The Zenith

by Blackcross-Taylor

After their capture by the mysterious Irenicus, Fritha and her companions find themselves in the lands of Amn with a friend to rescue and a debt to repay. Completed

86. Not waving

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

Not waving…

She could have still been dreaming. They stepped outside into a pale dawn, gulls crying unseen in the mists that wreathed the isle and, with the salt air and roaring sea, she could have almost been back on that island with Durlyle. It promised to be a fine day once the fret had burnt off. Fritha could certainly sense the others' relief as they left the grey gloom of the asylum to taste the air once more. And then it came, the harsh chatter of voices over the patter and scrape of footsteps on the stone steps before them.

'Come on, lads, who knows what pickings this place will yield now those wizards have deserted it.'

'Yeah, but are you sure-'

Those behind her were already creeping back from the steps, quietly drawing weapons, though Fritha made no move, just watching as a group of men slowly emerged over the cliff's edge, the third one in their line more than familiar, his russet skin paler now they were out in the open, though the pitiless look to those narrow black eyes was unchanged.

'I still don't see what's going to be in this madhouse.'

'It were full of mages, weren't it? Who knows what magics they will have left as they fle- Well, who have we here?' the red-skinned man cut in, as his eyes found them, men still continuing to trip up the steps behind him and Fritha counted ten in total as he continued, 'Mages is it, or perhaps madmen?'

Fritha shook her head. 'Neither, Ehid.'

'How did-?' He gasped, his eyes wide as he suddenly recognised them, 'You? You're those bastards who closed down our Athkatla operation! And Saemon Havarian, as well, is it?' He chuckled unpleasantly, drawing his sword. 'You've a surprise waiting for you back in Brynnlaw –a pity is doesn't look like you'll live to see it.'

'Slavers!' roared Minsc, raising his blade, 'Boo says you will harm no other!'

'Ha! That fire will serve you well in the pits!'

Fritha stared back at him, the familiar cold rage creeping up her spine as her muscles began to stiffen. 'Ehid, this is your first and last chance; turn around and leave.'

He grinned and Fritha felt a familiar rage tremble through her heart.

'A pearl to the one who brings me her head!'

She whirled to those behind her, screaming the words while she still had a voice to make them.

'Get back inside! NOW!'

…

They huddled together, pressed before the doors in that cold, empty hall. The screaming had ended a while ago, but no one had dared open them, Imoen finally dropping to look through the keyhole and give them the all clear.

Fritha was sitting, half slumped on the stone steps, Ehid laid across the path beneath her, one glassy eye staring up from half a face, while a few other bodies, whole and partial, lay scattered about him. The tracks in the sandy path indicated a frantic scramble away, and she did not wait for them to ask to confirm, 'Most of them ran. I didn't pursue them… I stopped myself… I waited until it had passed. I'm very tired; can we wait here a while and walk back to the town later, do you think?'

xxx

Aerie pulled her cloak about her, leaning into the Haer'Dalis, the man giving her shoulders a comforting squeeze. Their group had left the asylum's grounds not long ago, crossing the bridge and walking for a mile or so through the woods before they stopped to make camp, the fire doing little to lift the cold that seem to have crept into her very bones. Their group were seated about the crackling firepit, the space that would have usually been Fritha's now taken by Saemon, the captain hunched forward and dabbing at his still bleeding nose, that no one, not even she, had yet seen fit to tend. As for Fritha herself, she had left before the fire was lit, the girl immediately dumping her pack and marching from the small clearing to stand on the cliffs just beyond it, the blue of her tunic still visible through the gnarled weather-beaten trunks. Across the fire, Jaheira drew a deep sigh.

'I understand what we discussed previously, but with Fritha's… illness come to light, I think we should perhaps re-think matters.'

'Illness?' snapped Imoen, 'She's not diseased, Jaheira! You don't understand how- how it feels…'

'We cannot desert her,' added Anomen. Imoen's anger instantly grew threefold.

'And you can shut up! Don't you even speak about her after-!'

'Will you keep your voices down!' hissed Aerie, the elf sending a wary glance to the cliffs and the figure still stood there.

'Indeed,' agreed Jaheira, 'Imoen, calm yourself; no one is speaking of deserting her, but there is a worry that she is in no fit state to continue.'

'No, you don't understand! She has it under control now!'

'Until she changes,' sighed Jaheira, and not without some sympathy. 'Once she has… well, you saw what happened to Ehid. But Fritha is right in one thing; we should return to Athkatla, reorganise ourselves -we can decide then what to do about…'

The druid glanced to the cliffs and did not seem able to finish.

'What I do not understand is why Irenicus removed your souls to begin with,' came Valygar, finally breaking the silence. Imoen shook her head.

'I don't know; Irenicus told me that my soul healed his sister and that Fritha's would do the same for him.'

'They were dying?' asked Aerie. Imoen just shrugged, Saemon using the opportunity to finally speak up, his once mellow voice now comically nasal.

'So it would seem from their actions, though the nature of their particular malady was never mentioned to me.'

'Souls can be used in medical alchemy,' Aerie offered, though a part of her was already ruling it out as a possibility, 'but only very dark magic and it could not sustain you for long…'

The captain sniffed, dabbing the bloody handkerchief to his nose as he continued with a wince, 'I know little of his plans from overheard conversations between him and his sister. He works to get more power, a god-like power so he said, though I have heard many men boast of similar prowess and been just as mortal as the rest of us. That, and he plans revenge upon his former home.'

'Athkatla?' came Valygar with a frown. Saemon shrugged.

'Who can say, though I doubt it; that pair weren't long arrived in the city when they took me into their service. All I know is where Irenicus is headed now: through the Underdark to the elven city of Suldanessellar.'

'But why go there?' asked Aerie.

'Perhaps to take another artefact of great power,' offered Jaheira, 'The elven city is ancient and strong.'

'And why go through the Underdark?' questioned Imoen. Anomen sighed grimly.

'To get allies along the way.'

…

Fritha stood on the cliff's edge, letting the sound of the others wash over her, an unwelcome distraction to her peace. The whole world seemed noisier than before, and yet somehow quieter, too, as though she could suddenly hear everything, but adjust her focus to block out the rest. Strange, very strange… She focused upon the sea in the end, that great surging roar as it sucked and buffeted the foot of the cliffs. Brynnlaw was laid in the cove far below her, a huddle of pale buildings clustered about the harbour. The breeze was off the sea and she closed her eyes, letting the salt air take her back to another time as the wind tore at her clothes. Just stood, toes meeting the edge and rocking on the balls of her feet, teasing herself with the idea she could end it all at any moment.

Forward, back, forward, back, for-

'Fritha?'

Anomen startled her so she actually jumped, overbalancing as she turned and if he had not grabbed the hand she flung towards him, she would have fallen to her death. He pulled her forward with a jerk and she stumbled into him, his arms closing instinctively about her.

'Anomen! For the love-! Never-!' she gasped, her fright leaving her furious, the girl hitting any part within reach though he seemed not to notice, still pressing her to him and looking faint, his eyes fixed on the cliff's edge.

'Get off me!' she snapped, finally calming enough to push him off, 'Stay away from me, do you hear?'

But he said nothing and, after a moment, she stormed past him, stalking the few paces into the centre of their camp to fling herself down next to her pack, the look she sensed shared over her dipped head doing nothing for her mood. A loaded silence, Jaheira bravely taking up the gauntlet to begin, 'Fritha, you are back; we need to speak to you of our plans.'

'Oh, I am to be consulted then?' she inquired coldly, 'Very good of you. As for our plans, we will return to Athkatla, find what allies we can and begin our hunt for Irenicus. Yes?'

A round of murmured assent; Fritha smiled tightly. 'Good.'

She left it just long enough for them to relax.

'And there will be no more talk of leaving me behind either. Understood? Good.'

Fritha did not linger after this brief exchange, taking up her bag and moving off a few paces through the trees to just bed down under her cloak, and it was not until a few hours later she returned, informing them all she was feeling better and was ready to leave for Brynnlaw.

Anomen walked along, the trees whispering about him, the cool air fresh against his face, a weak sunlight filtering through the clouds to dapple the path before him; all those small eternal joys she had once revealed to him, now just serving to remind the man of what he had lost. Fritha was just ahead of him in their formation, Imoen at her side as the girls talked quietly, Imoen's occasional giggle eliciting a smile from Fritha, slight and world-weary, and every time the desire to reach her would ache within him even more fiercely. He was dreading this, dreading finding out just what was left between them now Fritha had calmed enough that her words could no longer be blamed upon her anger. But it was no good; he just had to know.

Imoen's welcome was expectedly venomous. 'What do you want?'

'To speak with Fritha.'

The girl in question watched him, her face impassive, and he thought she would just turn back to their path when, at last, she nodded.

'Imoen, give us a moment…'

'But-'

'Please,' Fritha pressed, and in a tone that indicated it was anything but a request. Imoen shot him one last filthy look and dropped back to walk behind them.

Alone, at last, at least relatively, and Anomen had to force the word from his throat.

'Fritha.'

'Up, up, up,' she corrected coolly, 'my lady, if you please.'

Anomen was so hurt, he almost called her something a lot less formal. Fritha watched as he drew a deep breath and dipped his head to acquiesce, 'My lady, may I speak with you?'

'Of course, Anomen, what do you want?'

Anomen felt his insides groan; this coldness was so much worse than her anger.

'Fritha, I am so sorry. I know what I said-'

'Was what you felt…' she cut in gravely, 'and I accepted your apology for it back in the asylum. Anomen, I really do not see the point in this discourse if you are merely going to reiterate your regret.'

'Fritha, please, do not do this. I know I am not the best of men, but…' he trailed off, no excuse to give her, 'Fritha, I am just very sorry.'

The girl sighed, nodding slowly. 'As am I, Anomen, as am I. Ah, I should have seen this coming really -Firkraag said you would betray me.'

'Betray you?'

Fritha laughed gently. 'That's exactly what I said! How could you possibly do that? We had made each other no promise…' She shook her head, frowning as though trying to make sense it herself. 'But then something happened, I'm not sure when, perhaps that evening you took me out or maybe even before. But something happened and there was a promise between us, a feeling we shared, that you'd stand by me, that you would understand… and you broke it! It could have grown, you know. I could feel it inside, here,' she murmured distractedly, laying a hand on her sternum, 'Sometimes it even frightened me… But it is gone now. I am empty.' She turned to him, eyes stern once more. 'Do not pursue this further, Anomen, there is nothing of it left.'

Imoen watched the pair before her with a smile, almost feeling a hand about her friend's as the girl slipped in the knife, and Imoen wanted to shout to his back just as Fritha once would have. To shout 'There, take that, false one!' orsome other such line from a long forgotten play or poem, that would have made all those Candlekeep sages nod wisely and Beth beam, and Imoen laugh even though she had no clue from where it had been plucked.

She shook herself, wondering where such spite came from even as she revelled in it. Glad as she was to be finally free of Irenicus and that wretched asylum, it was hard too, finding her place that group of strangers. Even her closest friend was distant and older than she remembered her being, the way Fritha could be smiling one moment and coolly dismissing her the next, and Imoen was unable to tell whether this change was due to what Irenicus had done to them both, or just those last four months apart letting them grow into different people. A hand drifted absently up to her chest, the ache within faded after so long, to something just on the edge of her senses, a hollow worry she could not quite place.

Ahead of her, Fritha walking alone once more as Anomen slowed his pace, his head bowed, and the girl felt a surge of delight swell to fill the hole. Imoen remembered well enough Niklos's betrayal back in the Gate; the sting of knowing one cared for, could not have cared less, and it pleased her to know the knight was getting back some of that hurt.

But Imoen's enjoyment had not gone unobserved, it seemed, the man at her side watching her smile, though he moved his gaze back to their path as she looked up to him. Valygar was handsome enough that she had even noticed it back in Spellhold, and clearly stern enough to provide her with some entertainment. Imoen grinned.

'So, you don't talk much, do you?'

The man looked surprised by her question, though he answered evenly, 'I speak when there is something to be said.'

Imoen laughed. 'There is always something to be said.'

'Yes,' he answered slowly, as though he could well believe such of her. Another long silence between them, Imoen forced to dredge up some small talk.

'So, how did you meet Fritha then?'

'She and the others were sent to kill me –they changed their minds.'

'Ah, well, good for us they did,' continued Imoen, cheerfully seizing on this, 'your tracking helped quite a bit in that maze.'

He shrugged away the compliment; neither pleased nor embarrassed by her praise.

'Aerie's map made it easier -and I seem to recall you finding your way past more than one locked door. That is an interesting skill you have there.'

Imoen shrugged. 'Ah, you know, comes in useful, now and then,' she grinned, adding quickly as she worried she had missed something in his tone, 'Oh, you're not one of those people who are all, anyone who can pick a lock should have a hand lopped off on principle, are you?'

Valygar shook his head. 'No, it is not your skills with a lockpick that would give me pause.'

Imoen frowned. 'What then? Not the Bhaalspawn thing -cause you travel with Fritha, so you really shouldn't have issue with me. Unless… it's not the magic, is it?' she laughed incredulously. But the ranger did not share her amusement.

'Yes, it is,' he confirmed stonily. 'I believe it corrupts both mind and senses.'

'Oh, I shouldn't worry about me then,' laughed Imoen, 'I'm already as corrupt as they come –old Winthrop told me so a thousand times.'

Valygar returned her smile with a cool frown. 'Then since you are aware of this corruption, I can only assume you are in a position to guard against it yourself.'

'Oh, yes,' Imoen nodded blithely, 'though it can't hurt to have more of us watching out for it. You'd best keep an eye on me too -just in case, of course.'

Valygar said nothing, but she was sure she could see a smile trying to twitch the corner of that full, determined mouth. Imoen grinned; the serious ones were always the most fun -to torment or otherwise.

xxx

They reached Brynnlaw by the late afternoon, the sun already low over the harbour and gilding the natural cove in weak yellow light, the wrought-metal sea-gates flashing at its mouth. The Vulgar Monkey was little changed, though rumours of their assault upon Galvena's and perhaps even their battle on the cliffs had reached the town by now. Their group encountered the usual round of inquiring looks as fresh faces entered the tavern, only for the room to immediately dip their heads once more, the other patrons all hunching over their drinks, unwilling to catch their eyes. Even the usually talkative innkeep seemed unwilling to dawdle, the man all efficiency as he served them their drinks with a polite nod and quickly left them to it.

Saemon and Valygar were immediately dispatched to the docks to inform Saemon's crew of their departure, but it was not a quarter hour later when the ranger dragged him back, Saemon quickly trying to regain his feet and his last few shreds of dignity as Valygar shoved him roughly towards their table.

'What is going on?' demanded Jaheira. Valygar sent an angry glare to the back of the captain's head.

'Tell them! Tell them what the guard told you.'

'I, well,' Saemon faltered, nervously straightening out his jacket, 'the passage I promised you… it might be a touch delayed.'

Fritha shifted cold eyes to his face. 'Oh, yes? Explain.'

Saemon swallowed and gave his jacket one last tug, readying himself for the performance of his life.

'Well, friends, in an act of purest malice, my ship has been impounded. Such villainy I am subjected to -it seems the Pirate Lord has taken some unfounded dislike to me, has impounded my ship and decreed the gates are not to be opened for it.'

'And what did you do to deserve that, I wonder,' said Jaheira coolly.

Fritha sighed, a hand already drawing her sword as she rose. 'Oh, dear… Well, you understand what happens now, Saemon -nothing personal.'

'Now, just hold there, m'lady!' he countered hastily, 'I can still get you off the island! All we need is Desharik's horn. It is the signal for the gates. If you can get it, we can blow it ourselves, the sea-gates will be opened and we will be away before any realises it. Surely, it would be quicker than finding another to give you passage.'

Fritha was frowning, her blade paused, half-drawn from the scabbard. 'And where is this horn kept?'

'Desharik leaves it with his lady, Cayia. Were circumstances different, I might have tried to woo her for it, for she is suspect of virtue-'

'Says you!' cried Aerie.

'-But I fear I recently lost favour with her.'

'That you ever had it!' snorted Imoen, 'Gods, what happened, did she lose a bet?'

Saemon pressed his lips together against a retort, continuing to the rest of the table, 'Cayia holds a small house of her own on the north-eastern side of the harbour on the third tier –I believe she keeps the horn in her bedroom. If you get it tonight, we can sail just before the dawn.'

Jaheira sighed; was nothing simple?

'Right, the dusk closes in now; we should likely wait until-'

'Fritha?' cried Imoen, her friend already marching for the door.

'I'm off to fetch this horn. Back later.'

'Well, hang-' The slam of the door cut her off.

'She is getting worse,' said Valygar evenly. Aerie looked worried.

'Should we send someone after her?'

Jaheira shrugged. 'To what end?'

'Well, what are we going to do now?' pressed the elf.

'We will continue with this plan. Saemon?'

'Well, I shall have to get aboard my ship to inform the crew and ready our departure.'

'Fine. Valygar and Minsc, go with him.'

'Now, lady, it will require stealth to board the guarded ship-'

'Or a distraction,' offered Imoen dully, the girl taking her cloak from the back of her chair as she rose. 'Come on, let's see how they like guard duty when half the docks are on fire.'

'Now, Imoen, I'm not sure…' cautioned Aerie, making to follow her.

'Perhaps this sparrow should attend as well.'

And one after another, they left the table. Jaheira gazed across to the only man still left, Anomen silent for this entire exchange, just staring into his ale cup as though he had not even the energy to lift his head.

'She will be all right, Anomen.'

The knight snorted humourlessly, raising bitter eyes to gaze back at her. 'She is already injured beyond either of our skill could tend.' He shook his head, utterly broken. 'She hates me.'

'I do not think-' Jaheira countered hastily, only to stop at his unyielding look. The druid sighed, defeated. 'She is not herself, at the moment. She will come around in time, Anomen.'

The man said nothing, just went back to his ale in silence, and more even than when she had discovered Khalid, dead and defiled upon that table, Jaheira hated Irenicus.

xxx

Fritha rose herself slightly on her hands and shifted her legs into a new position, the girl unable to sit still on that cold narrow bar for long before it became uncomfortable. Cayia's home was a narrow three-storied house that looked little different from the rest of the dwellings on the street, though the guard stood at the front door gave her away. There was obviously some problem with subsidence in the area and Cayia's home had not escaped it, hers and the house on the other side of the narrow alley than ran between them leaning into each other like drunken friends and thick iron beams had been placed at intervals between them to brace the slumping walls. And it was on the highest of these, Fritha had found her perch.

In truth, Fritha was rather surprised she had managed to make her way up there, but the climb had seemed simpler than she would have usually found it, merely shinning up the drainpipe to the third floor to push off, a breath-stealing moment just falling through the air before she caught the beam and pulled herself up, the girl taking her seat just above the woman's bedroom, the window beneath her open with shutters drawn.

And there Fritha had sat for the last six hours, unseen as men walked and drunks staggered down the alley underneath, the later hours finding sailors ducking in to urinate, while one unfortunate sod spent a good quarter hour heaving up his guts before he shambled on. Every now and then, a slight breeze would rush up from the harbour, bringing with it the scent of brine and, strangely enough, woodsmoke. But the sky was cloudy and it was not cold, even as the night fell, though a part of her wondered whether she would even feel it, if it were.

Even for the long hours sat up there, it had made for an interesting enough evening. That Cayia was reputed to be a lady of loose morals seemed accurate enough. Her lover had already been at the house when Fritha had arrived, the pair of them taking a meal together in her room and playing a few games of chess as they chatted about his last voyage and what she had been doing in his absence, each carefully steering about the subject that she was another man's wife.

They had finally retired to bed not long ago, and were coupling at the moment -and bloody noisy it was too, Fritha turning her back to the house and resisting the urge to put her fingers in her ears as they panted and groaned like rutting beasts. The sound of it sickened rather than embarrassed her though, the nausea she had been fighting since Spellhold churning in her stomach to the point where she felt she would fall from her perch. But, though it felt like an age, it did not last long in reality and silence soon returned to her world.

Fritha sighed, letting her eyes drift up to the dark grey clouds that hung above her, the brighter of the stars just peeking though, like diamonds behind a veil.

'Did you hear them this evening? They are both miserable, this meeting more of an escape from their troubles than any true joy –gods, this world is a wretched place.'

I will not deny it, but this woman hardly helps herself. She made her bed –she took up with the Pirate Lord and now she risks her life making a cuckold of him; we are no longer here to protect the weak willed from their own follies.

'No, just ourselves.'

And that is all we need -you've never had anyone else to rely upon.

Fritha frowned, shifting absently on her cold metal perch; that wasn't strictly true. 'I had Anomen.'

Aye, and how well did that work out?

'I'm not defending him. I'm just saying, we were together for a time.'

And was it pleasing? Did it make it all somehow easier?

Fritha shook her head, trying to summon the feeling, but it refused to come.

'I… I don't remember.'

Listen.

The low growl of snoring was rumbling from behind the shutters.

Well, off you go, then.

Fritha edged forward, dropping from the bar onto the wide window ledge and using the tip of her dagger to slip between the two shutters and lift the catch within. They swung open with barely a creak, finally revealing the chamber that had existed only in her mind before then, a large bed set against the back wall. It was almost too simple, the ornate metal horn just hung carelessly about one of the thick wooden posts of the headboard, the two occupants making it all the easier for her, curled together on the other side as they were, his arms about the woman… just as Anomen had lain with her…

Fritha froze, transfixed there where she stood, a hand stretched out and halfway to the horn.

Fritha…

Fritha!

The man snorted, mumbling something in his sleep as he rolled on to his back, and the spell was broken. A sweep of her hand, and the horn was hers.

…

Fritha padded up the narrow staircase, the warped steps creaking underfoot. The tavern had been empty save for the innkeep by the time she had arrived back. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to be sharing with one of the others, but the hour was late and she had ordered her own room anyway, taking the key and a large bottle of wine up to the second floor.

It was a small room, cramped even with only the table and bed it contained, everything faded and dirtied to the same shade of washed-out grey, the air stale and slightly damp without a fireplace. She lit the only lamp, the single yellow flame bathing the battered table in light and deepening the darkness about her. Fritha stood on the edge of the circle, the wine and cup set before her as she prepared to wait for the dawn.

A knock at the door. Fritha sighed, drawing a long mouthful of wine before answering it.

'Come in.'

It was Imoen, the girl entering at her invitation and shutting the door behind her, though she made no further step into the room, her eyes as dark as the shadows she lingered in as she confirmed coolly, 'You're back then.'

'Aye, looks like. Wine?'

Imoen said nothing and Fritha set the bottle back down again, lifting her cup for another sour mouthful. At the door, Imoen shifted restlessly –she never could stand a silence.

'Fritha, why'd you just leave like that today?'

Fritha shrugged. 'Because the discussion would have decided pretty much what I did in the end anyway, and I could not see the point in it. We've little enough time left without wasting any on pointless chatter.'

'Don't talk like that.'

'Like what?'

'Like we're already dead!' shouted Imoen.

Fritha sighed; it was easy to forget that Imoen had not had those four months of pointless struggles to bring her to the knowledge that life was, on the whole, a miserable disappointment. She glanced to the girl, Imoen looking small and wretched as she watched her from the shadows, and Fritha decided, there and then, that whatever happened, she would see her friend safe. She tightened the hand about her cup and gravely held her gaze.

'Imoen, I will do all within my power to return to you your soul.'

Imoen did not miss her wording. 'And what of you?'

Fritha just shrugged and took another long draft of wine; it seemed obvious to her. Bohdi was one thing; her brother, however, was quite another. Imoen's desperation flared to anger.

'Fritha, talk to me! We're in this together! We're the same!'

'The same?' Fritha repeated with a sceptical smile, 'Ooo, I don't think that's quite true.'

Imoen's face fell. 'Fritha! Why are you doing this?'

'Doing what?'

'Hurting us all, pushing us all away… Are you trying to protect us?'

Fritha could hardly believe it, an unexpected laugh of disbelief bubbling up to fill the silence between them.

'Protect you? Good gods! I've lost my soul and I'm turning into the avatar of Murder and it's still all about you lot! Poor dears, I understand you must find this whole thing very traumatising.' She sighed again, quite tired of this discussion that would lead them nowhere. 'Just leave, please, Imoen.'

Imoen shifted her weight, moving hands to her hips in a last stand of defiance. The cup left Fritha's hand before she had realised it, her scream shrieking over the shatter of ceramics.

'I said get OUT!'

Imoen whipped through the door and slammed it quickly behind her, her breathing suddenly ragged. She took a shuddering step forward, before giving up to lean back against the wood once more, shaking, the emotions finally catching up with her as she broke down in to desperate sobs.

On the other side of the door, Fritha did the same.

xxx

The dawn came reluctantly, Jaheira watching from the small window of the room she'd shared with Imoen, the girl muttering and crying out in her sleep as the mists that shrouded the island merely grew lighter, and Jaheira doubted the sun had even crested the eastern horizon when what was left of their group trouped downstairs. Fritha was already at a table in the empty tavern, eating a breakfast of bread and smoked fish, the girl sinking cup after cup of tea –the night's wine had clearly left her thirsty. They left the inn soon after, Saemon's ship the last one moored at southern end of the quays. The two guards were both tired and bored after a night stood in the cold, and it was not difficult to dispatch them. A spell from Aerie and the two of them were left unharmed and unconscious behind a convenient stack of crates, their company rejoining Valygar and Minsc for a thankful reunion, the ties between their small group seemingly all the tighter for their recent misfortune.

Well, for most of them anyway, the druid considered, Fritha a few steps from the rest of them, stood at the ship's rail and staring blankly down into the murky water of the harbour. The girl was dealing with a lot, and some would have said quite badly, too, but Jaheira knew how she had strove, especially towards the end, to raise the coin and enact this rescue, and she could understand the disappointment of such a blow. Sometimes she even found herself wondering which had upset the girl more: being sentence to death as she slowly lost herself to the darkness within, or just the idea they would return to Athkatla to face yet more struggles. But the pain of this discovery was still fresh and bitter with it, and Jaheira held hopes that the voyage back to the city would give the girl the time she needed to come to terms with her burden –and perhaps make peace with others who were bearing its weight, Anomen looking drawn and miserable in the weak sunlight.

From the aft deck, the clear bellow of a horn over the crying gulls, a few moments wait before another replied from across the harbour, Saemon giving a triumphant laugh as he bounded down the steps.

'That is the signal; they're opening the gates –we've done it! Men, get on those sails. Juvante, call us up a wind-

'Hold fast, dogs!'

All heads whipped to the shout, the crew falling back with worried grunts as the Pirate Lord himself strode up the gangplank looking furious, the six guards who had accompanied him fanning out at his back.

'Saemon Havarian,' Desharik sneered, 'you are not about to add theft to your list of transgressions, I hope?'

Saemon tried to look injured. He just looked guilty, the horn hurriedly thrust behind his back. 'Why, what theft is this you speak of, my lord? This is my own ship-'

'The ship is mine, Havarian, seized to cover your debts to me –did you think you could escape your tithes indefinitely?'

'But how could I even leave, my lord, the gates-'

'Are being opened as we speak. Signalled by the horn you stole.'

'Stole?' the captain gasped, as though he could not even conceive of so terrible a crime.

'Do not bother, Saemon,' came a cold voice Fritha recognised, Cayia stepping from behind her husband, bold and proud as she accused her former lover. 'I told him. I awoke early to find the horn missing and I sent a messenger straight away. My husband quickly realised who the culprit was.'

'Indeed, you did, Cayia…' Desharik chuckled, eyes dark beneath his frown, 'Yet how could he have acquired it so easily? You took him to your bed again, did you not? Tell me, did you plan to betray him from the very start or did he cause you some affront last night –call out another's name or perhaps he quit your company as soon as had taken the horn –and his pleasure.'

Cayia looked horrified, the woman recoiling from him. 'No, that- that is not true! I was alone. Tell him, Saemon!'

The captain faltered, clearly wondering how he could make the situation serve him, but the Pirate Lord had no ear of their excuses.

'Do not lie to me, slattern!' Desharik roared, 'A man was seen entering your house in the afternoon. Do you think I do not know how you cuckolded me? Did you think to make me a laughing stock of this entire isle forever?'

'But, but I wasn't- I didn't-'

'She was not with him, Desharik,' came a voice, quiet and firm, Fritha stepping forward to present herself to the pair, 'Cayia did not give Saemon the horn… I took it; I broke into her room last night and stole it.'

'You?' the man cried, 'Then let her death be on your conscience.'

A flash of steel and the woman was slumped upon the deck, a bloody hand clutched to her stomach wound. Fritha's scream split the air.

'NO!'

She leapt at him, Desharik caught off-guard by the ferocity of her attack, though, fortunately for him, his retinue were not. A guard stepped forward and sharp came their gasps as Fritha swept up her blade to slash across thigh and back over face with a ruthless grace to leave him bleeding on the deck. Fritha was already pressing her fight to the Pirate Lord, seemingly unconcerned by his surrounding guard, and there was a rush to join the fight before she was completely overwhelmed, the crew about them hurrying to launch the ship before reinforcements could arrive.

Fritha ducked the swing, shifting her weight with an agility she never before could have managed to stab up under Desharik's guard, her blood screaming for the kill. The pirate was not so easily caught though, punching out with his free hand and Fritha swiftly changed her mind, springing to one side, sword brought up as she straightened and slice along the inside of this thigh. He swore, and Fritha spared a moment to sate her lust, dancing back a step to stab the undefended flank of the guard fighting Minsc, her eyes snapping instantly back to the battle before her.

Desharik was limping back, spitting curses under his breath, perhaps now realising what he had brought upon himself. In battle there was no room for regret though, his foot catching on the body behind him, the briefest glance to his wife's corpse seeming to bolster him, eyes narrowed as he raised his sword for one final push. Fritha's blood had lulled to a contented purr; it knew what came next. Desharik set his frame forward, ready to rush at her and Fritha barrelled into him before his charge could gain momentum. They collided with his sword still useless above her, Desharik smashing the pommel down into her shoulder in his panic, the girl screaming in pain and victory both as she thrust her sword up through his rib cage, ploughing him into the ship's rail, her body pinning him there as she withdrew her blade to stab him again and once more and, at last, he fell limp.

Around her the deck was clearing, the last of the guards dispatched by Anomen, while the crew were already heaving the bodies over the side where they landed with a splash to float face down in the filthy harbour.

Fritha turned back to the body slumped against the rail before her, the girl staring in to his lifeless face, still unshaven, the scent of his mouth sour from the morning. An hour ago he had been asleep –now he would never wake.

'Fritha?'

She turned. Valygar was standing behind her, looking grave.

'We should put him overboard with the others.'

She nodded, turning her back as she heard the splash.

xxx

The twilight was drawing in, the breeze turning colder, though it had yet to drive any of them below, their group –with the exception of Fritha and Haer'Dalis- all gathered on the aft deck, Saemon behind them and seemingly glad to be back at the helm as he steered them on a steady course to Athkatla.

It had been a long day of heavy silences. Fritha had been alone since the fight with Desharik, the girl stood on the deck not far from where he and his lady had both fallen, just staring out to sea. She would not talk to anyone, nor would she eat anything and there were worries she had suffered a complete breakdown, when one of the sailors had noticed the lute case at her feet and asked her for a tune. The change in the girl had been dramatic, though perhaps not entirely welcome, Fritha obliging the man with a song about a girl who ran away with her pirate lover, the lyrics peppered with sailing terms which seemingly held some dual meaning, and had the assembled crew bellowing with coarse laughter.

Anomen let his gaze drift back to where she was now gathered with Haer'Dalis and what had to be a good half of the crew, the tiefling's lyre joined by another harp, drum and flute as a sprightly melody of Calimshite origin floated over the cool air. Fritha had joined them earlier, though her lute was now resting silent in its case, the men seated and standing in a ring about her as she danced with the Turmian youth, Juvante.

One of the men had produced a sari of indigo and gold from the loot in the hold, and she was dressed in it now, the girl taking off her boots to wear it over her trousers and her rolled up tunic, the fine gauzy silk fluttering out behind her as she moved, flickering gold now and then as the hems caught in the lamplight. Anomen had never seen her dance before, not like this, in a dance that was clearly meant to be watched rather than joined, and it struck him how much older she looked, her body moving fluidly through the steps, as though she had more joints that the rest of them, the youth behind her just as lithe, his mouth but inches from her neck as they danced together.

It would have been better, Anomen considered, somehow more bearable, if she had turned to give him some look or spiteful little smirk -some hint that it was all for his benefit. But she just kept her eyes closed, and lost herself in the movement.

The knight dipped his head, feeling his misery swell to the point where it felt it would overwhelm him. He had had it all; her affection and even the possibility of something even deeper, and now she would not even look at him. He had prayed earlier, knelt in his cabin for over an hour, asking Helm to help him see through the next few tenday, whatever they brought. To keep him resolute and strong in his duty to the girl, whatever conflict passed between them. But Anomen had been too ashamed to ask for help to endure the pain of it all- because a part of him believed he deserved everything he felt and more. The others about him were watching the spectacle as he had been, though they had more to say on the matter, it seemed, Minsc shaking his great bald head as he turned back to the group.

'Young Fritha is acting very strangely.'

Jaheira shrugged wearily. 'She is just unhappy, Minsc –she needs to deal with it in her own way.'

'She isn't dealing with it,' said Aerie firmly, 'she's just hiding from it! We should go over there and put a stop to this before it gets out of hand.'

Imoen sighed; she sounded bored. 'Oh, give over Aerie, she's got Haer'Dalis looking out for her.'

'Yes she has,' the elf agreed tartly, clearly displeased by the way he was just as avid a spectator as any of the sailors. 'By Baervar, is that rum?'

'Gods!' Imoen burst out suddenly, hauling herself to her feet, 'I can see why Fritha can't stand you. Bugger you lot, I'm with her.'

'Imoen-'cried Jaheira, but the girl was already gone. 'By Silvanus!'

Imoen clattered down the wide-stepped ladder on to the main deck, clapping her applause with the others as the song finally ended, Fritha back with the men and taking a swig of whatever was in the bottle Juvante had just passed to her, the man's hand lingering on the bared small of her back as she turned to greet her friend.

'Imoen, you've come to see us –you don't bring some message of admonishment, do you?' she added with a frown.

Imoen laughed, shaking her head. 'Nope, I just thought it looked like more fun over on this side of the deck.'

'Ooo, I don't know,' said Fritha, peering round her to where the others were still sat under the cloud of their own disapproval, 'it looks like you've been having a wild old time of it over there, too.'

The pair of them laughed, Haer'Dalis closing to them.

'Ah, has the robin come to join our song?'

'Nah, sorry, Haer'Dalis, but it's well known fact that I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.'

'Perhaps a dance then?' offered one of the younger men with a grin. Imoen gave the youth an openly appraising look.

'Maybe later -you'll have to save me one.'

Laughter all round, the sailors more than appreciative of young women with wit as bawdy as their own. Fritha was already kneeling beside Finnis as the group settled again, Juvante on her other side, the girl leaning forward with a smile as she gently patted his face.

'I love love love love being drunk! Come sit with us, Imoen,' she continued, idling shooing at the boy to make more room as Imoen sat next to her.

'So how did ye find Brynnlaw?' asked Finnis. Fritha sighed.

'Well, as you can see, we got Imoen back, but we lost our souls in the process.'

'Yeah, and before you ask, that isn't a euphemism for something else,' added Imoen.

More raucous laughter, though Finnis looked worried.

'Fritha,' he breathed, bloodshot old eyes wide with concern, 'are ye all right with it?'

The girl shrugged nonchalantly. 'Soulless. Could be worse; Anomen's lived years without a personality.'

The men about them chuckled, Finch warning jokingly, 'Ooo, she's a sharp one –I'd watch yourself there, young Juvante.'

The young Turmian rose his chin to the challenge, the man opposite giving a great bark of laughter, eyes gleaming of over his tangled black beard.

'Ha! If he cannot manage you, just step my way, flower –the Northlanders know how to handle fiery women.'

Weathered old Baden snorted. 'That they might, but you'd know nothing of it, Daegul -you're from Cormyr!'

'Aye, so mind if he offers to show ye his purple dragon.'

The girls were cackling wildly, Imoen wearing a wicked smirk as she continued, 'Ah, you sound just like our Haer'Dalis. He tells everyone he's from Sigil, but we all know he just dyes his hair that colour to impress the girls –he's probably from, I dunno, some farm just west of Beregost.'

'Really, my robin, how am I to defend myself against such slurs?'

'The lass'll need proof!' announced Finch firmly, Daegul stroking his beard.

'And how are we to give it?'

'Well, I can think of one way…' offered Imoen with a lecherous grin.

'Imoen, you're awful!' laughed Fritha, Haer'Dalis looking like he was trying to fight a smile of his own as he protested this wanton turn in the discourse.

'Now, really, this tone may be suitable for the women of Brynnlaw, but I do not think these young ladies-'

'Aww, are they making you blush, Haer'Dalis?' teased Fritha, Finnis grinning as he added, 'Mayhaps the ladies of Sigil are a mite more proper than these fine lasses.'

Haer'Dalis raised a cool eyebrow. 'The ladies of Sigil cater to all tastes and species.'

'Yeah, but they charge extra if you've more than one kno-'

'Imoen!'

Across the deck, a high, and decidedly cold, voice cut their laughter dead. 'Haer'Dalis, may I speak with you please?'

The tiefling's smile faded on his face, though he looked resolved as he stood to make his way over to a very displeased looking Aerie. Imoen watch them with a gleeful smile.

'Uh-oh, looks like someone's in for it now.'

'By, she's a shrill one,' chuckled Baden, Daegul adding with a laugh, 'Ah, she ent no shriller than your wife.'

'At least I 'ave a wife, Daegul; the only women who look at ye have gold in their eyes.'

'Aye, and lots of it,' laughed Finch, 'D'you remember that Waterhavian whore who charged him double the rest of us?'

'She did not!'

Fritha snorted, leaving the men to their squabble as she rose, nodding for Imoen to follow as they moved across the deck, Fritha unwinding the sari from her as she went. They reached the ship's rail before she halted, turning back to watch the others. Haer'Dalis and Aerie were nowhere to be seen, the pair likely gone below to argue in peace. The others were still on the aft deck where they had been most of the day, Jaheira, Minsc and Anomen sat on the far side, while Valygar was on his feet, checking his bow just for something to do. Imoen was rapt. Fritha rolled her eyes; it clearly took more than the removal of her soul to curb her friend's interest in boys.

'You like him, don't you?'

The girl whipped back to her. 'What? Hardly… How can you tell?'

Fritha snorted. 'Imoen, you're about as subtle as a warhammer.'

'Oh, shut up!' the girl laughed, adding quickly, 'Do you think he's noticed?'

'No, and I think it would probably take some sort of hammer to make an impression on him.'

'Well, good,' Imoen concluded firmly. 'Besides, I don't like like him, I just think he's handsome. You know, all tall and dark and-

'Mopey,' cut in Fritha.

'No!'Imoen cried, before conceding, 'Well, yeah, but -Ooo, look at his arms.'

Fritha pulled a face, Imoen gazing up to where the man in question was still checking his bow, the lamplight bringing out the definition on his forearms as he drew back the string.

'Ahhhh,' Fritha cried, as something suddenly dawned on her –her friend's compliments to Anomen and the way she was ogling Valygar now. 'You like muscley men, don't you? Ah, I'm right, aren't I?' she squealed, Imoen bright pink and trying to hush her laughter as she cried, 'No- No, I don't! You're the one who was with Anomen! Oh, sorry,' she murmured, at Fritha's suddenly stony expression.

'Yes, as am I.'

Imoen shook her head, her gaze to the aft deck suddenly a frown as she let it shift to the knight. 'How did you end up with him?'

Fritha sighed, leaning back against the ship's rail, enjoying the feel of the breeze in her hair.

'I told you: life was bad and he made it easier.'

'And now?'

Fritha snorted. 'Life is worse and I've realised the only heart anyone can rely on is their own.'

Imoen sent her a soft look. 'You can rely on mine.'

Fritha said nothing, just dropped her attention to the curls hanging lose about her face, stirring fitfully in the wind, her fingers playing with the one that hung a good few inches shorter than the rest.

'So, what happened there then?' asked Imoen, taking the hint and moving on, 'You miss with your sword?'

'No… Do you remember the boy I met back in Candlekeep, Eriyn? Well, it was him. He's a sailor now. I met him a couple of times back in Athkatla and he took a lock of hair to remember me by at our last meeting. Gods, he probably has one in every shade hair comes in… and a few it doesn't!' Fritha added with a laugh, giving Imoen's rose pink bob an affectionate flick.

'Do you really think that?'

'Oh, I don't know,' she sighed, staring out at the sea, 'seems more likely than him sitting alone on some starlit deck right now, looking out over the ocean, his fingers playing with a lock of hair he stole from the girl he can't seem to forget.' Fritha snorted her contempt. 'What nonsense.'

Imoen let a laugh break the silence that followed. 'Gods, Anomen and Eriyn; you have been busy.'

Fritha smiled. 'You don't know the half of it.'

Imoen snorted, the girl goggling at her like the Avatar of Bhaal was the least of the changes she had seen in her lately. 'Sune's eyes, there were more? What happened to the girl who went scarlet when a boy so much as looked at her? Go on then, who else?'

Fritha laughed, amused by her disbelief. 'Well, there was Haer'Dalis for a start –well, nearly.'

'Really? What happened?'

'Aerie. She liked him too and I really wasn't keen enough to fight over him.'

'Ha! Perhaps it'd have been better if you had!' Imoen exclaimed bluntly, 'He certainly wouldn't have been shying from you now! You should have heard him when you first changed, going on about how dark and mysterious you are –he'd have been all over you like a rash.'

Fritha shrugged; she had a vague feeling she always realised that it might be so, and perhaps that was why it had never worked out with him in the first instance. She smiled wryly. 'A rash? How romantic. I can see why I wouldn't want to have missed out on that.'

'Here, ye lasses,' came the shout from the other side of the deck, Finnis beckoning to them, his flute in hand. Fritha smiled

'Looks like our evening is just beginning.'

But Imoen looked suddenly reluctant, the girl gently tugging her sleeve as she pressed, 'Ah, Fritha, let's stay here a bit longer; we haven't had a proper chance to talk yet and it's been ages.'

Fritha pulled her arm away. She had come all that way to rescue her and now she was dying; what was there to talk about?

'I don't feel like it just now,' she rebuffed, already moving past the girl, 'I'm going back to that lot. Go sit with the others, if you don't want to come.'

And Imoen looked saddened even as she trotted resignedly after her. 'No, I'll come.'

xxx

Anomen tried a stretch, his back and legs stiff with cold as he sat upon that dark deck. The large lanterns that hung from the masts threw out circles of warm yellow light that did little more than keep the shadows at bay, an impenetrable darkness hanging just beyond the rail of the ship, the sky above cloudy, with not even a hint of stars or moon to break the illusions that their boat was the only thing in that cold black void. His own companions and most of the crew had already retired, though Finnis and a few of the other pirates were still gathered under the main mast playing cards as they took their watch, while Fritha…

He let his gaze shift to where the girl was sat in the bows, wrapped in her cloak and curled in the large coil of rope that held the fore anchor. She had told him there was nothing left; she had told him to stay away. But he just could not bring himself to leave her, not when she was so vulnerable, an evening of rum and laughter leaving her as drunk as Anomen had ever seen her.

He rubbed impatiently at his tired eyes. The hour was late now -even Fritha might be able to see reason, though he did not feel too hopeful as he rose stiffly and walked over to her.

She was laid on her side, an almost empty bottle of spirits cradled in her arm as she sang hoarsely to herself.

'…with eyes as blue as ocean depths, into my heart he slyly crept…'

'Fritha?'

She shifted on to her back, smiling slightly as she recognised him, her voice clearing as the volume increased.

'And when he left me, gods, I wept, that man I can't forget.'

'Fritha, don't you think you should go below?'

She shook her head, struggling to sit upright and uncorking the bottle for a quick nip of spirits. 'No, if I did, I would have gone, wouldn't I? Besides, Imoen is asleep in my cabin and I want to SING! Sweet Sune, bring him back to me, if only for a day. And I will bow on bended knee and pray my life away.'

Anomen sighed tiredly, slumping to sit next to her. 'Fritha…'

'You don't like that song much?' she confirmed with a smile that told him she knew full well he did not. 'I can sing one of a man with brown eyes, if you prefer. Full of that first bloom of love; so warm and innocent. No?'

He scowled at her. Something he had once so earnestly asked her for, now just used to mock him. But Fritha, by contrast, was grinning, clearly enjoying the reaction she was getting, when a sudden light seemed to spark behind her eyes and in a tune both bright and merry-

'I knew a man, a sour chap, who lived only to blame me,

And many nights I laid awake, just wishing I was free.

But then my sweet salvation came from an unlike place,

It's seems his passion died for meeeee… when I tried to eat his face, his face,

I tried to eat his face.'

The last line was practically lost to laughter, Fritha letting it fade in a sigh and moving to take another drink. With a speed that surprised them both, he snatched the bottle from her.

'Anomen!'

One sweep of his arm and he hurled it overboard before she could snatch it back, his anger boiling inside him. She watched him, dark eyes intent upon his face and, for a moment, he thought she would slap him. Part of him would have welcomed it too, any sign of emotion from her outside of this cold scorn. But, at last, she just shrugged, sitting back and returning her gaze to the sea, still humming under her breath.

'What are you singing now?' he questioned quietly, just asking for the sake of talking to her.

'Hmm? Oh, the song of the man with brown eyes… I never really get away from him. I mean there was Eriyn, and I suppose you as well, if we were to count such things…'

She snorted; a clear indication that she wasn't. Anomen watched her in silence, wondering where the truth ended and the lies began. He knew from spending enough evenings with his father what she was trying to do. To rile him, draw out his temper for her own amusement, but she had tricks Lord Cor had never known existed. Fritha was smiling gently now, eyes watching something he could not see.

'But you know how it is the first time, all butterflies and belladonna. I told everyone I knew I didn't love him…' she paused, her face taking on an empty look, 'Even managed to convinced myself for a spell…'

'And I suppose he betrayed you too, did he?' Anomen spat, unable to keep the snarl from his voice, her words of this other man, however unlikely, still filling him with a fierce jealousy. 'Another one to leave you with a broken heart?'

'Betrayed me too? Another broken heart?' She began to laugh gently to herself, shaking her head, 'Such arrogance, Anomen! Do you really think I would let you anywhere near my heart?'

Anomen frowned, turning his attention back to the sea, her words containing an unexpected sting. 'You can be very cruel, my lady.'

'I am a child of Murder!' she snapped, 'A few catty remarks should be the least of your worries!'

The silence descended between them again and he wondered if he should just leave it at that and let her be, but…

'You told Aerie you had never been in love.'

Fritha glanced to him with a slight frown, as though trying to decided whether or not to be offended that he had caught her in a lie somewhere.

'And what was I to tell her? The truth? I don't want her blue-eyed pity. Oh Fritha, how awful!'' She turned back to the dark ocean, the girl suddenly dropping her head into her hands with a groan. 'Gods, Anomen, why did you have to throw it overboard? I'd just enough left to see me sweetly into the morrow.'

Laughter behind them caught her attention before he could make a reply though, Fritha glancing back to the group by the mast, her friend Finnis among them. And suddenly she was up and walking over, the rolling of the ship seeming to aid rather than detract from her drunken gait. The old sailor glanced up at her arrival.

'Eee, Fritha, have ye come to join us?'

Anomen couldn't hear her reply, but the gathering at her feet laughed, so he suspected she was playing the fool again. He shook his head and, against all better judgement, moved to join her.

'…but Anomen just lobbed it overboard in a fit of pique, so I'm a little shy. Any chance I can have some of yours? I've coin for it.'

'Ye threw it over the side, eh?' Finnis confirmed, throwing a frown to him as Anomen drew up beside her, 'Well, girl, ye can have what ye wants from me. Come on, me pack is over here.'

They followed as he led them over the upturned jolly-boat that had been lashed to the deck, his pack nestled underneath, the old man pulling it out to rummage for a moment before straightening again, a large clear-glass bottle in hand.

'There- keep your gold, pet,' he forestalled as she instantly went for her purse, 'Tis a sad day when a sailor can't shout a friend some rum, aye?'

'Thank you, Finnis, I am much obliged to you.'

'Think nothing of it, my pet. Ye had better look after her, knight,' he added gruffly as he turned to Anomen. 'She was in yer care when this happened to her, so ye had best mind yer duty and serve her till she gets that soul of hers back.'

Fritha laughed merrily –her good mood directly related to her supply of rum, it seemed.

'Ooo, don't try admonishing on him, Finnis; he owes me nothing. As soon as we dock in Athkatla, he'll be skipping back to his Order.'

Anomen stared down at her, no less than appalled; had he fallen so far in her estimation? 'You truly think I intend so, Fritha?'

'Of course, why not?' the girl shrugged, 'I will have allies enough in the wizards and thieves we recruit. You will not be the only one; I expect Aerie and Haer'Dalis will jump a portal to Sigil as soon as we land.'

But Anomen just shook his head. 'Fritha, whatever has happened between us, I have sworn to protect you and it is my duty-'

'Duty? Duty?' the girl shrieked, 'I don't want your sodding duty! I only ever wanted your- Oh, why did he have to die?' she wailed suddenly to the uncaring blackness above them, just falling to her knees where she stood, 'I miss him so much!'

Anomen sighed, fastening two hands under her limp arms and making to haul her up again.

'Come along, Fritha, you need to get to bed.'

'No,' she spat, thrashing futilely, 'leave me be!'

'No! You are too drunk to leave here, now come on!'

One last heave and she was back on her feet, struggling to pull away as she cursed at him in confusion of Rashemi and High Netherese.

'Get your hands-! Dashnainsvet! Han'svea! Puna de vertis hortant!'

And it was with some difficulty he dragged her below, throwing open the door to her cabin and practically shoving her inside, Imoen suddenly bolt upright in the darkness.

'Wha-?'

'It is just I, Imoen,' Anomen explained quickly, 'Fritha is…'

He didn't know quite how to finish that sentence, especially since Fritha was no longer cursing his existence in every language she knew, the girl seemingly unwilling to upset her friend, even drunk as she was. Anomen watched as she removed her cloak and coat, Fritha still muttering to herself as she sat on her bed to ease off her boots.

'…Ashim de fite gham mordat oprus… Mordis oprus.'

He glanced to Imoen, the girl's eyes reflecting silver in the soft light from the hallway behind him.

'She's says she wishes she had just died back at the asylum. She says she wishes she was dead.'