Loyalty of the Tiefling

by JHMLYNDALE

The events of Mask of the Betrayer, but with the twist of Neeshka having managed to follow her harbour-boy… who is hers rather than Elanee's. Prologue, 25 chapters, Epilogue.

11. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

As Blake had hoped after a couple of hours of letting the Witchboat carry them towards Mulsantir, and of Okku's rumblings about it being even more cramped than he remembered, they saw a suitable place to moor. The lake had worn its bank back until it reached the intertwined roots of two substantial trees. Eventually the water might undermine them but for now those roots formed a lump out into deeper water and the trunks of the trees sturdy uprights to tie up to fore and aft. Despite this not being a proper jetty the mooring went far gentler than their hurried approach to the Lake of Tears garrison and soon the Witchboat had secured itself.

On their way towards the Lake of Tears they had not paused. The magic guiding the Witchboat was not dependent on light and so it had been able to sail and steer through the nights. It was still just as capable of doing this but as unaffected as Okku was by their travelling and fighting the same could not be said of the mortal passengers of that craft. The little extra time spent at Immil Vale had left them cleaner for the return journey but that would have left them dirty and sweaty enough even without having to fight the Shape of Fire and then blighted Treants and Berserkers. It was fortunate that the semi-illusionary creatures around the Great Tree had faded rather than adding their sap and wood chips and rock dust to the remains already clinging to armour and shields.

The night they'd spent at the Lake of Tears garrison, where Okku had prowled ashore and the sail was used for shelter rather than propulsion, had been more comfortable as well and even Okku conceded that one night's break was justifiable. They built their fire ashore and by its light and the light of a minor spell set about scrubbing. Gann and Neeshka rubbed oils into the leather of their armour while Blake polished the plates of his. The Mithril chainmail Blake and Neeshka wore was fairly self-cleaning from the effect of the links rubbing together but a good going over with brushes and cloths showed that effect had been reaching its limits. By the time they came to rest the rocks they'd warmed in the fire ashore had transferred their heat to the area under the tent-sail nicely and the three mortals slept while Okku guarded.

Morning came and it was time to swim. As their underwear needed washing as well Blake decided to trust Gann near a skimpily clad Neeshka. This was quite a cold bath that Blake thought would chill the temptation to cavort or stare rather than efficiently scrub and get out as soon as possible. As he saw Neeshka's underwear go transparent and cling closely to her, and her nipples pucker and dent the thin cloth outwards, he had second thoughts. Seeing the motions that let him know she had removed this under the cover of the water to wash gave him even more doubts. Gann was sensible though and made a show of staring out across the lake, especially when Neeshka emerged to dry herself, and trying to look martyred over being deprived of the chance to peek. Even Blake had seen the funny side of his attempts to guard her then though, unlike Neeshka, his amusement had fallen short of giggling.

Once the three mortals were clean and in clean clothes there were a few stitches and a few chain-links to replace or repair. This did not take long and was easier to do ashore than when you were on a boat and were not practised in compensating for how its motions might affect those of your hands. Soon they were ready to depart, the sail hoisted back up rather than forming a tent, the bear-god back taking up most of the room on deck rather than being ashore, and Blake gave the word of command to the Witchboat. Quite gently the ropes unwound themselves from around the trees and coiled themselves back onto the deck, the sail twitched and rose and tilted to catch the wind, and they began to move.

The journey to the Lake of Tears had been uneventful and so proved the journey back to Mulsantir. Blake spent much of his night watches thinking about the events and brooding on whether he could have avoided killing the Berserkers and how he could defend his actions to Sheva. As much as he trusted Gann and Okku when they said it was safe to return to Mulsantir he still disliked the idea of risking Neeshka's life. Going to Mulsantir after killing the Berserkers seemed even more foolish than entering Fort Locke that first time.

At least then there had been no witnesses and an acting-commander who wouldn't bother to investigate why the soldiers they'd slain to prevent their corpses being used to claim fraudulent bandit bounties had disappeared. Blake could also think of some Gods that could have been offended by the actions of the soldiers so it might not have been purely Tymorra's luck that let them survive to do some good when they entered rather than bypassed Fort Locke. Here though there was a hostile witness in Dalenka, the Berserkers had acted in accordance to their duty and honour, and Sheva seemed like she would care about the deaths. And Kazimika seemed like she would welcome the excuse for more hostility.

The days were more pleasant as Neeshka's smile drove away Blake's ability to brood with the joy it gave rise to. There was also the distraction of comparing fishing techniques with Gann between those used in clear mountain streams and lakes and those in murky swamp ponds and pools. Neeshka kept score for them as they caught fish and showed that she could gut those as efficiently as she could anything or anyone else.

"I think I am getting the hang of this boat…" Blake commented, glancing at the shoreline and realising just how close they were to Mulsantir, "finally."

"Seem to be getting the hang of other things as well," Neeshka smiled.

Blake looked at her, which he always found a pleasure, and raised his eyebrows with a 'huh' of puzzlement. Neeshka twinkled at him before putting a mock serious expression on her face, dropping her voice slightly, and mumbling some gibberish that in tone and rhythm sounded like the language of magic. Blake still looked blank for a moment or three more before he nodded.

"Ah," Blake nodded. His fear for Neeshka if their reception in Mulsantir was hostile had motivated him. When he'd not been thinking how to verbally defend their actions he'd been thinking how Mystra and Azuth could help with the arcane if Milil could not with eloquence. He'd not realised Neeshka had noticed this practice but was not surprised that she had. "Yes, it's beginning to feel easier to cast spells without gestures. The simpler ones seem to be flowing better."

"Your gods of magic have a strange sense of humour," said Gann with a slightly smug smile. "It is good though that they are becoming almost as generous as my spirits in regard to what you wear."

"It is also good I do not need to eat," Okku rumbled, "or the 'generous' space for provisions onboard would not have been adequate despite your predatory actions against the fish."

"Aye, my friend," Blake said, "I think we used almost as much hard biscuit for crumbs to lure the fish in as we gained in fish meat. This is not a large vessel and even if I didn't still need answers here, and owe Sheva a report, it is definitely a boat rather than a ship that could carry me home."

"Hrmm," frowned Okku, his tiny shift in weight as he turned to look more directly at Blake being enough to tilt the Witchboat slightly before it compensated. "You were considering that little one? To flee rather than try to end this curse."

"I cannot flee what is within me," Blake pointed out, gaining a 'hrmm' of agreement from Okku, "but the thought did occur. Has been said that the more you indulge the curse the greater its hunger and the opposite seems true. With as leashed as I have managed to make it thanks to the advice and support you have all given I would not need to very often hunt Undead and grant them rest to keep this curse sated."

"Are Undead that common in your land then?" asked Gann, unsure about that plan but interested in how the Sword Coast differed from Rashemen.

"Not common, but not as unknown as here," Blake replied. "Whether they are common enough is another matter and was not the main problem. This curse is ancient enough that even a very long human lifespan of sating it that way would still be a short time by comparison. Best to end it here and now while I have the aid of such worthy comrades."

"I thank you for that," smiled Gann, "and though I do not know what it is to have a home I have seen in their dreams how many yearn to return to theirs. You resisting the desire to return to familiar places and forget the curse in the comfort of routine says much for you."

"Forgetting this curse while it gnaws at me every waking second, and even in sleep, would be impossible…" Blake grumbled before admitting, "But, aye. I have enough responsibilities back on the Sword Coast I could have tried to bury myself in them."

As the Witchboat approached the jetty Neeshka opened her mouth to comment and then decided not to. Blake was distracted by the demands of the mooring but Gann saw this small movement and wiggled his eyebrows at her. Neeshka blushed slightly as she realised Gann knew she had been going to suggest that responsibilities were not the only thing Blake could have buried himself in once they were back on the Sword Coast and had some privacy. Blake glanced back at Neeshka's nervous giggle and though it suited her, and could just be the wind, did wonder what had brought that colour to her cheeks.

Some of Blake's concern over if Neeshka's feelings were love or gratitude came back. Knowing it was the curse that had made him doubt she was his soul mate did not affect his doubt if he was truly hers. Sometimes it seemed that he was too stodgy and that someone like Gann would suit her better. They were both wanderers, inclined to impulse rather than planning, and free spirits. Blake was sure that Gann would have happily gone along with robbing the Collector as an enjoyable challenge rather than refusing and 'making things complicated' by using a pretence to bait Leldon in. And now something Gann had said had made Neeshka giggle and blush and he'd said it quietly and privately enough Blake had not even heard him speak.

The Witchboat snuggled into the jetty and at Blake's command whipped its ropes out and around the mooring posts. While Neeshka quickly concealed her Tiefling features beneath her cloak Blake hopped ashore and looked around for Vazil so he could tell the old man how well his Witchboat had performed and thank him, but it seemed it was too late in the day for him to be dockside. With a shrug Blake began donning his full armour rather than just the chain shirt he'd worn to have some protection while still being able to swim.

"Expecting trouble?" asked Gann as Blake replaced cloth trousers with mail.

"I trust you and Okku that it was safe to return here," Blake replied, pulling on his armoured boots, "but I know how I'd react if someone came and told me they had killed a detachment of my men."

"And how would that be," said Gann, raising both eyebrows in enquiry as Blake strapped on knee-guards.

"Hopefully with calmness," Blake mused, wrapping one thigh-guard on and buckling the three straps. "Hopefully I would ask them for their reasons and follow the teachings of Tyr and justice…" He wrapped the other thigh-guard on and buckled its straps. "But I do have a temper, and if they had killed my people then it would be easy to sway more towards Hoar and retribution. And with the hostility they have shown I mistrust the Witches to be fair minded."

Gann nodded with a sly smile Blake did not notice as he continued dressing, choosing armour plates depending on how far up his body his progress had reached and whether they needed to be over something else. Neeshka moved in to help and soon Blake had breast and back plate clam-shelled together and had donned the guards around his upper arms and the shoulder pauldrons to protect that joint and with their 'fin' block sweeping blows at his neck. Blake smiled and nodded in thanks as he pulled on the gauntlets he had left for last as he'd needed his fingers nimble for the buckles and catches.

"If you have quite finished little-one," Okku rumbled, "then let us be on our way."

"Aye," Blake replied, deciding to risk not pulling up his chainmail hood and to risk not wearing his helmet. There was still a click though as he drew his sword an inch to make sure it was free in its scabbard before he pushed it back home. "Let us speak to the Witches."

The walk up the hill and to the Witches' sacred grove passed in silence. The few inhabitants of Mulsantir that were on the street this late did not seem inclined to speak or get in the way of either an armoured and glowering man or of a bear-god whose eyes seemed even more yellow in the approaching twilight. Blake measured with his eyes the width of the approach from the Berserker Lodge to where he could see the three Witches waiting despite the lateness of the hour. He'd seen how many Berserkers were inside that building but hopefully they'd be disorganised enough to get in each other's way either at their door or where this path narrowed.

Blake drew in breath to make one of his rehearsed greetings, hoping Milil would bless him, but before he could speak Sheva was already talking. "I am sorry child," she said, her tone suggesting some sincerity, "sorry that I treated you poorly because you were a foreigner and sorry that I did not trust you to control your hunger."

"And I…" added Kazimika, sounding as if she forcing the words out with near as much pain as childbirth without the appropriate herbs, "I am… sorry as well."

"And…" Sheva said, with a glance at her subordinate, "we are both sorry that you did not find your answers in the Ashenwood. I guided you poorly child."

This was not what Blake was expecting. The Witches seemed to know something of what had happened but instead of demanding explanations were offering apologies. It was possible, in fact probable, that Dalenka would have had some way to send a message but this reception was still a surprise. "Not at all," Blake finally said. "I did learn about previous bearers of this curse and meet some in a Mosstone Dreamscape, but…"

"As Gannayev will tell you," Sheva interrupted, "spirits chatter like fishwives. We learned of what you had done even before you had finished loading provisions from the garrison stores and set sail again."

"Ah, though you mean as Gann didn't tell me," replied Blake, noticing Gann's smug look. Even without Sheva's statement that expression made it clear Gann knew the news would not come as a surprise and so they didn't have to worry about an immediate and shocked reaction.

"You would still have felt you owed them a report," Gann oozed, "and it was pleasant to see you surprised for once."

"We do thank you for returning here to tell us yourself," added Sheva, noticing how Gann's smile was beginning to falter as Blake turned and glared.

Blake looked at Gann for a few moments longer, his gaze reminding Gann of what he had said about having a temper and showing how much he failed to see the amusement in days of worrying there would be a fight that would endanger the woman he loved. Neeshka stepped into his side, her hand stealing out from beneath her concealing cloak and onto Blake's, making him realise it had gone to the hilt of his sword. With an effort Blake unclenched his hand from that and gave Neeshka a smile as he took her hand instead and turned back to Sheva.

"Indeed, well," Blake nodded, "learning how previous hosts had revelled in the curse and called it a gift went… some way… to helping me understand both the temptations of this curse and the rudeness and hostility I have met." Blake's eyes shifted to Kazimika. "And yes, I do mean you as well as Dalenka but your apology is accepted and no grudge is borne."

"I am pleased you have gained knowledge and perspective," replied Sheva. "You saved our sister Dalenka…"

"Despite the temptation to just stab her," Neeshka muttered up into Blake's ear.

"Risked your own soul to heal our sacred forest," Sheva continued, giving no sign of if she had heard Neeshka. "Our gratitude and trust are yours. We pray that the spirits will help you find your answers… and your salvation. Farewell."

"What?" exclaimed Blake.

He'd come here ready to give a full report. However much they might have learned from the 'chatter' of the spirits and whatever report Dalenka had made it seemed to Blake that they should have questions still for him. That even if the facts were known that a different perspective might shed more light on them. Though on reflection that they had apologised for misjudging his intentions towards the curse did not mean they had changed their other attitudes. Why would witches think a foreigner would have any insight to share? And there seemed little point in stirring the swamp if they had decided the matter was closed.

"And farewell to you as well," Blake managed to say finally.

Okku rumbled in satisfaction as the little-one turned away and, his mate's paw clasped in his, began heading down the hill. The message he had sent through the spirits during the night the Witchboat had spent moored to those trees and he had been able to roam ashore seemed to have reached these Witches. There was still the chance they would have been impudent enough to ask questions rather than accepting the statement of a god-of-bears but they had not made that mistake. They had accepted Okku's word that the Berserkers had died valiantly and in service of the Witches. That Nadaj had been possessed did not alter the bravery and loyalty they had shown.

Blake stopped partway between the sacred grove and the entrance to the Berserker Lodge and out of easy earshot of either. He brushed a kiss across Neeshka's fingertips before closing his eyes briefly in thought. "The Witches seem to… could be apathy, could be arrogance… but they have dismissed the events of the Ashenwood," mused Blake, "so let's consider what to do next."

"Night is falling," Gann pointed out reasonably, "so next I would say would be to sleep."

"Well," said Neeshka with a wink to Blake, "go to bed at least."

"We still have the problem of the lack of privacy my dear," Blake reminded her, kissing her hand again, "which would have been another reason to return home so I could bury myself in… work."

Neeshka giggled as Blake said what she'd decided against saying before. They continued down the hill to the Veil Theatre. Blake hoped that Lienna's room would still be available but if not at least they would be close to the city gates so they could set up camp just outside the walls. Lamplight gleamed out from between two shutters over a window and when Blake gently pushed the front door open Magda looked up from her bustling about to give them a welcoming smile. She seemed happy to see and offer them hospitality again, and even happier when Blake gave her a few gold coins and when Gann gave her the full benefit of his charm.

By the time Gann had finished complimenting Magda and the Veil Theatre and drawing comparisons with the Sloop Inn to the detriment of the latter, the gold coins had been rendered almost unnecessary, though only almost so as she was a canny Dwarf. However skilled Gann said her actors were, rather than drunkards, however intelligent and witty their plays sounded to be, rather than coarse, and however clean and welcoming their rooms were, rather than filthy, the flattery would wear off but the coins would remain a reassuring weight in her coin-purse.

"…I do hope that we get the chance to see one of your plays," Gann said as they reached the door to the back room. This spanned the entire rear of the Veil Theatre though with how it narrowed in the middle it was almost a corridor and two rooms, one of which had the bed and the portal.

"Aye," agreed Blake, "they sound nice."

Gann rolled his eyes a little at Blake's lack of smoothness. Blake glanced back with an air of puzzlement; he'd said it sounded nice hadn't he?

"I hope so too milord," Magda replied to Gann, "though that depends on when your travels bring you to us, and whether we create a new one or have to blow the dust off the scrolls of an old."

"Well, may Oghma bring you knowledge and Milil the poetry to express it," said Blake politely, opening the door, "and I thank you again for the use of this room."

"I hope you rest well milords and milady," Magda smiled. Her expression was partially the effects of Gann's flattery, partially acknowledgement and gratitude for Blake's good wishes, but mostly because something had occurred to her even before Blake gave her those good wishes. 'Maybe Oghma has already brought a source of knowledge,' she thought, 'now which floorboards creak?'

They bid Magda goodnight and farewell and the three mortals stripped down to more comfortable clothes. Blake grunted once in annoyance as he removed the armour that Gann had known was unnecessary but decided to not grumble at Gann. As before Neeshka got the bed and Gann and Blake spread their bedrolls, and hers, to cushion the floorboards but this time they did not retire to sleep immediately. This seemed a good time and a comfortable place to talk in the puddle of light the torches and the cantrip of Light created around them.

"We know this curse is the creation of a dead god," Blake started, "very likely Myrkul, and we know I was infected with it by being placed in the chamber in Okku's barrow where it was being contained." Okku rumbled in agreement. "I have suggested the Red Wizard's purpose was to weaken Rashemen by its spirits being devoured, but this is only a suggestion…"

"Would that really have worked?" asked Gann dubiously. "Your skill and power is such that you would have been a formidable enemy, but our travels have made it clear your nature is such you would have sought to avoid becoming a blight on this land."

"I thank you for your faith, my friend, but seeking to avoid something is not the same as succeeding at avoiding it. Their plans could easily have worked out better."

"You have had your lady's support," Gann pointed out.

Blake smiled to Neeshka. "Something for which I am incredibly grateful, and which I think has been a large part of my success so far."

"I wasn't going to let you face this alone harbour-boy," Neeshka replied firmly, returning the smile.

"Which… is where the Red Wizards failed," nodded Blake. "From the tales I have heard of them and their constant warring for position it would be inconceivable to them that someone would do what Neeshka did. Risk your life for love of another rather than exploit their kidnapping for your own advantage? Surely you jest. The planning of the Red Knight strikes a far greater chord with them than the love or passion of Sune."

Neeshka giggled. "From that perspective jumping into that portal was not the smartest thing I have ever done."

"Ah," Gann pointed out, "but had you not then you would never have met me, and what a tragedy that would have been."

"Indeed, the horror of it for her," Blake replied deadpan. "But to get back to what I was saying I think the Red Wizards might have expected the power of this curse to corrupt me. That finding myself with new abilities I would explore them, would analyse and assess them…"

"And make lots and lots of notes," smiled Neeshka.

Blake looked to her and nodded, wondering for a moment whether he should have been doing that here anyway. Then he continued. "That I would see how they could be used to increase my own power," he said, adding with audible understatement. "The reputation of the Red Wizards suggests they are not concerned with morality in their pursuit of knowledge so sacrificing spirits to that end would not trouble them."

"But it would trouble you little-one," Okku rumbled.

"It would, but I am not sure it would have troubled me enough," admitted Blake. "Had Neeshka not followed, and sliced out the throat of that Red Wizard, then rather than having Neeshka's support through this I would have been either alone in an unfriendly country or alone save for the Red Wizard. Without Neeshka's support at that crucial moment my control over this curse…"

"Harbour-boy stubbornness," Neeshka muttered, starting to get a little uncomfortable how much Blake was assigning his success to her.

"Might have not been enough to prevent it feeding on you my friend," continued Blake, "and rather than just being vilified by the Witches here I'd have likely been actively hunted. With no other allies…"

Gann nodded as Blake looked at him enquiringly. "Yes, I think had you devoured Okku, then that would have been the last you saw of me. Or the last of me as a friend or ally at least."

"With no other allies," nodded Blake, "might I not have turned back to, or leaned more on, the Red Wizard. With all around treating me as an enemy might I not have fought back with whatever means I could, even this strange new power that I needed to test to find the capabilities of?"

"You might," Okku rumbled, "and it would not take many 'tests' before you would need to feed the curse rather than it being your choice."

"So I would be roaming Rashemen," sighed Blake, "devouring its spirits, fighting its soldiers, doing the work of the Red Wizards for them. And the whole time I would think I was just defending myself…"

"Defending yourself?" Okku growled in mild protest.

"Defending myself. As far as I was concerned when we first met you condemned me to death because of a Red Wizard plot. I doubt I would have been happier about that if, had Neeshka not been there to tell me, I'd not even known how I had been placed in your barrow. I defended myself then, I defended myself when you pursued me, and I'd have defended myself had I killed you and the Witches sought to avenge you."

"Hrm," Okku conceded, "there is something in what you say little-one. You would not know why I had wished to drag your broken body back to within the curse's prison so you would feel you had been condemned for killing me in self-defence."

"That wouldn't have worked," commented Neeshka, adding when Okku and Blake looked at her, "dragging him back I mean. I don't know if harbour-boy here was awake enough to notice but before that red-robed-slime approached him she cast some magic and the glow that had been between the pillars vanished."

"I hadn't noticed," Blake admitted, "everything was very fuzzy so if I did see that glow then I thought it was just my eyes playing tricks. Could be that the magic the Red Wizard dispelled was to keep mortals out rather than the curse in, but if she dispelled one barrier I'd not trust she had not dispelled more or all of them."

"Then we are fortunate," rumbled Okku. "As painful as my defeats were they would not have been as painful as a victory where the curse simply left rather than being imprisoned."

"That was perhaps their backup plan," Blake nodded. "At least they would have released the curse to find new random victims if they had failed, thanks to your might and the loyalty of your army, at…"

"At making you their weapon," hissed Neeshka, remembering what Blake had said before. "She was going to manipulate you harbour-boy, try to aim you like a crossbow, try to feed the paranoia you'd be feeling…"

"Make me think I was only defending myself when I'd be waging war on Rashemen…" Blake added before breaking off as his eyes hardened, "She was going to make me into what we fought, into the King of Shadows. Suddenly I am even more pleased she is dead."

"King of Shadows, little-one?" commented Okku with a complacent yawn. "A pompous sounding title."

"But an accurate one and a terrible threat," Blake said. "It corrupted the swamps around the village I grew up in so they drained the life from all within. It tricked a Luskan Archmage and reshaped him into a leader for the army of Undead it sent against the city of Neverwinter…"

"Would that be the necromancer you mentioned before?" asked Gann. "The one whose defeat misled you about the proper tactics to fight old father bear with?"

"It would," Blake replied, turning to Okku. "As the King of Shadows' power was being channelled through that 'Shadow Reaver' forcing him for flee deprived his army of that power, whereas your army was channelling power into you…"

"So you attacked them and deprived me of their strength," growled Okku, "I understand little-one. But there is more to this King of Shadows that you should regard him as having been so terrible?"

"Decades ago it had sent another army of Undead towards Neverwinter under the command of an Avatar of itself," Blake continued. "Before that it had sent its Avatars against the Githyanki in their extra-planar cities and those had slaughtered thousands. And before that it had destroyed its creators and though the mages of Illefarn salvaged enough of a victory to manage to imprison it the walls of that prison had worn thin and allowed it to begin sending out the Avatars I mentioned."

"Quite the list," mused Gann, "though I have heard of Illefarn. Perhaps the dreams people have are of the shining legend rather than the duller reality but this does not sound like something they would create."

"That was not their intent," Blake began, "but they did not anticipate…"

"Hrm," groused Okku, "Mortals seem inclined to that. They make their grand plans without the wisdom or foresight to see how they could go wrong."

Blake nodded to the bear-god, paused to think, and then began again. "The great rival to Illefarn was Netheril. In their concern over how the younger empire was growing the Illefarn sought to create a perfect defender of their realm. They took a volunteer and in a ritual that lasted days they burned his mind and soul with the energies of the Weave so that nothing but his determination to protect Illefarn remained and so that he became a creature of pure magic."

"Burned?" asked Gann in surprise.

"Burned," Blake replied flatly.

"We met a ghost that had been his girlfriend, or at least very close to him" added Neeshka. "She was confused and thought the ritual was still going on. She pleaded with us to make them stop, telling us how he was screaming in agony…"

"That… does sound far less shining legend," Gann nodded, "and far more bloody truth. I take it that creating a defender through such painful means went wrong?"

"Not at once," Blake said, to Gann's further surprise. "At first it seemed to have worked. The sacrifice the volunteer had made had given them their perfect defender and the borders of Illefarn were secure. What they did not know was that beyond those borders within Netheril there was an Archmage seeking to become a god. His attempt to replace Mystra slew the Goddess of Magic and for the few moments it took her to be reborn there was no magic in this world."

"I have heard that tale and, though I doubt the cause as I doubt the Gods, is that not how their floating cities fell?" commented Gann.

"It was," Blake replied, "and as well as being long enough for those cities to smash into the ground below them it was also long enough that a creature of pure magic sustained by the Weave would have died. Unless it turned instead to the Shadow-Weave so it could survive to continue to defend Illefarn."

"Hence King of 'Shadows' though… you said it destroyed the mages of Illefarn?" pondered Gann. "How was that acting in defence?"

"The leaders of Illefarn feared their great defender had been corrupted by now being a creature of the Shadow-Weave rather than Weave, so they sent their armies and mages against it. The ghost of the creator of the ritual suggested that as the defender knew it was the protector of Illefarn that would mean that anything or anyone attacking it, whatever banners they flew, must be an enemy of Illefarn and should be treated as such."

"And treating them as such it destroyed them," nodded Gann.

"Destroyed them and then spent millennia trying to escape from its prison so it could return to defending the empire it had caused to fall. The loss of so many lives with their soldiers and so much knowledge with their mages sent what remained of Illefarn into the decline that ended them as a nation."

"Could you not simply try to tell it Illefarn was long dead and it could also die?" asked Gann reasonably, inclined as he was towards charm and diplomacy.

"I did," replied Blake, "and it told me that the suggestion that Illefarn was dead, that it could ever die, was a threat to Illefarn."

"Ah, that would be a problem with that argument then," Gann admitted.

"So it proved," smiled Blake ruefully. "So here was this creature of immense power, implacable in its purpose, and determined to drive 'invaders' out of the lands Illefarn once encompassed. Unable to understand thanks to how its mind had been deliberately crippled that those 'invaders' were people who had never heard of Illefarn and who had been living in peace on their farms and in their villages for centuries." Blake frowned. "Perhaps my comparison was not as apt though."

"Because though you are affected by the hunger," Gann asked contemplatively, "your mind is not crippled by this? Or do you doubt your power?"

"Both," Blake replied simply before continuing. "I'd like to think that however much the Red Wizard tried to manipulate me that, unlike the King of Shadows, I'd be willing to listen to reason and to look at the truth rather than being blinded by preconceptions."

"Oh-ho… 'preconceptions'… that's one word for it harbour-boy," Neeshka teased. "I know how trusting men can be of a pretty girl and her mother did tell her to treat you as if she loved you."

"Fortunately I am immune to that sort of thing," Blake said, ignoring Neeshka's snort of disbelief and smiling to her. "An immunity I built up resisting a certain Tiefling and managing to succeed, for the most part, despite her being beautiful rather than merely pretty. An immunity further strengthened by the fact my heart is hers and, though that made it harder to resist her, that would have made it easier to resist the Red Wizard."

For a moment Neeshka almost argued and the look on her face made Blake's smile falter. They'd agreed that he'd not have been able to resist her 'suggestion' to rob the Collector if she had been willing to risk their relationship and use all the ways she could have persuaded him. Neeshka was sure the Red Wizard would have done whatever it took to induce Blake to her whims. Even if she had failed to seduce him that could still have been a problem. Neeshka knew her harbour-boy would think he'd given the Red Wizard the wrong impression and feel guilty for having to reject her.

She had also seen how Blake had reacted to Shandra and Elanee and the Red Wizard might have taken advantage of those same reactions. Her harbour-boy had been grateful to Elanee for her aid and guidance and would have shown the same gratitude to the Red Wizard for helping him escape the barrow and guiding him to Mulsantir. If there had still been a coup at the Thayan Academy and the Red Wizard left homeless he would also have given her the same sympathy he'd given Shandra when her barn and then house had been burnt down. And both reactions might have been stronger. In the case of Elanee Blake already had Khelgar and his Tiefling helping him rather than being alone. In the case of Shandra she had been angry and abrasive before Blake had even spoken and had blamed them for the misfortunes.

The Red Wizard though could have struck a balance between grief and determination, between blaming Blake that she'd been sent to him rather than at her Academy and admitting it was not his fault she'd been sent, and between being strong enough to not be pathetic while weak enough that Blake would feel obliged to help. Neeshka shifted her expression and smiled reassuringly at Blake, managing to also restore his smile. She might have won the argument but as natural as it seemed to her harbour-boy to show gratitude for aid or compassion for someone who was alone those reactions were more rare and precious in Neeshka's experience. This was something to be cherished along with the rest of him rather than something to argue against him extending, even if this might have benefited a Red Wizard had he not his Tiefling to watch out for him.

"Your mate seems less sure of your immunity," rumbled Okku, more sensing how Neeshka's spirit shifted than being able to read how her face had, "and I am less sure about if you would lack the power of this thing."

"It was very powerful. Even when weakened by a ritual the mages of Illefarn had, despite being mortals, the foresight to create to help fight their creation if things went wrong it still took a great deal of fighting, powerful allies, and the Sword of Gith to defeat it."

"Maybe so little-one," nodded Okku, "but there are tales of spirit-eaters that indulged their curse and became creatures of pure hunger. Fortunately their hunger grew by more than their power so even the great strength they gained was not enough to allow them to feed fast enough to avoid being consumed themselves. Had one of those met your 'King of Shadows' I do wonder who would have slain whom."

"Then, my ursine friend," Blake replied, "I am even more grateful for the guidance and support you have all given me."

"Please, no group hugs," said Gann, glancing at Neeshka and deciding not to say something, "though I am sure we are all very happy. We are also all speculating."

"True enough," Blake admitted, "and my assumptions about the purpose of the Red Wizard plot are just assumptions. I don't think we will ever know for sure how well I would have been able to resist the Red Wizard. Nor, if I had not and her intent was what I think, whether I'd have been as great a threat to Rashemen as the King of Shadows was to the Sword Coast…"

"You'd have managed," smiled Neeshka reassuringly, "no bald-headed bitch would have wrapped my harbour-boy around her finger."

"But would she have wrapped her fingers around his…" Gann began, faltering when Neeshka glared at him. The fire in her eyes seemed to have intensified and Gann decided to refrain from finishing his sentence.

"Hah," Blake said, taking the remark better, "not sure that was what her mother meant by her instructions, and when I said my heart was Neeshka's I did mean other body parts as well." He saw Neeshka was fuming and decided to change the subject. "There are the clues to be sought from the Slumbering Coven in that Sunken City, answers for Gann as to why he has seen this in his dreams so often, and those clues and answers might help test my assumptions about the plot."

"It is logical what you say," nodded Gann, "and quite persuasive. That you would have resisted becoming their weapon though and that you mentioned a coup at their Academy, which would hinder them taking advantage of the chaos you'd be causing, argues against though. And simply put the strands of dream connecting you to others due to this curse do not feel right, they 'taste' of lost love rather than advantage sought."

"I cannot speak of dream-strands," Blake replied, "but their choice of me and choice of the timing of the coup had occurred to me. As you say though we are speculating so let us rest for now and hope travelling to the Sunken City gives an explanation that does not have those flaws and… er… 'tastes' right with dreams."

"Aye," rumbled Okku, "the sooner you sleep the sooner you will wake and we can be on our way."

They finished stripping down to underwear that was comfortable to sleep in. Neeshka took advantage of Gann's back being to her to wink at Blake when she caught his eye and to then lean forward slightly where she was kneeling on the bed and shimmy her shoulders. She'd already removed her breastband from beneath her shirt so the way that made her less restrained breasts jiggle brought a slightly stunned look to Blake's face and a wicked grin to Neeshka's as she saw her harbour-boy's reaction. With a giggle she slipped down under the bedcovers.

Gann glanced over his shoulder and then back at Blake, whose expression was returning towards normal. "I hope that whatever she just did," Gann commented with a slight smile, "you do not dream of it too strongly. It would not embarrass me, but it might you and I'd not want your lady to think you were cheating on her with me. It was rather memorable what she did to that Frost Giant."

There were some muffled giggles from the bed as Neeshka buried her face in the pillow and pulled the covers up over her head. Blake looked at Gann for a moment as he sought a polite way to reply. "Let us hope so my friend," Blake finally managed to reply. "That having an ancient curse inside me, a bear-god beside me, a sweetheart who is good with knives, and that… despite your fine flowing locks and slender figure… you don't match my preferences in one crucial way is enough."

Okku harrumphed in impatience with the byplay and Gann contented himself with a simple nod in reply to Blake before lying down under his part of the covers. Blake hesitated and considered a modesty partition of pillows as he was suffering one of the disadvantages of being a Wizard. He'd needed to train his memory to remember complex arcane formulas and that also let him better remember the glance he'd had of Neeshka. Worse still that had been a very good glance thanks to his practice in quickly reading people's postures to recognise what spell or what attack they intended. With a slight sigh Blake decided to just settle down, and despite his fears sleep soon came and if he did dream of Neeshka and get an 'embarrassment' then nobody noticed and Blake did not remember.

The night passed and Blake suddenly found himself on his feat. He realised as the fog of sleep cleared that his sword, still in its scabbard, was in his hand; glancing towards the bed he saw Neeshka had rolled out of the opposite side and was crouching beside it and holding the dagger she'd kept beneath the pillows. A slight chuckle of amusement from Okku drew Blake's attention to him and away from the sight of a scantily clad Neeshka ready to spring. Blake was still trying to figure out what had woken him, fighting through the remaining sleepiness and the distraction of his sweetheart's dishabille, when there was another knock on the door.

"Milords?" Magda's voice called through the wood. "Milady? I said we have a breakfast ready for you…"

Blake blinked and cleared his throat, taking the time to make his voice come out normal, "Thank you Magda, that is most kind of you. We shall be there in a few minutes."

There was the faint sound of retreating footsteps and an even fainter rustle of cloth as, to Blake's mild disappointment, Neeshka slipped back under the concealment of the bed covers. He gave the wriggling mound of bedding another glance and then looked back at Okku whose eyes revealed that even bear-gods had some sense of humour. Okku chuckled again before speaking.

"Little-one, you had a god-of-bears guarding you. You and your mate moved with impressive speed but perhaps you should take your guide from the Hagspawn. Or seek to wake earlier so that you are already awake by the time for breakfast."

"This is an interesting angle on you," commented Gann, with a yawn as he looked up from where he was still lying, "though not the best sight to wake up to."

"Of course not," Blake replied, looking down, "I just saw the best sight to wake up to…" He looked towards the bed. "Have I mentioned how magnificent you look when you are tensed for battle my love?"

Neeshka popped back out from beneath the covers and grinned mischievously at Blake. "The lack of clothes probably didn't hurt."

"That does sound better," smiled Gann, sitting up, "but I believe our fearlessly bearded leader is grateful I missed seeing that, and that breakfast was mentioned?"

"Aye," Blake said, "to both counts."

"Old king bear does not eat, and is glorious in the colours of his fur," Gann mused, "and I of course do have clothes for those times I am given hospitality and need to appear at a dining table in something more appropriate than armour."

"Fortunately," Blake said, with some sourness, "when I arrived in Mulsantir I misjudged the town. By the time the Witches 'greeted' me with their threats and insults and lack of welcome I'd already bought some clothes to replace those I'd left at home. Had they 'greeted' me sooner it would have seemed unlikely that armour would ever not be appropriate." Blake paused and nodded. "Neeshka would have been fine though, it was a pretty enough dress we found that it would have still been worth buying."

"Wish we had found a tailor harbour-boy," complained Neeshka mildly, "it needs a few alterations."

"I am sure you will still make it look beautiful," Blake reassured her, "even if it does not have a slit for your lovely tail to be free and I know how you dislike your tail being confined."

One corner of Neeshka's mouth quirked. "I can stand it for a while, though it feels like if you were wearing a shirt that was too tight and you couldn't move your arms properly."

Blake nodded and began to dress in the simple clothes he had bought. This outfit was similar to what Tarmas had worn back in West Harbour, and what Sand had been wearing when they met so, though these were of the more practical design the shopkeeper here had not been inaccurate describing them as 'wizard robes'. The 'robe' portion was a long open sleeveless coat-like design over trousers and shirt. Far easier to move in than the ornate and voluminous 'dresses' some wizards favoured and far less likely to get swamp mud on a hem or have a dangling sleeve catch fire as you tried to do alchemy.

As Blake buckled on his dagger belt, and checked the scabbard on it was discreetly under the 'coat', he noticed that Neeshka was still sitting in bed and had made no move to get dressed. Blake glanced at Gann who was managing to look resplendent in a well-tailored outfit that was both too colourful and too tight in places for Blake to think the style would have suited him as well. One corner of Neeshka's mouth quirked as she saw Blake look back at her.

"Are you not coming to breakfast, my love?" asked Blake in puzzlement.

"I need to strip right down," Neeshka replied, adding with a wink, "now I don't mind doing that in front of Gann, and I think Gann would very much not mind…"

"Indeed not," agreed Gann, his smile remaining firm despite Blake's frown at that honesty.

"But I thought you might."

"Your expression suggests she is right," observed Gann to Blake, "and I suggest that if I have to leave then we both have to leave rather than leave you unchaperoned in a room with an inviting bed and your lady in the nude. I think that would mean neither of you would come to breakfast, though you both might come… to lunch."

"Okku would still be sufficient chaperone," Blake replied, struck by the images Gann's words had evoked.

"Hrm," rumbled Okku, "I have no interest in your mating little-one but a portal has two sides. I can just as easily guard the side on the shadow-plane if my presence here would make you feel awkward."

Blake stood there. He did not like the idea of having sex when people knew he was having sex and would be waiting for him to finish. But Neeshka was so beautiful and so desirable and if they used one of their travelling blankets there would be no embarrassing evidence on the sheets for Magda to find. His mind roiled and in sympathy so did his stomach so it suddenly gurgled rather audibly.

"That settles that," Neeshka giggled, "sounds like you need breakfast harbour-boy to have enough fuel for anything else."

For a moment Blake considered a protest and reminding Neeshka of what she'd said about having no complaints about his endurance, but then he nodded.

"On to breakfast then," Blake said, striding towards the door before his resolve weakened again.

"I don't eat," Okku reminded him, "but I shall be sociable and attend despite the waste of time."

"Oh," mock-protested Gann, "now we are in a rush… can I not have a few minutes more to look my best for our lady hostess?"

Blake paused as he opened the door and looked back over his shoulder at Gann who smiled and wiggled his eyebrows. One day Blake would stop rising to that bait and have learned when Gann was teasing, but to Gann's pleasure that day was not today. Trying to look sad Gann patted one hand to his chest.

"Ah well," Gann added, infusing tragedy into his words, "if we must deny her my full handsomeness then we must. A misfortune I hope she does not think too great."

"I am sure she will withstand that blow," Blake replied, leading the way on. "And we'd not want to overwhelm her with how glorious you are."

They found a table had been set up on the stage, serving as a genuine dining table rather than just as a prop of one, and that the other members of the Veil Theatre staff were there as well. Blake remembered Sweet Wallace and Lothario's names from the banter back and forth just before the previous night he had spent here but realised he'd never learnt the name of the Actress or the Air Genasi. "Wallace, Lothario, miss, sir…" Blake said, with a polite nod-bow to each in turn before he sat.

"Ah, you have excelled yourself Madame," Gann added with a brilliant smile towards Magda. "This breakfast looks as generous as your kind nature and just as delectable as your company."

"Thank you milord," replied Magda as Gann sat next to the actress so he could work on charming her as well.

"Aye, this is a magnificent spread," Blake agreed, "you have our thanks and gratitude."

Magda smiled and then glanced around. "Is your lady not joining us milord?"

"Nature has a certain balance," Blake replied, "my armour takes more getting dressed than hers but when it is clothes for a breakfast with pleasant company it is the other way around."

"Though ladies make looking beautiful seem effortless," added Gann, smiling to the actress, "I do appreciate the effort, especially so early in the day"

The actress smiled back at Gann, fluttering her eyelashes slightly as she preened under the praise. This was Gannayev, Gann-of-dreams, and if even half his legendary reputation was truth then the opportunity to be seduced by him should not be missed. She dropped one shoulder to lean slightly towards Gann and angle her cleavage accordingly. With satisfaction she saw his eyes drop a moment but then to her frustration he looked away as light footsteps approached.

Neeshka slipped through the doorway and smiled as Blake rose from his seat to greet her. As well as confining her tail this dress was also a little tight across the bosom and a little loose at the waist. Rather than be embarrassed at the ill-fit she was trying to remind herself this meant she had a better figure than the tailor's standard, being slightly more buxom without being as thick around the middle.

Blake took her hand and kissed it. "You look lovely, my dear," he said, his tone heartfelt as he admired her.

For a moment the actress' practised expression slipped as she sneered at this. In her profession your clothes and your costumes needed to fit you well so anything else was contemptible. This Tiefling was either incapable of finding a good tailor or she was being very unsubtle in wearing a dress that was too small across the chest to push her breasts up and together into the neckline and make her cleavage more impressive. Admittedly her horns and eyes and ears gave her an exotic aura but she was still fortunate her 'sweetheart' was too busy leering to realise how poorly that dress fitted.

Blake slid a chair out for Neeshka and watched as she sat gracefully. Growing up without a mother or step-mother had required him to learn how to sew to make his own repairs and this had come in useful when stitching his emergency gold into belt and boots. There was rather a gap between that sort of thing and dress alteration though so perhaps best to let a proper tailor deal with giving Neeshka more room to breathe. Even if the effect was one he appreciated.

"I couldn't help but overhear last night," Magda said tentatively, as Blake sat down again, "something about a King of Shadows…"

"Unsurprising," Okku rumbled from where he was lying along the whole length of one edge of the stage. Blake looked towards him and Okku added. "Even if her senses are not as keen as mine, little-one, it is not a surprise she 'could not help but overhear' with as close as she had crept to the corner."

Magda swallowed and a deep blush spread up over her face. She had taken full advantage of her Dwarven eyes being better in the dark than human eyes were and had quietly opened the other door into the large back room. Then without needing any torch, and without bumping into anything as a human might, she had crept through the narrower section and to where she was concealed by the corner and the darkness beyond the pool of light. She had thought her eavesdropping unnoticed as it had gone unchallenged so for the bear-god to so casually reveal it was a bit of a shock. The story had sounded interesting enough she had arranged this breakfast. Suddenly though she felt rather aware of the tales of how Okku was quick to anger and jealous of his privacy.

Blake nodded as he took a bread roll. He'd suspected there was a price to this breakfast and wondered why the other members of the Veil Theatre staff had joined them. It could be these people breakfasted together regularly and today just happened to be one of those mornings but as soon as that thought occurred he'd doubted it. The breakfast was to encourage a good mood and conversation and the four people there to listen and remember. "How much did she hear Okku?" Blake asked as he split the roll and buttered it.

"My ears and nose revealed she had returned even before we began talking, so for a time all she would have heard was the rustling of cloth and the clank of metal as you discarded those coverings."

"In that case you heard I have been cursed as a spirit-eater," said Blake, giving Magda a long hard look. "I was fortunate that details of my fight with Okku seem to have been lost in the night. Gann's advice to not presume Okku would remain patient had that advantage." He paused to consider his next words. "As he advised me then I advise you now. Gossip about my curse could cause trouble for me in trying to find a way to end it, but gossip about Lienna's part in my becoming cursed could cause trouble for you. I have avoided gossiping so I suggest you do the same."

"Hindering a god of bears in fulfilling his oath can be… unwise," added Okku.

"Friends, friends, friends," Gann interjected, "no need for threats." Gann looked about between the four members of the Veil Theatre staff. "You have to forgive them," he added with a reassuring smile, "old father bear can be grumpy and the curse makes Blake almost his equal in this when he wakes from the relief of sleep."

Neeshka had noticed the sneer from the actress and, while Blake was distracted by his thoughts and Gann by making his reassurances, she took the chance to catch the actress' eye and glare at her. It took only a few moments of being subjected to the fire of Neeshka's eyes for the actress to be sufficiently intimidated and drop her gaze to the table. With a satisfied smile Neeshka turned to look at Blake instead.

"If you heard what we said," Blake mused, looking at the buttered roll as if answers could be found in it like a scrying ball, "then you heard the origin and nature and deeds of the King of Shadows."

"You seem to think like a historian milord," Magda replied, glad that Blake had not taken offence at her listening. It had been several days but the memory of cleaning up the dismembered Gnolls and Red Wizards this man and his lady had left was still fresh. "To an entertainer though that is all backdrop. Useful in setting the scene but it is what the people do in front of it that matters to a play."

"You want to turn these events into a play?" asked Blake, surprised both by this and by realising his life did have the ingredients. Things had built up gradually so it was only when considering how they might appear to an outsider that it was clear how strange they'd become. Besides with Neeshka to tease him he'd never been impressed by his supposed legend.

"Milord here," Magda said, nodding at Gann, "did express his hope to see a play from us, and you did hope that Oghma would bring us knowledge."

Blake looked at Magda a moment as there seemed rather a difference between that hope and providing that knowledge himself. "I am not sure what else there is to say," he finally said. "A Githzerai called Zhjave guided us in reforging the shattered Sword of Gith and in finding statues that granted us parts of a ritual to weaken the Guardian of Illefarn. A book called the Tome of Illkazar allowed a sage called Aldanon to teleport us to the fortress of the King of Shadows. The ritual powers served to weaken the King of Shadows and the Sword of Gith to destroy it."

"With respect, milord, you make a poor bard," remonstrated Magda. "You mention those names but surely there is a story behind how you met them, a story of how you and they spoke with each other…"

"We did have a bard," Blake sighed. "He was a Gnome called Grobnar and was very enthusiastic about everything. A pair of female Gnome werewolves offered to let him join their pack but he was having too much fun on the adventure to accept. Then having repaired a seven-foot tall Blade Golem he ended up trying to shield this from a rock fall with his own body. I hope he is happy in the heaven he deserves."

"See milord!" Magda exclaimed. "You do know what else there is to say."

Blake looked blank and seeing his expression Neeshka giggled and planted a kiss on his bearded cheek before turning to Magda. "So… here I am creeping along," she began to say, a wicked glint in her eye. "There was a bounty out on bandits and the acting commander of Fort Locke was not fussy about evidence. Being kind of delicate I didn't want to risk trouble so I'd drunk a potion of invisibility to help me get past a group of soldiers, but then that wears off and I get spotted." Neeshka paused and winked at Blake. "Or rather I get seen, always been spotted," she added as she ran a finger across the spots around the bases of her horns, "and the soldiers surround me and begin talking about how much their commander would pay for a Demon-bandit…"

"Mutinous bastard," grumbled Blake. "When we rescued the real commander the Lieutenant wanted him and us to die 'resisting arrest'. Fortunately for the men with him they were not so keen and the Lieutenant ended on the gallows with his neck stretched."

"So I was rather worried," Neeshka continued. "Worried what would happen if I was taken back to Fort Locke, worried they wouldn't bother to take me alive, worried about if they were going to decide to 'have some fun' before dragging me back or killing me. They'd already ordered me to remove my leather armour and I didn't know how much further that would go…"

"Scum," growled Blake. "Befouling their uniforms even more than their Lieutenant Vallis did when his bowels released in death."

"The soldiers were taunting me in my semi-dressed state and saying that perhaps if they tortured me I'd scream for them, their leader seemed especially keen, when someone asked what was going on," Neeshka said, looking down at the table as the memories overcame her usual cheerfulness. Looking back up she tried to smile though this was a weak one. "The life I'd led I'd needed to be able to tell how well trained and equipped guards were so my heart sank a little. The Dwarf looked tough and battle-scarred but the human who'd spoken was young and in cheap armour…"

"Not that cheap," Blake protested, giving Neeshka's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Well, maybe it was," he added after a pause, "by later standards. Hadn't got my Mithril then and was a while before even that armour gained enough enchantments to meet your standards, my love."

Neeshka gave Blake a grateful look for the squeeze before turning back to Magda again. "The soldiers were similarly unimpressed and started mocking them as a smelly Harbourman and a runty Dwarf, but then they made their last mistake."

"Which was?" Gann asked obligingly as Neeshka left that statement hanging and looked around expectantly.

Blake seemed distracted as he looked at the Air Genasi whose motions under the table suggested something rude, an itchy thigh, or that he had something he was making notes on. Hopefully the later although the former could, at a very great stretch, be considered as a compliment to Neeshka's desirability.

"A soldier suggested that if one bandit bounty was good," Neeshka replied with a brilliant grin as the memories of how her ordeal had ended were much better than the fear she'd felt during it, "then three would be even better, and the others agreed."

"Ah," Gann nodded, "and I think I can imagine how that was unwise."

"I was not willing to stand by and let them murder someone," frowned Blake, "but I'd not wanted a fight. These were professional soldiers so I was having trouble accepting they'd be less disciplined or less well trained than the West Harbour Militia. That they were less willing to honour Torm with their duty or Helm as protectors. Looking back I should have realised sooner that words were useless but, at the time, I was still hoping that if I could find the right words they'd remember themselves and start acting the way I'd expected."

"I'd not expected them to be quite so bad," Neeshka admitted, "I'd thought I was going to 'just' be arrested for nothing rather than… but I'm not so much of an idealist as him so I was not as surprised… not until the fight started at least. Blake had barely any magic then and I could tell his sword was similarly lacking." Neeshka paused and winked. "Of course I had to wait to be able to tell that, it was moving about rather fast from when he drew it to the surprisingly short time later when the last of the soldiers were dead on the ground."

Blake raised his eyebrows. "You make it sound like none of them fell to you or Khelgar," he commented mildly, glancing at the others. "Of course, I'd be less happy about her mentioning this had I not spoken to Commander Tann and admitted our actions. Without the pardon given us by him and Marshall Cormick this would be something I'd want to be kept secret." He frowned a little. "And even with the pardon, and that they'd have been executed at court-martial, this is not something I want to boast about."

"You never mentioned we got a pardon!" Neeshka protested. She could understand why her harbour-boy had not told her at the time that he was going to speak to Commander Tann, as that would have been the last he would have seen of her, but he could have mentioned it before now.

"Hmm," mused Gann, "when you spoke of how you hoped you would react if someone told you they had killed some of your men, was that hoping you would emulate this Commander Tann?"

"In part," Blake replied, ignoring Neeshka's protest. "He heard what I said, spoke to the people we had helped so he could judge our character, asked some of the more trusted soldiers about those soldiers and what had been happening, and with the aid of Tyr decided we were truthful and it had been self-defence. That we had been aiding a damsel-in-distress though…"

"I told you I hated those women and the idea of being one," Neeshka muttered.

"So you did," Blake said, having used the term deliberately. "As I was saying, aiding a damsel-in-distress though she had proved as lethal as she was beautiful…"

"Nice save harbour-boy," Neeshka muttered again.

"Was a pleasant surprise," continued Blake. "Fortunately my training had been good enough I managed to concentrate rather than be distracted by the deadly grace Sune has blessed her with…"

The actress' jaw tensed slightly again as she bit back a second comment. She had been tempted to say this Devil-blooded-bimbo could not have been very lethal if she was only as much that as she was beautiful. Now she wanted to say that she was not surprised this bearded foreigner had been able to concentrate rather than be distracted. But even if this pair were unarmed and unarmoured the man still had his magic and the Tiefling her impressive glare. The latter was enough reason to decide her time was better spent using her skills to dimple at Gann and gaze adoringly. It seemed less likely as this boring tale went on that Gann was going to seduce her this morning, but she still hoped to encourage him to make the attempt someday.

"And then she and Khelgar started arguing."

"He started it!" protested Neeshka again.

"Aye, he did," Blake agreed. "But the more you two argued the more convinced I became that you were both right that the other was more trouble to travel with than they were worth. That maybe I should just travel alone rather than have the bickering." Blake looked at Magda. "I think if I'd a spell of Invisibility to mutter quietly and to simply vanish then I might have done."

Neeshka pouted slightly, and looked a little hurt. "I didn't realise I'd made such a bad first impression."

"Well, my first impression was of a pretty girl that needed help," Blake pointed out. "After that it was more the situation."

"Go on, milord" Magda prompted.

"The ground around us was littered with the corpses of men who should have been protecting travellers rather than preying on them and the two of them, one I had known for minutes and the other since late the previous day, seemed to not give a damn," said Blake. He began to look rather dour as he remembered. "Not about that and not about how much trouble killing the soldiers could cause us." Blake gave a slight huh of amusement. "At least it was a better first impression though than Qara made in setting fire to the inn, the Sunken Flagon, which my Uncle owns and where we were staying."

"Hrm," Okku rumbled in amusement, "and better than I did in telling you and your mate to go back and die in the dark."

"Just slightly," Blake smiled before he paused with a frown. "You know, I am not sure if anyone I've ended up travelling with made a completely good first impression on me."

"Not even me?" Gann asked with mock disappointment, as the actress tried to convey with body language and expression how inconceivable it was to her that anyone could fail to be utterly impressed by Gann.

"Not even you," replied Blake, trying to ignore the actress' antics. "I'd found a raconteur where I had hoped for a… well… a Khelgar. When I wanted to travel peacefully to Neverwinter I met a Dwarf who honoured his god Clangeddin with his desire for battle. When I had an army of a bear-god to fight I found a Hagspawn who preferred to talk and seemed blessed by Milil, as little as he believes in him or any other god."

Magda clapped her hands, startling the actress and making Okku's ears twitch. "Character sketches, milord," she said in delight.

"Pardon?" Blake said, baffled.

"First meetings and first impressions," explained and expanded Magda, "how those impressions change, how relationships change from you being willing to walk away from milady here to the pair of you becoming inseparable. That is the heart of a play rather than the dry events."

"The 'dry events' do shape the relationships," Blake frowned, "dangers you face together let you see their courage and skill and test the bonds that are growing."

"Very well," said Magda, not convinced but wanting to encourage Blake to continue speaking. Most of what he said could simply be discarded in the interest of making the play more entertaining, but you had to be blessed by Oghma with knowledge before Milil could bless you with poetry or song. "You mentioned reforging the 'Sword of Gith' and a Githzerai being involved…?"

"Until your friend Lienna and 'the Red Lady' set to work with their knives," groused Blake, not putting it diplomatically, "I had within my chest a shard of the sword once used by Gith herself as she freed her people from Illithid slavery. This shard had cut into me as, literally, a babe-in-arms when the sword had shattered while being used to fight an avatar of the King of Shadows."

"I am surprised you survived," Lothario commented, breaking his listening silence at this implausibility.

"So was everyone else from what I was told," Blake replied, "and had the shard not been slowed by cutting through my mother, and killing her, before entering me where I was in her arms then is likely I would have died there and then. But I survived and the strange wound healed and over the years a link formed between me and that shard and, we found, through it to the other pieces of the sword…"

"Grahhhhh," roared Okku suddenly, startling everyone and making the actress jump before, a moment later, realising the opportunity to 'cringe' against Gann.

"My friend?" Blake asked, wondering what had prompted that reaction.

"Soooooo…" breathed Okku, his yellow eyes glowing, "the Red Wizards not only would not have told you about the curse there was also this. They left you in my barrow in pain and with the hunger within you easy to mistake for the loss of this shard and this link. No wonder the curse so took you by surprise when Nakata spoke to you."

"I did feel there was a hole in me, more than the physical one the bandages were covering," Blake confirmed, absently rubbing his chest in memory, "and thought both had the same cause until, to my deep regret, I learned otherwise when the hunger welled up. Thinking back that might explain why they chose me. They needed someone who had something they could assume was the reason for the absence within them and the strange weakness they felt at that loss."

"And they got the Sword of Gith," Neeshka pointed out. "Do you have any idea how much some people would pay for that?"

"Not much idea," admitted Blake, smiling slightly, before adding, "or not as much idea as you my sweet. Enough idea though that it seemed reasonable to think it had been taken for its value and to continue to think this. Okku is probably right though that it was taken to leave me more vulnerable to the plot you spoiled by killing their agent."

"Or it could be both," Neeshka said, unwilling to relinquish the images of rooms full of gold coins.

"That too sounds like a interesting tale," commented Magda, "though not one fit for a play as you have not reached the ending…"

"And because that tale involves Lienna and us Magda," Lothario observed.

"Aye," Sweet Wallace agreed. "Hard to put on a play about events you prefer not to have gossip about." He glanced at Blake and Okku. "And that someone else has warned about provoking gossip about."

"So tell us more about the Githzerai," said Magda, determinedly returning to the subject and ignoring the interruptions that had started with the bear-god's roar.

"It was Zhjave who told me about the link and that I did not just have fragments of a Silver Sword, I had fragments of the Silver Sword," Blake answered obligingly. "We did not have all the pieces but she guided us in a ritual to let us use the link replace the missing parts with magic. This did mean it was my strength keeping the blade intact though and that made it a strain when fighting the King of Shadows as the blade tried to shatter again. The complete blade had shattered on a mere avatar and I was striking the King of Shadows himself with an incomplete one."

Neeshka looked at Blake with open concern. "No wonder you seemed so dazed after and during that fight harbour-boy. I wondered why you were getting so tired and even clumsier than normal."

"Again, interesting," said Magda, wondering how that strain could be conveyed in a play, "but tell us about Zhjave. First meetings and first impressions."

"First meeting was when we had rescued her from imprisonment by followers of the King of Shadows," Blake replied. "The sage Aldanon assured that the Githzerai and the Githyanki, who had been attacking us, were very different peoples but I still had my qualms."

"She was lucky you were nice," observed Neeshka. "I was thinking she could answer your questions from a cell and earn her release."

"At least my judgement was not affected by the pretty-girl effect," Blake chuckled, "even if I am being unfair to make her appearance sound important that part of my first impressions were not good. I think if she had been twenty or thirty years younger and her skin less leathery I would have appreciated her usual outfit more."

"You do need to know how to dress appropriately," said the Actress, risking another sneer at Neeshka's slightly tight bosomed dress before dropping her eyes again to pretend demureness and avoid meeting Neeshka's glare again.

"Fortunately she was able to wear heavy armour," Blake said, missing the look as he thought about Zhjave, "and that was her best choice. What mattered more however was that she wanted the King of Shadows defeated, felt I was her best chance at this, and wanted to help me in this… even if she wanted to only help me in this and had that extra twenty or thirty years of being a cleric… a Zerthamon… to help her."

"I am not sure I follow, milord," Magda frowned.

"She wanted to tell me what I needed to know to fight the King of Shadows and no more and no less," explained Blake. "Anything she felt I did not need to know she had the age and experience to guard her words and give an answer cloaked in vague mysticism rather than something useful. Again I am, perhaps, being unfair as she did give some useful advice, we'd not have known of the rituals to weaken the Guardian of Illefarn without her, and was a staunch ally…"

"Until she abandoned us," Neeshka interjected.

"Aye, until then," agreed Blake. "This is likely why I am being unfair as my resentment of that does rather taint my memories of her. When the King of Shadows was killed his fortress began to collapse and in the few seconds it took him to die and us to realise we needed to escape Zhjave had already vanished. She shifted back to her own plane and made her own escape rather than remain with us to help. Once the King of Shadows was dead, and she no longer had any use for us, it seemed she was perfectly happy to leave us to die."

"Hmm, there may be a way to slant that," Magda pondered, almost to herself. "Make her the twenty years younger, prettier, less experienced, and more determined to do the right thing even if that conflicts with instructions or a desire to not reveal too much."

"With the bra-top she was wearing when we met, and wore when she was not in armour," Neeshka said with mock-sweetness, "I think Zhjave did reveal too much."

Blake ignored this outwardly, though inwardly he agreed, as he addressed Magda. "That sounds more like Elanee, an Elven druid who was supposed to observe and learn and report but decided to aid us…"

"Decided to aid you harbour-boy," interrupted Neeshka, still touchy about the subject of Elanee. "The rest of us she didn't care about."

"Milord, we are only a small theatre company," Magda replied to Blake calmly, "and that and the demands of a play mean we might have to combine people in the tale."

"Aye," murmured the Air Gensai, Blake relieved to see the motions were that he was scribbling more notes, "too many characters in a play confuse the audience and especially if the same actors are playing them."

"You doubt my skill at making each character distinct?" protested Lothario.

"Very well then," Magda said, defusing the protest. "Too many roles per actor means too many costume changes and too much wasted time."

"That I will accept," Lothario smiled, though visions of a triumphal one-man show still danced inside him.

"Well," said Neeshka contemplatively, "Elanee and Zhjave did have it in common they abandoned us…"

"Elanee left us," Blake corrected with a sigh. "She had already given us more aid…"

"Overstayed her welcome longer," muttered Neeshka quietly enough for Blake to pretend to not hear.

"Than the normal aloof-Druid-neutrality would allow," Blake continued. "Enough aid that the corrupted remnants of the Circle of the Mere objected to her actions and tried to kill her. She trusted us to put a stop to the spread of shadow so she left us to begin to rebuild the Circle of the Mere alongside Elder Naevan."

"Rather than stay alongside you to make sure of a 'stop to the spread of shadow'," grumbled Neeshka.

"Not that you were sorry to see her go."

"True enough," admitted Neeshka with a grin, "but it still seemed if she'd been around that long, despite my hints, she could have finished the job."

"Given a choice between us and Elder Naevan it was quite right she choose him, and that was what I told her" Blake replied, to Neeshka's surprise. "Her obligation to him and to the land was the greater. She mentioned once that had been found as an orphaned baby in the swamp by the First of their Circle and if Elder Naevan was their leader then, as he was when we rescued him, then he would be her first as well as only surviving foster-parent."

Magda clapped her hands again. "Right! First meeting, first impressions, then you can tell me about this bard and the female werewolves."

Blake looked at Magda a moment and then across the table at Gann, and the actress who was still sitting very close to him after her 'cringe'. Gann smiled and tilted the glass of fruit juice he was holding in salute. Blake hesitated. However nice this breakfast was, and between sentences he'd been able to eat enough to know it was very nice, he was beginning to think it was not nice enough for this much storytelling. They had done what they had done against the King of Shadows and it seemed it was not the concern of these people what he'd thought of his friends and allies.

"Come on harbour-boy," Neeshka demanded with another grin as she saw the reluctance, "you know that if you don't tell her about Elanee then I will and you'll probably start commenting and correcting again."

"Yes, you and she did not get on," said Blake with a notable lack of enthusiasm for gossiping. "Very well. We had solved some problems at Fort Locke…"

"'Some problems'," Neeshka chuckled. "Had rescued hostages from bandits, Commander Tann from undead and returned him to the fort…"

"And were on the road to the village of Highcliff," continued Blake, "when we were confronted by a Bladeling and some Grey-Dwarves…"

With many comments from Neeshka as he spoke Blake tried to carry on with the tale. To speak of how vines had sprung up and ensnared the feet of their enemies and that they had then seen an Elven female in simple clothing and carrying a sickle bounding down the hillside. How she had aided them against those foes and been rewarded by Khelgar and Neeshka with comments about 'Tree Worshippers' but still been willing to show them a shorter road. How Neeshka and Elanee had bickered from that first meeting onwards. The whole time the Air Genasi was scribbling away as if he had a flea in his trouser leg.

Blake paused and looked at Gann. "Of course had I been our Shaman friend here I'd have realised sooner why there seemed an extra edge to their disagreement. Both because he is perceptive and because he'd have found it easier to accept two pretty girls were competing over him. Even when that thought occurred I dismissed it as unlikely, never had that happen to me back in West Harbour…"

"Harbour-girls must have poor taste then," said Neeshka, with a smile.

"Or settled things more privately," Gann mused, "though this comes back to 'dry events' shaping things." He saw the others were not sure what he meant, even if the actress was giving him an admiring look at his insight anyway. "In a village the ladies could talk privately and approach the man of their choice separately. If they are travelling with him, sharing a campsite or an inn, having to make decisions together, and disagreeing over those decisions then there is not that privacy."

"I think it was only when they teamed up on poor Shandra that I began to get an inkling," chuckled Blake. "They were both hostile when she was rude to me and they both disliked the idea of her travelling with us when her house was burned down by Githyanki. Neeshka was much happier when she decided the only reason was because we needed her help to enter her grandfather's hidden haven."

"I expect she was," said Gann smoothly, with a slight wink to Neeshka, "and not that you have ever acted in a similar way. You have shown no concern and no jealousy over the effect on her of having someone as handsome as me travelling with you."

Neeshka whistled. "Whew, could cut that sarcasm with a club," she said in an impressed tone.

The actress cast her gaze down as she controlled another comment and stopped herself from saying there was nothing to worry about as Gannayev had better taste in women than to make any attempt. Or that had he made the attempt there would have been nothing this foreigner could have done to prevent it save brute violence.

"Shandra? Grandfather's hidden haven?" prompted Magda as Blake struggled to think of a witty reply to Gann. He wanted to laugh it off rather than admit the fears he'd had at the dockside yesterday, but the only ways he could think to reply might imply he thought Neeshka had been being rude to Shandra or Elanee.

"A sage called Aldanon mentioned a court wizard called Ammon Jerro…" Blake said, relieved to be back on less personal ground despite his dislike of storytelling.

The tale broadened out to include other places they had travelled and other people they had met. As Magda had requested Blake did tell her about Grobnar and the female Gnome werewolves, but that led to talking about the slaughter of the village of Ember and his murder trial. It was all told in a rather unstructured manner with comments leading to questions leading to asides leading to comments and the morning was well advanced before a voice-weary Blake managed to escape further speaking and Gann managed to escape the clutches of the actress. He'd had and made no objection to her attentions, but it was noticeable that he did not demur the idea of gathering their things and leaving immediately Neeshka had donned her cloak.

They wandered down to the docks, Neeshka muttering at the lack of paving as she had to hold up her skirts out of the mud, and down them to the far end where they saw Vaszil looking over the Witchboat. He seemed happy enough with the condition they had returned it in and with the praise and thanks they gave him as well as some gold to compensate for the stores they had used. After some more expressions from him of what an honour it had been to help the 'great bear-god' they headed back up and towards the gates out of the city.

Neeshka's muttering over her tail being confined and having to hitch her skirts up had increased enough they were not going to travel far outside the gates before they changed but it seemed better to do this away from prying eyes. As she haggled over the selling price of a few of the things they'd found with the Bheur and elsewhere a little girl suddenly moved out of the shadows of the city wall and towards them. Remembering the street children in Neverwinter Blake made sure his hand was on his coin-pouch and that she was neither going to 'bump into him' nor, glancing around, that she was a distraction for other attackers. A subtle motion from Neeshka made Blake confident his love had also noticed this and was alert.

"Spirit-eater, please speak with me," the little girl said, irritating Blake further by calling him that in public. "I have little time here, but my tribe can help you to learn more about your Gift."

"My gift?" Blake growled, a growl slightly echoed by Okku. "Do you mean my curse?"

"A curse is what the witches would have you believe," replied the little girl, turning apparently almost guileless eyes on Blake. "The Gift is the power that you possess as the spirit-eater. Beings who possess the Gift are revered among the Hill Tribe. The Witches though seek to control you like they have done with other spirit-eaters in the past, by manipulating or hunting them."

"Grrrrrr," Okku rumbled at that repetition. "Gift?"

"What do you know of the Witches?" demanded Blake, without hostility but without letting his attitude soften because he was speaking to a child.

"Long have the Witches that rule Mulsantir hunted the Hill Tribe," the little girl said, before an expression of fear came to her face. "If they caught me here I would share the fate of my parents and so many others of my people. But, I was sent by my grandsire, Headman U'juk."

"He risks his granddaughter?" Blake frowned, disliking that almost as much their attitude towards the curse.

"He trusted me with this message, that he wishes to share with you knowledge of your Gift," explained the little girl. "Knowledge that the witches of Mulsantir don't wish you to possess. I cannot tell you more, but my tribe greatly wishes to meet you spirit-eater. Would you come to visit the Hill Tribe?"

A low growl bubbled up through Okku's chest and throat. "I think we should… visit… them, little one."

"Where is your tribe?" Blake asked, glancing at Okku.

"You will find the Hill Tribe in the Wells of Lurue," the little girl said, also glancing at Okku. "Normally we stay well hidden, but I will keep watch for your coming spirit-eater. I must go, I am in danger here."

As she dashed away Blake was not sure if she meant danger from the Witches or from Okku. There was a cough behind him.

"Be cautious here," Gann warned, "she was not what she seems. However innocent the face she was showing that was not truth, or not entirely."

"Caution?" Okku roared loud enough to draw a glance from the gate-guard before he lowered his voice, as much as a bear-god ever did. "Their tribe thinks devouring spirits is a Gift! We should hunt them as the Witches have and rend them with tooth and claw and show them the wrath of the Spirits!"

"There seems more to your reaction than that my friend," commented Blake.

"Hrrmm. Maybe," Okku admitted. "Memories of life are fleeting for me now, but I do remember those Wells as being important to my clan of bears while we lived. That those that worship your curse should lair there, of all places, does add to my rage… though not by much."

"It would make sense they would be important with such a name," nodded Blake, "Lurue is the Queen of Talking Beasts…"

"Beasts?" Okku protested.

"That is her title, or one of them, but my apologies my friend. Perhaps I should have said she was Goddess of those with intelligence that do not look human, or Orcish, or Elven, or …well, you get the idea."

Okku rumbled and nodded. "No, no… little-one. I know that is one of her titles. I am merely sensitive. There are those that put a meaning into their use of Beast that you did not, but my protest still came."

"So, where to then harbour-boy?" Neeshka asked, having rejoined them in time to get the gist of the discussion. "To find out what these people have to say, before Okku kills them, or to this Sunken City?"

"I think… this Hill Tribe would not have much to say to us," Blake said, thinking aloud. "We know this curse passes to another when the host dies. I think they would want to kill me as much for not using it as Okku wants to kill them for suggesting it should be used." Blake paused and looked at the bear-god. "Or almost as much as Okku wants to kill them." There was a low rumbling growl of agreement in reply before Blake continued, "I know it is not your nature Okku, but I will ask you to be patient. Gann has waited to learn the answers he may get from our visit to the Sunken City, and I think with all the extra journeying our visit to Ashenwood involved he has waited long enough."

"Grrmmmm," conceded Okku. "Very well little one, we shall let them live a while longer."