Disclaimer: I do not own 'Baldur's Gate', 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

Provinces unknown

Aran was not overly pleased with their news, lamenting how many more secrets they could have discovered from Reed had they been given the opportunity. But, as Fritha had argued, Linvail had the information he wanted and much more quickly than any torture could have gleaned it, and the Shadowmaster seemed to realise there was little more he could do, the man upholding his end of the deal with good grace. A ship was already awaiting them at the docks, ready to take them to Spellhold and their final goal: Imoen.

They returned to the inn only to collect the rest of their belongings and the dawn found them back on the docks, a nervous energy building as their group gathered on the quays to watch as a small three-masted barque was made ready for launch in the milky yellow light. They were sailing to Brynnlaw, a very small island a good many leagues off the coast and something of a haven for the local pirates as they worked the trade routes south to Calimshan. Aran had given them a contact on the isle who might have an idea of how to enter the asylum, but after that it was all up to them; fifteen thousand gold certainly did not buy much in way of a rescue in the City of Coin.

Anomen sat on the low wall that bordered the last flight of steps down to the harbour and watched the others gather on the quays proper, Fritha still inside the guildhouse making her last prayer at the shrine. He had lingered with her for a short while, the girl kneeling before the altar with one hand entwined in the cords at her neck as her lips moved in silent prayer, before he had left her in peace, Anomen quite taken with the idea that should he ever be in trouble, the world would find her knelt similarly under Helm's gaze praying so for him.

The clatter of boots on the stone steps behind him and he turned to see the girl herself, light on her feet despite the pack and lute case slung over either shoulder; at least the majority of their equipment and tents could be left at the theatre, considering their destination. Anomen smiled as she took the place next to him, easing the pack gently to the ground at her feet as she laid the case across her knees.

'Not long now then,' she said, drumming the case with excited fingers.

'No, Jaheira says we should expect to leave within the next half hour. You have been on many sea voyages?'

Fritha shrugged. 'Just the one to Balduran's Isle. You?'

He shook his head. 'None before this one.'

'Are you nervous?' she teased playfully. Anomen smiled, taking a moment to consider the question.

'I do not know… perhaps. I would like to watch the sea as a boy and imagine the exotic places that lay just beyond that blue horizon. There is a park north of the river that my mother would take my sister and I, that had views over the harbour. I wish it were the summer, I would take you there for shaved ice. What is it?' he asked, glancing back to find her staring at him.

'Nothing, I've just never heard you say anything like that before, so… wistfully.'

'Truly? I have idle dreams as many as the next man.'

'No, not like that,' she corrected, 'Just before, you would say something like, "Come the summer I shall take you for shaved ice!"

Anomen shrugged, not wanting to give the answer he had: that by the summer she would likely be gone. Fritha let her gaze shift back to the boat before them and Anomen watched her, the silence between them allowing a question he had been mulling over since the night before finally surface.

'Fritha, why did you arrange with Valygar to kill Reed?'

The girl jerked her attention back to him, clearly surprised at his question. 'Is it not obvious? Although it may be a fine line, I much prefer breaking my word and murder to cold-blooded torture.'

'No, I understand why, Fritha -only why did you confide your plans to Valygar and not,' Anomen cleared his throat, feeling embarrassed to continue, 'well, me?'

Fritha returned his gaze gravely. 'Because of what is between us, Anomen. I know you find it difficult to say no to me. When I asked Valygar I knew he would have had no qualms about refusing had he felt the idea went against his principles.'

'And it would have been the same for me,' he assured her. Fritha dipped her face and looked uncharacteristically unsure.

'As you say, but I feel you have accompanied me on a few ventures in the past which you were against -and not so long ago you seemed to agree with me.'

Anomen winced, recalling his words during their very unpleasant exchange after he had been informed of his father's death, the man accusing her of dragging him about the city like he had had no say in the matter.

'I should not have said those things. I was blaming you for my own weaknesses.'

Fritha laughed ruefully. 'I am your weakness. But do not worry, you will not have to bear it much longer –oh, sorry,' she cut in, seemingly appalled by her own flippancy, 'I shouldn't… ah, never mind.'

Down on the quays, Aerie was waving to them, Valygar and Minsc already helping the sailors carry their belongings up the gangplank.

'Looks like we're off; come on, Anomen, say your last goodbye to Amn -for a little while at least.'

Anomen laughed quietly, though as he turned back to gaze up at the docks, a pale gold in the morning light, perhaps a small part of him did feel a pang of nostalgia for that city which was his home.

Their boat was captained by the flamboyant Saemon Havarian, a man of sandy hair and tanned skin who was very aware of his own good looks, his theatrical winks to Aerie and Fritha nothing short of hilarious by the girls' reactions, though Anomen did not look very happy as the Shadowmaster made the introductions. And it seemed with more than a little wariness and quite a few veiled threats that they were entrusted into the captain's care, though Jaheira could understand why; the man's foppish manner belied by the calm calculating cast to his grey eyes. But he seemed serious enough about them reaching their destination, and under a rising sun they set sail from Athkatla, heading westwards with their backs to the dawn.

xxx

Jaheira leaned over the rail, enjoying the feel of the breeze and the refreshing hint of surf it carried, cold though it was. The wind had picked up that night and the morning had dawned bracing and grey, heavy clouds building overhead as a bitter north-westerly driving them over the choppy seas to their destination, which, according to Havarian, was now only a few days away.

They had been three days at sea, long enough to get over any seasickness and fall into the rhythms of life there on the ship. Fritha, along with herself and Minsc, were the only three of their company who had been aboard a ship before, and the life seemed to the suit her, the girl making friends with the crew and most times could find her stood at the prow eagerly waiting to see land.

Minsc was happy too, his talk of revenge yet another, albeit metaphorical, dark cloud looming on the horizon. Allow them to retrieve Imoen, the Cowled Wizards may, but murder another of their prisoners as well? At one time, Jaheira would have been vehement in her instance too, but was vengeance worth the risk? There seemed little point in asking Minsc the same -the man's honour demanded no less for the murderer of Dynaheir. Jaheira sighed; they would just have to see how the land lay when the time came.

She glanced back at the sound of laughter. It was late in the afternoon now, the deck lively with a small group of sailors who were seated with a few of her own companions sharing stories together under the aft mast.

'Here, Jaheira,' called Fritha, the girl knelt up and beckoning for her to join their group, Anomen seated at her side, while Aerie and Haer'Dalis were a few along in the circle, 'come and sit with us.'

'So, four days from Brynnlaw and yer friend if we keep this wind,' confirmed a wizened old sailor as the druid settled, 'the Bitch Queen is smiling on ye.'

Next to him a blond man of middling years was nodding.

'What did your friend do anyway to get herself thrown in with those mad mages?'

Fritha shrugged dully. 'Not much -just in the wrong place at the wrong time.'

The old man gave a shudder. 'Ah, talk about something else, eh, Finch; that asylum gives me the chills.'

The young lad opposite, likely a Turmian by his earthy red skin and dark shock of hair, gave a bark of friendly laughter.

'Chills, is it? Now Finnis, you ent no mage, why are you frightened of the place?'

'Because I'm old and wise enough to be! I was once young and brash just as ye, Juvante, till the world gave me a lesson or two.' He tapped his large crooked nose wisely and the surrounding sailors laughed.

'Oh, aye, tell the story, Finnis.'

'Aye, tell the tale. It's a good un.'

'Tell what tale?' asked Aerie.

'The story of how Finnis first broke his nose,' one of the men explained.

'First would be right. It looks that you have enjoyed the event again at least twice since then,' said Jaheira dryly.

'Ah, right ye are lass, right ye are,' Finnis laughed, 'but those times are nay as funny. All right, ye dogs, I'll tell it,' he sighed, raising a hand for silence. 'Right, 'twere when I were but a young lad of eighteen winters –I were handsome in those days –aye, even as fair as ye, young Juvante, so watch that grin of yers. We were docked in some rough little port town just south of Waterdeep and me and the crew were taking our shore leave the only way we knew how, in this huge old tavern set right on the quays. Now 'tis late in the evening and I am propping up the bar, when I notice this fine lass at the other end beginning to give me the eyes. I am more than goggling back, when the innkeep, gods rest him, leans over to give me a bit of advice. Be careful friend, says he, she has a man, a captain who is docked here in the town and he will not take kindly to ye dallying with his woman. Ha! says I, all fearless with youth and ale, she is a free lady with no ring on her finger. If she wishes to have me please her, who am I to deny it?

'Well, an hour later, and she is sat upon me knee, us laughing and carrying on as the ale flows like the sea I just left, when there's this almighty roar from over the tavern. She's off me lap quick as a hare and I'm on me feet to greet this huge red-bearded Northlander who's stood filling the doorway. Ye there! He bellows, looking as drunk as I felt, me crew have been telling tales of some fool of a boy who's been carrying on with me woman. Well, the tavern is silent about me; what am I, a callow boy of eighteen winters to do?'

Finnis paused a moment for effect before admitting with a laugh, 'I goes to front it out, of course! She is a free woman and I'll do as I please! Well, this Northlander just laughs. Oh will ye now? I'll take that impudence from yer hide with me fists, boy! All right, I says, sounding leagues braver than I feel, outside, mate! So there we are, stood in the street, all the men and lasses pressed up against the windows watching. Ha! There was me thinking we are to have a bit of a brawl, when he takes up a bottle from the wall behind and smashes it! Well, this fella takes a swing at me with it and, gods, would ye not believe it, I goes and kicks that jagged bottle straight out his hand! I felt like screaming thanks to the heavens, I was so relieved. And then the bastard only goes and draws a dagger from his boot! I'm gonna cut yer ears off, he says and I am surely believing by this point, but as I back into the wall behind me, I find me hand close about a loose brick. Well, 'tis better than nothing, I think, so I heft it up and away we go at each other, the pair of us wrestling and kicking.

'He trips me and down we go, him on top of me and me with tight hold of his hands lest his bring across that knife and cut me throat and I remember thinking to meself, if I were him now I'd break me nose. Smack! And down comes his forehead on to me poor fine beak. Well, pain gives great incentive. I shoved him off and we both rise panting, and I decided 'tis time to make peace, 'fore I lose any other bits of meself I'm partial to. Come now friend, I called ye out and ye beat me fair as fair, and bloodied me to boot. Why not put the knife away and we can go in and have a drink together. Well, he took some convincing, but, at last, he nodded, bending slightly to put the dagger back to his boot and I stood there, weighing that brick in me hand and the resentment rising in me heart and I thought: ye broke me bloody nose! Whack!' Finnis mimed clouting his opponent's dipped head with the brick and the deck erupted with laughter. It was not a story, though, that everyone found amusing.

'Was he all right?' gasped Aerie. Finnis nodded wisely.

'To be sure, flower –when he woke up, of course.'

And her concern was lost in another round of laughter.

'You did not find your attack perhaps dishonest?' offered Anomen coolly, Jaheira noticing more than one in their circle roll their eyes, Fritha included, the men raising their voices in the old sailor's defence.

'Ah, he got what he earned; never turn your back on a tar, as they say.'

'Especially, when ye've just brained 'im.'

'Aye,' agreed Finnis, 'and though it cost a dozen broke noses I say, Never leave a woman wantin'!'

'An admirable sentiment,' laughed Fritha over the chorus of wild approval, 'though perhaps never leave a wanton woman would fit just as well with your tale.'

Roars of laughter, Finnis beaming at her with his crooked-teethed smile. 'Eee, Fritha, yer a right funny lass. I'd take a broken nose for ye any day.'

…

They stayed there on the deck until the sun set, the dull sea a rich molten red as the dusk drew in and everyone moved down to the galley for dinner, most of their company retiring soon afterwards, though the cold had not confined everyone below decks. Aerie leant back against her pack, gazing up the night sky and wondering how strange it would be to look up at different stars –or perhaps even no stars at all. She smiled, dropping her attention back to her studies as the man at her side turned a page in the play he was reading, the rustle of his book reminding her of her own.

Her continuing research into rune magic was usually enough to hold her interest, though that evening she was finding it more difficult to focus than usual. Just another tenday, and they would be back in Athkatla, and she and Haer'Dalis would be making preparations for their passage to Sigil. Aerie could not think about it for long without feeling a wild thrill of excitement. A year, even a few months ago, she would not have even dreamt of such an adventure, and it was as though her life was suddenly opening before her, blossoming with opportunities she had never before considered. And perhaps she was not alone in that either…

Across the deck, Anomen and Fritha were seated under the foremast, her between his knees with his cloak about them both and bathed in the golden light of the lantern above as she showed him how to play her lute. Aerie had heard him quietly pressing her for a song earlier, though the girl had refused his every request and it seemed this was her compromise, her fingers over his as she showed him different chords.

'What has you smiling so?' came the man next to her, Haer'Dalis following her gaze to grin wickedly, 'Oh, I see: a music lesson. Perhaps this bard should go and lend his skill, as well.'

'Oh, don't tease them, Haer'Dalis,' Aerie tutted, smiling as she added, 'I think they look very nice together.'

She glanced back to where they were sitting, Anomen's head over her shoulder as Fritha quietly explained some technique, the man looking perhaps less than focused on the lesson as he leaned closer his eyes seemingly drawn to the earlobe that was now just inches from his lips. Aerie beamed, barely suppressing a squeal. 'Ah, were we ever so sweet?'

Haer'Dalis snorted as Fritha brought her distracted pupil round with a slap to the leg.

'Anomen! Are you listening?'

The nearby sailors were laughing gruffly, but Anomen just laughed along with them, briefly tightening his arms about the girl and planting a firm kiss at her temple, Fritha giggling, as well, as she continued sternly, 'You asked to be shown, now pay attention.'

'Yes, Aerie, very sweet,' laughed Haer'Dalis, turning back to throw an arm about her and return to his book, the elf shifting closer to nestle against his shoulder. 'Like Tasitus and Penelope given form.'

Aerie frowned, trying to bring the play to mind. 'Doesn't one of them die?'

'No, no, my love, you are thinking of Tarquis and Ulsa.'

'There are too many romantic tragedies,' Aerie sighed absently, pulling her cloak about her and going back to her studies, 'I prefer happy endings.'

The arm about her tightened, Haer'Dalis seemingly surprised by his own admission as he confessed, 'You know, sweet Aerie, so do I.'

xxx

'By Sil- I cannot believe you have won again, Aerie!'

'Tymora is with me today.'

'Tymora? Why let her take the credit? It is sheer skill, my love.'

'Boo says it takes both for cards.'

'Anomen, do you want to play a round?'

'Sorry?' Anomen turned from where he was sitting on the deep-cushioned sill gazing out the mullioned windows, the grey seascape beyond distorted and rippling behind the uneven diamonds of rain-streaked glass. Aerie was staring up at him, Jaheira's Talis deck in hand, the druid herself as well as Minsc, Valygar and Haer'Dalis all watching him similarly as she repeated, 'Would you like to join us?'

'Oh, no thank you, my lady.'

They returned as one to their game, Anomen going back to the windows, their chatter lost in the squeak of the lantern swinging above them, the patter of the rain on the glass and the roar of the ocean outside.

They were coming to the end of their seven-day voyage and the last day or so had found Fritha's enthusiasm quite faded. She was more agitated now, the resumption of her nightmares making her tired and irritable. He had tried to speak to her of it, her more open moments finding her confiding to him of her worries: that she would reach the asylum to find Imoen long dead, Fritha struggling with the conflicting desires of wanting to be their to face her fear and yet being scared to find out the truth, and she spent most her time with old Finnis who would distract her with stories or songs, her lute thrumming in harmony with his old wooden flute.

As for that morning, Anomen had not seen her since breakfast. He had thought the bell for lunch may have brought her out of hiding, but the cook had seen no sign of her and Anomen had wandered dispiritedly back to the others who had gathered in the women's cabin playing cards.

'Was it tomorrow morning Saemon believes we will dock?' asked Aerie, her small hands continuing to shuffle the deck as she spoke. Valygar shrugged.

'If this wind holds.'

'Good, Boo does not trust this captain. His mouth smiles, but his eyes are cold.'

'Ah, we'll be out of here soon, Minsc,' appeased Jaheira, 'and Imoen will be back with us-'

'Yes, and we may take our revenge upon the mage! Dynaheir, you will have your retribution!'

A pause as a round of dark looks were shared about the Rashemi.

'Right, who's playing?' asked Aerie pointedly.

A chorus of assents. Anomen rose stiffly, his temples beginning to throb.

'I am going to take some air.'

The narrow hallway was cool and quiet though, and he considered that perhaps the peace of his room was all he really needed to shake the feeling, the man walking a few paces along to the next door and opening it on the small cabin he shared with Minsc, both beds empty while at the far end, curled about the large chest that served as table to them both, was Fritha, a blanket of auburn curls covering her as she slept. A nap had likely not been her intention though, not by the book that was resting open on the floor under her hand, and Anomen approached to crouch before her, the girl starting as he moved to ease the book from her fingers.

'Oh, Anomen, it's you,' she started, scrubbing her eyes, 'You gave me a fright.'

'I am sorry. You shouldn't leave your books like that, you know; I hear it ruins the spine.'

She laughed wryly, closing the book and lazily batting his arm with it. Anomen smiled.

'I thought you would be with Finnis, dearest.'

'No, he's helping Betrum secure the cargo in case this rain blows into a storm,' she answered, straightening with a wince and a shake. 'So why are you here?'

'They are all playing cards in your room and noisily enough to give me a headache.'

'Ah, poor dear,' she sighed, still smiling as she beckoned him closer, Fritha raising herself on to her knees as she patted the space before her. 'Come on, come sit here with your back to me. Cernd showed me this –now, drop your head forward.'

He did as instructed, her resting hands on either shoulder as strong thumbs worked down the back of his neck in small neat circles.

'Fritha… how soon do you plan to leave Athkatla once you have Imoen back?'

He could sense her pause, though there was no halt to her fingers.

'I'm not sure. A lot will depend on her. She may need time to recover, or not want to go travelling straight away –it is winter after all.'

'You will both stay in Athkatla then?'

He felt rather than saw her shrug. 'For the time being.'

'Then I would like to offer for you both to stay in my house. As you say, Imoen may still be recovering… she would be better in a stable environment rather than some inn. I, myself, have a room at the Order, so I will not be in your way.'

Fritha was silent, her hands motionless on his shoulders, Anomen hastening to add, 'You do not have-' He stopped as she sat abruptly back on her haunches, her face suddenly lain between his shoulder blades and he could feel her words all through his back.

'Thank you, Anomen… for everything.'

She slept the night in there with him, just lain upon his bed together as clothed as they had been when he had first arrived, Minsc snoring the bunk opposite. Anomen had fallen asleep quite quickly, though Fritha laid awake for a good while longer, just staring out into the darkness thinking about things and all the decisions that had brought her to that moment. His arm was resting under her in the narrow gap between the pillow and her shoulder, his chest against her back. Their breathing was at different rates and, every now and then, it would harmonise, both drawing a breath together, a pleasant pressure building between them.

Fritha knew she wanted to travel, her desire to see all of Faerûn and beyond it quite unchanged, but would it be so terrible to stay in Athkatla once they returned, at least for a little while?

Though there were still the dangerous and, likely now, very angry vampires to contend with, she was no longer hunted by the Harpers, and perhaps it would be nice to stay in one place for a while, to live in Anomen's house and maybe help him to get his estate up and running… It could be hard and there would still likely be danger, but she would be with him and perhaps that would make it all worth it.

xxx

They docked with the dawn, the deck bustling as the sailors hurried from task to task, readying ropes and furling sails, the gulls wheeling in a cold grey sky. Fritha stood at the prow waiting for the gangplank to be lowered, her gaze fixed on the wooded crags and cliffs of the island and the ornate, many-towered manor that loomed there, another world away from the squat whitewashed houses that huddled about the harbour before her on wide, tiered streets that reminded her of the Athkatlan docks. The others were assembling behind her, eager to be away.

'Where did Linvail say we were to meet him?'

'The Vulgar Monkey –Where is that?'

'Well, m'lady, it can be found…'

Fritha let the voices fade as the captain began his directions, a warm presence arriving at her back, though she did not need to turn give the man a name.

'Soon, young Fritha.'

'Yes.'

'Boo says, little Imoen is strong; she will be well.'

Fritha squeezed the hand that had been placed about her own. 'I know.'

Minsc sighed, releasing her to move closer to the prow, his dark eyes narrowed as he took in the quays before them, men hurrying back and forth with cargo and spoils from their last raid, while others laid dead drunk in doorways as they slept off the night's excesses.

'This place reeks of wrongdoing.'

'We will not be here long.'

'You two,' shouted Jaheira behind them, Fritha turning to see the woman stood at the waiting gangplank, 'we go.'

The Vulgar Monkey was on the second tier up from the quays and quite lived up to its name, the tavern just a single cramped room, crammed with as many tables as could fit with space enough for the chairs around them, every surface covered in a greasy film of pipesmoke and spilt ale. Jaheira was at bar asking after their contact, Sanik, who, according to Aran, was in trade with Spellhold and would likely know of a way in. Fritha could feel a tense excitement quivering through her. They were so close now; just hours and she would see Imoen again, and Fritha decided quite suddenly that whatever state they found her in, as long as Imoen was alive, all would be well –she would ensure it.

But over at the bar, the stout innkeep was shaking his scarred shaven head. 'Sanik? Why, you're two hours too late, lass.'

Jaheira frowned. 'You mean he has left?'

'I mean he's dead! Happened in this very bar.' He pointed a fleshy hand to the corner where a dark red splatter stained the wall and traced a path through the tables. 'See, you can still see the trail from where they carried his body back down to his ship.'

'What happened?' asked Fritha.

'Some sort of bar fight?' offered Aerie, looking as though she could quite believe as much from their surroundings. The innkeep shook his head.

'Nah, Sanik wasn't the sort to cause trouble –at least not like that. It was Galvena; she had him assassinated -and in my very tavern, the uppity bitch!'

'And who is Galvena?' asked Valygar; at least one of them was losing patience with the barkeep's tale.

'Umberlee's teat, you are new!' the man laughed. 'Galvena owns the local whorehouse. She's as much power here as the Pirate Lord, Desharik, though none would dare say so. She runs that brothel with a firm hand -you'd have to, with her clients being who they are- though she treats her girls little kinder. That fool Sanik went and fell in love with Clare.'

'One of the courtesans?' confirmed Anomen. The innkeep laughed, the knight's civility amusing him enough to mimic it.

'Oh, not just one of her courtesans; Clare is the courtesan! There's not a man on this isle who hasn't dreamt of a night in her arms –had he only the coin to afford it. Rumour has it the girl loved Sanik, too. They hatched a plan to run away together and look where it has got them: him dead and her locked up tight in the whorehouse, while Galvena makes her an example to any other girl foolish enough to try and cross her.'

'Will she kill her?' gasped Aerie.

'Oh, doubt it,' he answered with an indifferent shrug, 'not with the coin she brings in. But there are many abuses that do not leave lasting scars and, if I know Galvena, she'll know them all! You know,' he considered, sending their group an appraising look, 'I don't doubt the girl would be very grateful for some outside help and she may even be able to return the favour –her and Sanik were close, so they say.'

'And I suppose you would not mind sending some trouble back Galvena's way after her little spectacle in here, eh?' confirmed Fritha.

The innkeep laughed quite unashamedly. 'Right you are, lass!'

'What do we think then?' murmured Fritha, their group moving from the bar as the innkeep turned to serve his other patrons, 'Worth a shot?'

'Boo says this Galvena needs to be shown that people are not property!'

'Agreed,' nodded Jaheira firmly. Fritha sighed, but forced a smile. Soon…

'Well, off we go then.'

...

The brothel had been obvious on arrival, a large building on the northern end of the quays, a company of men and women already stood outside wearing a lot of make-up and not much else for so early and cold a morning.

'Our first step should be getting inside,' murmured Jaheira, their group gathered a few yards along the docks for this final briefing. 'They will likely have guards, so stealth will be our ally here.'

'We could attend as patrons,' offered Haer'Dalis. Fritha clapped her hands together smartly.

'Right, well, I'm probably the best person, since I've had more than my fair share of experience in this sort of thing. Ah now, Anomen,' she forestalled as the knight drew a frowning breath, 'a lady doesn't kiss and tell.'

And before anyone could halt her, she had marched the short distance over to the tight-trousered, thin-shirted youth stood touting his wares on the edge of their group, the lad giving a shrill yelp of surprise as she slapped him soundly on the backside.

'Hey now, my lovely, how's about you and I step over here for a little chat?'

Jaheira rolled her eyes. 'Silvanus, give me strength… Anomen, are you laughing?' she demanded, the man next to her clearly fighting against it as he snorted into a large hand.

'By Helm, she is awful!'

Jaheira smiled; she had never felt so fond of the boy.

'Hey, you lot,' Fritha shouted from the end of the quays, 'we've reached a price, and guess what –group discount!'

Anomen looked distinctly less amused.

They followed the lad through the two doors at his back and down the long hallway beyond, past a door that was wedged open on the very lively tavern, especially considering the hour, and upstairs, the rest of their journey a maze of hallways with doors set every few paces, until he finally opened one.

'Er, if you would step in here, my lady,' he instructed, the lad seemingly daunted by their numbers as he continued nervously, 'Perhaps your friends-'

'They will join me,' Fritha interrupted smoothly, 'we will all take wine together before you and I begin.'

'Ah, yes… Well, my lady, would you like to make yourself conformable?' he offered, gesturing to the scatting of cushions that surrounded the low table, that and the bed the only furniture in there, the peeling red walls making the small room feel even more oppressive. 'Perhaps I should send for the other courtesans now?'

'Actually, there's been a change of plan. We're here to see Clare.'

'Clare? Oh, you- you are here to help her?' the lad cried and, for a moment, Fritha thought him upset when a great smile lit his young face. 'Oh, how wonderful! But you may already be too late! She is behind punished in Galvena's quarters, but Galvena is mad with anger and Clare is refusing to ask for forgiveness; one of the guards told me she plans to kill her!'

'Where is her room?' demanded Jaheira.

'Come, I will take you now,' he continued hurriedly, stepping back out into the corridor to lead the way, 'though there will likely be many guards; Galvena was worried about something like this happening –Clare is well liked upon this isle -a prize for any captain if he had the will and means to rescue her.'

'Rescue or acquire her?' asked Anomen coolly. The lad shrugged.

'I doubt even she would care overly much which right now, m'lord. There,' he pointed to the corner they had just reached, 'it's the door at the end and Tymora be with you.'

Fritha edged closer, risking a glance around it to see a group of six guards stood at the end of the long corridor, talking quietly amongst themselves as they lounged against the walls, picking their nails and looking bored. Well, this would likely liven up their day.

'How do we proceed?' asked Jaheira behind her, Fritha turning back with a grin.

'It's going to have to be Minsc's favourite: a frontal assault. Haer'Dalis and I will try and get through the fighting into Galvena's room before she kills the girl.'

The guards glanced up as they approached, a couple already drawing weapons as one bellowed, 'Stand ready, men!'

Fritha drew her own blade, knowing it was pointless to warn then, though she felt compelled to, if only for tradition's sake.

'We're here for Clare; stand aside!'

Yes, utterly pointless, thought Fritha, as the roar went up, the girl behind Anomen and Minsc as they charged, Valygar's arrows whipping overhead. The men met in a clash of metal, the narrow corridor hampering the fight somewhat, Fritha hanging back with Haer'Dalis until they were given their chance, Anomen, taking out one guard with his mace while pressing another two back with his shield, and they were through.

The door shut behind them and they stopped, not even the sounds of the battle just outside breaking the stillness, and they could have been in another world as they stood in that large silent room. Haer'Dalis glanced about them and raised an eyebrow; a sentiment with which Fritha could only silently agree. Galvena clearly used the same architects as Deril. The floor was tiled with great slabs of polished blue-veined marble, two scarlet chaise longues set either side of a table in one corner, while a huge canopied bed with rich purple throws and hangings rested in another, every stick of furniture gilded and lacquered with little thought as to cost or even taste.

Voices were echoing in from the doorway opposite, the shadows hiding much of the smaller room it opened on to, though, from what she could see, it was tiled throughout and Fritha suspected it was the washroom.

'Beg for forgiveness and I may yet spare you!' crowed a matronly voice, the woman's magnanimous offer marking her as Galvena.

'I ask for nothing of you!' cried another, younger and hoarse in her defiance, 'I would spit on your name, but the very act is beneath me!'

'Impudent wench!

An echoed shriek as something was slapped.

'Again!'

The sound of splashing water, as though some poor sea creature was netted and thrashing in its distress, and Fritha felt suddenly sick. A torture that left no marks…

'Enough!'

Something drew a great gasping breath, no pause to the rough panting as Galvena spoke again. 'Know, Clare, you will die this day, just as that pathetic merchant of yours did. Again!'

And again the sound of splashing water. Fritha had had quite enough of this.

'Galvena!'

'What? Go and see who that is, Vedek.'

The third, and so far silent, player put his head around the door, the weathered face twisting with surprise as he found them.

'Ah, Galvena?'

'What is it?' she snapped and the door was suddenly throw wide to reveal a slim, tall woman of middling years, faded red hair curling about a face which could have almost been considered handsome had it not borne such an air of cruelty. Vedek sent her a smile, a hand hovering over the blade at his hip.

'It appears we've guests, m'lady.'

'Oh, you are quite mistaken, my hound,' corrected Haer'Dalis cheerfully, 'not guests, but interlopers.'

'And we are here for Clare,' added Fritha. Galvena looked outraged.

'You will receive only death!'

There was to be plenty of death found there, but it was Galvena who was to be on the receiving end, Vedek stepping up to give the woman a chance to summon her magics, though it did little to help either of them in the end. Fritha leapt forward, Haer'Dalis close behind her as she attacked the guard's flank, forcing him to turn and leaving Galvena open to the tiefling's paired blades. The magic of the spell died just moments before she did, Haer'Dalis now behind Vedek and his fate was sealed as well.

'Who are you?' came a voice from the shadows, not frightened but wary and Fritha glanced up to see the outline of a woman stood in the gloom of the washroom.

'Friends,' she answered and the shape shifted, finally stepping into the light to reveal a pale heart-shaped face, a red handprint already blossoming on one cheek, long dark hair plastered to her face, chest and arms as she stood shivering in just a drenched linen slip. The young woman smiled tentatively, soft full lips quirking and Fritha considered, even stood there soaked and bruised, she had never seen anyone quite so pretty in her life.

'Well, friends, I am Clare.' She glanced to the two dead bodies, her forehead marred with the slightest frown before she straightened to look round at them all. 'I think perhaps we should take tea.'

Haer'Dalis stepped forward to sweep the ornate quilt from the bed and offer it to her as mantle, the girl wearing it with the air of a queen as she led the way back out into the hallway. Those few guards still alive had surrendered by this point, though all straightened as they saw Clare, the woman informing them that Galvena was dead and she would be retiring to her room to change -and would they please send a servant along with tea for her and her allies. It was like they had entered another world, the three guards merely bowing respectfully and moving off down the hall, and it was clear to Fritha as they set off in the opposite direction, that Clare was a woman of great power in that place.

'In here, please,' Clare said finally, opening a door and standing back to allow them to enter a large and airy chamber. It was beautifully decorated in pale plaster and dark woods with hangings and cushions of brightly coloured silk, the only testament to her profession: a large canopied bed in the far corner, the hangings drawn about it as though to veil an unseen occupant.

'Please, have a seat,' said Clare, gesturing to a long low table and the cushions that surrounded it, and they sat as she moved behind an ornate set of screens, the rustle of her clothes as she changed the only sound.

'There,' she announced, stepping back around to reveal herself now tidied and clad in a simple brown dress, the rich weight of the fabric belying the plainness of design as she sank onto the cushions with them.

'Well, first, I must thank you for your timely intervention. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, you surely saved my life. How on Toril did you know to come for me?'

'The innkeep at the Vulgar Monkey told us of you and Sanik,' explained Fritha quietly. The woman nodded, her eyes downcast.

'Galvena told me of the assassination when she first captured me and it sealed my fate as well as Sanik's. Once I knew, I would have rather joined him in death than given Galvena the satisfaction of an apology.'

A knock at the door, a guard and servant entering at the courtesan's command, the latter setting a tray of cups and a teapot on the table, before both bowed and left without a word. Clare knelt up slightly, serving out the tea apparently without a thought, but Fritha could see the table exchanging glances and, at last, Aerie spoke up.

'Clare… why is everyone being so…'

'So…?' the woman repeated, before realisation seemed to dawn, 'So obliging? Well, why would they not? Galvena is dead by your hand; I suspect they think I hired you to rescue me and take revenge for Sanik. They are no longer Galvena's guards, if she is dead; the first rule of Brynnlaw,' she added, with a bitter smile, 'there is no loyalty, there is only gold. But the question still remains, since I am very aware I did not hire you, why you did come to my aid?'

'We wished to speak with Sanik,' said Jaheira, 'we learnt he made deliveries to Spellhold and we wanted to ask him about a possible way we could enter. When we found he was dead and that you were his lady, we wondered if he had mentioned to you of a way.'

'You wish to get into the Asylum?' Clare cried, 'Well, you shall be the first!'

'It is not so much that we wish to get in,' explained Fritha, 'more that we want to get someone out; my friend is being imprisoned there.'

'I see. Well, you are correct that Sanik used to deliver goods there, but I doubt he could have told you a way to enter; the path is warded with many spells which they would lift for him.'

'So we are stuck,' sighed Fritha impatiently. But Clare was sending the blue porcelain teapot before her a contemplative frown.

'Not quite…. Sanik could not have helped you, but I can. Desharik, the lord of this island has the authority to send people who displease him there and was once one of my most devoted patrons -there was even talk of him wanting to keep me on a permanent basis, but Galvena would not sell me and he took a lady of his own in the end. My name still carries weight with him though. Present yourself at his hall, the large whitewashed building on the eastern cliffs, and say I have sent you. That should get you an audience, though the rest will be up to you.'

'What will you do now Sanik is gone?' asked Fritha, Aerie hastening to add, 'We will help you to escape, if you wish.'

'Escape?' Clare repeated, looking surprised, 'Well, I thank you for the offer, but there seems little to escape from now Galvena is dead.'

'But- but surely you wish to escape from your life here as a…'

'Whore?' the woman supplied, an eyebrow arched, and the elf coloured. Claire smiled kindly. 'My dear, I can see why you may think it not something I should wish to continue in. In fact, for those forced into it by poverty or more martial methods, I imagine it would be an awful existence, but it was not so for me. This is all I have known since I was brought here as a child, and I take no displeasure in it. I was well-educated, versed in music and the arts, given fine clothes, perfumes, wines; it was not a life that held any discomfort for me. Yes, I was expected to earn these luxuries, but,' she shrugged delicately, 'work is work.'

'Well, really,' blustered Anomen, 'that attitude is rather-'

'Mercenary?' Clare enquired, smiling discreetly, and Fritha was forced to bite back a laugh as Anomen coloured too.

'No, on the whole, I enjoyed my time here and there is a certain pride that comes from knowing there are men who will pay an entire month's earnings for just one evening of your company.'

'Then why try to leave?' asked Jaheira. Clare sighed and took a sip of tea.

'I grew tired of it. I wished for simpler joys: a husband and children. I had met Sanik by this point; he showed a quietness of affection that stirred me and I decided that of all those I had ever known, he would be the one.' She paused, a fleeting look of intense regret crossing her face, but Fritha blinked and it was gone. 'It was only when I tried to leave that problems arose. I explained to Galvena I was quite happy to buy my way out -I had already saved enough in gifts and tokens over the years to buy myself twice over. But she would have none of it. I believe she always saw me as a surrogate daughter. I was certainly as close as she let anyone -that is probably why she took my wishing to leave so badly. Sanik and I hatched a plot of escape and when she discovered it, he was murdered and I was summoned to her for punishment. I suppose I should have been grateful –any of the other girls she would have likely killed outright for such disloyalty. I know it must seem awful,' Clare continued at their assorted looks of dismay, 'her cruelty here -the way she treated the women as slaves, letting them keep little more than their tips- was deplorable. But you must understand, life had treated Galvena no better in her youth; she became like she was to survive, nothing more. She was a product of this life and I can sympathise.'

It was in a contemplative silence they finished their tea, Clare gliding over to the bell pull to summon the server once more and arrange a meeting of all in the kitchens downstairs, where she announced Galvena's death and the equal distribution of the brothel coffers to great applause.

Outside, the sun had already passed its zenith and had begun its western descent. Fritha was standing on the quays, just staring across the bustling harbour and back out to the sea that had carried her there, though she glanced up as Clare arrived at her side, the woman dressed for travel in heavy fur-lined cloak and gloves, the hood drawn up over her still damp hair.

'Here, Fritha,' she smiled, handing her a large leather purse by way of greeting, 'your half of Galvena's gold; there is none here who would say you did not earn it. I have already distributed the rest among the women. Some plan to leave, others to stay and run the brothel themselves; the guards hardly care for whom they work as long as they're paid.'

'So what do you intend now?' asked Fritha, noticing the growing pile of chests that were being stacked at the woman's back by the guards, a pair of sailors carrying them one by one up the gangplank a few paces along the quays behind them.

'I have still my passage arranged from when Sanik and I planned our escape; I will go to the mainland on his old ship, see he is given a decent burial and then seek my fortune there. Galvena always said I was wasted here, I suppose now I shall get to see if she was right. Here, Fritha, I would like you to have this, it would do me well to think of you with it.' The woman passed her a small velvet-wrapped bundle, Fritha uncovering a long golden hairpin, a camellia blooming on the bridge in a filigree of scrolling metal, its centre a cluster of tiny freshwater pearls. 'It was given to me by an older gentleman who once sought my company. Such a dear man, he did not wish to lie with me, only to talk and listen to me play my harp. Said I reminded him of his daughter whom sickness had claimed some years before. Bless his soul; I did not even charge him in the end. Present it to Desharik's guards as proof of my favour –he knows of its significance to me.'

Fritha nodded, rather touched by the gesture when a mere note could have served just as well. 'I shall wear it.'

Clare smiled, nodding as one of the sailors muttered something at her shoulder about it being time. 'Well, I must go. I will remember you in my prayers, Fritha, you and your friend both.'

'My thanks, Clare, and if you ever get as far as the Gate, remember me to Rosalind.'

The woman smiled and she was gone.

'Fritha!'

The girl turned to see Jaheira stood further down the quays, the others gathered at her back. 'Come; we go!'

Their meeting with Desharik was brief, the pin Clare had given her getting them the audience they desired, the dark-skinned and surprisingly polite Pirate Lord taking a moment to ask after the lady, the man seemingly disappointed by the news she had already left for the mainland. Their requested entry into Spellhold was a cause for some concern, the pirate very keen not to do anything to cross his mage hosts. But strange noises and lights had been seen over the asylum for the past tenday and Desharik seemed quite relieved to hand over the wardstone that would grant them safe passage to the doors, the man asking only that, should they survive to return to Brynnlaw, they bring him news of what had been happening up there.

They set out. Desharik's house was situated on the highest terrace of that tiered harbour and it was only one more set of steps up onto the cliffs proper, the way to the asylum a clear shingle path through a forest of twisting pines and olive trees that grew across the rocky hillsides.

An a hour or so later and they left the trees, and there it was, towering over them, that great granite manor, its many spires peppered with small windows, the glass glinting like jewels in the sinking sunlight. Spellhold was not quite part of the main island, set precariously on the head of a rocky stack that had long been eroded away from the rest of the isle and, for a moment, their group paused at the bridge that spanned the gap, the structure looking as though it had long seen better days, the walls crumbled, here and there, into the churning seas below, and it was with a look of great resolve that Jaheira took that first step upon it.

The asylum itself was higher still, up many flights of stone stairs cut into the stepped cliffs, each plateau set with rotting wooden benches that overlooked the sea. In the warmer months, it could have actually been quite a nice place to sit and take the breeze from the ocean, and it struck Fritha that perhaps the place had once been one of healing.

Up that last flight of steps and they were before it, the grand grey house looking rather dilapidated now they were closer, peeling shutters hanging from the windows, the yard before it filled with the debris of broken chairs and tiles that had been torn from the building's many towers by the near constant winds. Fritha halted, an overwhelming sense of dread freezing her where she stood as she stared up at the building. Anomen glanced back, concerned.

'Fritha?'

'I…' she began, unable to put the feeling into words. He let a hand rest on her shoulder.

'You do not have to attend, if you do not wish it. Wait here, dearest, we can return once we have her.'

Fritha shook her head, physically pulling a foot from the ground to take another step forward.

'No, I will come.'

The doors opened upon a large tiled entrance hall, a passing mage, old and stooped with a cloudy white beard, glancing up from the scroll he had been reading with a frown.

'I trust you have good reason for-' he cut himself off, his face suddenly bearing a smile as he welcomed them inside. 'Ah, come in, come in. Fritha, is it not? Why, do not look so surprised,' he chuckled kindly, 'You have been observed since your arrival on the isle. We gave Sanik orders to bring you with him when he made his delivery, though I understand he was unfortunately murdered before he could meet you. Yes, I know why you have come, too. Imoen is in good health, all things considered. Come, I shall take you to her.'

Surprised? Fritha was stunned!

'What? You- you are just going to let me see her –just like that?'

Another genial chuckled, the man's green eyes twinkling. 'Well, what did you expect? This is a place of learning and healing-'

'Where you imprisoned her for nothing! You must have realised by now she wasn't mad or ill; why didn't you let her go?'

The mage shook his head gravely. 'Not mad, no, but ill… She was quite unwell when she arrived here. As I understand it, she had been held captive and most abused. She was learning magic before, was she not -though she could barely cast more than a cantrip. Well, these torments she endured unlocked great powers in her. She would have been quite dangerous had we released her in that state. But her time here has allowed for her talent to flourish within a safe environment.' He smiled again, turning to leave. 'Come, we can speak of the details of her release after your reunion.'

He swept off, clearly expecting them to follow, the mage leading them across the hall and up a staircase to their left into the main body of the asylum. Gods, what miserable place –Fritha did not like to think of Imoen spending even one night there! Every corridor he led them down was the same, plain grey walls only broken by the occasional door, a barred window giving a grim view of the cell beyond, while at her feet the tiles were etched with that same rune over and over in various sizes and hands: suppression.

The air thrummed with moans and whispers, their group starting more than once when a rare inmate would throw themselves at the bars of their door, howling to be let out or just spewing curses and nonsense until they passed. Their guide paid them no heed though and, finally, they came to the end of that hallway, the group stepping down into a common room of sorts, two thickly glazed windows allowing a weak light to fall across the assortment of benches and wooden chairs. And there she was, hunched forward as she sat on a bench in the back, her pale drawn face half hidden behind the lank curtain of hair, a good inch of light brown root showing before the vibrant pink dye began: Imoen.

'Here she is, Imoen,' said the mage quietly, as though trying to coax out a reply, 'did I not tell you Fritha would come?' He shrugged frankly as no response was forthcoming, the man wandering over to gaze idly out of the nearby window. 'Well, she comes and goes.'

Fritha rushed to her friend, but somehow could not bring herself to touch her as she crouched at her side, trying to catch her eye.

'Imoen, it's me Fritha, we've come to take you back home.'

Imoen did not look up, but tears began to run down her face, the girl not even lifting a hand to wipe them away. Fritha whirled back to them, livid.

'What in Hells have you done to her?'

The mage glanced back from the window, seemingly surprised by Fritha's fury. 'Hmm? Oh, nothing much. Certainly nothing which I do not plan to do to you.' And Fritha felt herself begin to tremble, his cold smile piercing right to her heart. 'I had to think very quickly on that morning you escaped; the arrival of the Cowled Wizards nearly ruined everything. But then I secured Imoen, as well ,and I knew my plans would not be disrupted. I knew you would come, Fritha.'

Fritha was shaking her head, a piteous moan rising in her throat. 'No, no, no… it can't be…'

'Irenicus!' concluded Jaheira for those still in the dark. Minsc's fury was instant.

'YOU WILL DIE!'

'Minsc, no!'

But the Rashemi leapt forward before any could stop him, his sword aloft, the flash of magic sending him crashing him back into the wall opposite where he lay groaning. His beard twitched as Irenicus set him a cold sneer.

'No, I will not.'

'How?' demanded Jaheira, 'How is this possible?'

The old mage he still wore gave a mild shrug. 'The Cowled ones brought me here and I played the role of the inmate while it suited me. Bodhi-

'Bodhi?' cried Aerie. The mage nodded.

'Yes, she is my sister.'

'Oh, yes, of course,' Fritha laughed, a shrill hysteria creeping in, 'I can see the family resemblance now you mention it.'

Irenicus frowned, continuing briskly, 'Bodhi had the rest of my plans well in hand back on the mainland and, when the time came, I acted. With her aid, I was able to take control of the asylum quite quickly. The apparatus here is a little different from my own labs, but we managed, did we not, Imoen? We have been awaiting your arrival with great anticipation.'

But Fritha was not about to go gentle into his good night, the girl grabbing Imoen to thrust her across the room at Jaheira, the others grimly drawing their weapons, Fritha's sword held out and trained on him as she slowly backed towards them.

'Keep back, mage!'

Irenicus merely watched them impassively. 'Do not bother; I have taken every precaution that you will not be damaged. My servant –and your captain- Havarian, has sealed your fate. A few spell components slipped into food or drink; so simple and yet so effective.'

'What?'

Irenicus did nothing more than click his fingers; the seductive pull of oblivion was impossible to resist.

'There is no battle, no heroics, only sleep.'