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

Three's company

Anomen stood in the common room, looking through one of the Coronet's less grimy windows out onto the street where the shadows were lengthening under a sinking sun. Arriving back at the inn had been the same humiliating affair, the group forced to walk through the tavern, boots in hand as they headed for the stairs, Fritha quickly arranging a room for the actor before following them and everyone had hurried down to the bathhouse soon after, Haer'Dalis proving suddenly quiet without the presence of the woman.

They were gathered in the tavern now, the table at his side surrounded by all bar Fritha, who he had just watched disappear into the house opposite, a cloakful of dirty clothes in tow. Anomen sighed. She seemed to be pretending their previous arguments had not happened, treating him with the same genial good humour as she was the rest of them, and for his part, he was only happy to follow suit.

It was hard to stay angry with Fritha. However misguided her actions, she always seemed to hold the best of intentions, and her desire to see the goodness in others was as admirable as it was ill-advised.

Admirable. That was a term he certainly could not use to describe their newest acquaintance. Quite apart from the fact that Haer'Dalis was treating the girls with a familiarity that bordered on impudence, something about the actor did not feel quite right. However, so far Anomen only seemed to have an ally in Jaheira in this opinion, the woman sat at the table now, frowning into her cup as the bard held court, Nalia smiling as he spoke, while Aerie seemed to hang on his every word.

Anomen glanced back to the window as a blur of copper caught his eye, Fritha appearing in the doorway opposite and speaking with someone still within. The girl nodded once, stepping out into the street to give a bow that soon became a duck, the bar of soap that came sailing out the open doorway just missing her head. The girl did not seem offended though, collecting it from the dusty street and throwing it and a casual salute lightly back to the stout apron-clad woman who was now stood into the doorway, the laundress shaking her head despairingly and clearly trying not to smile as she caught it.

Anomen turned back to face the room, fighting against a smile himself as Fritha appeared at the door, strolling blithely over to join them.

'All delivered?' asked Jaheira, glancing up from her cup and Fritha grinned.

'Yes, much to Goodwife Margred's delight. I can see us becoming her favourite customers.'

Nalia and Aerie laughed lightly and even the druid could not suppress a smile as Fritha sank into a chair next to her, and Anomen took the moment to sit as well.

'You put much work her way, my raven?' asked Haer'Dalis, looking slightly confused by the amusement of the others and Fritha shook her head.

'No, but looking for you is not the first visit we have made to the sewers recently and Margred has had the pleasure of washing our clothes after each. To be fair, I can imagine it is quite a bother for her. She must have to wash them at least twice, and heat a lot more water than usual. Still, we surely pay for it,' she sighed, absently slipping her hand in her pocket and Anomen suspected she was counting on their payment tomorrow.

Silence hung over the table a moment, Aerie straightening in her chair and turning to their guest.
'S-So, Haer'Dalis, where did you say you were from?'

'I did not, my dove, but to answer your question anyway, I am from ever-changing Hub of the Great Wheel.' He smiled at her confused expression. 'Though, I believe you primes know it best as Sigil.'

'The Cage,' said Fritha, her eyes wide.

'You have heard of it then, my raven? Yes, a few primes pass through the City of Doors on their way about the planes, and it is home to many humans as well as the usual mix of celestials, demons, elementals and, of course, my kind.'

'Your kind?' repeated Aerie.

'Yes, my dove, I am what is known as plane-touched.'

'You're a tiefling,' said Fritha before she could seem to stop herself and instantly went pink.

Haer'Dalis glanced to her, an eyebrow raised before slowly nodding.

'Yes, one does not necessarily mean the other, but yes, you have no doubt sensed it. My father was of the lower planes, a demon.'

A silence fell over the table, and Anomen watched as everyone seemed to glance warily back to him, as though waiting for him to leap from his chair with a shout of 'Back, fiend!'

Anomen frowned.

'A man should not be judged on the bearing of his father, only on his own actions.'

Which, Anomen considered, had done little to give him a good opinion of the actor so far, but every man's mistakes should be his own. The table, though, seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief, everyone smiling and nodding, while Fritha sent Anomen the warmest of smiles.

Haer'Dalis watched as Fritha beamed across the table at the knightling, before glancing back to the girl at her side, thanking Nalia as she poured her some tea. This was an interesting group he had fallen in with, make no mistake, and it made for a pleasing distraction from the worries he had been facing lately. Especially its contingent of pretty young girls, he considered, as he watched the two red-heads talked quietly over their cups.

And then there was the elf too, Haer'Dalis mused, letting his eyes fall to the girl next to him. She had been fair in Mekrath's cell, but that was nothing when compared to seeing her in the sunlight, hair shining gold in its glow, her eyes clearer than the waters Oceanus; he had met aasimar who had made less of an impression. She glanced up to catch him watching and smiled even as she blushed deeply.

The primes were a strange lot. It had taken him years to learn to read them, their actions often contradictory to what they said or even believed.

Haer'Dalis smiled back, feeling the weight of the gem they had retrieved from Mekrath in his pocket. Perhaps he should have returned to the theatre straight away, this delay could be leaving the others in danger and the unfamiliar sensation of guilt rose along his spine, though he quelled it quickly. If the bounty hunters were that close then there was little hope for them anyway, and oblivion came to all things; if this was their time, then so be it.

Haer'Dalis leant back in his chair, laughing along with the rest of them at something Fritha had said, though he had not heard what it was, his mind caught up wondering about how the troupe had faired in his absence. Would Raelis have been worrying about him?
She had sent this group to find him, after all, he reasoned hopefully, but Haer'Dalis knew that meant nothing.

He hid a sigh in a slight yawn; the actress had made her feelings more than plain months ago, she had never seen him as anything more than a companion and fellow actor. Raelis had always been kind to him, of course, even after he had told her of his feelings; the unflustered way she could still be around him after he had unburdened his heart to her making him feel all the worse.

Haer'Dalis glanced back to the group about him, the maid arriving to set dishes on the table before them, everyone chattering genially as they handed about plates and served each other food. He would be leaving this plane soon and likely for a while, though whether he found the idea pleasing or not, he couldn't quite decide.

'So, Haer'Dalis,' Fritha continued mildly as Aerie handed him a plate and he served himself some rice, 'is Raelis a tiefling as well?'
Haer'Dalis glanced up sharply; this girl certainly seemed more perceptive than the usually clueless primes.

'Well, yes,' he confessed, 'you sensed it in her?'

Fritha shrugged.
'Not as such,' she began slowly, a frown furrowing her brow as she tried to explain herself, 'it's just nature here, on the Prime Material, I mean. Well, nature here it goes.'

'Goes?'

'Like the colours you find together in nature here, well they always suit each other. However odd the combination, they never clash. Like the fierce orange and vivid pink of a sunset, you wouldn't think they'd go together, but they do. But Raelis…' Fritha continued, her eyes distant as she clearly recalled the woman, and Haer'Dalis let his mind bring back the image of his glorious phoenix as the girl spoke. 'She doesn't go. I mean, she is very fair, but her skin is too pale or her hair is too bright or, or I don't know. Something is just a little off…'

'Am I the same?' he asked with genuine curiosity.

'Oh, no,' she continued with a smile, 'I mean blue hair is unusual for people here, to say the least, but it doesn't mean it does not suit you. I mean, you know, it goes…' The girl trailed off, going pink and Haer'Dalis watched her dip her face to her dish. Fritha was clearly sensitive to, or at least very observant of, the world around her.

'What is Sigil like?' asked the elf at his side before he could dwell on this and Haer'Dalis smiled broadly, recalling his home.

'Ah, the City of Doors, my dove, there is nowhere else like it on the planes. An ever-changing anthill where even the streets do not stay the same for long and portals lead off to all corners of the planes, the keys to which could be an object or a phrase or even a tune in your head, all gathered at the top of a spire on the hub of the Great Wheel. And just where it belongs; the true bright centre of multiverse.'

'I cannot imagine the greatest place in all planes is a city,' commented the druid sharply and everyone seemed to share a smile, Haer'Dalis swallowing his irritation and continuing as though she had not spoken.

'Within the city, factions plot and fight, all kept in check by the ruler of Sigil, the Lady of Pain, whose shadow hides a grim death.'

'Which faction do you belong to?' Aerie asked, the quiet awe in voice rather satisfying and he smiled.

'Why the only one that makes sense, my dove! I am a member of the Doomguard. We understand that the multiverse is continually unravelling and since it is unpreventable, we do only what can be done and revel in its slow decay.'

'That's horrible!' cried the elf and Haer'Dalis shrugged.

'Is it so terrible a thing to believe, my dove? If you do not like it, there are other factions to choose from. The Fated hold that if they have something, it belongs to them and the Dustmen believe we are all dead already. And-' he added with a grin, 'I imagine the knightling here would make quite the factotum in the Mercykillers.'

Anomen scowled at him, but said nothing as he continued.

'Ah, Sigil is a city for the peery; the Clueless lasting little more than the time it takes the ink to dry when they're penned in the dead-book, falling as easy prey to more experienced cutters. Yes, life is a wonderful cacophonous medley in the Birdcage.'
'And that makes us the birds, does it?' Fritha laughed. 'Fair enough, and dove I can understand, but raven?'

Haer'Dalis smiled. The title had come to him the instant he had stared up at those polished black eyes in the gloom of Mekrath's storeroom, though he had noticed upon their surfacing that it was not as appropriate as he had first thought, the girl's eyes merely a very dark shade of brown.

'Alas, my raven, perhaps not such an accurate description of you, but it is a rare bird that has such plumage,' he admitted, nodding slightly to her head of amber curls. 'But give me an excuse and I shall gladly re-title you as lark.'

Both Aerie and Fritha coloured at this, the latter shaking her head as she answered hastily.
'No, no, raven is fine, but why are you sparrow?'

'Yes,' agreed Jaheira mildly, 'crow would seem more appropriate the amount of it you do.'

'J-Jaheira!' cried Aerie at his side, while the rest of them dissolved into laughter.

'Really, my raven!' Haer'Dalis complained, the girl hardly able to answer him for laughing. It was bad enough the druid kept disrupting his performance, without her encouraging the woman.

'Oh, no, no,' the girl cried, holding her hands up before her, 'leave me out of this. You may have met your match in Jaheira, bard. As the sages say, he who lives by the sword…'

'Oh, a proverb, my raven?' he smiled, ready to get his own back, 'borrowing another's wit for your own wisdom?'

But the girl just gave another bark of laughter.

'Why not, for I've lent enough of mine out over the years. And I'd watch that sour tone of yours,' she smiled, pointedly spooning up some rice from her dish, 'you'll give yourself indigestion.'

Haer'Dalis laughed along with the others, feeling oddly warmed; he was leaving soon, that much was true, but that did not mean he couldn't enjoy the time he had there.

xxx

And the rest of the afternoon passed by similarly, the actor entertaining them all with stories of the planes and the productions his troupe had performed and for whom, Jaheira and he occasionally sharing crossed words, though they all ended amicably enough, laughter regularly peeling out from the table and Fritha was given the impression the pair were rather enjoying their verbal sparring.

Fritha leant back in her chair watching one of the maids slowly moving about the tavern lighting the lamps, the combination of wine and laughter leaving her feeling slightly giddy.

'Well,' Nalia began next to her, finishing her drink and rising from the table with a sigh, 'I believe we should probably retire if we are to do your embroidery as agreed. Any more wine and I shall not be able to sew straight.'

Fritha sighed too, recalling Nalia's offer of help to embroider her tunic. The three girls had arranged to make a start that night, Nalia helping Fritha brush up her technique and the pair using the opportunity to teach Aerie the basics. Fritha glanced across the table to where Haer'Dalis was sat now talking with Minsc, looking bright and exotic under the glow of the lamps.

Still, a promise was a promise and Nalia really was doing her a favour offering to help. Besides, she considered practically as she eyed her empty cup, she didn't want a headache tomorrow. Fritha sent Nalia a smile and rose as well, the girl nodding once and turning her gaze expectantly to Aerie who seemed not to notice.

'Aren't you coming too, Aerie?' Nalia finally prompted when the elf made no move, Aerie glancing distractedly up at her name.

'Sorry? Oh, no I don't really…'

Nalia frowned slightly, though she seemed more confused than cross.
'But I thought you were interested in learning to embroider?'

Aerie glanced quickly to the man next to her and back to them, and Fritha could not be sure, but her cheeks seemed pinker.

'Yes, yes I am…' the elf reassured her, looking a touch guilty as she continued, 'b-but, you'll be able to work a lot quicker without me and, and there will be other times, won't there?'

Nalia looked hurt, but her voice remained free of an injured tone.
'Yes, of course. Goodnight.'

And without another word, the noblewoman turned, moving swiftly through the press of tables and Fritha followed her, not breaking the silence until they were both in her room, Nalia starting as soon as the door was shut.

'And what was that all about?'

Fritha sighed, sinking gingerly onto the edge of the bed.
'Now Nalia, dearest, don't take it personally, Aerie just,'

'Aerie just spurned our company to spend the evening with that- that actor! We are her friends. She has only just met him. This past tenday Aerie has sought my company every evening, but it seems I am to be replaced at the first opportunity.'

Fritha smiled sympathetically, trying to hold back the grin as she recalled her own outrage when Imoen had behaved similarly back in the Gate. Still, Nalia did seem to be taking the whole thing rather to heart; she had not realised they had grown so close.

'Come now,' Fritha soothed, patting her arm as the girl sank down next to her, 'it was just a plan to gather in your room and sew. Nothing was set in stone.'

Nalia just shook her head, all her anger suddenly gone. 'I do not understand it.'

Fritha frowned. She felt she did, as she considered the way the elf had been watching their guest, though she would have rather not.

'Well,' she continued reasonably, letting her mind drift back to the tavern, the soft glow of the lamps illuminating the bright eyed man now opposite her. 'You can't deny Haer'Dalis is striking to look at and very entertaining, and there is something more than that as well… a certain life to him…'

Fritha awoke to find Nalia watching her with a measured look.

'Fritha, do you like him too?'

Fritha snorted with derision, her stomach lurching.
'No, of course not.'

Nalia didn't look particularly convinced and Fritha didn't blame her, not when she could already feel her face glowing. But to her credit, Nalia pressed her no more on the subject, the two settling down on the girl's bed, lain shoulder to shoulder upon their stomachs with the tunic spread between them. Fritha had already taken the opportunity to sew closed the tears the previous evening and they began the embroidering straight away, Nalia producing a coiled length of dark indigo silk from her bag and demonstrating the first few knots before Fritha tried her hand.

And they spent the rest of the evening together, Fritha working on the tunic's back while Nalia's more skilled hands embroidered the front, the pair chattering as they went and laughingwhen they occasionally caught each others threads. Fritha did not usually feel comfortable talking of Candlekeep, but things were different with Nalia.

The girl's talk of St Hilaria's had awoken a sense of camaraderie in Fritha, the feeling they had had similar upbringings making her past easier to discuss. Fritha knowing she could talk of the difficulties and the joys of growing-up in a very adult and academic environment with a loving but distant father without having to worry about explaining herself, and she found they had much in common.

'There,' announced Nalia proudly, cutting the final thread and sitting to hold the tunic up before her. 'I think the effect is very pleasing.'

Fritha smiled and nodded, sitting as well to run her fingers over the smooth silk ridges of the waves they had fanned between the tears.

'Yes, thanks for your help. I might unpick the first few I did and sew them again,' she said as she considered the lumpy uneven curve of her first-try, 'but all in all, I think it looks really nice.'

Nalia smiled and the mischievous look was back in her eyes.
'Yes,' she agreed mildly, 'perhaps you could wear it when we return to the theatre tomorrow.'

Fritha pulled a face as the girl next to her laughed gently into her sleeve.
'Oh, ha ha, hilarious. Goodnight dearest.'

'Goodnight Fritha.'

xxx

Fritha sighed, moving into her room and laying the newly embroidered tunic neatly over the end of her bed. She had hardly thought of it whilst sewing with Nalia, the warm easy chatter leaving no dark corner for her worries to fester in. But now, in the silence of her room…

She moved listlessly to the window, the sky still yellow on the western horizon, deepening across the arc of the heavens to a faded blue-grey, and she could not help but notice how the shade was an exact match of his hair.

Fritha sighed again. That afternoon in the tavern had been one of the nicest she had spent since she arrived in Athkatla, the stories and laughter that the actor supplied leaving her heart light. There was no getting away from it; she found Haer'Dalis very interesting and, she considered as she recalled Aerie's earnest look, she was not the only one.

A sudden surge of frustration filled her. Why did everything have to be so complicated? It was hard enough working out the depth and sincerity of her own feelings without bringing someone else's into the equation.
You haven't time for this!

That was true enough. She had enough fun worrying about Imoen and money and work and well, everything, without having to start worrying about how her hair looked as well. And, she considered, her own words spurring her on, he was returning to the theatre the next day, so what she or he or even Aerie thought about the whole thing was irrelevant.
You could always visit him there, her mind proffered slyly
Just whose side are you on?

No, no, Fritha continued resolutely, turning from the window to rest her back against the wall, her bed standing large and empty before her. Best just to forget about the whole thing.

But this decision left her feeling more drained than comforted, and she sighed, letting her legs buckle beneath her and sliding down the wall to settle on the floor next to the bed, the gap just wide enough if she bent her knees. She felt small and hidden and comforted by the familiarity of it. It was something she would do in Candlekeep when the world outside became too fraught, just push her bed out from the wall and sit behind it. Slowly she shifted, lay down and closed her eyes.

xxx

Fritha awoke to darkness, sitting quickly to crack her head on something and it was only then she recalled where she was and slowly eased herself out from under the bed. A waning half-moon was pouring light through the open curtains and her limbs cracked unpleasantly as she rose, no better for their rest on the floorboards. She absently promised them a trip to the bathhouse in the morning as she crossed to the window looking out on the darkened street. Not even the drunks were about; she must have slept for hours.

Fritha sighed. They would have to look for more work in the morning; she should really get some proper rest. But her mind was no longer tired and the dust of the floor had left her thirsty, the idea of easing herself back into sleep with some wine sitting well with her and, taking just a moment to re-pin her hair, she was clattering downstairs to the tavern.

The common room was practically empty at that hour, just a few patrons scattered about the room, all hunched over their drinks and paying little mind to anything else, while a lone barman dozed behind the counter. He straightened as she approached though, bidding her to take a seat as he disappeared into the back room for her wine. Fritha turned to move through the jumble of tables, heading for one nearer the window, when a hand caught her sleeve as she passed and, to her shame, she couldn't quite manage to stifle a cry of surprise.

'Oh, your pardon, my lady, I did not mean to startle you,' came a familiar voice and Fritha glanced down to find Anomen sat at the table beside her, a half-drunk mug of ale in his hand and another two empty ones already on the table, and she suspected if it had not been for them he would not have been so bold asto grab her to start with.

'You cannot sleep either?' he confirmed as she sank into the chair opposite and she shrugged.

'I was asleep -I woke up,' she added unnecessarily and Anomen merely nodded.

'You and Nalia retired early.'

'We were embroidering.'

'A pity,' he commented impassively, his voice devoid of any of the warmth his words would have suggested as he continued. 'The evening was an entertaining one; this new acquaintance of ours certainly has a store of anecdotes,' he paused to catch her eye, and Fritha could have sworn she saw his lips twitching. 'I do not believe he stopped to draw breath for the entire evening.'

Fritha shared his smile. So, Anomen did not entirely approve of their flamboyant guest; well, there was a surprise. Still, at least he had seemed to keep the fact to himself before the actor.

'He spoke much after we left, did he?' she asked nonchalantly, interested despite what she had been telling herself but hours earlier.

Anomen nodded, taking another mouthful of ale.
'Indeed he did, though his conversation was rather more… focused from that point on. He and Aerie seemed to build quite a rapport.'

Fritha felt an unpleasant heat in her stomach. Was it just her, or was Anomen watching her more intently than usual?
Or perhaps it's just you have something to hide…

Fritha swallowed the sudden dryness to her throat and smiled.

'Good, I'm glad. I would want our guest to feel welcome. You know,' she continued, as much to draw the attention from herself as to commend him, 'I think you helped with that, as well… saying no one should be judged by their fathers; I'm sure Haer'Dalis appreciated it.'

Anomen raised an eyebrow before turning back to his drink with a frown.
'Perhaps so, though it did me no favours.'

Fritha sent him a confused look and he seemed set to explain when the barman appeared at her shoulder, and a silence fell over the table as the man poured her wine, the girl thanking him, and no one spoke again until he had returned to the bar. Anomen finished his current mouthful, and shook his head.

'I do not usually think on my past for there is much that is best left forgotten, but tonight.' He sighed deeply, eyes trained upon his tankard. 'Tonight, I can not sleep for remembering.'

He paused and silence hung between them again, when suddenly he gave a growl of frustration, slamming his drink down upon the table with a ferocity that startled her.

'The merest thought of my father and I am ill at ease; the man hangs upon my life like a disease!

'Anomen, calm yourself,' she soothed as the barman sent their table a worried glance. Anomen shook his head, though he lowered his voice once more as he continued.

'You do not understand. I told you before how he refused to sponsor my training within the Order, but it that is just one of many times he has stood in my way, trying to exert his control over me just as he did the rest of his life. Lord Cor,' he spat with clear disdain as though he could not think of a less fitting title for the man, 'the man is nothing but a drunk and a tyrant, seeing everything in terms of the money it can fetch, the influence it can effect; the family were but possessions to him. I left for the seminary at the age of thirteen, but even now I am not free of him! How can I be when Moira lives with him still.'

Fritha heard herself gasp.
'Your sister still lives with him?'

Anomen sighed, suddenly weary.
'Yes, Moira refuses to leave him alone in the house. When our mother fell sick and died in my nineteenth year, my father's drinking became worse. I wanted to leave the seminary, not wanting to abandon my sister alone with only the servants for company. But she would not hear of me leaving the priesthood, and refused to desert our father. She believes it is her duty to protect him, even when the problem is of his own making. She is so headstrong and stubborn, but young as well and her determination hides a tender heart. I can only hope he does not treat her too harshly…'

Fritha hid her pained frown in her wine cup, a deep sense of sympathy rising within her. She understood the misery of having one you cared about at another's mercies. The worry and pain it caused you; in the end she often felt it would be a relief to swap places and take on their suffering.

'My only solace is that she was always his favourite; I was too wilful for him, refusing to observe my filial duty as he deemed it, and jump to my father's demands. He hated the idea of me joining the Order, wanted me to follow him into the family mercantile business and when I refused him, he refused to sponsor me as a knight.'

Anomen smiled ruefully. 'I don't think he ever forgave my mother for arranging my admittance through the priesthood. But still he stood in my way when ever he'd the chance; always telling me what a worthless son I was, how the Order would never accept me. But he was wrong and the day did come when I was to be squired.'

He smiled faintly, his eyes distant.
'I remember it so clearly; the pride I felt as I knelt in the great hall with the others who were being accepted that day, the prelate stood before us, paladins and knights lining the walls, all watching.' Anomen's face darkened and Fritha felt her stomach clench.
'And then he appeared. My father, filthy drunk and full of rage, stood at the back of the hall screaming about how I had dishonoured the family. He had to be forcibly removed in the end.'

Anomen shook his head, all the anger suddenly gone as his shoulders slumped. 'I was so ashamed.'

Fritha said nothing; there was really nothing she could say, but he did not seem to need any reply, just speaking his thoughts to someone a help.

'But that was four years go now. Four years,' he sighed dispiritedly, taking another mouthful of ale, 'and it feels as though I have hardly made any progress since then. I know what my superiors say is true; many within the Order have been training for knighthood since their early teens, I should be more patient. And I could, if it was guaranteed but,' he turned his pale blue gaze upon her, his frustration evident. 'But it is not and I just cannot stand the idea of failing and proving my father right!'

'Why did you want to join the Order?' Fritha asked, hoping to recall to him some happier remembrances and she was rewarded with a fond, if absent smile.

'Some of my earliest memories are of my mother telling me about the history of our family, of our ancestors and what they did for the honour of our house. But my favourite were always the tales of her grandfather, my great-grandfather, Lord Iorwerth. He was a noble man, a paladin of Tyr, who travelled Amn in his youth doing great works and helping others. My shield actually belonged to him, brought from my mother's household as part of her dowry and for as long as I can remember I wanted nothing more than to take it up as Iorwerth had, to become a paladin and serve my god and my fellow citizens with strength of arms.'

Anomen shook his head, his smile fading.
'But, it was not meant to be… at least not so simply. I am no paladin, and though a knighthood is not without my grasp, it has been a hard path. I often think of the kindness shown to me, firstly by Sir Ryan Trawl in agreeing to accept me from temple service, and then by Sir Blethyn, the knight who had me squired. If it were not for them, I would not be where I am now and I find my mind dwells upon others who may have found themselves in similar situations, but not have been so blessed. Some provision should be set up within the Order, some way of sponsoring those who come with the same thirst to serve, but without the funds for their training.'

Anomen sighed, a faint smile pulling at his mouth.
'Ah, listen to me, making plans for an Order I have not even been allowed to join yet. You must think me very foolish.'

Fritha smiled warmly. She actually thought it was one of the nicest things she had ever heard Anomen say.
'Not at all,' she answered with conviction, 'such thoughts do you credit. Though,' she continued gently, 'I don't think it can be very healthy to dwell on things like this. You cannot change your father's past behaviour, only how you allow it to affect you.'

She sent him what she hoped was a heartening smile, but the man just sighed again, nodding absently as he went back to his drink. Fritha watched him a moment, his gaze trained on the scratched pitted surface of the table when he suddenly looked up, staring back at her as though seeing her for the first time since she'd arrived.

'Oh, forgive me, my lady,' he sighed, clearly pained, 'you must think me quite selfish, sat here all this time complaining about my own father when yours is…'

He trailed off and she watched him a moment, puzzled, and when his inference finally dawned on her she almost laughed.

'Passed on? Anomen, I'm not so naïve to think that having an unpleasant father is in any way better than not having one at all.'

He considered her thoughtfully a moment.
'I had heard you were an orphan… Did you find it difficult, not having parents when you were younger?'

Fritha shrugged mildly.
'Not particularly. For as long as I can remember there was Gorion. I always knew I was not his, I even remember the day I arrived at Candlekeep, but before that…'
She shook her head, before brightening, her memories warming her.

'So, it wasn't so bad. Imoen didn't have any parents either and we would while away hours together, making up fantastical pasts for them. My mother was a dancer in the elven court of Evereska and my father was a Purple Dragon Knight from Cormyr.'

She laughed, clasping her hands together, pretending to swoon at the romance of it all, and even Anomen managed a smile.

'Of course, Gorion explained later the flaw in my little plan, in that my mother had been a half-elven lady from the court of Ashabenford, but still, it had been fun. I can't think what Imoen's mother had been. I remember her father was a Calimshite rogue who sailed the Lantan run, something we both knew, even at that tender age, was unlikely; she has green eyes and her natural hair colour is light brown. But, we never were ones to let the facts get in the way of a good story.'

She glanced back to find Anomen watching her with an unreadable look.
'You miss her, don't you?'

'Yes. Very much,' she said simply.

'We will find her, my lady.'

She shrugged, dropping her gaze back to her drink. Besides, Imoen was in an asylum. Somewhere they would look after her, care for her, and whether that was true, that is what she believed, had to believe. Because if not, it was like being back on the ship to Balduran's Isle, the storm screaming all about them and that awful panicked helplessness writhing within her. And in that state, Fritha would be neither use nor ornament.

Well, perhaps ornament, she considered, the image of her head mounted in some baronial hall appearing in her mind, dead glass eyes staring out at the world while the nobles beneath commented on her ferocious look and glossy coat.

'My lady?'

She glanced up to find Anomen staring at her, the familiar concern for her mental stability clear in his eyes.

'I'm sorry, my mind was dwelling on Imoen.'

'She is not irretrievable,' he assured, still a hint of the wary to his look.

'No, she is not,' Fritha agreed and as awful as it felt, she wondered for a moment if things would not have been easier if she was. If she had just died as the others had. It was so horrible to imagine her far away facing things alone…

And all the responsibility to find Imoen lay with her. If they failed, it would be all her fault and as time went on, Fritha's thoughts seemed to dwell upon the idea more and more. She lay awake sometimes, the whole world reduced to her darkened bed, the knowledge of it pressing in on her until she found it hard to breath.

'My lady?'

'Yes?' she started, wincing as her voice came shrill and slightly hysterical.

He was looking disturbed again and she toyed with the idea of telling him her thoughts, if only to gain some reassurance. But Anomen did not welcome such confidences and at last she shook her head, rising from her chair with cup in hand.
'I'm tired, I think I'll go back to my room.'

He said nothing, merely nodded and she left to return to that wide dark bed and lie awake till morning.