XVI: Grin and Bear It

Adele turned the small edgy shard in her fingers, catching glares of torchfire with its smooth surface. Her fingertips were tickled by a strange sensation, like tiny needles of ice prickling at them, the same feeling she had when she first laid her hand on the shard back in the Mere, in the ruins, where she had recovered it. The tang of ice was so strong at that moment that she had almost dropped the shard.

Turning it once again, she lifted her eyes from the shard – and Daeghun did exactly the same, just in time for their eyes to meet. His emerald stare was motionless, piercing, blank, his iris reflecting the flames of fire just like the inanimate object in her hands.

"Why would they want it, anyway?" she finally wondered, quietly, so that nobody could hear them. They were standing behind the barn Brother Merring chose to place the wounded to, so that he could attend to them.

"I do not know," the elf answered, his voice calm and even, as always. Adele didn't know if he seriously took her remark as a question that needed answer or was just also sharing his doubts. With Daeghun one could never tell. Even his foster daughter.

She looked down, at the pack she dropped to her feet. Everything was ready for her journey, she wished all the farewells she wanted – but something just didn't allow her to go.

She didn't like this shard. Not in the slightest. Didn't like the fact that some strange creatures had attacked their village, killed so many people just for a stupid lump of metal.

"Why can't we just give it to them?" she shrugged, again turning the shard over in her fingers. And she definitely didn't like that tingling sensation inside of her veins that this stupid lump of metal caused. "I mean, not like we have some use from it."

"But we do not know what use those creatures would have from it. A mere glance at them makes it doubtful that they will use it for good purpose." Daeghun gave his head a barest of shakes, final and irrevocable. "No. You should take it away. Far away. Besides, if we give them the shard I doubt it will prevent them from believing the second one lies here as well… or others."

"…Others?" she whispered this word through her teeth bared slightly in a soft grin, addressed to Bevil, who was passing by at that moment. The young man threw a quick questioning glance at the two of them, silently wondering what they were talking about, and Adele hoped that her smile would convince him that everything is alright and make him leave before he got another icy stare from Daeghun. Luckily, it did. The moment his back was to them, Adele's smile disappeared, and she looked at her foster father again. "So there are other shards?"

"We do not know what this thing was before it was broken," Daeghun said, not turning, but Adele knew that he had been well aware of Bevil's presence nearby, as he answered only when he was out of ears reach. "We only found two shards. It is possible there were others – scattered into the swamp, taken away or…" he shifted his honed shoulder slowly in a shrug, "…met other end."

Adele studied his face, ever-young yet hardened and tanned by years and travels, the face that always reminded her a mask cut from a piece of wood bark – firm, aloof, bearing only slight traces of emotions.

"…There's something you are not telling me," she finally said, looking him straight into the eyes.

The elf's face remained still. "There are many things I have chosen not to tell you," he admitted calmly. "And that is because they are not relevant."

"…Uh-huh," the woman nodded. "Enlightening."

"Perhaps if you were to question less and heed my words it would prevent you from being confused."

"Then I shall ask no more," she nodded again with the same slightly bitter sarcasm and lifted her bag from the ground, slinging it on her shoulder, and stared at him one last time, her brows raised in feigned exaggerated question: "So, I take this is all your 'farewell'?"

He was silent for some seconds, just looking at her, then nodded. "Maybe one day we shall speak again," he added, "and finally gain an understanding of each other."

"…Yeah," she smiled at him shortly. "Maybe."

Daeghun suddenly raised his hand, placing it against her cheek, and the tip of his thumb brushed lightly over the bridge of her nose – but before she had any opportunity to react somehow or even understand what was going on, he made a step back: "Go now. And be safe." And with that the elf turned away, heading back to Brother Merring to help him with the wounded. Adele followed him with her eyes, then sighed and jerked her shoulder to shift the pack to a more comfortable position, then looked at the path leading out of the village, into the eternal mist of the Mere.

Need to get going. The sooner you start – the sooner you finish. And she had quite a way ahead…


…Sitting on her bedroll, Adele opened her eyes at the sky: "Oh, that feels much better, thank you."

Elanee's palm patted her back. "I'm not finished yet," came the elf's concentrated voice.

"…And it already feels better," Adele grinned, suppressing another cough and placing her elbows on her bended knees. The raging inside of her chest had finally eased, but she still felt a bit dizzy.

They made a camp not far from the cave – enough to keep an eye on it in case some of the githyanki remained there in hiding. On their way back they met none. Seemed that even those soldiers of Zeeaire that left instead of fighting had truly left – to their Astral Plane or whatever.

Despite the fact that it was dawning already they set camp for 'the night'. Qara was the first to take it literally as she has fallen asleep almost immediately, exhausted (but not admittedly, of course) by the battles – not physically, but in some other way that only mages knew. Adele remembered that all too well from her friendship with Amie.

Amie…

"If you run across the one who killed Amie – stick a blade through his heart for me," Bevil told her as she was leaving West Harbor. Well, she did just that. Stuck a blade through his heart. For some reason she thought such things – revenge, poetic justice and all that stuff – should make you feel good, satisfied at least. But she didn't feel anything like that even when she kicked the body. It changed nothing. Bishop was right – avenged dead still remained dead.

Another warm wave of Elanee's healing magic washed through her insides, and Adele closed her eyes, enjoying the relief it gave. Neeshka and Khelgar's voices grumbled not far from her, near the fire; they were arguing. Arguing about what to cook. Not that it mattered, really – Neeshka and Khelgar argued every time they had a reason. And when they had no reason, they argued just on principle. Shandra kept quiet, sitting on the edge of the camp, wrapped in a blanket and drinking something from the mug, probably still a bit out of sorts with everything that happened to her – but, in Adele's opinion, she was handling herself quite well for someone who had spent two days in gith's captivity. Or, perhaps, it was Casavir's aura doing the job of calming her again.

Bishop was out scouting and was nowhere to be seen – which suited Adele just fine since it made it impossible for him to deliberately unnerve everybody. But his absence obviously put Casavir on guard. Then again, it seemed that Bishop's presence did the same. Like the ranger's mere existence put the paladin on guard – whether he was around or not. Grobnar again was busy with writing something down, from time to time rising his head to smile or frown thoughtfully at someone's comment. But, at least, no one was tip-toeing around Adele like she was dying anymore, which seemed the best.

"You know," Adele muttered, looking at the gnome and not really addressing Elanee – just out of her habit to ponder aloud. "I'm starting to think that it would actually be a good idea to take Grobnar to meet Aldanon… well, when the district would be open finally."

"You think?" Elanee wondered from behind her back.

"Yeah. He surely has his own way of thinking and seeing things – just like the sage. Perhaps, together, they'll talk to some interesting point about this whole shard mess… especially considering… err… new development," she rubbed her scar.

The elf stood up, looking down at her: "Why don't you just have some good rest for a while? For a change."

Adele smiled at her, leaning against the boulder she was sitting near and resting her head on it: "Then, I'm afraid, you'll have to ask Khelgar to knock me out of conscious."

"I will," Elanee threatened jokingly, but her face quickly became serious again. The woman raised her brows, suddenly having the feeling that the druidess was actually struggling for words. "Adele…"

"Hmm?"

"I just wanted to tell you that… I didn't know. About the shard."

"…Oh…" Adele shrugged. I know you didn't, El. I know you didn't. "Well, neither did I. Though should have…" she tousled her hair, looking into space. "At least now I know why the Hells I've always had this strange reaction for that rubbish… and why everywhere I went I heard that name – 'King of Shadows'… Honestly, too much for a simple coincidence…"

"That's it, I'm going to Khelgar," Elanee concluded, and Adele chuckled, rising her hands in defeat.

"Fine, fine, I'm a good tired dying girl," with her foot she hooked up the blanket lying on the ground not far from her, dragged it up to her hands and covered herself up to the chin, flashing the elf her best broad smile.

Elanee shook her head with a soft sigh: "Sometimes you are such a child."

"Because sometimes you are such a mother," Adele teased, tucking her bag under the small of her back and making herself more comfortable near the boulder. "D'you think there's anything warm to drink?"

"If not, I'll make something," Elanee nodded and went deeper into the camp. Adele smiled at her back, watching the druidess come up to Neeshka and Khelgar near the fireplace. The tiefling shot a quick glance at Adele and, noticing the woman looking back at her, winked encouragingly and grinned.

Closing her eyes again, Adele drew in a deep breath. She could swear that now she felt the damned shard inside of her. Not just knew that it was there, but felt – coldness of metal stuck in flesh. She hoped that hot tea or whatever Elanee would make would wash away that coldness. At least for awhile.

She reached for her pack, pulling it from under her back, and sat, poking her hand into it in hopes to find something for a snack – and couldn't help but snort when her fingers went through the holes in it's side cut by the shards when they had went flying to Zeeaire.

Guess, I should be happy that I didn't get those in my chest…

Well, actually, I am.

"Adele?" came familiar deep voice.

She turned her head and squinted when sun bunnies from the metal surface of plate-armor hit her eyes again.

"Need to do something about your armor, you know," she muttered, lifting her still narrowed eyes at him, and smiled. "Make too obvious aim of yourself with it."

Casavir's stony face softened a bit from her smile – maybe because he was glad that she wasn't holding grudge against him concerning his less-than-appropriate condemnation in the githyanki cave. Or maybe he softened because her smile had that undeniable – though unclear "why?" to Adele herself – ability of making men softer.

"I was thinking about it myself," he confessed finally, then his look changed to that of concern. "Are you alright?"

"I am," she lifted her bag and wiggled her fingers still stuck out of holes, earning what passed for a smile from the paladin. "The pack wasn't that lucky though."

"It is remediable, I believe," he nodded, making her smile grow a bit wider. Why does he usually hide so hard that he has sense of humor?

"So…" she shrugged, "…now I am ready to debate the morale if you are still interested." He was silent for some time, looking down at her, as if trying to understand whether she was serious or not – though Adele would prefer him to notice that it was actually not very comfortable for her to sit with her head thrown back and closing left or right eye in turn from the sun. "Well, I did promise to, didn't I?"

"…Forgive me if my words back at the cave were too harsh. I assure you that they held no insult towards you."

"I know," she answered almost in surprise. He thinks me wrong – and he asks for an apology? For what, for thinking? Adele slid up the boulder and sat on it – at least it provided a better angle of observation. "It just was… strange. I thought you of all people should have been ready to put an end to gith's… activity as soon as possible."

"I… understand what you mean," Casavir said – a bit slowly, almost carefully. "As well as I understand your anger at those creatures, after all they put you through. And Zeeaire, being their leader and thus directly responsible for everything they had done under her orders, fully deserved punishment. But it is my belief that every criminal also deserves a right to atone for their crimes – all the way until death comes."

Adele did her best not to wince – for Casavir's words of crime and atonement suddenly sounded too much an echo of Zeearie's.

"Huh…" she propped her head with her hand – felt that the pack was still hanging on it, shook it off on the ground and repeated the gesture. "Funny…"

"…I'm sorry?"

"Well, I mean, the whole thing that for them it was me who was a criminal. You heard them - I had pieces of the sword, I killed many of their soldiers, blah-blah… And if they had killed me and cut the shard out of my chest – they would've returned to their Plane as heroes, been praised by their 'Leech' Queen, and it would've been a great celebration in the githyanki camp 'cause of recovering of their priceless sacred relic. They would've been the good guys and the right ones," she looked up at him again - his blue eyes dull with thoughts, he himself still and motionless, almost like the construct they had found in the cave – and swallowed down all other words that were ready to roll off her tongue: It's not really about justice or fairness, is it? It's about who wins. Those were definitely not the words one should tell to paladin of Tyr - Adele understood that all to well. So she just grinned: "Nah, don't mind me... As an acquaintance of mine once said, sometimes Del thinks unpardonably much for a woman."

Casavir frowned a little: "That was not the most appropriate thing for him to say".

Adele chucked, rising to her feet: "Come on, he was a bard – they earn their living with pretty songs and cutting remarks. Besides, you don't get offended by truth," she gestured at others, at the fire, where Neeshka and Khelgar seemed to finally reach an agreement about breakfast. "So, what say you about getting some fuel?"

He didn't even have to answer, his scarce smile was an answer enough. Adele couldn't help but notice that since joining their band Casavir began to smile more and more often - which was a good thing, because most of the time he left an impression of being constantly depressed or troubled with something.

Slipping through the camp, she paused near Neeshka, almost stumbling over the tiefling's pack, swollen with all the loot crammed into it, and peered curiously into the boiling pot on the fire: "What's that?"

"We'll live and see," the tiefling snorted and nodded at Khelgar. "Stumpy agreed to be the first one to taste."

"Eh," the dwarf ran a piece of grindstone over the edge of his axe. "'Cause ya all ar so picky."

"So, I take everything is alright?"

Qara, lying in her bedroll not far from them, groaned without opening her eyes: "They won't shut up."

Neeshka giggled: "Yeah, and Qara won't shut up about how we won't shut up."

"Shut up," the sorceress crawled deeper into the bag, until she completely disappeared inside of it, cutting off any sound or light.

"Oh my," Grobnar cocked his head to one shoulder, looking at her, then to the other: "You know, it almost looks like miss Qara got eaten by a giant worm."

Khelgar laughed, his thunder-like chortle as usual overlapping chuckles of others: "Ya surely hafta add that to yer tale, gnome!"

"Yup, everything is alright," Adele grinned, taking a mug Elanee passed to her. It felt pleasantly warm against her fingers. Taking a sip of the liquid and recognizing one of the herbal infusions the druidess was so good at, she looked again into the pot: "I think I have some time before this medley is ready, huh?"

"Sure ya do, lass," Khelgar nodded. "If not – we'll leave ya some."

Smiling at him, Adele turned on her heels and headed away from the camp, before anyone could stop her and hearing a soft doomed sigh of Elanee behind her back.

She knew she needed rest. More so – she wanted to have rest. But it seemed that 'having rest' was not in her nature at all. At least not when she had so many things to think over. And thinking was hard with so many people trying to calm or soothe her. Soothing never helped – Adele felt herself much more comfortable after considering the whole situation and coming to at least some sound conclusions.

Dear friends, hear out a story about a girl who walked out of her village and ended up with an ancient enemy coming for her, - she thought, stepping down a thin rocky path to a tiny clearing and leaning – almost throwing herself - against a lonely tree. - King of Shadows… Who is even King of Shadows?! What does he have to do with the gith and their godsdamned swords? What does he have to do at all? With me?

Dammit, somebody shut this brain off.

Closing her eyes, she took a big gulp from the mug, rubbing the tip of her thumb absently along its rim and silently savoring the warmth that was spreading through her insides – together with the warmth of sunrays sliding over her face. The feeling made her smile, and she only winced a bit, scratching her back over the harsh bark of the tree to ease the itching between her shoulder-blades from the dirt and dried up sweat.

Here's a nice plan. Come back to Neverwinter, have a good bath and a good sleep – and then bother about King of Shadows or whatever. Clean and clear head thinks better, - nodding to her thoughts, the woman sipped a little more of the liquid. – Oh, it's good. Wonder if Elanee adds some calming draught into this stuff.

With a deep quiet sigh she slipped down the tree into the sitting position. Really, things weren't that bad. After returning to Neverwinter she could write a letter to Aldanon, maybe make some inquiries in the Archives concerning that long-ago war with King of Shadows… Or Sand probably knows anything – the elf seemed to know at least something about everything. Or even Grobnar can come up with some legends or songs about the matter. Those were comforting thoughts. Thoughts that stopped her from staring at the sky where she always imagined the gods were and simply asking: Are you kidding me?

"Look up and don't believe your eyes -
The black beast lurks high in the skies –
I sense disaster in his glare…" she murmured instead a part of the song and sighed again. Ah, I'm definitely in the mood of remembering old friends today.

Adele tried to bottom the mug, but realized it was empty already – and, taking that as a sign she should go back to the camp, got to her feet…


"Hey, welcome back!" Duncan greeted them cheerfully. "Glad to see you've all returned, and in one piece no less!"

After days of journey being back in home and familiar atmosphere of 'Sunken Flagon' was a real bliss, for almost everyone – judging by the way how gladly and tiredly at the same time they were greeting the half-elf. Only Bishop passed him by without any acknowledgment and headed straight to his customary place at the end of the counter, gesturing to Sal for a drink. Neeshka hurried to the fireplace to be able to warm herself up before the wolf drove her away. Khelgar, being in quite elevated moods after all the githyanki and demons they've been through, followed the ranger to get his share of ale. Elanee silently slipped into her favourite armchair, almost curling herself into a ball in it. Qara, giving her employer a rather cold greeting, took a stately retreat to her room before Duncan could make her 'work' again. Shandra, still silent and somewhat confused, took a sit not far from Casavir, who sat down only after making sure that everyone else made themselves comfortable.

"Alright, out with it," Duncan rubbed his palms, looking at all of them in turn. "What happened? Tell me the tales, the songs, the whole bit!"

"Uh, I could sing a few songs, if you were will-" Grobnar tried to begin, but the half-elf immediately pointed his finger on the gnome:

"No way! You – be quiet."

Adele, taking place at one of the tables and propping her elbows on it, watched her uncle for some time, then drawled: "Why don't you tell me something instead."

"Huh?" Duncan looked at her incredulously. "About what?"

"About the scar on my chest."

He frowned: "Look, I… I don't know why you're asking… Surely you've heard this before. You were just a babe when West Harbor was attacked near the end of the war with the King of Shadows... you suffered that wound from a stray arrow or debris."

"No," she objected in the same even tone, holding his gaze. "Not an arrow. And not debris. There is another shard inside."

"Inside the wound on your chest?" he clarified and tried to chuckle skeptically, but failed. "That means you've been carrying the shard around almost your entire life? I... we had no idea."

"Ah," Bishop gave voice, turning round on his bar-stool and throwing his feet up on the next one. "Notice the stumble in his words. Your uncle's been keeping secrets, I think."

"Silence, Bishop!" Duncan barked, eliciting a gloating sneer from the ranger, twisted pleasure from Duncan being uncomfortable all too obvious on his face. When the half-elf looked back at the woman, Adele calmly and silently met his stare, having no desire of helping him out of his predicament. Hells, she was too tired of helping anyone right now. Shaking his head in defeat and resignation, he came up to her, lowering his voice almost to a whisper so that she was the only one to hear. "Look… I don't know if I'm the best one to be telling you this, but… if you've got one of those shards in you… You've probably earned the right to hear everything."

"Probably."

Duncan sat on the chair beside her and cleared his throat, bracing himself: "Well, Daeghun most likely already told you, but when you were an infant… in that war with King of shadows… West Harbor was the site of a battle, a terrible battle. It was struck suddenly, without warning. There was panic... confusion... villagers fleeing every which way to escape the battle. But Daeghun's wife Shayla... and your mother, Esmerelle, did not… They stayed behind to save you. And by the time Daeghun realized they were missing, it was too late." Adele closed her eyes, and Duncan fell into abrupt silence, but she waved for him to continue. The half-elf still hesitated for some time, obviously trying to come up with words, then sighed: "When the few that remained returned to the village - no one was alive. Except you."

Well, bloody lucky me. "And mother?" she asked.

"...Esmerelle was there... so much blood, and... you were clutched in her bosom, a deep wound in your chest. She'd tried to shield you, but... the shard must have cut through her and into you… No one knew how you survived. But you did, and your wound sealed itself within days, leaving the scar that you still bear…"

Bloody lucky me twice. "…And here all my life I've been told that she died soon after giving birth to me," Adele muttered and suddenly chuckled grimly, her eyes still closed. "Well, weren't lying 'bout that, eh?"

"It wasn't my decision to keep what happened to your mother from you... I swear." Duncan's voice was soft and almost – what, scared? "Daeghun, he… guess, he thought it would be too much for you."

"Yeah… Really want to hope that it was exactly what he thought," she looked at Sal and nodded him, hoping that the bartender had already learned her favourite wine. Her companions exchanged questioning and a bit nervous glances – all except for Bishop, whose narrowed eyes were fixed on Duncan, mug of ale frozen in the air half-way to his mouth.

"Believe me, I wanted to tell you. For all these years it was like a stone on my heart, and…" again he was silent for some seconds, then shrugged: "But if that wound was due to the shard that pierced you, then that raises many questions... and I'm afraid I'm just all out of answers."

"I understand," she shook her head, banishing the thoughts. "Thank you for telling finally. All that silence around her almost made me suspect she was a criminal that got hanged or something else nasty…"

A smile broke on his lips, smile of relief and a bit of sadness. "She wasn't. But she would have had a good laugh at your words, that I can tell… Never thought one could inherit the attitude from their parent – but you surely did," he covered her palm with his. "And I'm also glad I could finally speak of it, it's been with me for a long time... It's just-"

"And why the long faces, you two?" Bishop wondered, advancing the table with a bottle from Sal, and placed it in front of Adele, his own mug in the other hand. "Somebody die? If so, sounds like a cause for celebration to me."

Duncan glared at him, but the ranger merely smiled in return. And there was something about his smile Adele didn't like.

"Thought you'd like to celebrate your riddance of us," she drawled, not really teasing. She was too tired for that too. Bishop didn't answer, with the same smile occupying a spare chair on the other side of the woman and uncorking a bottle.

"Grobnar, you worthless half-man!" he called out. "Come on, strike up a tune - before I strike you."

"Of course, sir Bishop!" the gnome nodded eagerly. "It so happens I have just the tune..."

"By the way," the ranger added, not looking at Adele, but no longer paying any attention to Grobnar either. "I've decided it would be in both our interests if I stay on with you."

"…Why is that all of a sudden?" she arched her brow.

He shot her a sidelong glance and snorted: "What? Does a man need a reason? Come now," he gulped in a whole mug of wine and leaned back, swinging his feet up onto the table and lacing his fingers on the back of his head, rocking the chair lazily on two legs. "Duncan's kind request was enough to start this, I think - why not finish it?" regarding her with another glance, he smirked. "Admit it, princess, no way in the Hells would you have rescued the farmgirl without me."

"We are grateful for your help, Bishop," Casavir filtered, ice in his voice suggesting he didn't really mean it, "but we no longer need it."

Adele could almost hear the gnashing of ranger's teeth as his glare darted to Casavir: "Ah, why don't you let the woman speak for herself, paladin, without you speaking for her, eh?"

"No, no, really, there's no need, Bishop," Duncan chimed in. "I'm sorry for before, but you've done more than..."

"Oh, come now, Duncan, I still owe you," he smiled again, but somehow that smile didn't match his eyes fastened back at the half-elf. "And what better way to make it up to you than watching your niece here? After all, a debt is a debt all the way until the end - isn't that right?"

"But I'm not paying you," Adele warned him.

He rounded his eyes in phony injured innocence: "I'm hurt you value our friendship so lightly! Why would I need more money? I haven't had so much fun in years as in these past days. So I agree to a fare share of everything we come across – that includes both dangers and treasures."

"What?!" Neeshka bristled. "Hey, I'm the one charged with total treasury here!"

"Well then, we'll talk to you," he sniffed. "Later. Some day. Maybe."

"Look…" Shandra suddenly spoke, and others looked at her. The blond woman obviously felt herself lost, though tried hard to hide it – and achieved exactly the opposite. "I hate to ask, but... what happens now? I mean, I can't go back to my farm… well… ashes and all."

"You don't have to," Adele said. "You can stay with us if you want."

"Her?!" the tiefling folded her arms. "Alright, I'm definitely not sharing anything with her!"

"And what would we even take her for?" Bishop drawled. "To have someone who's easy on the eyes?" he shrugged. "That's what I'm here for, I believe."

"If she wants to – it is her right," Casavir said, looking at Adele. "But in light of all the recent attacks… it might be dangerous for her."

"Aye," Khelgar agreed. "She'll need to do at least some catching up. We can't just keep on rescuin' her all the time."

"Rescuing me?!" Shandra gave her head a stubborn shake. "I can rescue myself! Sometimes…" she added, averting her eyes, "…when there's not too many lizardmen… or githyanki…"

Adele eyed the woman, recollecting how she had instinctively slashed the gith that grabbed her back at the farm, how she handled herself being captive – and shrugged: "I think she's quite capable."

"Oh…" Shandra blinked in surprise and smiled faintly at her. "Thanks."

"Besides, don't you need her to get to unlock Ammon Jerro's Haven?" Duncan blurted.

Shandra's stare grew gloomy: "And thanks for that… A little more compassion is going to kill me."

Bishop chuckled, stretching himself lazily: "Well then, as long as we simply need her with us, and don't want her - I'll drink to that."

"Maybe you should watch your tongue, Bishop," Casavir growled.

"And maybe you should listen with your ears, paladin. Anyway, it's the princess who calls the shots - we just obey. As will the farmgirl in time."

Adele shook her head, keeping her stare on Shandra and hoping to distract her from the others with it: "If indeed you want to," she repeated. "If not – I'm sure Duncan would gladly offer you a room to live here for the time." She threw a questioning glance at the half-elf, and he nodded readily.

"Well… I… " Shandra hesitated. "I think I'm safer with you, guys, around."

"Then it is her decision," Casavir nodded.

"Ah, farmgirl, you've just agreed to die before your time…" Bishop re-filled the mug with wine and saluted to Shandra with it. "So be it."

"But for free," the tiefling muttered.

"Neeshka," Elanee whispered reproachfully.

"What? Going to squander everything in a wink that way!" she rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine, let her stay if she wants to."

"Well, thank you all, of course…" Shandra drawled.

"No need to thank me, farmgirl," the ranger threw his hand in the air. "Travelling with this band is, perhaps, the worst decision you can make – believe me."

"Already starting to," she cut off grimly, then looked back at Adele. "I won't try to get in your way or anything. And, well, I know enough to use a sword… I mean, I'm no spellcaster or some such, but if you need an extra blade... just…" she sighed. "I just don't want to be left behind. I've got it already that whenever I'm alone, that's when the problems seem to crop up…"

"Shandra," Adele said as softly as she could. "I never meant for anything to happen to you or your home. If I can make it up to you, I will. Besides, I'll try to teach you what I can…" she grinned. "Not that I ever taught anybody, but I'll do my best, I promise."

Shandra smiled again: "Then that's all I ask."

"So she's joining the band after all," Bishop smirked, leaning on the back of the chair and swaying the toes of his boots slightly. "Good. Maybe she'll make up for the paladin... or at least catch arrows if the gnome's already dead," he looked back at the counter, at the barrels behind it. "For now, I say we crack some of those kegs and drown the Flagon in wine. Surely, at your niece's expense, Duncan."

The half-elf helplessly shook his head. Adele shot a glance at the ranger: "One day I'll kill you, Bishop."

"Better one night, princess," he smirked…


He watched her.

Watched as the others of the 'royal retinue' gladly joined his offer to celebrate. Watched as Her Swamp Highness herself got to her wine, smiling at her motley horde, at the gnome who finally got the opportunity to rattle about something like a box of dried beans. She was always smiling, little lizard, that calm and soft frugal smile of hers that seemed to mesmerize the paladin. With the same smile she dragged herself and her crew through the days of their journey. And with the same smile she finished off the main gith. Bishop could swear that the paladin had had a tiny heart-attack the second her rapier suddenly went into the throat of the creature. And she smiled after that too. Not a flinch. Not a jerk. Not a frown.

Still waters run deep, princess, don't they?

Not that it really mattered. Not that the girl herself really mattered (what was even her name, anyway?). What mattered was the sight of Duncan's face when he was telling her that oh-so-tear-jerking story of her mother's death. She wasn't smiling at that time. And when she even closed her eyes… oh, Duncan looked like he was ready to kill himself. That terror in his stare, fright that she would not understand, that she would take it badly…

Guess I've found your soft spot, Duncan. You really care for your scrawny shaggy niecie, don't you?

The sight almost made it up for the whole trip. For the whole bullshit with debt. He was so careful all this time, he was so quiet, he kept low profile, until step by step he almost turned himself to something like a piece of furniture in the 'Flagon' – something that is always there but no longer attracts attention. He left for hunting, made his smuggling routes, every time a bit prolonging his absence, making Duncan get used to it – simply for the sake of not returning at all one day. He would have been far-far away by the time Duncan came to his senses. He was so close, so damnably close…

Here I thought of leaving peacefully, Duncan. But you just needed to open your huge blasted mouth and spoil everything.

Well, no one to blame but yourself.

Oh, he would help the girl – no harm in making some coin out of her troubles. Maybe even fuck her for good measure. Though she was too tall and skinny for his tastes, and he would probably have to apply all his tracking skills to find her breasts, and that stupid two-coloured hair of hers - like she was wearing a dead badger on her head – still, why not? She had pretty enough muzzle. And it was long ago since he had stopped making any particular distinction between women, anyways. Legs could be different – in-between was still the same. And then… who knows how the wind will blow?

Bishop took another sip of his ale.

You will regret the day you brought up your debt, Duncan, that's for sure. You will regret the mere day you charged me with it. Regret the day you even 'saved' my life. I swear, you'll regret it.

Regret just like I do.


A/N: The song Del's singing is my clumsy translation of a Russian one "The Black Moon". The full variant below.

Thank you all, those who take time to read my story – and, by all means, feel free to review.

The Black Moon

Making up the blackest of her schemes,
High in the sky the moon looks down and grins.
And stars glint like a pile of arrow-points.
Taking aim at mist of our dreams,
Sadistic love is gloating and sneers.
Too late for us - she's gotten us in sight.

With palm as a shield
I shall cover your heart
You fly now, don't be afraid
Of anything anymore.
Your heart is false-bottomed
On top it is covered
By soft grass, that grows
On bed of granite stones.

Look up and don't believe your eyes –
The black beast lurks high in the skies –
I sense disaster in his glare.
I never knew and, guess, won't ever know
Why does he want so much your soul -
Even in Hells it still won't burn.

With palm as a shield
I shall cover your heart
You fly now, don't be afraid
Of anything anymore.
Your heart is false-bottomed
On top it is covered
By soft grass, that grows
On bed of granite stones.

For those of my compatriots who read it: извинитесь перед группой «Агата Кристи» за то, что стырила песню без спроса – ну, если вы вдруг с ними лично знакомы и братья Самойловы спросят:)