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

The Watchers

Fritha walked on beneath the trees, her temples throbbing with the beat of an unseen drum as, in her mind's eye, she travelled the slow opening movements of the Chauntean harvest dance she had learnt in another lifetime, when home was a library fortress and trouble was just unfinished chores. The girl in her head stooped, raising the sickle high as though in worship to the sun and sweeping down at the wheat before her, the graceful arc flowing smoothly into a turn before the whole slow process began anew. Normally she would have skipped ahead, uninspired by the dull pace and melancholy composition. There was a threshing dance later on that she had always been partial to, with good deal of leaping about and stick waving to be enjoyed. But that was over nine sets away, and probably not conducive to her ever-present headache, which left her where she was now: body walking back to Athkatla, whilst mind was currently mired in the slow plodding calm of the reaping dance.

They had been walking since the mid-morning, Fritha at their head with the ranger, Aerie and Nalia chattering away together behind her, leaving Jaheira and Anomen to walk abreast at the back: each a suitable punishment for the other. Fritha absently moved a hand up to the back of her neck, finding the skin unpleasantly slick, damp curls plastered to the flesh. It was barely noon and already the heat was suffocating, the muggy air hanging about her in a way no amount of dancing could distract from. Not that anyone else seemed to be troubled by it, she thought sourly, glancing to the five figures behind her. Well, four, she conceded, as Minsc caught her eye to offer her a wan smile, the sweat glistening on his bald head.

The group would have left the keep at dawn had the druid had her way, and though that would have resulted in at least a third of their journey being done in the morning's cool, Fritha had made sure they dallied over breakfast and packing until the implications of leaving on an argument had truly sunk in for Nalia. It seemed some sleep had worked its magic, and she was pleased when the girl quietly approached her to say she would be returning to the castle one final time before they departed.

Unfortunately, her Aunt was in no better a mood and, as far as Fritha had gathered, the meeting had not gone well, though Nalia claimed she felt better for it all the same. And, in her own words, at least she had a chance to bid farewell to the servants. Something Fritha was sure meant a lot to them.

'Now, don't be mean,' a voice warned.

Fritha blinked. Had she said that aloud or just thought it? She threw a surreptitious glance behind her, but it seemed no one had noticed either way, too caught up in their own conversation, and Fritha let her attention drift from the bright fields of her imagination to rest on the two directly at her back, listening to chatter of the Nalia and Aerie as her mind provided the view.

'So Aunty said if I wasn't going to be married to a Roenall, I was no longer any relation of hers.'

Aerie's gasp was instant, and Fritha imagined her with eyes wide, her plum-bud mouth a perfect circle.

'And what did you say?'

'That she should be proud I was finally taking a leaf out of her book and refusing to deal with my lessers.'

Fritha grinned to herself; she liked Nalia.

'Oh, Nalia!' cried the elf, sounding worried, but the young woman was having none of it.

'Oh, nothing! She did not lift a finger to defend the keep when the trolls came and she will do no more when the Roenalls come. Now I've the will and the freedom to live as I choose and I shall help those less fortunate, propriety be damned!'

And, reflected Fritha, it was considerably easier for her now as well, since having lost her home and family and title, those who could be considered less fortunate were greatly reduced in number. She allowed herself a smirk as the conversation behind her continued, Aerie's voice so hesitant she was almost drowned out by the whispering of the trees.

'Nalia, why do you help people?'

'It has to start somewhere, Aerie.'

'What has to start?'

'Love, honour, justice; all things we must strive for. They must begin somewhere, in small acts.'

But clearly the Lady Delcia was not alone in thinking this a load old of rubbish, Anomen's deep fraternal tones entering the conversation.

'That is commendable attitude, my lady, but with maturity you will see not all deserve as such.'

Fritha snorted, eyes raised to the heavens; someone, somewhere was having a laugh.

'Maturity?' repeated Nalia waspishly, 'I had no idea that you were of such a venerable age, Anomen.'

'I did not mean it that way. I merely meant that as you gain an experience of the world, you will begin to see that there are those who are deserving of charity and those who are not.'

'And who will make that judgement? You?'

Fritha sighed gently; she never should have left that field.

'What will happen to the keep in your absence, Nalia?' came Fritha's own voice, hoping to stop the argument before it started as she half-turned back to the three with a look of polite interest.

Nalia gave a resigned sigh. 'Well, I'm afraid as my betrothed, Isea Roenall will become its lord, under his own father, of course. Lord Farthington Roenall is an utter snob, but a decent man nevertheless, and it is some comfort that, however the servants will fare under him, my aunt will always be treated with the utmost respect.'

'And to think, if all this hadn't happened, you would have ended up married to Isea…' sighed Aerie, half to herself.

'Yes,' agreed Anomen, 'the Roenalls are a very influential family and notoriously conservative; I must admit to being surprised the union was ever agreed in the first place.'

Nalia looked outraged. 'I beg your pardon?'

Anomen paled. 'Well, ah, all I meant to say was that some men would, er, may find your behaviour a little hoyden-'

Fritha snorted; that's right, Anomen, just keep digging.

'What do you mean, hoyden?' Nalia repeated, clearly stung, 'I am skilled in all the womanly arts! Singing, dancing, embroidery, er-'

'Lock picking,' prompted Fritha, sending her a friendly smile, 'alchemy, the setting of traps. Any man would be proud to have a wife with such skills.'

Nalia smiled slightly and shot Anomen a triumphant look.

'Besides,' the girl continued, 'I came close enough to marrying Isea to put me off for a good long while yet, and am currently far more concerned with the matter of finding my own place in world.'

'I'm sure you will always be welcome to travel with us,' came Aerie, ever tentative and glancing to her for an assurance. Fritha smiled.

'Of course you will. Or,' she continued with a grin, 'perhaps you could open a school for other young noble women to learn more worldly arts. Like a cross between a thieves' guild and finishing school. You could teach them how to sword fight with books balanced on their heads.'

She laughed brightly, but the others just frowned, looking vaguely bemused and Fritha turned back to the path ahead as her headache resurfaced in sympathy. Imoen would have understood. She would have agreed and made some silly comment about teaching them how to pick locks with crochet hooks or something. Fritha sighed. It had been clear for some time now that Anomen had serious doubts as to her mental stability, but she had hoped the others would not have been so quick to join him. Still, she was sure the situation had not been helped by her waking last night, halfway through Minsc's watch, screaming bloody murder and scaring everyone half to death. She shivered slightly in spite of the day's heat. The dream had been unpleasantly vivid. Her and Imoen back in Candlekeep, her friend as disturbed as when she'd first found her in the dungeon and chattering on about memories and shadows until the mage had turned up and she woke as she often did, with his laughter ringing in her ears as she felt her flesh consumed by fire.

Fritha scrubbed a hand across her face as she felt the throbbing in her temples worsen. She wasn't addled and was in no danger of it either, no matter how anyone saw things. But she was spending too much time alone, not physically, but mentally. Too much time in her own head, her thoughts just chattering away to themselves and running off on wild tangents without another to anchor her. The burden of leadership had a hidden toll it seemed, and Fritha realised she had not felt as isolated since her rift with Imoen back in the Gate.

She sighed, thoughts of her lost friend doing nothing for the pain behind her eyes. She had awoken with another headache, or should that be the headache, for she had fallen asleep with the same one that had surfaced since her fight with Jaheira. She would have normally just asked the druid for something to alleviate it, but they still weren't speaking and Fritha would have to be at death's door before she would break the silence. Jaheira had made her feelings quite plain the previous evening, and there was no way she was going to invite any more of her abuse. Best just to stay clear of her in future. The pain seemed to lessen slightly as though in agreement with this decision and she returned her mind to the wheat fields once more before anything else could call it back.

xxx

Fritha had completed all four movements of the reaping dance and was enjoying a break and something to drink with the other imaginary dancers when the next interruption came, though this one was far more pleasant and she left her field to find Minsc had fallen into step with her. She threw him a bright smile, ignoring the voice in her head that sniped, 'Liar!'

'Ah, hello Minsc, enjoying the walk?'

He looked baffled a moment, and she worried that she had said something else entirely without realising it, until he continued, 'We walk to get places, is that fun?'

'No, not particularly,' she sighed, 'but it's what ordinary people say, isn't it. "Enjoying the walk? Isn't the weather fine." They practically never talk about tactics or killing things.'

'Boo says we are not ordinary people.'

Yes, Boo, that would be the whole sad point.

'No. No, I suppose we're not.'

'Why are you unhappy, young Fritha?'

'I'm not unhappy, Minsc, I'm just tired.' She sighed, wiping the sweat from forehead with irritation to add '-and certain things are not helping.'

Minsc gave her a sidelong glance. 'She feels bad for what she said to you.'

Fritha turned to him sharply, for a moment astounded, though they both knew whom he meant and she continued without comment.

'How do you know?'

'Boo awoke me during her watch. She was holding the apple you gave her…' he paused to send her a glance, 'she was crying.'

Oh, great.

Fritha turned back to their path with a deep sigh. It seemed Jaheira did still have a heart after all, and just when Fritha had got around to hardening hers. She had almost been enjoying being angry with the woman. Well, perhaps "enjoying" wasn't the right word, but it was a relief to stop worrying that there was something she should be doing and that it was somehow all her fault. Fritha hung her head. Her respite though, was to be short-lived, guilt promptly bubbling hot in her stomach.

'She is angry with me; she thinks I don't care.'

'Jaheira is angry, young Fritha, but not with you or Minsc. Minsc and Boo have seen it before back in the clans. Great warriors whose prowess makes the gods tremble do not like to find weaknesses elsewhere. Jaheira does not like the weakness of her grief; she is angry with herself.'

'Well she's got funny way of showing it!' Fritha snapped, the unpleasant feelings of guilt leaving her suddenly furious. Why did he have to tell her? It had been so much easier not knowing, because once she knew of the woman's pain she could not help but care, and the heavy weight of responsibility was on her shoulders once more. 'I'm just so sick of being made to feel like I'm always doing something wrong merely because I refuse to drown in my own sorrows!'

'Calm, young Fritha, Minsc and Boo understand,' he soothed gently, 'we are the same. Dynaheir is gone and cannot be replaced. Minsc knows he is not wise like Boo and Fritha, but I honour Dynaheir's memory by following my heart, which cries for vengeance! So vengeance is sought. But Minsc also knows that Dynaheir would not wish for Minsc and Boo to mourn forever, so we are glad. We will take revenge for her, rescue little Imoen and then make our return to Rashemen!'

Fritha smiled slightly, and genuinely this time; it was a truly hopeless soul who failed to be lifted by Minsc's enthusiasm.

'Do you miss your home, Minsc?'

'Yes, sometimes. But then Boo and I remember what we have left and we are glad. Boo says only when you leave a place can you return.'

Fritha's broadened; Boo had a point and she glanced up to the man next to her. The scarred skin and vivid tattoos probably looked fearsome to outsiders, but she hardly noticed them anymore, seeing only the kind eyes and broad smile of her friend.

'Will you tell me?'

And so he did. He told her of the culture of his clan, of the holy days and the dances, which, on seeing her eagerness, he described in as much detail as he and Boo could remember. He told her of the song-stories created for the greatest of them, intoning the one of Duric the Bold and Alecva the White in the thick Rashemi tongue. She copied him, repeating the strange words over and over until she had learnt by rote the first three verses, though she could no more understand what she was droning in the strangely melodic dialect, than she could fly. He beamed at her progress, describing in rich detail how, with such skills as she had in abundance, (a swift blade, a voice for the song-stories and a mind for battle being the ones he mentioned), she would be revered by all Rashemi and many fine warriors would come for miles, braving dangerous tundra to attempt to win her in displays of combat. Fritha resolved to visit as soon as she was able.

She glanced up through the trees to the dying sun, smiling absently as she recalled how the same light would be falling on the snowfields somewhere; she could almost see the rays glittering against the ice. But there in the forest, the shadows were getting long. They could make the city by nightfall if they held that pace, but she had the sense that all were tired and morale was low, plus it was harder to find the way in the dark, even for Minsc. A couple more hours walking and they could make camp, and arise rested and happy tomorrow morning to be back in the city before the noon bells.

The sound of rough voices ahead stirred her from her plans and Fritha halted those behind her with a gesture, quirking an eyebrow at Minsc, and together they crept forward to the source. Concealed in deep foliage at the edge of a clearing, she watched four men currently engaged in a group-wide quarrel which would have been an amusing mirror of her own party had they not been arguing with such barely concealed hatred.

'I'm telling you; it'll not last much longer. We need to get it back to Athkatla.'

'Back within the reach of those do-gooders? Over my dead body!'

'Don't tempt me, fool! Fero's right, we'll never make the drop at this rate. Should've know that stuff'd have been too strong for it.'

Fritha held up a hand, about to signal Minsc they should return to the others, when the speaker kicked what she had taken for a pile of cloaks and it gave a gut-wrenching moan, the next few moments blurring as battle erupted. Fritha vaguely remembered the surprised looks of the men as Minsc charged in to the clearing, sword aloft, and could hear her own voice as she screamed orders back to the others before piling in herself. With the advantage of surprise on their side, the men immediately scattered and as the fight still raged Fritha turned her attention to the injured stranger, Anomen approaching as she dropped down beside him to uncover his face.

His skin was algid and pale, drawn tight over his skull. He drew in a deep rattling breath and Fritha almost feared that they had come too late when, at last, he spoke.

'Please…please help me,' he gasped, his voice dry and rasping. Anomen, the ever compassionate, remained unmoved.

'The fool is probably drunk, my lady.'

She had no chance to respond though, Jaheira hurrying over to them and mirroring Fritha's movements; crouching down beside the man, her hands flying skilfully over his torso, gentle checking his stomach and chest.

'Where are you hurt?'

The man shook his head a fraction, eyes watering from the sheer effort of the movement.

'P-Poison.'

'Get me some antidote, now!' barked Fritha, setting off a storm of rummaging before a hand on her arm snapped her attention back to the stranger.

'No…no good. P-Please…Athkatla…yellow building…docks,' he gasped, wheezing as though he couldn't quite draw enough breath, before finally slumping back and releasing her.

'Right you heard him,' Fritha snapped, fear driving her, 'Aerie and Jaheira, lay down your staves. Have you got the rope, Minsc?'

The man nodded, unpacking his bag to pass an end to her. She closed her eyes, taking her mind back to that hot dry deck and the voyage to Balduran's isle, letting her hands remember the turns as she caught the end of Aerie's staff in a timber hitch, leaving about a yard of slack before tying Jaheira's in and throwing the remaining rope to Minsc.

'Here, take that and cross it between the length of the staves -right, hand over your cloaks,' she added, taking her own from her bag to lay it over the newly strung stretcher, Aerie and Nalia following suit.

'Good. All tied off at that end?'

Minsc nodded and Jaheira arranged herself at the stranger's head, gently taking hold of him from under his arms.

'Are you ready?' she asked, carefully adjusting her grip. Fritha took his legs with a nod. 'One, two, three, lift.'

Together they moved him across, Jaheira covering him with her cloak as Fritha stood.

'Right, Minsc, Anomen, you two are carrying him. Pass me your bag. Good grief, what have you got in here? Are you okay with Minsc's?' she added, glancing to Jaheira and half expecting a snap. But the woman merely nodded stiffly, rising to throw the pack across her shoulder as the men lifted the makeshift stretcher, her eyes trained on the limp body it bore.

'Do you think he'll make it?' Fritha questioned in a low voice. Jaheira shrugged.

'I suppose we are about to find out.'

Fritha sighed, rubbing her face tiredly. 'Oh, I love this life.'

xxx

The journey back to the city was painfully slow. Fritha at their head with one of the lanterns held low to check their path, Anomen's pack only getting heavier as the night wore on. Minsc and Anomen followed directly behind her, bearing their charge without complaint, though they got plenty of breaks, Jaheira halting them regularly to check the stranger, easing him with tonics and spells for the little good they did. While the two girls brought up the rear, the other lantern glowing brightly between them.

All night they walked, and it was to the greying sky of dawn that they finally reached the sleeping city. Their footsteps echoed as they marched through the empty streets, at last coming to the tunnels of the customs house that encircled the harbour, entering the darkness to emerge, blinking, on the other side, the docks laid out before them. The ramshackle terraces of halls and warehouses all sloped down to the harbour and, at last, Fritha saw their goal; the sandy-coloured building that stood on the quay almost golden in the sunrise, its architecture ostentatious and looking out of place next to the dilapidated jumble of buildings that surrounded it. The stranger groaned, almost as though he could sense his deliverance at hand and Jaheira straightened the cloak at his shoulders, her voice unusually gentle.

'Hush now, we are almost there.'

Fritha led the way down the sloping path towards the quay. A dhow had just landed with a catch of mackerel, their bodies shining silver in the dawning light, and the clamour of the fishwives filled the air as they packed them in ice ready for the day's market, seagulls fighting over the scraps. She sighed to herself. They had managed to get the man back to the city alive against all odds and she knew she should feel elated. But the morning had found her without even enough energy to care, and she moved swiftly through the bustle to the warm sandstone building, ignoring the interest they were attracting and knocking smartly on the heavy wooden door.

The grille slid open promptly, two bright eyes appearing to watch her with suspicion.

'Yes?'

Fritha stared back with an impassive look, her voice coming toneless as propriety and fatigue cancelled each other out.

'I've someone here who claims to be a friend of yours. He's been poisoned.'

The door flew open immediately, a man older than his eyes would have placed him appearing in the mouth.

'Poisoned?' he repeated, his gaze falling to the body, 'by Mystra, Renfeld!'

And suddenly she was surrounded as people poured from the building to take his body within, all talking at once and trying to get him to speak. Fritha sighed and turned to go, seemingly forgotten in the chaos; their work was done.

'Wait!' came a voice and she glanced back to find the first man at the door again, eyes wide. 'You, you just deliver one of our own to us and then leave? Just like that? At least let me have your name, lady.'

She blinked owlishly at him, the question throwing her for a moment before, 'Fritha. It's Fritha.'

He stared at her, clearly considering something when suddenly he smiled and bowed.

'I will remember you in my prayers.'

At last the door shut and Fritha turned back to find the group waiting behind her, staves and cloaks already returned to their owners and Minsc busy coiling the rope about his arm. Fritha nodded absently as she received her own cloak from Nalia, gladly relinquishing Anomen's pack to the man himself.

'Back to the inn?'

Murmurs of assent and the group turned, leaving the bustle of the quay to trudge back up the hill, their tiredness coming to the fore now the urgency was over. They had reached the highest terrace by now and were just entering the shadow of the customs house, when a woman's voice called across to them and Fritha turned to see a blond girl a few years older than herself, stood in the shade of a plain grey building and beckoning to her. Fritha threw a glance to the others and slowly wandered across.

'Good morning m'lady,' she greeted cheerily and looking a lot more cheerful than Fritha thought anyone had a right to be at that hour of the morning, 'might I ask you to step inside with me? I've been charged to arrange a meeting between you and my master.'

'And who is that?' came a voice behind her and Fritha turned to see Jaheira at her shoulder, the woman ignoring her in favour of giving the girl a stern look.

'Renal Bloodscalp, m'lady, a prominent man of this area. He has heard of your group and proposes an exchange of services.'

'I will come,' said Fritha impassively, very aware that more work would have to be found now they had returned to the city.

'We will come,' corrected the druid archly, shouting orders across to the others to wait for them, and Fritha followed the girl through the doors behind her into the gloom, Jaheira at her back.

They were led into a large open room; the girl bidding them wait and disappearing up the stairs as soon as the door was shut, and Fritha took a moment to glance about her. It was dark, every window curtained against the dawn, though they must have been open for she could feel a slight breeze stirring her hair. The stairs were to the left of them, crates and chests stacked neatly about the rest of the room, while men and women stood in twos and threes, all with same the lean hungry look, no one speaking above a murmur. The closest man sent her an appraising glance from under his hood and she returned it blankly; Fritha had seen enough back in the Gate to recognise a thieves' guild when she entered one, the druid's warning merely confirming her thoughts.

'Tread carefully here. Some allies can be more dangerous than foes.'

Fritha sighed. 'Work is work. We're not in a position to be too picky.'

Silence hung between them again and Fritha wondered whether she shouldn't try to use this moment alone with the woman to call pax. But as soon as the thought rose, a cold reluctance filled her and she shook her head. Jaheira may be unhappy, but that did not mean she would be any more inclined to make peace, and Fritha didn't think she could face offering the hand of friendship for it only to be bitten again. Not then, when she already felt so fraught; she would have been devastated.

'As you will,' the druid continued, a slight terseness creeping into her voice, 'but be aware we are being observed and I have my own duties to fulfil; I should not like to see us on opposing sides.'

Fritha just shrugged. As far as she was concerned, they had managed quite well with that on their own so far, she doubted the addition of some thieves could make their relations any worse. Jaheira frowned and opened her mouth to speak again, when another cut her off.

'Thank you for your patience,' came a familiar bright voice as the girl appeared on the stairs once more, moving down to join them as she continued. 'I have spoken with his clerk, m'lady, and Renal has time to meet you in a few days hence. Say the morning of the sixth?'

'Fine,' sighed Fritha; it seemed she would still have to look for work that day after all. 'I will return then.'

'Thank you, m'lady, he will be most pleased.'

Fritha nodded, turning to leave when a breeze caught the curtains nearest to her. They fluttered open only for a moment, but long enough for her to see not a window as she had assumed, but an alcove, all draped in black with an altar at the back, a plain mask of ebony wood hung above it in the gloom.

She recognised it instantly. 'Is that… ?'

The girl smiled gently. 'A shrine to Our Lord of Shadows? It is indeed, m'lady. Enter and give worship if you wish; all are welcome.'

Fritha swallowed, her voice suddenly hoarse.

'Jaheira, I'll just…'

The woman nodded once and turned to leave.

'I shall wait outside.'

Fritha pushed aside the curtains, moving tentatively into the gloom and placing a few gold pieces with the other coins and stones piled in the tithe dish, dropping to her knees before the dark stone altar, the hollow eyes of the mask staring down at her. The air was still and slightly dusty and she closed her eyes, letting the silence fill her. Her tiredness was making her head feel dull and heavy and she lay her forehead against the edge of the altar, the smooth stone cold against her skin.

What was she doing there? What did the gods care what had happened to her friend? To anyone?

She drew a breath, letting her anger at the world go and trying to will mercy into that shadowy god's heart as she started up a prayer to him. It was one of many she had learnt by rote from the nights spent sharing a room with Imoen, and she could hear her friend's voice intoning the words in her mind along with her, so clear the girl could have been at her side…

Oh Imoen…

Her breathing began to falter, tears welling in her eyes and she let them fall freely. It was the first time in days she had been able to indulge in her misery and she found once started, it was much easier to have her cry out than attempt to stop again. At last, her breathing seemed to calm, the tears abating and she straightened to send an apologetic glance to the impassive mask above her, sure that most supplicants were a lot more worshipful and wholly more composed whilst they did it.

Fritha sighed, very aware of the time she had already taken. She couldn't hide in there forever, however much she would have liked to and at last she rose, tidying her appearance and absently wishing she hadn't given Aerie her last handkerchief as she tried to stop her nose running by sheer will alone. It wasn't working though and she finally resorted to dabbing it on her sleeve, dipping her head as she did so and turning only to walk straight into someone.

'Oh, beg your pardon, miss,' came a friendly voice and she peered over her sleeve to take in a pair of worn blue eyes set underneath a greying fringe.

'Sorry, it was my fault,' she mumbled, trying to discreetly finish wiping her nose and dropping her arm as he continued, examining her face as though to place her and Fritha found herself very glad for the gloom.

'I haven't seen you about here before… so, you're one of the Mask's followers then?' he questioned amiably, gesturing to the shrine behind them.

'Me? No, no, but a friend of mine is…' she swallowed, quite unsure of herself as she added tentatively, 'she's in quite a bit of trouble.'

The man smiled kindly, eyes sparkling. 'And you were hoping for a bit of divine intervention, eh?'

Fritha shrugged. 'Didn't think it could hurt.'

'Hah, right you are, miss!' he laughed, 'I'm Jacob, and you are?'

Fritha smiled slightly too, his manner somehow heartening.

'Fritha, my name's Fritha.'

'Pleased to meet you, miss,' he smiled, shaking her hand. 'So, this friend of yours, a thief is she?'

'Yes… trained under Master Quickhand himself,' she added with a hint of pride.

'Old Steen Quickhand, you say? Well, I should imagine she'll be a decent enough thief then. They say half of thievery's in the skill.'

'And what's the other half?'

Jacob gave a wry grin. 'Luck and friends. You just keep your thoughts with her and let the Lord of Shadows do the rest, miss. Aye?'

Fritha just nodded and smiled as he disappeared through the curtains, her throat tight, though for the first time in days her head had stopped aching.

...

Jaheira pulled her cloak about her slightly, stepping out from the shade of the guild house in an attempt to escape the morning's chill. She usually liked the dawn, but there was a bleakness to it that morning that left her cold. She had noticed the look the man from the sandstone building had given her, each recognising a fellow Harper when they saw one, just as surely as he had noted Fritha. Explanations would be called for before long; she would have to be prepared. But that would be some time off yet, and her mind seemed happy to return instantly to the worry that had been pressing on her ever since the keep: Fritha.

What had happened between them? Mere days since they escaped the dungeon as comrades, and now the girl seemed barely able to look at her.

Jaheira sighed. She knew she had only herself to blame. She had been so consumed by her own grief that it had been easy to ignore the pain of the others. Snapping and snarling at them all, even her well-meant guidance descending in to an argument; every word she seemed to utter being distorted by her ever-present anger. But Fritha had seemed so strong, even in her suffering. Jaheira closed her eyes, the image of the girl rising unbidden in her mind. Just stood holding out the apple to her, not hurt or defiant, but with a resigned almost empty look. It was only then Jaheira had realised how fragile the girl had become, and though she was loathed to admit it, she was frightened to find out how troubled Fritha truly was. Once discovered, it could not be ignored and Jaheira realised she may have to step up to resume the burden of leadership; an idea she did not relish, not now when she would be baring it alone.

Jaheira turned back to the quays, watching the gulls swoop and bank over the harbour. Though she and Fritha had never been close, for she had always had Khalid to confide in and the girl was never far from Imoen, they had been friends. Why was she suddenly finding it so difficult to talk to her now? She had wanted to speak with her just then, while they were alone in the guild house, but a fear the girl would no longer want to make peace had replaced words of conciliation with yet more advice; distant and cool. It was a horrible helpless feeling, to sense the girl drifting away from her but not knowing how to stop it, and yet the alternative was so much worse. To lose dear Khalid had been awful enough; to lose the only friends she had left, and with the knowledge that it had been through her own doing would be unbearable.

Jaheira shook her head, turning back to the guild house and half-expecting the see Fritha there, waiting. She was not though, and by the look of things, her absence had not gone unnoticed by the others either; the group milling about, exchanging questioning looks as to the delay, though only Anomen actually broke the silence, moving to join her and frowning in the sunlight.

'Where is Fritha?' he asked, though by his tone it sounded more like a demand. Jaheira turned to level him a stern look; if he said one word to the girl when she returned…

'She is inside praying at the shrine to Mask. She won't be long.'

'Mask?' he exclaimed, looking affronted by the mere idea, 'I did not know she worshiped him.'

'She doesn't, but she thinks the gods are more likely to help one of their own followers,' and when he persisted to look confused she added, 'Imoen worships Mask. She is praying for her.'

Sure enough, Fritha returned a few minutes later smiling, though her eyes were red, and together they travelled wearily back to the slums, Aerie making her excuses and heading off for the circus before they had even reached the inn. Fritha moved into the room she'd been given and firmly shut the door, dropping her bag when but one step inside and kicking off her sandals to fall fully-clothed on the bed, too tired to even considered her usual bath.

A knock at the door behind her, her voice coming muffled as she did not even lift her face from the quilt to shout, 'Go away!'

'Young Fritha?'

Fritha rolled onto her back, but did not sit to greet the Rashemi who was currently peering round her door.

'If there is a problem, then I do not want to know.'

'No, no problem, young Fritha,' the man rumbled genially, not waiting for an invitation to move into the room proper and settle before the hearth, Fritha finally shifting onto her side to face him. 'But Boo did notice that you are sad… If those thieves were mean to you, then just you say! And Minsc and Boo will-!'

'No, no, they were fine, Minsc,' she interrupted, amused in spite of herself at his outrage, 'it's just been a long couple of days.'

'You are worrying for little Imoen?'

She was about to reply when a knocking cut her off, and they both turned to look at the door, the girl rising to answer it and unable to hide her surprise as Jaheira's stern visage swung into view.

'Oh, hello…' she eventually managed, half-waiting for the woman to tell her off, though nothing was forthcoming and she continued uncomfortably. 'I'm just in here with Minsc… we were just talking…' She trailed off, letting the door open to reveal the man himself, sat upon the hearthrug, unusually grave. Jaheira said nothing though, looking ill at ease and Fritha felt obliged to add, 'Er, you can join us if you want.'

The woman frowned and Fritha waited for the refusal when she moved silently past her and sat stiffly opposite Minsc.

'Well, young Fritha?' prompted the ranger again as she shut the door, and Fritha realised she had yet to answer his question.

She shrugged absently, dropping down to sit on the floor next to them. Of course, she was worried for Imoen; so much so, it was almost suffocating. But as strange as it was, she felt guilty as well. Guilty that Imoen was alive to worry about when other people close to them had not been so lucky, and it felt wrong to be complaining about her friend's absence to the pair, when either one of them would have gladly traded places with her.

'Do not worry, young Fritha,' continued Minsc kindly, 'she will be found. Hah, if Dynaheir was with us now, she would have those mages in a muddle, I think!'

His laughter boomed through the small room and Fritha smiled slightly, imagining her meeting with the Cowled Wizards' representative over again with the Wychlaran in tow. Her potent mix of sensual charm and imperious grace had always made for a persuasive combination. The poor fool would have been incapacitated with a look.

'Do you remember her with the barman in Feldpost's inn?'

'Ah yes, Minsc remembers the stern look it took from Boo to show him that our witch was not for him. Always it was so, from the beginning; Minsc and Boo protect Dynaheir, that she might help us. The western lands were strange to us at first, and foreigners do not understand the ways of Minsc and Boo. Ah, Minsc and his witch; we were a pair! With Minsc's strength and Dynaheir's words none of the Sword Coast could stand before us!'

He paused, sad a moment before he continued with the same brightness, seemingly happy in his memories.

'But Khalid too knew the strength of words. Boo remembers him telling some sailors you could not play for them without your bard-master…' he trailed off, giving her a grin and Fritha smiled guiltily, recalling the white lie that had saved her much embarrassment. But then that was Khalid; so full of quiet thought and care, and she was suddenly immersed by memories of him. Of his gentle interventions when Jaheira became too sharp and his patient tutelage on the longbow and a thousand other small kindnesses.

'I never did play for him,' she said quietly, remembering her own promise after he'd rescued her lute from the shallows of Balduran's Isle.

'Yet we are forgetting the one who knew him best,' continued Minsc, and Fritha felt her heart sink as he turned towards the druid who had sat silent all this while. The woman's reaction was predictable and instant.

'There is nothing that can be said!' she snapped, her eyes dark. 'There are no words!'

Fritha just turned away, the weight of the day threatening to overwhelm her, when the voice came again, an unfamiliar vulnerability to it and she glanced back to Jaheira, the woman suddenly staring at the floor.

'I- I turn to speak to him sometimes; it is such a surprise to find he is not there…' She trailed off, finally raising her head to fix her with a soft look, 'you- you must miss Imoen terribly.'

Fritha nodded, her smile trembling as she recognised the reconciliation there, dropping her gaze to her hands and reaching inside to search for the words of it.

'Yes… but it is unexpected what you miss, so many small things… there- there is nothing less restful than sleeping a double bed alone. It feels strange to sleep in the centre, but to lie on one side, to feel that empty expanse of bed at your back…' she shook her head, her voice sounding strange in her ears, 'it is a hollow thing.'

xxx

But hollow as the thing was, it was also a necessary one and they disbanded soon after, each retiring to their own rooms to rest. It was early afternoon now, sunlight from the window behind giving the room a warm yellow glow as Jaheira knelt before the unlit hearth, slowly intoning a mantra to Silvanus and trying to find her balance. Ever since she could remember, the cyclical nature of life and death had been part of her teachings, but the words felt empty now and it was such a struggle not to think of Khalid, not to feel the anger and the misery his passing had left her with.

At least she felt reconciled with the girl now; she had not liked it before, when every word between them seemed to clash, and Jaheira tried to ignore the unpleasant squirm of guilt in her stomach when she recalled some of their more heated moments, Fritha displaying time and again a remarkable strength of will in the face of the world's provocation. Jaheira shook her head. When it had happened she could not have said, but between them, Fritha was the leader now, guiding their group with a patience her dear Khalid would have been proud of.

She was out with the Helmite now, the squire having mentioned his Order may have some work for them and she had dutifully asked him to escort her there as soon as he had risen for lunch, even though it was clear the two did not favour each other. Though Fritha was still refusing to agree with her, the girl could not deny the fact that, as Jaheira pointed out, while Anomen may have many valid reasons to behave like an arrogant lout, in the end, that still left him an arrogant lout.

Sure enough, it was only a short while later that the pair returned, though she heard them long before she saw them, two familiar voices drifting through the open window as they passed below.

'…And I am so sorry you did not find the surroundings in the temple of Helm opulent enough for you!'

'I didn't say that, I just said that if I had an unsleeping eye, I'd want my temple to be a bit more visually stimulating...'

Jaheira smiled slightly in spite of her mood. Khalid had once said Fritha was a lot like her, but if he could see her now, calmly ignoring the man's antagonism, she thought he would agree there was much of both of them in the girl.

...

The pair were still bickering as Jaheira descended the stairs moments later, or at least one of them was, Fritha more focused on trying to catch the maid's attention as she flirted with some mercenaries at the other end of the bar.

'How was the Order?' Jaheira asked, Fritha glancing up at her approach and cursing quietly as her lapse in concentration allowed the person next to her to sneak in and get served.

'We never made it in the end,' she sighed, turning from the bar and clearly giving up on the idea of something more exciting to drink as she took a mouthful of water from her flask. 'We were waylaid outside the temple of Helm.'

'That they would dare peddle their blasphemy outside that holy hall!' snarled Anomen, the women exchanging a look as he continued vehemently, 'such a cult is an abhorrence in His sight!'

'A cult?'

'Yes,' said Fritha, smirking slightly, 'the Cult of the Eyeless. A man named Gaal was in the temple district trying to recruit followers, extolling the virtues of poking out your own eyes with an enthusiasm only a fanatic could muster.'

Anomen snorted, but whether from contempt or amusement Jaheira could not tell.

'He was trying to convince people the gods were a charade perpetuated by the churches merely for their own power! Why the temple guardians did not just cut him down where he stood, I do not know!' he snarled, turning to throw Fritha a glare. 'And what you said was hardly helpful!'

'I think the angle I approached from was extremely helpful!' she countered, finally bristling, 'everyone looked a whole lot less keen on joining him afterwards. But I suppose I should have just spouted out the usual, "the gods love us" nonsense, should I?'

'Fritha,' repeated Jaheira, bringing the girl's attention back to her, 'what did you say?'

'Well, I told them of course the gods existed, and that they themselves had the proof of it. I asked each to look upon their lives and see the misery of being. By odds alone, things should be all right half of the time, but they are not, proof positive that the gods exist and do not like them.'

Jaheira rolled her eyes, wondering how much jest there truly was in Fritha's bitter theology as the girl continued.

'If this is how the gods treat you when you are worshipful, I continued to the gathering about us, think then how much worse they will make your lives if you abandon that devotion…' Her voice had trailed off to no more than a whisper and Jaheira suspected her little speech would have had quite an effect after the zealous ravings of a cultist.

Anomen snorted though, clearly not in agreement. 'Your words did nothing; they left with him all the same.'

'Three of them left,' Fritha corrected archly, turning back to her to add casually, 'the rest just stood about staring at us.'

'At you!' snapped Anomen, not to be outdone.

Fritha ignored him. 'That was when High Watcher Oisig approached us for the temple of Helm and asked us to investigate. It should pay quite well.'

Jaheira nodded once. 'Agreed. Aerie should return from the circus soon and we can begin investigations. Where is the cult situated?'

The pair before her shared a look, agreed on something it seemed and Fritha sighed.

'Take a wild guess.'