus she had been dismissed and went on her way. Upon entering her bedroom and opening her Business Eyes, she nearly wept at what she found there. Grumpy wardrobes, perverse leering chairs, and a vampiric bed made her want to scream in terror. It took another two hour discussion with Susan to get her comfortable enough to simply be in the room. Sleeping in the bed would take some time and effort, but within a fortnight, Serenity's mind would come to an acceptable understanding about the vampiric natures of beds versus the cold and uncaring flagstones of bedroom floors. The knots in her back would gladly give up a little of her life, if only to escape the tortures of the tyrannical flagstones.

So, after a mind scaring day and a half, Serenity diligently prepared for her outing. She continued her attempts at seeing things through her Business Eye, if only to inure herself to the shocking reality that lay buried beneath the trappings of bright color and sweet tastes. She found herself cringing at the contents of her wardrobe, and over half the food she'd been served had given her a great deal of worry. Who knew that clothes could be so shallow and vindictive? And spinach! No matter how healthy it was purported to be, it was a down right vile and vulgar vegetable! No wonder no one wanted to eat it! It swore like a sailor!

So it was that Serenity presented herself and her essay to Susan on the appointed morning. Ulin and the others were there as well, intent on keeping their Silver Princess safe from whatever dangers might pop up. As if any would dare to come within a mile of the young woman with Susan Death around. The example Susan had made of the Shadow Thief assassin had pretty much gutted any other attempts…literally.

Serenity was dressed quite differently than she had been a few days ago. She wore a sensible black skirt and a white blouse, along with a pair of sturdy, black, low heeled knee boots. A warm, gray wool cloak was draped over her shoulders in case of chill – one never knew where they were going to end up with Miss Susan, so in accordance with lesson number four: it was better to be prepared than sorry.

She had also packed a light, non-offensive lunch along with a cheerful umbrella and a very fluffy towel. After Seeing the towel for what it truly was, she vowed never to leave home without it ever again. She would have to see about crafting a bag of holding in her next Item Enchanting class, in order to always have her essentials close at hand.

"Are we ready?" Susan asked.

Serenity and the others nodded.

"Very good. Before we leave, I must make you aware of two very important things. The first is rather embarrassing for me really. I have it on good authority that my great-uncle will be in attendance at this battle. Now, I've heard from various sources that you and he have…clashed, in the past. Regardless of ideological differences, I ask that you respect his occupation and be polite. He is a rather nice individual, all things considered; and speaking from personal experience, being the Great Equalizer is a tedious and thankless job. If you can't be friendly, then please at least try and be civil."

Serenity nodded blankly and wondered just who Susan could be talking about. She'd never come into contact with any member of her tutor's family that she knew of, let alone disagreed with them. She looked up at Susan again to see her tapping her chin ponderously. That wasn't a good sign…well, it was more of a "You're about to get a bunch of homework." sign, so it wasn't necessarily a really bad thing. At the very least it would be interesting.

"I should think I would like you to interview my great-uncle for a composition. Yes, that would be a capital idea. Perhaps this will become a series of interviews and compositions with other notable figures? At the very least it should help you considerably when deciding on a career path or looking for serious employment. Understanding the work that goes into making life manageable is never a bad thing."

So it was that Serenity received a secondary assignment for the day, to set up an interview with Susan's great-uncle at the end of the battle. With the mystery of just who this great-uncle Kel was still hanging over her, Serenity decided to ask the next inevitable question.

"What was the second thing?"

Susan frowned in a pretty, if pouting way that pinched her nose cutely.

"Should you come across a small skeletal rat wearing a black robe and carrying a small scythe, or a large black and moody raven – you are to ignore them completely. They are harbingers of headaches and, as a rule, both have atrocious manners."

Serenity and the others nodded, pausing to wonder at the novelty of Susan's instructions. Unlike her escort however, Serenity took the instructions seriously. She had to wonder; what did that say about her life, when such advice seemed not only sensible, but common and welcome as well? As the world blurred around them, Serenity pondered the myriad changes that she was undergoing. If her old self chanced upon her present self she was certain not to recognize the woman she had become. That inevitably led her to wonder who she would become in the future. Would she be recognizable? Would anything within her now, still be there then?

Only Time would tell.

She wondered if perhaps there wasn't a way to wheedle some inside information out of Susan's boyfriend on his next visit to Silverymoon. It shouldn't be too terribly difficult. For the son of the Anthropomorphic personification of Time, Lobsang was remarkably approachable and down to earth. He was pretty handsome too. She had expected someone much older with a really white beard and a fetish for hourglasses. Susan had immediately disabused that idea, by pointing out that white beards were the trade mark of the Hogfather and that it was her grandfather (not her friendly "acquaintance" Lobsang) with an unnatural fondness for glass and sand.

Serenity made special note of the distinction and the fervor with which Susan defended Lobsang. Susan made note of this too and made her promise not to pry too much. The young student wondered if she could convince Susan to let her interview Lobsang for her career path assignment. That would be one way to get some good gossip on her tutor's love life for the next time Laeral visited.

Thus it proved, no matter how much she changed, some things were destined to remain as they were forever…

**************

The Aunorach

Ranma-kun had to give these bastards credit. They really knew how to cover their tracks.

It had taken him several days of tracking and backtracking, but the elusive spiritual spoor led him to the very edge of the Aunorach. From there it had split into thirty different trails, further pissing him off. So, in order to follow up on each trail, he'd split himself into thirty different "shadows" to address the problem. He quickly split the shadows up and set them tracking a trail, each moving simultaneously and independently of the others in order to maximize efficiency and results.

The amount of coordination and planning in the kidnapping of his people was impressive, which told Ranma that he was dealing with a professionally organized group that didn't leave things to chance. That in turn forced Ranma to really evaluate what his response was going to be. It obviously had to be something suitably big, if only to discourage other morons from trying to pull the same crap.

The thirty different groups of these Shadovar had spirited his people away in every conceivable direction, but he'd run them all down. From the far west coast city of Luskan to the slave bazaars of Calimshan, he'd tracked them and recovered his people. The Shadovar, and the people they sold to, were efficiently dealt with after Ranma had taken the time to question them. Their answers led him to the next group, and the next, and the next. Their penance was pointedly simple – a trip to his Pools. He made them choose their path, and if they could reach Zuieez V'heron without falling into any of Fendrellinor's pools, then he would deem them innocents and return them to their homes intact. It was telling that each and every one of the losers found themselves taking a dip.

Once wet, they found themselves locked in their new forms and blindly teleported to some random place that could deal with them – the Underdark, the middle of volcanoes, twenty thousand feet in the air, or one of the planet's poles. The only stipulation that Ranma put on his teleportation spell, was that the initial landing zone couldn't be populated by sentient life forms. After punishing the bad guys, he created more shadows that would strip their strong holds, mansions, fortresses, or organizations of pretty much everything of value from food to wealth. Any and all slaves were freed and sent back to Providence to heal and recuperate, with the promise that they could leave at any time they desired. And then Ranma would move on to the next group.

Only one faction had been stupid enough to murder one of his people. The fact that Ranma knew Emil Tunnin quite well compounded the problem for the kidnappers. Emil was a brave and noble soul, one that wouldn't hesitate to do the right thing when given the opportunity. He wasn't the sharpest nail in the box, but he had a heart of gold. Everyone loved him dearly. Which was why Ranma was quite put out that the group he'd tracked down, had given his people to the Morueme clan of dragons as gifts to secure safe passage back to the Aunorach. The patriarch of the blue dragons had the audacity to eat Emil before Ranma could arrive as some sort of perverse taste-test.

That had pissed Ranma off. A lot.

Every dragon above the age of juvenile was now some form of fashionable attire – mostly boots, belts, handbags, or skeletal models of their former glory – situated neatly in a dimensional pocket that mimicked Mousse's Hidden Weapons technique. The rest he sat down and told them point blank that he wasn't going to put up with the crap their parents had been teaching them – it was either straighten out and fly right, or he'd come back and finish what he'd started. Arharzel, the young bull he'd been focused on, kept nodding his head in agreement and muttering "Yes, Sir…" to each and every one of Ranma's points. The Morueme clan, once the Scourge of Dragondoom, was now a pack of seven children, and Ranma promised to protect them so long as they kept their noses clean. Arharzel, after a quick glance over what was left of the adults that had brought his family to ruin, knew that he had no real choice and accepted the god's conditions.

Ranma then called Emil's spirit back, asked him if he wanted to be resurrected or move on to the next great adventure. The man considered it, looked at Harmony Kildaer (whom he'd had quite the crush on for the longest time) and asked to be brought back so he could finally ask her to marry him. The act had greatly diminished Ranma's reserves, but he got the job done. Before they left, Ranma raided the Morueme hoards for the choicest pieces and two thirds of the hoard's wealth, before leaving the dragons with one final warning not to screw up.

Now he was tracking the thirtieth group; the group that had Sefaril, Aelin, Ethalliandra, Ked, and a handful of others. It was a long trek; long and slow. The massive desert still held the residual stain of Netherese magic upon it. Ranma could taste it on the air, and the sand literally hummed with it.

The very feel of the tainted Netherese magic sickened him and made it difficult to sort out the scent of his quarry. He desperately wanted to purify it, but doing so would wash the ethereal scent clean. Still, it was slow going in following the trail, which did nothing to improve his mood. Numerous false trails had been laid, and Ranma pressed his new, divine senses to their max attempting to sift through all the sensory information his brain was trying to process. He felt his shadows finish with the other groups, strengthening his senses with every little piece of his soul that returned to him; the memories of each victory giving him confidence and resolution to push forward across the next dune. He cared not for the sun, nor for the sand. They were ignored as easily as the need to sleep or eat. He had one goal in mind, and that was finding the last of his people.

Foes rose against him, and fell just as quickly as they came. He burned through them with black fire and sheer will. Nothing came between him and the rapidly decaying magical signature. The deeper into the desert he went, the fewer and fewer false trails sprang up. When the ethereal scent finally went cold, Ranma had no worries. He knew where they were going. It was fairly obvious now. The city floating above the northern banks of a massive fresh water lake stood out to his senses like a dark beacon. Its very presence on this plane seemed an abomination; a perversion of nature and magic that made him want to vomit.

That was where his people were. That is where Sefaril and the baby were.

"Poor stupid bastards." He growled and cracked his knuckles. He rolled his neck and looked again on the floating city as a cold fury settled in his heart. "Looks like you're about ta learn what the true meanin' of Divine Retribution is."

**************

Waterdeep

Waterdeep was the closest experience to Tokyo that Keiichi had come across in his time in the world of Toril. It was big. It was noisy. And it smelled terrible. They had received a lukewarm welcome at the mouth of Waterdeep Harbor from the Portmaster and the retinue of mermen that had come to examine Salvatore's Strumpet. The odd ship and its strange engine seemed to unnerve the aquatic guardians of the harbor, while the Portmaster seemed intrigued at the speed and strength the ship exuded. In the end, they were granted berth and Keiichi was greeted at the docks by a number of excited inventors. His Handless Seamstress had long become something of a legend in Waterdeep, and stories of the RV and even the Auto-writer had made their way northward through the aid of spellcasters from Candlekeep and Baldur's Gate. It was proof that gossip and rumor traveled at almost the speed of light.

It took the better part of a day to get accommodations, but in no time at all a repeat of Baldur's Gate had occurred. Ruthart purchased a rather large pair of warehouses with the tithes that had been gathered from the "temple" in Baldur's Gate. The profits that the small temple's shops had been turning out were nothing short of miraculous. Keiichi attributed it to the solid leadership and organization that his followers had hammered out to run his first temple.

Some of the older generation, having had experience in the daily running of a church from their days in Lantan, immediately established a hierarchy around the venerable Owan Dunwater and two others. One, a middle aged human woman, by the name of Ghileis Vanbur, was meant to stand as a voice for the present needs, where Owan Dunwater was meant to be a voice for the lessons of past memories. The third voice, turned out to be a young Halfling by the name of Roberc Merrymar, whose purview surrounded the dreams of the future.

With all ages and potential points of view recognized through these honorable three, the church of the Innovator was formally created in Baldur's Gate. And with the pattern set, other sects would soon sprout in Cormyr, Amn, and throughout other cities and townships up and down the Sword Coast and throughout the north.

The younger Innovators, whose numbers had tripled since Keiichi had left for Candlekeep, had all taken up the banner of the Father of Progress. Most of the new acolytes were homeless street urchins, eager to have a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. Yet, all of them to a one, after seeing or hearing tale of Keiichi's creations vied for a place in the temple. Led by young Roberc, the fiery sons and daughters of the Innovator swore their oaths to uphold Keiichi's ideals. They took to calling themselves the Sparks, and set out to change the world in the Innovator's name.

Their first act came from hearing the elders complaining about low funds. Roberc, seeing the need and recognizing an opportunity gathered the Sparks and put them to work. They took it upon themselves to make copies of the inventions that Keiichi had made or left plans for. The pace was rapid, since the demands for those products were already backlogged. But their energy seemed inexhaustible, and all too soon the small creations were assembled and then sold to the houses of nobles and merchants for a fair, if moderately expensive, price. The temple soon had more than enough funds for Keiichi and his small party to make the trip to Waterdeep and establish themselves there. They even had more than enough left over to hire skilled tradesmen to make the parts needed for Keiichi's newest addition to the temple. No one understood what an assembly line was, but the Innovator, during his brief stop over before moving on to Waterdeep, had assured them that the Sparks had already touched on the concept. If they but expanded the idea and organized themselves a little better, it would make the work go faster and allow them to make enough of whatever they desired to turn a profit. All they had to do was follow the principles he laid out, and everyone in Baldur's Gate who wanted a Handless Seamstress, or an Auto-writer, or one of a hundred other creations, could have one at an affordable price.

To say that he'd left his followers eager and excited would have been an understatement. Those that left with him were even more excited about setting up in Waterdeep. If Baldur's Gate had taken to them so readily without really knowing anything about Keiichi's inventions, then what would the reaction of the City of Splendors be since the Innovator's touch had already been felt and well received there? The excitement was enough to inspire twenty five souls to board the ship with Keiichi and his small circle.

The weight of their devotion pressed him the entire trip, and had it not been for Ruthart and Maerdith, Keiichi was certain his patience would have snapped. Still, they made it to Waterdeep with no trouble and in record time. The new "temple" (he was never going to get used to that, no matter how long he lived) was purchased and, under the watchful eyes of Ruthart, already "blessed" and under renovation. A small number of the company's Sparks hit the streets and "hired" any willing child from the ages of fifteen and under, promising them a safe place to sleep, a warm blanket, and food for as long as they worked. The choice was a no-brainer for those wanting to escape the hungry hands of the Thieves Guild other more unsavory fates like brothels and Skullport. It was a chaotic army that descended on the warehouses in groups of five and ten. Yet, the moment their eyes fell on Kazuki-chan, they all quieted and listened intently to the instructions given by their stewards. Keiichi made it a point to learn all the names of the fifty three children as he served them dinner.

He would have been shocked to know that each child he touched, hugged, or spoke with, were healed of their infirmities. When asked for his blessing by members of the temple, he would simply shake his head before shaking their hands or patting them on the back. But his touch had its effect. Ideas jarred free of their mental prisons or formed in a flash of inspiration within the minds of these faithful. Some heard the Cry of Need and immediately left to answer it. When they returned, not one of them entered the temple alone.

Others were overcome by a surge of creativity that would spark new ideas and innovations in everything from music to magic. In a fortnight, these ideas would make their way out into the world, altering it just a little more. It wasn't an Industrial Revolution, but it did seem to be a miniature Renaissance.

No, Keiichi didn't notice any of this. He simply acted as he always had. Helping here, sweeping there. Doing what he could to ease that man's burden, while making that lonely little girl laugh and feel at home. He simply was, and that seemed enough. He might not have noticed his impact on these people's lives, but Maerdith did as she recorded every little act of service and kindness. And with each bright smile, each mountainous burden lifted, and each troubled soul soothed, her heart slipped a little further from Oghma and a little closer to him.

Yes, it could be said that the first three days in Waterdeep had been very productive. But it would be the fourth that would mark the pivotal turning point in Keiichi's quest. With only a handful of days left before his appointed meeting, he'd become restless. So he gathered Kazuki-chan and started from the temple the moment he felt that they could do without him. Maerdith and Ruthart had committed not to leave his side, for fear he would challenge Undermountain without them; so they became his shadows, intent on making sure he didn't bite off more than he could chew.

The first time he asked someone about Halaster Blackcloak and Undermountain, Keiichi was pointed in the direction of the Yawning Portal. Out of all the places frequented by Waterdhavians, the infamous inn near the docks was the pinnacle of information on the Undermountain. As well it should be, since it was one of the few places that one could publicly enter or exit the vast dungeon. Its proprietor, Durnan the Wanderer, had once sought his fortune alongside companions in the depths of Halaster's madness. Out of all those powerful worthies, he was the only one to leave the labyrinth alive. If anyone could claim to be an authority on Undermountain, it would be Durnan.

Which was why Keiichi set out immediately to interview the man.

It was wise to prepare as best you could, before pressing head long into the breech. Keiichi had a limited window of time, and he couldn't afford to make costly mistakes this late in the game. He'd read the journals of those that had a hand in making the place. He'd scoured the diaries recovered from those that had tempted fate by seeking Halaster's treasures. Their blood-stained last words were haunting, as they painted their deadly picture of Halaster's masterpiece. He'd read the words of the dead, now it was time to listen to the words of the living.

One thing that he'd learned about Halaster Blackcloak, was that the man was cunning and had a penchant for changing things on a whim. What had been in the dungeon one day had changed the next. And while, he couldn't trust old accounts, Keiichi felt he might be able to anticipate some of Halaster's changes based on the insights of his apprentices. It was a long shot at best. People changed over the years, and Halaster's apprentices had been dead and gone for more than a few.

All of his information was out of date, but he had to hold onto some hope.

He needed to reach the heart of the seventh level in eleven days. He could already see solutions formulating in his mind, and with more current information, Keiichi was certain that he would achieve his goal. That was the last thought he entertained before entering the Yawning Portal and greeted Durnan the Wanderer, secret Lord of Waterdeep.

**************

The City of Shade

The gladiatorial match had been going strong for thirty minutes. The husband and wife team seemed tireless, fighting the fifteen opponents without the benefit of weapons from the very beginning. They would vanquish one foe, pick up their opponent's weapon and dispatch the next. In the unlikely event that they lost the weapon, they proved to their foes that, armed or not, it didn't matter to them. They were magnificent examples of adaptation and resourcefulness. The High Prince of the Shadovar found them fascinating to watch, and with every move he seemed to learn something new.

For the entire three days that the pair had been in the city, the Prince had forced them to battle for their lives and the lives of their fellows; five matches a day – morning, mid-day, afternoon, evening, and night. With each battle, the difficulty had been increased to test their limits – and to the surprise of the dark ruler of the city, they had yet to be defeated. Their first opponents had been mindlessly easy – goblins and orcs of little talent or skill, only vast numbers. But each new battle afterwards was slightly more challenging. More opponents, stronger opponents, shackles that cut them off from the Weave, and chains that bound them together. Yet, no matter how they were handicapped, the duo always managed to pull a victory from the jaws of defeat; the teachings of their god and master grounding them and teaching them more and more with every punch or kick thrown.

Today, the Prince had ordered them to fight three consecutive battles in a row – first against a pair of dragon born, a quartet of Warforged monks the Shadovar had stolen from Eberron, and now fifteen of the military academy's finest and brightest. And still the shadovar found themselves being slaughtered – literally.

"Are they not impressive, Hadrune?"

"Indeed, my Prince. They make a fine pair of slaves." The Prince's Hand nodded. "How long do you anticipate they will be able to keep it up?"

"I have confidence in their tenacity." The Prince smiled. "They will continue to fight for some time to come."

"I concur. But I cannot understand what is driving them. Most of the other fighters we have seen usually falter long before this point. Why have they not attempted escape? They certainly seem capable enough to make the effort."

The Prince simply pointed to the right of their canopied box, in answer. Sefaril sat rigidly on the obsidian throne, the pregnant woman coifed in light grey silk and chains that bound her magic as much as they imprisoned her. Her face was filled with fear and concern for her friends as they continued to fight in the face of terrible odds.

"How oddly weak of them."

"Yes. And I suspect this weakness will provide the masses with much entertainment in the days to come." Telamont Tanthul smiled eagerly. "Double their guard just in case, and for tomorrow's sport, triple their opponents. Choose them from the city's guard."

"It shall be as you command, my Prince."

"Oh, and Hadrune…"

"Yes, my Prince?"

"Our guest will be here soon. Ensure that our welcome for him is ready."

"I live to serve, my Prince."

"Yes. Yes you do."

There was a mighty scream from the battlefield and a torrent of visible power slashed out at shoulder height from the she-elf as she threw her arms wide. Seven of the nine opponents left were decapitated in the blink of an eye. The High Prince smiled wryly, the only evidence of his true feelings of shock and concern. Even bound with anti-magic manacles, the she-elf had managed to perform some form of arcane attack.

Yes, these two would truly entertain him for days to come. And as they did, he would unravel the secrets of their power and skill – even as their god served him to replenish their lost magic.

**************

End Chapter Ten