Bishop followed them the next day, still at a safe distance, his mind frenetically working, trying to find a way out, trying to think of something to stop them going further. Nothing would come, no glimmer of an idea. Tomorrow, they would be reaching Luskan's walls, and he still did not know what to do. He cursed under his breath, watching them set up camp beside a little stream, for the last time before they came up to the city. If he was going to do something, he would have to do it soon.

Only he still had no idea.

He watched as she pointed along the stream and said something to the paladin, who just nodded. Then she started walking away from the camp, following the brook. She was probably going to take a bath. And surely that pansy of a paladin was going to respect her privacy.

Bishop drew back a bit, melting into the woods as she passed not far from where he stood, and without thinking, followed her quietly. She walked for several minutes, then took a look around – he slipped behind a tree, easily avoiding her sight – and started shedding her armour. His mouth went dry as piece after piece of her clothing fell to the ground, until at last she stood there, wearing nothing. He swallowed, heat welling up in him, thinking she must be able to feel his eyes burning her skin.

He took in her beauty, her grace. She should not be graceful, not at her size, but she was. She was so tall, with muscles rippling beneath her soft tanned skin. Just watching her made his heart race and his breath stop. She turned to the brook, showing him her well-formed and equally breathtaking backside, and gingerly stepped into the water, shivering a bit at the cold, sat down and started to rinse off the dust of the roads.

He watched her, a burning in his heart, not able to take his eyes away. She looked like a goddess. It was not hard to believe that celestial blood was flowing in her veins. He imagined what would happen to her if she got caught, what the Luskan guards would do to her before she was tried and executed, and shuddered, the images making him feel sick. Images he had tried to repress for so long...

No! He would not let her be defiled by the hands of those filthy Luskan dogs! They would not get their paws on her, not if he could help it, no matter what.

His resolution hardened, he stood and waited until she was finished, stepping out of the water, her blue-white hair wet and tangled. His eyes found a scar on her belly, pale line on her bronze skin, reaching from her sternum nearly down to her pelvis. The vivid memory of her warm blood gushing over his hands invaded his mind, and he closed his eyes, trying to repress the image.

When he looked again, she was nearly dressed and picking up the last of her things. He swallowed. Well, now or never, was it? He stepped around the tree, walking up to her. Her head snapped around, and when she saw him, her eyes went big, and her face ghostly pale. She seemed to sway for a moment, but then the colour rushed back to her face, her eyes narrowed into slits, and she had her sword out in a heartbeat. Before he could react, she had jumped the remaining distance, and he found the tip of her blade digging into his throat, just under his chin.

"You!", she spat, her voice quivering with fury and hate. "You dare show your face to me? Come to finish the job, do you? Well, I'd just love to see you try, filthy bastard! How long have you been watching me?"

He just looked at her, barely breathing, saying nothing. Sometimes it was healthier to keep your tongue.

She audibly gnashed her teeth. "You foul, stinking, worthless piece of shit! Give me one reason, just one, why I should not do the world a huge favour and kill you this second!"

He looked into her eyes, his chin up to ease the pressure of the sword, trying to make his voice sound as calm as humanly possible. "Because you need my help."

She broke into wild, hysterical laughter. "That's rich! Like you helped me last time? When you betrayed me to the enemy, and then came back to give matters a more personal touch? I think I'll pass. So try again!" The sword dug harder into his throat, finally piercing the skin, and he could feel a drop of blood trickling slowly down. He swallowed and took great care to keep his hands well away from his own weapons.

We don't want any misunderstandings right now, don't we?

Still talking as calmly as he could, his eyes not leaving hers, he said: "You need me. You'll never make it into Luskan without me. And even if you did, you would not last a day. And you would stand no chance of getting near the goat girl, much less get her out alive. You need me."

"You have spied on us?, she pressed through clenched teeth, her eyes still narrow slits, her face a mask of fury. "I just can't believe the audacity! Then again, why anything you do still amazes me is beyond my understanding. There's nothing so low you would not stoop to it, is there? And I need you like... well, like a dagger in my guts, I would say!" Her lips curled in a cold, deadly smile, her blade not wavering.

Ouch. Touché.

Go on! Say something! You have to convince her!

"Think!", he said to her. "How are you going to do it? You have no chance. But I know ways in and out of Luskan that have nothing to do with city gates. Secret ways. I still know people there. I can find a place to hide once inside the city. And maybe, provided you have the means, I can even find a way to get your goat girl out without you having to fight half of Luskan's prison guards. Think carefully, before you slit my throat. Because you might just kill your only chance of rescuing your little demon friend."

Her mouth was compressed into a tight line, her eyes still blazing with cold fury, but he could see that her mind had started working. She was thinking his words through. And since they were perfectly true, there would be only one conclusion she could reach.

"Damn it!" She looked angry enough that he started asking himself if he had not underestimated the measure of her rage at him – or overestimated the power of her urge to save the goat girl. But then the sword left his throat, and he could feel the tension in his shoulders ease a bit. This could easily have turned out quite differently.

She pointed her chin at him, her eyes falling to his mid body. "Take it off!"

"What?"He did not believe his ears.

"Your belt!", she gritted out between her teeth. "Take it off! Do you think I'm going to let you walk around with your hands free, so that you could stab anybody if you felt the sudden urge? Not very likely! And then we'll see what Casavir has to say to that brilliant little plan of yours."

A stab of pain shot through him as she mentioned the paladin's name, and his temper flared like kindling. "Oh, yes, let's ask our bright hero!", he sneered. "He still follows you like a puppy dog, I see. Does he know what you really are, bitch? Maybe I should tell him, tell him how you could not get out of your clothes quick enough to..."

The broad side of the sword connected with his jaw, hard, snapping his head back. "Watch your tongue, Bishop." She spat out his name, her voice so icy hell would have frozen over. He winced, repressing the urge to touch his smarting jaw. "If I were you, I would try very carefully not to make me any more angry. And...", there was another flurry of motion of the sword, and he felt a sting in his cheek, blood trickling down, "...if you try anything funny", she continued, her voice still vibrating with cold hatred, "know that I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to rearrange that pretty face of yours until no woman will ever fall for you again. And I'm going to enjoy the task. Are we clear?"

"Crystal clear", he croaked.

Smart move, boy, antagonising her when she is itching to kill you anyway.

Oh, shut up already.

xxx

Chantal followed Bishop, his hands securely tied up behind his back with his own belt, as he walked along the little stream, back to the camp. She watched him, sword still ready, hate burning in her stomach. She felt a surge of satisfaction, remembering how he had winced when she had fastened the belt around his wrists, pulling it tighter than strictly necessary, and then some. His hands must be numb by now, she surely had cut off his circulation, but he never complained. She watched as he slowly walked, head bent, looking defeated. Gods, how she would have loved to lop off his head. If only he had so much as twitched while she had her sword at his throat...

But he had not, he had stood very still, not giving her the slightest excuse. Not that she needed one, she had every reason to end his wretched existence. Would have been a work of charity too, considering how much misery he spread wherever he went. Still, she could not do it, not in cold blood. Killing in battle was one thing, but this would have been different. It would have been stooping to his own level, and that was out of the question.

She took in his strong shoulders, now hunched, and the smooth line of his bowed neck. He really looked like hell, she thought. He had lost a lot of weight, his face gaunt, his eyes hollow and ringed by deep shadows. The stubble on his chin looked like it hat not seen a razor in days. Well, whatever happened to him served him right. He still walked and breathed, so he had fared much better then he deserved.

Watching him move with only a ghost of his usual catlike grace she could not help wondering what he was up to now. Why had he followed them? Why did he reveal his presence to her? He must have been very well aware of the risk that she would kill him on sight. And why did he offer – no, insist to help? She did not believe for a second that concern for Neeshka's fate had anything to do with it.

In the end she could not keep still. She had to ask. "Why? Tell me why", she said

He stopped walking, but kept his back to her, head down. "Why what?", he asked, his voice sounding defiant.

"Why everything! I just don't get you! Why are you here? Why are you offering help, if that's what you are really doing? Why? What is it you want?"

He stood very still, his eyes not leaving the ground. "None of your business", he said.

"No?", she asked, her voice sweet and soft and full of menace.

He finally turned, lifting his head. "No", he replied, meeting her eyes, unflinching. "But I won't turn on you this time. Is that enough?"

She held his gaze, cold threat in her eyes. "If you do, it will be the last thing you do. Understand?"

He just shrugged. Her hands itched, wanting to hit him, but she just gritted her teeth and pointed ahead with her sword. "Go."

He did not move, only his eyes dropping to the ground again. "Why?", he asked her the same question, his voice low.

"Why what?", she asked icily, wondering if he was playing some kind of charade with her. He'd better not be.

"Why are you doing this? It's madness. If they catch you, your death will be more painful that anything even I could think up." She saw his lips curl derisively for a second, before his face went blank again. "So why? You should stay as far away from that place as possible."

She studied him for a moment, then answered with a sneer that rivalled his own: "Because Neeshka is a friend. I am well aware that this concept is utterly foreign to you", she continued snidely. "So I'm not even going to try to explain its meaning. But if my friends are in need, I come for them." She paused, suddenly feeling some of the old pain again, and added: "I would have come for you too, once. Before you showed your true face. When I still believed in you." She could not help a note of sadness creeping into her voice and could have slapped herself for showing him even that small weakness.

But he only flinched as if struck and turned, continuing on his way without another word.