Disclaimer: I do not own 'Shadows of Amn', the 'Forgotten Realms' or any characters therein. Wizards of the Coast do, at my last check. Lucky them.
I do, however, own Fritha and certain other characters and plot points. Basically, if you don't recognise it from the game, it's probably mine.

-Blackcross & Taylor

Misery loves company

Everyone turned to them as Fritha pushed open the door, but whether due to her look or perhaps something Nalia had said in the meantime, no one commented on the delay, and they moved swiftly through to the chamber beyond. Minsc opened the door opposite onto a similarly furnished room, though even the apparatus that surrounded them lost its edge when compared with the sight before them. But five paces from the doorway and floor was gone, the rough slate tiles falling away to a pit a good few yards across, the earth and rubble of the opposite side sloping down to disappear into its depths.

'Minsc?' Fritha prompted as the ranger carefully walked around it to kneel at the edge of the tunnel, examining the tracks left in the earth.

'Burrowing creatures. Big, heavy too, but I have never seen their like before.'

Fritha sighed. As though the trolls weren't enough. Minsc shrugged, straightening.

'The tracks are a few days old; Boo thinks they are not coming back.'

'This is too organised for my liking,' said Jaheira, pushing past to examine the tracks for herself.

'So it was no accident the trolls arrived here,' came Nalia's voice behind her, unusually hesitant, and Fritha turned back to find the girl staring blankly at the pit with a lost air. 'But who would have done such a thing?' Nalia shook herself, a sudden urgency seeming to fill her and the girl pushed past her as Jaheira had, marching towards the next set of doors, 'come on.'

Minsc took the lead once more, opening the doors onto the adjoining room and they filed in after him. Mercifully, that one was filled only with ancient chests and furniture, the jails leading off to the right while a mess of recent tracks on the dusty tiles led leftwards, disappearing under a dark wooden door, the ornately carved arch above it looking out of place in the plain surroundings. Fritha sent Nalia a questioning look and she responded immediately, though her voice wavered.

'It, it leads to the family mausoleum.'

Fritha glanced about at them all, everyone slowly readying their weapons and she turned back, reaching up to take the nearest torch down from its bracket and push open the door, the flame sputtering in the draught of cool stale air. A tunnel lay before her; plain stone walls on either side, the roof just high enough for a man and she could see some stairs on the edge of the torchlight, leading downwards for a couple of steps before the darkness swallowed them.

'Someone wedge the door open.'

And with that, she drew her sword, adjusted her grip on the torch and stepped down into the darkness. They descended, the square of light from the door growing smaller above them, when finally the steps finished and Fritha led them along a narrow passageway in silence. It felt like ages later when the tunnel finally ended, though it was likely no longer than a minute or two. Fritha stopped, suddenly finding herself out in the open, the walls dropping away to an impregnable darkness and she sensed she was in a room of cavernous proportions; the air dry and dusty, filled with smell of ancient decay. Fritha glanced back along the tunnel, the group pressed together in the gloom, faces wary, Aerie looking anxious yet determined in the glow of the magelight she had cast.

'It opens out here, stay together.'

Fritha led them left along the wall, reaching a corner before turning to head forward once more, glad for something solid at her side even it was the venerable dead; the walls of the chamber lined in open tombs, coffins lain in the web-draped crypts, the spiders scuttling from the light.

A noise to her right, somewhere nearer to the chamber centre and she signalled for those behind her to stop, Fritha creeping forward, Nalia at her back. She held her breath, trying to hear anything above the heavy thud of her own heart. There it was again, a sort of scuffle, and Fritha swung the torch forward, the light catching on a limb of green flesh before the creature stepped back and was lost to the shadows once more, its voice coming low and guttural from the darkness ahead of them.

'Who that?'

Fritha adjusted her grip on the torch once more, her hand beginning to get uncomfortably hot as she forced a boldness to her voice. 'I am Fritha. I have been hired to secure the release of Lord de'Arnise.'

A pause, then a whispery rasping sound, and it took a moment for her to place it as laughter.

'Torgal release no one. The stronger say we come and Torgal come. He not say anything about deals.'

'The stronger?' came Nalia's voice at her arm, her mix of fear and anger audible, 'who sent you here?'

More of the whispery laughter and Nalia's composure seemed to finally snap. 'Speak beast! I demand you tell me!'

The laughter stopped instantly, the deep rumbling voice growing to a roar.

'You not make demands of Torgal! We done, now you die!'

He lunged at them, Fritha throwing her sword in front of the girl and lashing out with more instinct than strategy, the creature's howl not quite drowning out the unpleasant hiss of burning flesh as the torch collided with his face. Torgal drew back, the shadows closing about them as the flame sputtered under the gore, the shouting of the others echoing as roars erupted from the darkness. Fritha felt her skin grow cold; what had she led them into? There could be any number of creatures down there!

Nalia had dropped behind her slightly, and Fritha could feel the arrows streaking past her into the darkness. The girl needed a target and Fritha shook the torch vehemently, coaxing the flame back as she plunged forward. Movement before her, always on the edge of the torchlight , when Nalia screamed and Fritha jumped back just in time, Torgal suddenly towering above her, clawed hands sweeping down inches from where she had just stood. Fritha dodged left, trying to allow Nalia a clear shot as the troll bore down on her, half-charred face grimacing as he rained down blow upon blow, Fritha given no chance for an offensive as she defended against them. A spell crackled somewhere behind her, light flashing through the chamber to end in an almighty roar, the sudden flare leaving her dazed.

Torgal took the opening, sweeping down at her with ready claws and she brought her sword up to parry it when an arrow whistled past her to strike his bicep, burying to the flight. The troll roared, his arm dead at his side, and in that moment she saw her chance, a vicious joy filling her drove the blade in to his unprotected chest, the weight of the creature as it fell almost pulling the hilt from her grasp. Fritha dropped the torch and the shadows descended, both hands needed as she heaved at the blade now lodged in his sternum, the torch guttering at her feet. Suddenly, another spell flared, lighting the chamber for an instant and movement caught Fritha's eye, her stomach clenching as another face loomed from the darkness.

She leapt back, finally freeing the sword to bring it into a low guard. But she was too slow, the claws just catching her across her waist, parting the mail with ease to rake at the flesh beneath. Fritha staggered back, hand clasped to her side as she rose her sword weakly, ready to defend against the next blow, when she heard another arrow streak past her and the troll stopped suddenly, swaying a moment to collapse backwards, an arrow through its eye.

Fritha sighed, trying to ignore the wetness of her side as she stooped for the torch, the tomb suddenly returned to the silence they had arrived to and she could see the faint glimmer of Aerie's magelight across the hall.

'Is everyone still with us?'

An assortment of assents, and Fritha counted five before her heart felt able to slow and the pain seemed to double.

'All right then, pair off and search the room.'

Fritha turned, continuing her path forward with Nalia, as those behind them spread out, Jaheira casting her own werelight as she paired herself with Anomen. They moved onward, a winged shape looming out of the darkness and Fritha looked up into the serene stone face of Tyr, sword aloft as though guarding the body that was slumped at his feet. A shuddering gasp at her side and Fritha felt her stomach drop, not needing to turn to confirm Nalia's devastated look.

'F-Father?' she breathed, stepping forward with one hand held tentatively out before her as though she could make him rise again by the sheer yearning of it, 'Oh gods, no…'

The girl collapsed to her knees beside him, sobbing into her hands and Fritha felt the torch slip from her grasp, rolling to throw its light against the wall; cobwebs on the lowest tomb suddenly a net of gold. Nalia was still crying, hunched over the body before the statue and Fritha moved forward too, sliding down the plinth to settle next to her with a sigh, her knees brought up to her chest and sword resting across them. All they had managed and still they were too late; it had a horrible feeling of premonition about it.

Fritha sighed. Her side was burning fiercely and she felt tired with the world. The light shuffle of footsteps and she glanced up to see Aerie approaching tentatively, haloed by the magelight that was glowing above her staff. But she turned away again, returning to the others as Fritha shook her head. Fritha suspected Nalia would be embarrassed enough, without them assembled and gawking at her, and nothing really helped in situations like this; best just to let her have a cry.

Finally, Nalia quietened, straightening stiffly to fix her with red-rimmed eyes. It looked for a moment as though she would excuse herself for her outburst, before she merely shook her head, seeming to realise it was not necessary.

'Thank you Fritha, I- we did all we could. Father would have been proud.'

Fritha nodded, taking her cues from the young woman and they both rose slowly, returning to the light of the storeroom. Anomen, Jaheira and Minsc were already in the adjoining room re-examining the pit tracks and Aerie swooped in as soon as they entered, gathering Nalia away and leaving Fritha to find herself a quiet corner and enjoy a few moments bent double and swearing, her side throbbing mercilessly as she struggled out of her chain. At last, she straightened, flushed and aching. Her tunic was half-soaked and clinging to her side, a sunburst of blood that had sent the blue fabric a deep russet. Fritha leant back against the wall, unable to stifle a groan, Anomen appearing in the doorway at the sound and approaching her at a measured pace. He glanced down to her bloody waist, face unreadable.

'May I?'

'Be my guest,' she said with a sigh that soon became a hiss as he slowly peeled her clothes from the wound.

Fritha looked down to the even slashes in the soaked fabric; she could probably mend them, but her mail was another matter. Finding a decent blacksmith would be a priority on her return to the city. She hissed again as Anomen laid a hand over her side, chanting dully at her elbow a moment and she felt the magic prickle before he removed his hand and began to bandage about her waist, Fritha occupied in holding her tunic and camisole out of the way.

'What's the prognosis then?' she grinned, wincing slightly as he pulled the last bandage tight, 'Will I live?'

'Yes,' he replied curtly, as though it wasn't much to be celebrating, and she snorted. Poor boy. What a disappointment they must be for him. He was clearly expecting something special from the Heroes of Baldur's Gate; how short a honeymoon he had enjoyed. Barely three days before he'd discovered they were just two broken bickering women and a half-addled Rashemi.

You don't think that.

No, she didn't. But it was so hard keeping strong for them all, especially when Jaheira seemed content on using it as proof she didn't care for the lost. The pain in her side reduced to a dull ache, there was little else to wait for and with Anomen in tow she collected Jaheira and Minsc and they returned to the upper floor, finding the two girls waiting for them in the solar. Neither had bothered to ignite the lamps, and the dying sun of dusk lit the room with a murky light, the windows staining the air green as though she was looking into the bed of an ancient lake. The girls were sat in silence on a bench in the back, though Nalia rose politely as she saw them; the formalities were still of importance to her, perhaps then even more so.

'Come, I should inform my aunt.'

xxx

Nalia stood, cloak draped across her shoulders against the evening's cool, the air filled with the chirp of crickets as she stood at the forest's edge, watching the castle banners flap and twist in the breeze, black against the gloaming sky like skewered bats. The world felt unreal. But a few short days ago everything had been so normal; now her father was dead and she was looking upon her home for what could be the last time. To think she would never again awake in her room, or watch the sunrise from the battlements, or read the almagests in her father's study-

She stopped at the sudden thought of the man, feelings of regret welling within her. Perhaps it was for the best she was leaving, when all her memories of him were there.

In fact, this group of people she had met were the only consolation in this whole horrible situation. Decent, normal people who saw the value in small acts of kindness, and it was heartening to know it was possible to live such a life without the privileges of wealth to back you up. Especially now since it seemed she had little more than her principles to her name. Nalia dipped her head, burying her face in the collar of her cloak as she felt her cheeks burn, recalling the meeting with her aunt. She had always know the woman was reactionary to the point of impossibility, but she had never been so ashamed to be related to her; the woman doing no less than accusing the people who had saved them of theft, corruption and gods know what else, and refusing to even let them stay the night in the keep. The others had been very understanding about the whole thing; Fritha just shrugging mildly before leading them from the palisade to a clearing a few yards from the forest's edge and setting up camp there.

Nalia shook her head, recalling with painful clarity the meeting with her aunt; the palisade emptied of soldiers and servants, though it had seemed rather redundant since the exchange was not exactly hushed, especially once she'd informed the women she no longer intended to honour her betrothal to the young lord, Isea Roenall.

"Well, I must say, you have gone too far this time, Nalia, entirely too far. We allowed you to indulge your unbecoming fascination with alchemy. We turned a blind eye when it came to your insistence in helping the poor and the other less than reputable skills you seemed to acquire along with it, but it has gone far enough! Your father spoilt you and now I alone am reaping the fruits of it. If you refuse this proposal, it will be your ruin! No man of note will even look upon you afterwards. You'll be cast out of all decent society and reduced to status of the ilk you insist on travelling with. Well, I'll not stand for it. Swear to me now you'll honour your promise, or you'll never set foot within the castle again!"

Nalia felt anger rise in her, time doing nothing to cool her rage at her aunt's ultimatum. If the woman had thought to cow her into her marriage, she could not have been more mistaken. Nalia had launched into a rather heated speech of her own, where she had told her aunt rather dramatically that she would prefer to sleep the rest of her life in the gutter, than spend one night inside the keep with such a small-minded intolerant harpy. But however resolute she herself had been, it was still utterly embarrassing to have to stand with the people who had saved your home and be told they were not welcome to stay there.

A rustle behind her and Nalia turned to find Fritha stood watching the banners as she had, though the girl noticed her movement and glanced to her with a faint smile. Nalia sighed and tried to return it, nodding to the flags as she spoke.

'There was a time I wondered whether I should ever see them fly again…' She trailed off, still struggling with the feelings of embarrassment when, 'About what my aunt said, I cannot apologise en-'

'Don't fret, Nalia, it is not your apology to make,' the girl cut in evenly, smiling still, 'You have done nothing to be ashamed of.'

Silence fell between them again, Fritha moving closer to lean upon to the tree next to her and both returning their gaze to the sky, Nalia very aware of the weight of the purse in her pocket. She sensed the end it could mean for them, for her, and it took a great resolve to dip her hand within and draw it out, passing it to the girl with a nod.

'The payment we agreed upon; five hundred gold pieces. I only wish it could have been more. Perhaps if my father had survived he could have used his influence to help you, or…' she trailed off with a shake of her head.

'Thank you,' Fritha said gravely, for a moment intent upon the purse she now held before she glanced up, fixing her with a mild look. 'Nalia, what do you intend now?'

She felt herself shrug.

'Well, I cannot stay here, that is certain. Not unless I agree to honour my betrothal anyway.' She paused her mouth suddenly dry. 'I- I was wondering whether I could travel with you, until I find my feet at least.'

Fritha smiled, open and warm, and Nalia felt suddenly silly she had ever worried, ever even considered the girl would refuse her.

'We would be happy to have you join us.'

Nalia smiled gently, turning her attention back to the banners; once released from one worry another rushing in to press on her.

'It's strange,' she sighed, speaking without really knowing why, 'now he's gone, I find myself thinking of my father more and more, just going over my memories of him. It feels as though he is slipping away, as though I'm trying to keep water cupped in my hands; the sound of his voice, the way he laughed, the look he wore when he would catch me doing something I shouldn't. But- but it does not feel as I thought it would. I am sad, of course, but…' she trailed off, Fritha's voice mirroring her thoughts.

'You think you should feel worse…'

Nalia turned to her, filled with a sudden intensity of emotion.

'Yes! And it feels awful, not to be feeling, well, awful…' she shook her head, slightly embarrassed. 'Oh, I'm not making any sense… did you leave a family somewhere?'

'No. My foster father was killed by bounty hunters late in the spring.'

'I'm sorry.'

Fritha shrugged, eyes trained on the rippling banners.

'It was unexpected and I wept at first, but only once. I assumed myself in shock, that suddenly I would breakdown and be useless for a tenday or more, but still the tears refused to come. Finally, I realised that perhaps they never would. I loved Gorion, yes, but there had been a distance between us as I had grown. How can old men know how young girls feel, or indeed, the other way round? I miss him still, but more for his guidance than any physical comfort. I loved him as much as he would allow himself to be loved by me and grieved his passing as much as I could.'

Fritha turned to her, smiling gently. 'Do not worry about what you should and shouldn't be doing; grief is a very personal thing and it will find its own way.'

Nalia nodded once, the girl's words a comfort however bleak they seemed.

'Yes, but it is a strange kind of loneliness, not having a family; well, not unless you count my vile aunt!'

Fritha laughed slightly and Nalia could not suppress a smile, however cross she was.

'Nalia, we all have relations we are not so proud of. Just give it time. I know you are angry with her now, but grief affects everyone differently.' The girl smiled faintly, though she didn't look that amused, sighing as she continued, 'perhaps you could try to make peace before we leave.'

Nalia shook her head, the lingering shame over her aunt's behaviour leaving her angry.

'No! She has made her feelings on the subject more than plain. I wash my hands of her and this place. I have my memories; they are all I need.'

Fritha sent her a pained look, though she pressed the matter no further, turning to start back to the camp.

'I should begin dinner.'

Nalia followed her and they walked the short distance in silence, the girl slowing as they approached the aura of the campfire, and they were almost abreast as she entered the light, those within looking up at her arrival.

'The bread is stale,' said Anomen by way of greeting, holding up a round of the unleavened waybread with a frown. Fritha barely spared him a glance.

'It will toast fine.'

'What is for dinner?' asked Aerie as Fritha knelt down beside her bag, rummaging within to retrieve two potatoes, an onion and a packet that was well wrapped in brown paper.

'Fish soup,' she finally answered, throwing a potato each to her and Aerie, and Nalia settled beside the elf, Fritha taking a small knife from her pocket to make a start on the onion.

'Boo does not like fish,' Minsc rumbled opposite them, Nalia watching as he let the hamster run over his hands. Fritha kept her focus on the pot, slicing the onion into the water that was already heating over the fire.

'Then he can have bread. Are you two done?'

Nalia tossed her a now peeled potato, the girl slicing it haphazardly into the pot and giving the elf time to finish with hers before she sliced that in too, adding a generous pinch of salt to the water and taking up the packet to unwrap a bundle of dried fish, gently flaking them into the water.

'Make sure you don't over season that fish,' came Jaheira, looking up from the bracer she was unlacing to send the girl a stern look, 'the curing will have left them salty enough.'

'More weight,' Fritha muttered under her breath, adding the last of the fish to the water and replacing the lid. 'Right,' she said more loudly, wiping her hands on her trousers and withdrawing the purse Nalia had just given her from her pocket, settling on the ground to pour the coins into her lap. 'Payment. Fifty gold each, and the group will fund any repairs to armour, supplies and so forth. There you are,' she continued, passing each a neat stack of coin, 'Aerie. Anomen.'

The elf glanced down at the handful of gold, and Nalia could see the uncertainty in her eyes. 'You know, you don't have to…'

Fritha glanced up from the coin she was scooping into her own purse, brow furrowed until she seemed to realised what she was offering and firmly shook her head.

'Aerie, for whatever the reason behind it, we are mercenaries. I can't ask you to risk yourself without some sort of recompense. If you don't want it, donate to a temple.'

Aerie opened her mouth a moment, as though she would have liked to protest but was unsure of what to say. But she closed it abruptly as Fritha finished with her purse, throwing it back into her bag and settling again before the fire, legs crossed and eyes closed, and Nalia watched those around her exchange worried glances.

It was only when the water was boiling that Fritha moved again, rising to take up her pack from her bedding and explain she was going to change her tunic before heading off into the trees. Nalia couldn't blame her, watching the girl disappear into the twilight, her tunic more russet than blue where the blood had dried, and it was a while later when the crash of bracken pulled her attention from her book and she glanced up to see Fritha wandering back to them, a smile on her face that Nalia could not help but share.

There was a grove of fruit trees behind the keep, and the girl had helped her steal some of the riper looking ones before they'd left, edging nimbly along the branches while Nalia shouted instructions from below, catching the chosen ones in her skirts to hide in Fritha's bag. Fruit which were now flying through the air as the girl approached them, juggling deftly.

'Apple or pear?' Fritha asked brightly as she reached her, her eyes still fixed on the tumbling fruit.

'Pear, please,' Nalia answered, her smile broadening as Fritha tossed her one, no pause to the juggling, before she turned to Anomen to ask the same. And Nalia watched as she travelled the group, reaching Jaheira last, the juggling now much less impressive since she was only keeping two aloft.

'Apple or pear?'

'Neither will be fit for eating the way you have been manhandling them!'

There was a soft thud as something hit the grass.

'You'll have to have the apple,' said Fritha in a toneless voice, holding the bright green globe out to the woman who took it wordlessly. The girl stooped for the remaining pear, wiping it despondently on her tunic before tossing it on to her bedding, turning back to the fire without another glance to her.

'The soup should be ready by now.'

xxx

Anomen shifted, pulling his cloak about him more tightly as the breeze picked up, the guttering fire making the shadows leap and dance as the others slept about him. He had been on watch for the last hour, volunteering for the first one with the heavy knowledge that there was little point in bedding down when he knew sleep was so far off. Anomen shook his head; he had never been a particularly confident man, always worrying on something or another, but he had never been so full of doubts as then.

He glanced down at the five sleeping bodies that lay about him. He could not believe there was a company in the whole of the Sword Coast that was any less like the Order he was so ardent to join, and he had managed to find them. Was following people who were already acclaimed as heroes the sure path to glory, or was he merely making it harder for himself? There was no denying that they had done a great service to the de'Arnise family that day, but it seemed rather unlikely that the Lady Delcia would be singing their praises to anyone, and that left Anomen in exactly the same position he had been in with the Order's campaigns; all risk and no recognition. Perhaps he should just cut his losses and leave, try to find some more suitable company rather than waste any more time with them.

Anomen sighed; his regrets at joining with them resurging once again and he could not help but think back to the girl's words in the courtyard.

"I have no authority over them bar the authority they give me."

He had realised that they were not the most organised of groups when he joined them. At first, he wondered if their disorder could not be a blessing in disguise; an environment where he could employ the rigorous lesson of his Order, a true test of his skills as a leader of men. He could almost laugh now at his naivety. There was no way such an undisciplined group would respond to the rigid practises of the Order and Fritha was right; without any sort of hierarchy to enforce it, anyone in disagreement would just leave.

Anomen sighed, letting his mind wander from such worries as he leant forward to tend the fire. It was strange. He had, of course, kept watch before, but it was usually as one of a pair, patrolling a battalion of knights and soldiers as they slept under bivouacs, the higher-ranking ones among them lucky enough to get tents. He had never done it alone though and over so few, and it was odd watching the faces of your companions as they slept. Aerie lay closest to him, every inch the maiden in repose, her hair lying in long neat waves, each strand shining like spun gold. Though clearly inexperienced with battle, she had shown a strength of spirit he would not have expected of her and in spite of all his preconceptions, she had impressed him that day.

Anomen sighed, wishing he could say as much for the others as he let his gaze drift on to the bodies next to her. The ranger looked much the same as he did normally, the easing calm of sleep making little difference to his worriless existence, but the druid looked younger, her face loosing the guarded frown that seemed so much a part of her during the days. While both clearly experienced fighters, it was still hard to imagine the pair as saviours of the Gate. Minsc was addled by any evaluation of the fact, while Jaheira. That woman could try the patience of celestial! He had not been spoken to with such disparagement since leaving the seminary! Fritha was a fool to brook such behaviour and, grieving or not, if the druid spoke to him like that again he would not be struggling against a retort.

Anomen pulled his gaze away as he felt a familiar anger rising in his heart, his eyes falling on the young noblewoman opposite, Nalia mumbling quietly as she slept, no doubt haunted by memories of the day. He frowned as he recalled their treatment at the hands of her aunt. The Lady Delcia was the embodiment of everything he hated about the Athkatlan nobility. And it seemed his was not alone in his abhorrence. Nalia had made her feelings quite plain to her aunt, and anyone else within earshot, and that had seemed to be an end to the matter. He had certainly thought no more of it.

But it had been over dinner, as they had discussed their plans for the morrow that the subject had resurfaced again. Talk over what time they should start back to the city prompting what had seemed to be deliberately innocent comment from Fritha about visiting the keep one final time and Nalia had told her, and in no retiring manner either, that she had no intention to ever set foot within its walls again. But Fritha had remained un-cowed, pleading with her not to break ties completely if only for the sake of the funeral and maintaining there was nothing worse than leaving home with ill will, however wronged you were. It was something that Anomen could only agree with, and he absently wondered who Fritha had left behind. Nalia would hear none of it though, stating simply that she had said her goodbyes to her father and needed no formal ceremony to cement them.

And it was to those thoughts his gaze fell upon the last of them, the only one whose face he could not see, buried as it was beneath her blankets, a mass of amber curls the only part of her visible.

He had to admit that Fritha had impressed him at first. The confident way she seemed to lead such a mismatched disordered group. But time with them had opened his eyes. Fritha may be leading, but in a way that was unlike anything he had encountered in the Order. There was no hierarchy of command, no structure or formality, and he found he was put in mind of a boat in a storm, the girl there, braced against the rudder and just hoping for the best. He appreciated the skill it must have taken, but the uncertainty of it all still left him uncomfortable and he considered again that perhaps this company would not be the one to provide him with the distinction he sought; at least, not in any desirable way.

Anomen glanced to her again, cocooned in her blankets though the night was mild. He would have liked to see her sleeping though, seen if there was any difference in the pale refined face that seemed to wear every emotion so plainly.

'Fine-boned' Moira would have called her and he smiled in spite of himself, warmed by the memory of his sister at their last meeting; dark-haired and blue-eyed, laughing lightly as she teased him about who he would be attending the Midsummer's celebrations with. He had meant to visit her before he left the city again, but he had not found time in the end. Still, he could see her upon his return, perhaps use some of the gold he had earned to take a present to her… perhaps one of the girls could help him find one, that was, if he was still in their company.