Casavir had climbed down the slippery walls with caution. If the spurs had given out under Chantal's weight, he really had to be careful. So he tested every spur more then once before putting his weight on it, leaving out some that seemed not safe. It made for an awkward, slow descent, but it was better than falling.

He exhaled in relief when he reached the bottom of the well. Strangely enough, there was no welcoming party waiting for them. Casavir had been more than half convinced it would be a trap. But nothing was here except for them. He frowned as he listened to the other two talking. What were they on about? Undead? Casavir watched as Chantal bound the hands of the ranger again, not believing his ears.

"Is there something I should know about that safe passage into Luskan?", he asked.

Chantal did not look up from her task. "Obviously there is a sunken city ahead through which we can gain access into Luskan. Bishop says there's undead around."

"Wonderful", Casavir said caustically. "So we exchanged Luskan guards for armies of undead. Yes, that makes sense."

Bishop shot him a dark look over his shoulder. "Yes, it does. Try to think for once? I've heard rumours that even paladins had brains. You might want to consider using it sometimes." He snorted and turned away.

Casavir gripped the hilt of his hammer. "Watch your tongue, dog, or I'll..."

"Casavir." Chantal's hand was on his, holding it down. "Please. Don't let him rile you. And it's true. Even if we have to battle some undead, that will not cause alarm in Luskan. If we had to battle their guards, it would. I don't like this any better than you, but it's still the only way in I can see."

Casavir sighed in defeat, running his free hand through his hair. "Fine. Let's get this over with."

Chantal smiled at him in thanks, and turned to Bishop again. "Lead the way."

The ranger turned to her, studying her face impassively, but there was something in his eyes Casavir did not like at all. Then he said in a carefully neutral voice: "I'm going to take the long way round, so don't wonder. It will take more time, but we will meet less of the... inhabitants this way. Some of them are very unpleasant, so we better avoid them. The short way would lead directly through the city, and you would not want that, believe me."

Chantal nodded, and the ranger turned and started down the tunnel. Casavir held Chantal back by laying a hand on her shoulder and moved to walk behind Bishop, ignoring her irritated glance. He felt better if something stood between those two. His hand freed his hammer out of his belt, and he also readied his shield. Better to be prepared – you never knew what would jump out of the darkness in tunnels like this.

Especially if you have that wretched ranger in front of you.

All his instincts revolted against following Bishop like sheep to the slaughter. There was just no telling what the bastard might be up to.

Nothing good, that much is certain.

Bishop would never change. Men like him just didn't. And they never helped anyone without getting something out of it as well. So, provided one believed for a split second that he was helping instead of leading them into a trap, what did he have to gain?

Chantal.

Casavir's lips compressed into a thin line.

Over my dead body.

It was the only thing that made sense. What else could Bishop be after? But why? To try and kill her once more? Unlikely. He did not have to take the risk of confronting them directly for that. Or, if he wanted to watch her face while she died again – why had he waited, instead of simply attacking her while she was alone at the brook? No, it had to be something else.

He watched the back of the ranger as they marched along the wet, slimy corridor, resentment burning in him. He knew he should not feel hate, but he could not help it.

Has he really... touched her like that?

The thought of Chantal in Bishop's arms made him sick. How could she let that worthless excuse for a human being touch her? With those filthy, murderous hands? Had she let him kiss her? That dirty, lying mouth on her soft lips? Her skin? He felt nausea rise in him as he could not help but imagine. And now, had the bastard come back for a second helping? And after he had gotten what he came for? What would he do then? The same thing as last time?

No. Not this time. I will not let her down again.

Chantal was right with one thing. As long as there was the slightest chance it might help them to rescue Neeshka, Casavir would put up with the presence of the ranger, even if went against every shred of common sense. For Neeshka, he would do anything. Even risk being led into a trap by Bishop.

But afterwards, he would kill him.

It was simple, really. He would never allow the bastard to hurt Chantal again. And the only way to make sure that did not happen was to have him dead. Casavir had sworn to uphold the law, to fight for the forces of good. Murder went against everything he believed in.

He did not care anymore.

He had broken his vows before. He would do it again. What he had in mind would surely cause him to fall. He would no longer be a paladin. But he did not care. He would protect Chantal as he could not last time.

If that meant turning into the likes of Bishop, so be it.

xxx

Chantal followed the two men through the musty corridor.

It's all repeating.

She pressed her lips together. It sure seemed like the past was catching up quickly. Already Casavir was getting protective again. And she... no, she did not want to dwell on her feelings, finding herself in Bishop's arms after her fall. Of course, she had been shocked, and shaken from the fright the fall had given her... but she also had been very aware of his strong arms holding her, and his amber eyes staring into hers. His warmth, his scent...

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

It certainly was. She really wanted to slap herself. After all he had done to her... She should feel only revulsion towards him. But she could not lie to herself enough to convince her that the feelings she had had anything to do with revulsion. When he first appeared out of the woods... she had been furious. And that fury had helped a lot. But now... well, you could only be furious for so long. And after the anger had dwindled, somehow she...

Admittedly, he was attractive, and she had been living like a nun the last year. Yes, that was the explanation. As soon as they were out of this mess, she would find a goodlooking, nice man...

Oh, sure.

She groaned inwardly. This was so not good. What in all the hells had possessed that cursed man to come back and make her life complicated again? It had been so easy for the last months...

After defeating the King of Shadows, she still had felt like an empty shell. Maybe even more so than before, because now, there was not even duty left to keep her going. She had forced herself to go on, make it look like she was all right again, talking to the others, even laughing with the others, but inside she still felt like the wound had never closed.

The wound he had given her. Somehow, his dagger had cut so much more than her body. His betrayal had cut right through her soul. And while they had healed her body and made it breathe again, so she could go on with the task they had thrown at her, the gods somehow seemed to find it less important to heal her soul. And she could feel that wound still festering.

Because she still missed him. It just was not enough to know he never had been the man she thought she saw in him. She still longed for the dream image she had created. The feeling just would not go away.

She could not return to Neverwinter. She could not return to the keep. The thought of the demands that would be made on her again scared her. She just did not feel she was up to that. She longed for quiet, for solitude, for time to think, time to heal.

So she did not go back. The common belief was that the Knight Captain had died during the battle with the King of Shadows. Nasher knew, of course. He had accepted her decision. Well, why wouldn't he? She had answered her purpose. He probably was glad to be rid of her so easily. She did not care. The only thing important to her was that he had accepted, and that he had agreed to declare her dead.

She had gone back to the Mere. It soothed her to be close to the land of her childhood again. Well, not too close, of course, that would have been painful, too – but close enough. The only ones who knew where to find her were her friends. And they visited frequently. And with time, she felt the festering wound in her closing. She could find joy in the little things of life again. She laughed with her friends, and it was not the forced laugh of before. She watched Casavir and Neeshka and was genuinely happy for them. She shoved the image of a certain ranger deep, deep down into a dark drawer and kept it closed. She thought she was over him.

And now, she could feel the wound opening again.

Just like that. Having him close, hearing his voice that still made her shiver, having to look into his face, those eyes... it was enough. Enough to make her feel the pain again.

No! I won't allow it!

Damn right. She was prepared this time. She knew what to expect from him. And she would not let it happen again. She would keep her distance. And as soon as they had Neeshka in safety, she would get rid of him. Some way or the other.

Could she hand him over to Neverwinter to be tried, if he really helped them getting Neeshka out? Probably not, if she was honest to herself. Only if he left her no choice. But she would send him away. And if he did not leave... well, she would. And once she was away from him, she would be happy again. Problem solved.

Sure.