XIX: The Morning After

Inside the small square of Fort Locke a pile of buildings and fortifications somehow managed to stick to each other – and all space left was taken by numerous hastily-put tents and sheds, where many quite pitiful-looking people took shelter. Refugees from nearby villages swarmed by bandits, they made fire right on the ground, paying little attention to the soldiers making their rounds through them occasionally. Well, Neeshka paid her attention. After all, to get saved from one group of 'law enforcers' and then be bound by another was a rather stupid way of spending an evening.

As night came, the Fort seemed to become even more crowded. Refugees and soldiers alike bunched around the fires, some - to cook their dinner on it, some – simply to keep themselves warm. Muffled voices sounded in the dark, scraps of conversations, but they were so hushed that allowed to hear rustling of wind in the hills…

and the dwarf's shattering snores.

"Now I know where earthquakes come from," Neeshka muttered, stepping over Khelgar's sleeping form. The half-elf – Adele – laughed quietly at her words and nodded:

"Helps keeping away many monsters during camping."

"I'll bet," the tiefling snorted, settling on the matting near the fire not far from the woman, and tossed her an apple, which Adele caught with a bit surprised expression. "Have something sweet," Neeshka grinned.

"Thanks. Where'd you get it from?"

She shrugged with the looks she hoped were innocent enough. "Got treated… you know, for pretty horns."

"…Uh-huh."

"What? They are pretty!"

"No little children left without evening-meal?"

"Naw, never. I steal from the rich and give to the poor," she grinned again. "Poor me, mostly. But I'm giving up, honestly."

The woman smiled slightly, letting it slip that way. Neeshka felt relieved at that, being a bit edgy after Adele had a rather friendly meeting with none other than Marshal Cormick from City Watch of Neverwinter. But, listening to their conversation from a safe distance, she calmed quickly, seeing that the meeting was indeed friendly– and, probably, wouldn't have been less friendly if the guy was from Shadow Thieves. "Old friend," Adele had explained with a casual shrug. "We came from the same swamp." That was fine by Neeshka. The dwarf and his suspicion of her was enough for the time – during their whole way to the Fort he'd been constantly looking back at the tiefling going next to him, like he was afraid she'd bite him in the ass. Most folks were too touchy about their pockets in Neeshka's opinion - could have put something interesting there for a start.

It was a good thing that the dwarf seemed to let the half-elf make decisions, choosing to simply tag along with her. Made Neeshka wonder, but as far as she got the things correct, they'd been through a tough fight insome inn in the Mere together. What was it about and with whom, was a question. A question even Khelgar had no answer to. She'd asked him, but he just shrugged and grumbled: "Some beasties. Go figure." She tried. At least, what business they could have in Neverwinter. "Family matter," the woman told her with the same shrug and the same light smile that made everything seem as trifling as she said. "Need to meet my uncle… well, actually, my foster father's half-brother whom I'd never even seen before. Some family, huh?" she added with a grin.

Maybe it was that grin. Or her whole 'nevermind' air. Or how simply she seemed to put up with Neeshka's planar heritage. How easily she handled people around, not ruffled even by that stuck-up turkey-cock commander Vallis (whom Neeshka felt like butting with her horns after a moment of conversation. Khelgar seemed to have the same wish, for that matter). Maybe that she saved her when most would have just passed by, without any wish to meddle with soldiers and some stinky half-demon. Or that 'half'-thing… half-demon, half-elf. Or, maybe, because the half-elf in question was just bloody appallingly nice. Whatever it was, the tiefling came to like her quickly… easily. An effortless non-biding feeling when you were simply glad that someone like that existed in the world.

It would be only in couple of tendays, after they'd meet the druid, Elanee, and cut their way through hordes of undead and bandits, when Neeshka would finally learn that Adele's homeplace was almost destroyed and the woman herself was hunted by those outerplane fanatics, githyanki - the news that would be the blow both for her and the dwarf, informed in the same casual smiling tone, with soft (but unarguable) brushing off any condolences or sympathy they tried to mumble…

It would be only in Highcliff, after they'd make a deal with the Lizardsfolk and, coming back, discover that shaky old man, the Elder, was not really fond of such a come-out, not trusting the lizards enough for a truce; only after Elanee would almost get a blister on her tongue explaining what reasonable creatures lizardmen were – only then Neeshka would find out how not nice Adele Farlong could be, beating the Hells (and an allowance for their ship to set sail) out of the man with merely a glare and several words in a voice capable of freezing a volcano.

It wouldn't matter already - by that time they'd be not Adele Farlong and Neeshka the tiefling, but Del and Neesh. And the first could turn out to be the Lady of the Nine Hells hunted by all the Faerun – the latter wouldn't mind a bit.

But for now, on a stuffy cold night in Fort Locke, there was only one thing that tugged at the tiefling the most. "Just curious," she said, looking at the woman, and Adele arched her eyebrow in silent wonder – an expression Neeshka would come to know very well. The tiefling stared pointedly at Adele's bizarre two-coloured hair tied into a thick tail high on the back of her head. "Dyed?"

Adele chuckled, the sound suggesting that Neeshka was hardly the first one to ask: "No, was born dead."


Neeshka placed her palm flat on the table, poking the tip of the dagger into the wood between her thumb and index finger, then between the index and the middle one, then moved it in-between the middle and the ring-finger, and on, and back the full circle… That was the trick – to hit the space between each two fingers, increasing speed of tucking without skewering your hand. She was good at that – though, surely, it took her much practice in the past years. But what a thief, especially a pickpocket, could hope for without sleight of hands and sharp reflexes?

She'll be fine, she'll be fine,- the tiefling repeated in her mind, an endless mantra for every hit of the knife, – she'll be fine, she'll be fine, fine she'll be, be she'll fine…

Feeling a gaze on herself, Neeshka stopped and lifted her head, staring back at Sand sitting across the table. The elf was looking at her intently, almost expectedly, and after Neeshka put a 'what?' face pointed at her dagger with his eyes, probably annoyed by the noise.

"If you don't mind," he said dryly. With a fake pout Neeshka threw the knife on the table, leaning back in her chair and catching her tail, twiddling it in her fingers. The wizard, making sure her nerves were going to work themselves out in a quiet way this time, went back to reading a thick journal he fetched from Grobnar where the gnome wrote all the notes about their journey. The gnome himself, sitting at Sand's side, was watching him carefully – not to miss any reaction on his writing.

"Just nervous," Neeshka murmured defensively. Smiling Lady knew, she was nervous. So nervous that was tempted to steal something right on spot – simply for the sake of keeping herself occupied. But Grobnar had nothing special on him, apart from his usual completely worthless but, no doubts, very exciting rubbish - that she had checked already. And Sand probably kept his pockets magically sealed and charmed so that they'd bite her hand off.

With a sigh Neeshka looked at Qara coming from the counter with two ordered tankards for her and Khelgar – tankards that were far not the first ones. The girl's sleepy face kept such a fed-up expression, that the tiefling leaned away from the table in advance – so, as the sorceress jammed both tankards down, none of the splashed out ale reached her. Grobnar blinked confusedly. Sand managed in time to lift the book, looking at a thin stream of ale flowing to his side, then raised his stare at Qara, a stare that would have probably made flowers wither.

"Oh, sue me," the girl threw over her shoulder, retreating to the counter and elbowing at it lazily, presenting herself with another unplanned break in her work. Neeshka saw Duncan bark at her, but somehow mechanically, without much enthusiasm, too tired and concerned to bother, so Qara didn't even look at him and threw a piece of food to Tamin, who was running about the counter with the looks of doing something terribly important. Duncan, too, didn't pay attention that he was ignored and went back to talking to Casavir, who managed to keep his calmness and composure even despite a sleepless night.

Shandra slipped on the chair beside Neeshka, wrapping her hands tightly around the tankard that was meant for Khelgar. Speaking of nervous…- the tiefling watched the farmgirl take a large gulp from the tankard, and her tail briskly thumped against the chair-leg in annoyance. - Stumpy, she drank your ale. Punch her, will you?

She could almost feel Shandra's desire to ask Sand if he had learnt anything new – but the elf made it quite clear that being disrupted didn't help him. And what didn't help him didn't help Del as a result. Bloody smart excuse that was, Neeshka had to admit. Even got Duncan off his back.

Taking a sip from her own mug, Neeshka gazed at Elanee. The druidess occupied her usual armchair near the fireplace, her head on its high back, and it almost looked like she was simply having rest - but her hooded eyes were glazed over, as her mind was probing every little bird in the neighbourhood, every street cat, every damned tree – anything that could tell her where Adele was. They had hoped that the druidess would be able to watch her at Solace Glade as well – and she tried - but as she explained, the city was deafening her senses, not allowing them to reach that far. That was the moment whet it took Casavir to prevent Shandra from going there. So again Neeshka became convinced that Del was a bit of a prophet when she had warned them in the evening to keep an eye on the farmgirl. Or, perhaps, she even had a suspicion that Neeshka herself actually thought about sneaking to the Glade.

Khelgar stomped into the tavern from the street, where he'd been marching up and down the terrace last time she saw him. "Dawnin'," he informed everybody in a tone that suggested he'd beat into pulp every Luskan, every Neverwinter knight and Grobnar with his 'oh-I-know-traps!' to the pile if Del won't appear in half an hour.

"Every morning," Neeshka grinned at him. When Del wasn't around, she seemed to be the only one trying to light up the situation somehow. Well, Grobnar too – but that was just natural, without any effort from him.

The dwarf huffed and tramped right up to the table, glaring at Sand. "So, wizard?" he demanded, always subtle like a mace. "Learnt anythin'?"

The elf let out the heaviest sigh Neeshka had ever heard. "Much," he confessed, peering at the monstrously small handwriting that littered the page.

Grobnar smiled proudly: "I keep the most careful and detailed record."

"…Believe me, I noticed."

"Ya don't dodge the question, sharp-wit," Khelgar grumbled. "Ol' dwarf be damned if there ain't anythin' in those papers of yers to help ar lass out."

"Hard to tell right now, before we actually started the investigation," the wizard replied, reading through the page once more. "I would prefer not to make any assumptions at all rather than appear wrong in future".

Don't know, sod off, - Neeshka translated to herself and snorted quietly into her mug. Sand was surely good at waltzing around the issue and using ten words instead of one. Long and complicated words preferably.

"Though…" he frowned, a thin threadlike wrinkle appearing between his brows, and tapped his finger over the book. "I was wondering if some parts of this story really took place – or are just a product of… an overactive imagination of an author."

Neeshka snickered, while Grobnar was still smiling innocently, probably taking Sand's remark as a compliment.

"What parts 're ya talking 'bout?" Khelgar clarified.

"Yeah, ask the moss-breath," Neeshka put in, mostly by force of habit. "He doesn't have imagination at all." Khelgar kicked her under the table, she stuck her tongue out in response. Force of habit, again.

"Come on, guys, can't you be serious?" Shandra said, and Neeshka rolled her eyes, any kindle of good mood she started to have immediately doused.

Sand regarded them all with a long gaze, then smiled tightly as they returned their attention to him. "I meant the boy."

"The boy?" Shandra repeated in clear amazement.

"…Oh, that spooky kid at Ember, you mean?" Neeshka nodded. "Yeah, he was there… Freaked Del out, pissed Bishop off, took his knife and left," the tiefling scratched her ear uncomfortably. "Bloody Hells, I've just got that he had actually said that Ember would be destroyed."

"Yes, that is interesting," Sand nodded. "And might be of use."

"The boy? At Ember?" the blond woman darted her blank glance between them. "Said it would be destroyed?"

"Yessssss," Neeshka hissed, doing her best to keep herself from snapping.

"But… why haven't you done anything?"

"Wh-?" she glared at Shandra. "Now that's our fault too?! Oh, wow! You've outbested yourself!"

Her cheeks flushed slightly: "It's not what I meant."

"Well, watch out what you don't mean next time! Or someone may think that you mean it!" Neeshka abruptly turned back to Sand, who looked positively amused, and placed her elbows on the table with a tell-tale thump, hoping that the farmgirl would get the hint and leave it. For Tymora's sake, she's annoying. Should have left her to the gith. They'd have let her go, anyway, the moment she opened her huge mouth and started complaining.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry. Gods," Shandra appeared deaf and dumb to hints, speaking in her favourite 'insulted in best feelings' tone, the one that the ranger was so good at mocking. Almost made Neeshka miss him. "But if that boy said…"

Argh, that does it! "Yeah, we didn't listen. Were too busy saving your hide from the gith, forgive us."

Shandra gulped in the air, like she was punched in her stomach, but immediately narrowed her eyes to cover her lapse: "And for how long will you keep bringing that up?"

"Oh, don't know… until the thought sink?"

"I said I'm grateful!"

"Yeah, and I can say I'm a celestial. That doesn't make me one, does it?"

Out of the corner of her eye Neeshka saw Casavir watching their argument, until he decided to try and calm both of them down – but before he even could start doing that, a heavy gauntleted fist slammed the table between them, making both women jump. "Break!" Khelgar barked, appearing awfully threatening for the one only a head taller than the table. Neeshka and Shandra exchanged quick glances and turned back to Sand, the elf's face a perfectly feigned mask of martyred patience.

"I'm sorry," Shandra muttered again, this time apologetically, and Neeshka couldn't help but roll her eyes once more, mimicking her expression at the ceiling. "So, um… what can we do?"

"Well, I suppose for now," the elf stated serenely, "you can sit altogether and wish very-very hard for our accusers to die."

"I do already," Neeshka shrugged.

Shandra pursed her lips sternly: "It's not funny, Sand."

"It's not," he agreed just as evenly. "But that is all you can do, my dear. As for the matter of case… if the mysterious diviner survived… if there are any survivours, we should check for them in Port Llast, that is quite obvious," his tone became grim for a moment as he stared back into the book, "…before Luskans did that for us."

"Wish I could lay ma hands on those who did it…" Khelgar tightened his fist still lying on the table as if it was clutching the hilt of his axe. "Lass got her share of fightin' those bastards, that she did, but somethin' like this… Ya want somebody dead – ya go to him and deal! Not cowardly stickin' yer blade into innocent back just to put blame on another!"

"Ah, my friend, if Luskan always took the direct approach, it would have been so much simpler to stop them… and they never would have been the Luskan we know," Sand pointed, turning over the page. "And if Adele was mentioning a certain Black Garius for a reason…" he fell silent, shaking his head in a way that was supposed to mean everything else. Not that it meant anything to Neeshka, but the wizard clearly thought it to be a waste of time and effort – explaining something he considered apparent.

"Well, maybe ta find the guy and have a good-ol' chat with him?"

"How?" Neeshka wondered.

"Whad'ya mean – 'how'?! How we chatted with Moire! Axe into scull – an' done, serves him right!"

"No, I mean - how to find?"

"…Don't know," Khelgar finally admitted with a disappointed grunt. "Should be some way!"

"Oh, there are so many ways to find someone…" Grobnar gave voice, but the dwarf glared at him:

"Wanna tankard on yer head?!"

"…No, not really."

Shandra rubbed her face wearily, getting up from her place, threw a quick glance at Elanee, then shook her head, looking longingly into the window near the counter. "I should have come," she muttered.

Blast it, now she buries her already!

"Shandra," Casavir placed his palm over her shoulder. Unlike Sand, the paladin was splendid at 'one word', his velvet voice quiet yet unbending.

"Shandra – what?" the blond woman asked crossly but then predictably gave up and melted down on the sofa under the pressure of his concerned eyes. Though, in this particular case, Neeshka couldn't blame her - for Casavir was out of his armor, in plain everyday clothes, all tall and broad-shouldered and handsome, Abyss take him. Sometimes Neeshka herself had to resist the urge to pinch him. What stopped her was the idea of an expression on his face if she had done that… and the image of her skin crawling off the fingers – which it surely would do.

"I'm just worried, that's all," Shandra's voice reached her, and Neeshka squeezed her hands on the mug tighter, the farmgirl giving words to her own thoughts really getting on her nerves.

"As we all," Casavir nodded. Exactly. Not like you have a sole right for that. "But Sand is right, for now we have done what we could. And you know as well as I do that your training is not yet sufficient to face soldiers of Luskan. Adele has enough to worry about beside your – or anyone else – well-being. Please, do not make it harder for her than it already is."

"Means: don't make her save your hide again," Neeshka whispered into her ale, then raised voice: "She handled things worse than Luskans."

"I know!" Shandra exclaimed, obviously on edge, waving her arms helplessly. Sand closed his eyes for a moment with nearly pained look, as if he was having a severe headache, then opened them and stared into the book again with a slight shake of his head. "It's just… What was she expecting? Talked about Luskan assassins for the whole evening – and then smiled and left with the words 'see you in the morning, don't worry for me'. Just tell me she is insane – and I'll put up with it."

"She's not insane," Neeshka snapped, the knuckles of her fingers on the mug becoming white. "She's just Del. Put up with that."

Khelgar grinned knowingly at her irritation: "Keep yer temper, fiendlin'."

"What are you talking about? I'm the most patient tiefling on the face of Toril," Neeshka got to her feet. "And look who said it, anyway."

Walking through the common room, she fetched her throwing knives, aiming at the dartboard hanging on the wall – but had no time to throw a single one, as from the side came a loud crash when Qara accidentally pushed down a tray with glasses from the counter - and was now glaring at the crocks accusingly. Tamin, always sensing shit when it appeared, smartly sneaked under Qara's collar. Neeshka shot a glance at Duncan, who was apparently seething – poor Duncan had piles of troubles from their bunch as it was, and every tiny thing seemed to be another step towards the blow. But before the half-elf could bring Hells on his favourite waitress, Elanee suddenly shifted in her armchair, and all glances turned towards her.

"She is coming back," the druidess stated, her voice sounding deep, as if from somewhere within her throat.

"Finally," Sand stood up, closing the book. "Then I shall take my leave as well. I'm sure lord Nasher in boiling anticipation awaits for his newest squire."

"Thank the Gods," Duncan muttered, then looked back at Qara. "But don't think that'll save you from cleaning the mess!"

"Oh, I wouldn't even dream of it," the sorceress filtered, grabbing the mop in the same warlike fashion she used to hold her staff: "Feet up everybody!"

Neeshka grinned, capering away from the devastating mop-attack, and settled back on her chair, grabbing the tankard again…


No better way of uniting someone than against a common enemy, - Adele concluded, when Torio Claven stormed out of the throne-room, her initial plan of taking Adele to Luskan's court failed miserably. It was then she noticed, that her face, as well as Sand's, Grayson's, Nasher's and Nevalle's – different as they were - appeared to have almost identical smug expressions.

But that feeling of unity was slowly dissolving, as she and Sand were followed through the corridors and halls of Castle Never to the exit. Followed by sir Nevalle, no less. For all this time he was instructing them what to do and where to go ("…what to wear?" Adele almost felt like asking) in order to find evidence needed for the trial. A bored look on Sand's face showed that sir Nevalle said nothing new – but the thing was that the knight was talking to her, not Sand. She couldn't help but be grated by the way he seemed to ignore the elf or take him as something granted, kind of a supplement he presented her with, nothing more. - 'A friend of mine', yeah, sure…

Upon the whole everything went pleasingly well and quickly. If the word 'pleasingly' could even be used in the situation that included Torio Claven. Before meeting her, Adele had imagined Luskan Ambassador in many different ways – but the dress ruined any impression she could have had from the woman. The strange construction of straps, treads, fur and fabric, that made poor attempts at covering Torio's notable forms (and they still did a great job of escaping through the cleavage), reminded her of big ham sausages in local butcher's shop, usually tied tightly with strings in the same fashion. Maybe it had some arousing effect on men, Adele couldn't say, but as long as her perception went, she had just felt terribly hungry.

" – in Port Llast you will certainly be able to find someone who would lead you through Duskwood to Ember," Nevalle continued. Oh, smart. Can almost see myself running around Port Llast and asking everyone if they could take me to the scene of mass-murder in Luskan grounds. "Unfortunately, for now we cannot allow ourselves to provide you with a scout…"

"No need to," she smirked, almost on impulse. "We have a… man quite capable of doing what is needed." …You just listen to me, how 'nobly' I sound. Hells, he's infectious.

"Then that is out of the question," Nevalle nodded, probably content. "Once in Ember, have a good look around. Any evidence would prove useful. But that is up to Sand, he has a talent of noticing all discrepancies and oddities."

"Careful, sir Nevalle," the elf's voice was dry like paper. "Or I might not be able to restrain myself and start blushing from the compliments."

Leader of the Nine glanced at him coldly: "That's wasn't a compliment, Sand. Considering that whatever oddities appear, you always happen to be suspiciously around."

The wizard heaved an exaggerated sigh, still preferring to look into space rather than at his 'friend'. "Yes, I never gratified myself with thinking that you visit my shop so frequently solely for the sake of purchasing elixirs. Though that does not prevent you from using a personal discount."

Nevalle smiled just as dryly: "I see your transfer to the Docks hasn't improved your temperament, Sand."

"Worry not, I keep several hours a day in special reserve to ponder where my life made such a sharp and unfortunate turn," before the knight could answer, Sand markedly bowed his head. "But the situation does not dispose to that now, I'm afraid. I would have chosen to start saving lady Farlong from the gallows rather than be interrogated… again."

'Lady' Farlong? …Riiiiight, I'm a squire now, ain't I?

"…Fair enough," Nevalle agreed as they reached the doors and also bowed at parting. "And we wish you luck in that."

With a smile that she hoped was polite Adele returned his bow and, as he left, looked at Sand. "…Ouch," she muttered sympathetically.

"The depth to which I sink…" he shook his head and opened the door, allowing a wedge of sunlight cut the floor.

Along with the light came sound – bustling of Blacklake District coming to life. But despite the noise, Adele felt almost relief as huge ornamental doors of Castle Never shut behind their backs, leaving her and Sand standing on an impressive marble staircase leading down. It was good being outside, without all the imposing walls and arches and windows and floors slabbed with polished stone that made every step echo, like she was a prancing horse. A very purebred horse, but a horse still.

Hope you enjoy royal stables, Cherry… I surely don't.

She closed her eyes and threw her head back a little, breathing in the air with pleasure: "Freedom smells good."

Sand looked over the District, then glanced back at the woman: "As much as I hate ruining your exaltation, my dear, - but don't you think that you threw yourself in it before time?"

"Shhh… I'm enjoying the moment…" she whispered, took another breath and opened her eyes, giving her shoulders almost birdish ruffling jerk. "Alright, I'm back and completely at your disposal, my dear lawyer."

"Delighted," the elf gestured downwards. "Shall we proceed then, my dear client?"

"Of course," she started down the stairs, after a second of hesitation hearing the silk rustle of robes as Sand followed her. The streets began to crowd with first citizens; on the small square in front of the Academy the merchants were gathering, pitching their colourful tents. Adele had to admit, that after the cordoning off was no longer in place, with all the people outside, the District looked much more friendly and pleasant. It was so easy to forget, that miles away a tiny village lay in ruins, its inhabitants slaughtered… Too easy. "So, what is our plan – away from knightly insistent suggestions?" she wondered, looking around and hoping that she seemed as calm and light as she wanted. "I mean, after the Flagon."

"To put it short – we are indeed going to Port Llast, then to Ember. Then see what we find along the way, I think," Sand answered, also looking around – only not as obviously as she did. "I have dedicated the previous night to the most informative acquaintance with the blotter of your fellow-companion bard – and must say that there is what to look for."

"Grobnar gave you his records?" Adele arched her brow unbelievingly. "Damn, every time I try to get a look at them he screams that the book mustn't be seen until it's finished."

"…Well, to put you at ease, he made me solemnly swear that I won't tell anybody what is written… as if I ever be that ruthless," he elbowed his way through the crowd gathering around the herald to listen to the latest news. Thankfully, Adele didn't have much problems with drifting across the mob – people could still discern that the rag on her shoulders was actually a City Watch cloak.

Though her cloak was not the only one, as she noticed several more grey-and-white Watch patrols moving along the District. Seemed that Nasher had increased the forces, not really happy with his knights and squires being attacked in the middle of their vigils right under his nose. But I'd've been much happier if that had happened before the attack. Now looks more like shaking angry fists after the fight is already over. At the thought Adele glanced down at Sand, his miniature slender figure hardly reaching her shoulder with the top of his head. He was busy with studying the assassin's ring she had given him before, and while his stare was locked on the ring, the retrospective look on his face showed that his mind was elsewhere, lightning-fast thoughts almost seen flashing in his eyes. Adele kept silent, allowing stream of his guesses course undisturbed in his mind, and occupied herself with making sure that they wouldn't crash into somebody in the street.

"What Luskans even wanted to accomplish with this attack?" Sand finally murmured, talking mostly to himself. "Taking chances? Really, as sloppy as it was… it surely doesn't look like Torio."

"Should it?" Adele wondered, though she also noticed how jumpy the Ambassador was during their brief meeting in the Castle. After all, Adele had nothing more to do there than to watch the actors of this small play – since her part was the only line 'Yes, I am a squire, my lord.'

"…Why doubts?" Sand's voice was absent, but his eyes travelled from the ring to the woman's face, studying it just as carefully. "Tell me, perhaps I can dispel or at least give some ground to your suspicions."

"…You sound like a priest suggesting a confession."

"My dear, you are accused of a crime that is more than serious – and I am charged with clearing you of it. For the time, I am your priest, your closest friend and your walking conscience," she glanced at him, remembering all their previous encounters, half-words and questions hanging in the air – amusing as it was, Adele suspected that there came the time to pile out everything. Probably getting her thoughts, the Moon elf nodded. "And from my part I shall admit that, yes, I had my moments of dealing with the Arcane Brotherhood… Nothing I am proud of, yet still."

"Yeah, I figured that much…" she closed her eyes for a second. It's not like she was wary of Sand or anything, but she didn't like that her unwilling focus on Black Garius made her almost paranoid.

"There is something your personal biographer not aware of, right?" Sand concluded.

"…Yup. About the 'Sea Ghost'… There was a guy there, a wizard… he said a thing that doesn't sit well with me. Something like 'oh, you think Black Garius and Luskan are one and the same? He-he, they think so too, but he is not'," she licked her lips, staring back at Sand, whose expression changed from mildly curios to suddenly pleased. "And you can kill me, but I just can't imagine all the Hosttowers of the Arcane sitting and plotting how to get rid of poor wretched me. Though the thought is flattering, of course, but… I just can't. Sure, I had my striking moments with Luskans in the Docks, and sending assassins to sweep out a meddlesome lieutenant makes sense in light of it – but… slaughtering a whole village to frame me…?"

"Believe me, my dear, your understanding of justified losses lies leagues away from that of someone as ambitious and driven as an Arcane Brother or Sister."

"I'm sure of that, but it's not about losses, it's about… trouble and time," she fell silent, startled by her own words. Gods, had I just said that? Had I just called them 'losses' and 'trouble'?

Hells with it, - the voice inside snarled. – Are you getting out of a noose prepared for you or beat yourself for calling pig a pig.

"…Yeah," she shook her head, stifling the thoughts, and tilted her head towards Sand, who was waiting for her to continue. "I mean, too much work and blood… for what? I'm no Arcane Sister, but if I was one – gods forbid – I would have chosen to simply teleport to my victim and deal with them…" she gave a grim chuckle. "Well, maybe, make them die in agony if I was in sadistic moods."

"You sound much like your dwarven friend," the wizard observed with detached ironic amusement.

"…And that's one of the reasons he is my friend," Adele closed her eyes, all the revolting memories of graveyards in Fort Locke, mountain cave filled with desecrated bodies coming to her mind at once. "Hells, makes me even kind of respect that mage who killed those nobles in Blacklake. Just went and killed, no one else hurt, no one else noticed."

"…and no one he intended to put blame on," Sand finished, raising his brows meaningfully, and Adele had to nod in agreement.

"Well, yes, that too, can't argue," she sighed. "But, come on, I don't think I spoiled Luskan's life that badly… then why?"

"Frankly, that is the question I keep asking myself," he agreed. "So far this whole plot seems too ill-conceived - a single stake at your possible surrender to Luskan appears almost… desperate and thought out at the double. And for all Luskan cruelty and dominating tendencies, they are not that short-sighted as to endanger such a convenient truce with Neverwinter… so straightforwardly at least," crossing his arms on the chest, he slid his hands into the sleeves of his robe. Small thin smile together with his fine but a little sharpened features made him look like a fox that got access into hen-coop. "If Garius did this behind Luskan back… and involved an official Luskan Ambassador as well…"

"You think she works for him? Personally?"

Sand freed one hand to wave it dismissively: "Either way, it is such an obvious skeleton falling out of the cupboard that I am not even too interested in who put it there," he rubbed the tip of his sharp nose thoughtfully. "I was wondering if, perhaps, this skeleton fell out with such a crash simply to distract attention from another one?"

"…Like, say, necromantic experiments on Neverwinter territory and supporting creepy Shadow cult?"

"…Go on," Sand drawled, and his icy-blue eyes glittered, almost a child who stuck his hand into a cookie-jar and realized there were not only cookies, but some candies and marmalade inside as well.

"Fort Locke, Highcliff, Old Owl Well and Neverwinter forest… all packed with some priests who seemed to get jollies from undead and something - don't know how even to put it – shadowy. And always it had something to do with Garius. Never heard any other name," she shrugged expressively. "That's my sick paranoid tale."

"I shall surprise you, my dear, but it appears not as paranoid as it may seem. To rise so high and so quickly demands a certain source of power, which Garius obviously did not have until recently," his gaze turned inwards again. "A Shadow cult… That gives a new dimension to Garius' plans."

"Let's get to some place where I can sit… and eat, maybe I'll remember something else," Adele shrugged, her own thoughts a bit of a chaos. "But, look, if Torio works with Garius and at the same time speaks and acts on behalf of Luskan as a whole city…"

"Yes, yes, exactly," his smile widened in satisfaction. "My dear, I think we have a grand chance of not only getting you out of this story clean and shining, but also making Luskan lose their face. And once without a face, they'll have no other choice but to hand Garius out to Neverwinter on a silver platter. Moreover, they would be glad to do so," he was almost purring, and Adele couldn't help but smile in a little baffled way. Gods, I surely want to have him among my friends. Noticing the expression of her face, the elf made another non-committal gesture. "But all in appropriate time, of course."

"…Alright, have fun," she chuckled. "Like I said, I'm completely at your disposal." …Bishop would have probably made an obscenity out of it.

Caught in their conversation, both Adele and Sand missed their arrival in the Docks, until found themselves on the street that ran exactly between 'Sunken Flagon' and the wizard's shop. Noticing that finally, the elf came to a standstill, looked around and brought his palms together with a sharp clap, a perfect sound equivalent of a dot.

"Let's close the discussion for now," he suggested, turning back to the woman. "I'm sure you'll want to have some rest and… whatever." Somehow a tiny wrinkle on the bridge of his nose made Adele understand that, in Sand's opinion, she was desperate for a bath - or, at least, should be. "Come by when you are ready, we have much to talk over."

"You mean, you're not coming in?" the woman nodded at the 'Flagon'.

"…My dear, have mercy."

Unable to suppress a grin, she watched him cross the street to the shop and disappear inside of his small secluded kingdom of inexhaustible magical riches and most peculiar alchemical scents. For the one with such keen sense of smell, it was a wonder the wizard hadn't sneezed himself to death in his shop yet. Still grinning, Adele headed to the tavern's entrance, though her grin didn't last for long - she had a whole common room of people waiting for her. Waiting and – she knew – ready-fitted to embark to Port Llast or wherever even right now.

To solve her problems. To fight her fight.

Casavir surely is coming – justice stuff, after all. Khelgar and Neeshka too, it's granted – they'll more likely take offence if I even try to hint they'd better stay. Shandra… Shandra's too determined to find those who are guilty, so… better and safer if she's somewhere in my sight. Qara won't stay in the 'Flagon' on her life as long as there's an excuse to leave. Grobnar… oh, Hells, let's be honest, he's more capable of handling himself than most sane people I've met in my life. Elanee… Yeah, Elanee… she will come, without asking or saying, she just will. And Bishop… Bishop, Bishop, Bishop… - she clenched her teeth. – Damn, I need you, blasted ranger.

Funny. Almost like he's the only one I need, - Adele cast her eyes upwards, on the slice of sky above the tavern's roof, and squinted on the sun, nearly scowled, a humourless smile tickling her lips. – Means I should be nice… And Bishop eats alive those who are nice to him.

Then eat him first.

If he says a word to anyone... I will.

Oh, crap. Talking to myself again. Annoying habit, need to get rid of it. They say it's a certain mark of a lonely person.

The woman dropped her eyes down… and froze in her tracks when the front door opened and a cascade of dirty water splashed her legs from knees to toes.

"…Beshaba loves me," she muttered, shaking her feet in turn, then looked at Qara, who stood up straight, emptying the rest of the bucket used for mopping the floor on the ground. "Thank you, no need to worry about shower anymore."

"Oh, it's you," Qara eyed unfortunate boots. "Watch your step."

"Nicely appropriate warning," Adele nodded, feeling another grin break on her lips. After a night of vigil, abortive assassination and the morning in the castle Qara's familiar haughty face seemed a face of an angel. The woman gestured between the bucket and the back-alley. "I think the postern door is meant for this."

The sorceress extended the bucket to her. "Volunteer?" Adele shook her head, and Qara snorted, "Yeah, didn't think so."

"I can't," the woman explained, straight-faced, "I'm a squire now. The title obliges."

The sorceress put her hands on her hips: "Squires are actually supposed to clean horses in knights' servitude."

"No!" Adele popped her eyes out on her in phony terror. "I knew there is a catch somewhere! But since you are so good in noble stuff, will you teach me to curtsey? Please?"

"I can't," the girl threw her own words back to her gleefully. "I'm a waitress now."

"Let's switch the roles, eh? I'll mop the floors, wash the dishes, and you'll become a lady. Title comes with a lump of broken sword in your ribs, Luskan grudge and soaked boots."

Qara pretended to think over, then flinched and waved her off, grabbing the bucket and turning back to the door. "Desperate for nobility they must be, making you one," she added, and Adele barked a short laughter, following the girl into the 'Flagon':

"My thought exactly."

"Hey!" her words were cut short by Neeshka's happy yelp.

Adele backed off, throwing her hands in the air in front of her to prevent a whelm of welcomes and a hug from Neeshka and Khelgar that was surely to come - and would have just as surely knocked her back into the street. It didn't help, but, at least, she was dragged in, not out, into a warm cloud of faces, hands, words and questions.

I'm home.

Everyone was there, except - she noticed with relief - Bishop. She wasn't sure she could handle his presence at the moment.

"Alright, alright, let her breathe!" Duncan immediately stepped towards her, saving her mostly from the dwarf and the tiefling. "How did it go?"

"As great as it could be," she nodded. "Torio's sweating nervously, Nasher's happy like a little girl 'bout that – and I'm a squire and got a permission to leave the city. Oh, and I want a steak," she added, struck by memories of Ambassador's cleavage. "Large and juicy. Do I have a hope?"

"And the vigil? Were you - ?"

"Yeah, I was attacked, but it went well too. Three assassins less in the world," she said evasively. Now, at daylight, her blunder on the Glade with falling asleep seemed more of a thing to laugh at – but she had serious doubts that all of her companions would share that laugh if she told them. Bishop would… and probably will. She smiled at Grobnar. "Stumbled over traps, they did."

"Lucky ya, Grobby," Khelgar groused.

The gnome beamed: "I know."

"What about the squire?" Neeshka wondered. "Had at least a ceremony or something?"

"Nah-huh," Adele leaned her crossed arms on the high back of Elanee's chair, its position allowing her to have a full view of the whole band. "It was more like… Grayson: 'This woman is my squire', Torio: 'You don't have a squire', Nasher: 'Let's ask the squire. Squire, are you a squire?', me: 'Yes, my lord, I am a squire', Nasher: 'The squire says she is a squire – that means she is a squire'. And – bang - I am a squire."

"And that's it? No fancy sword, no vowing?" the tiefling sounded almost offended.

"Nope. Then Nasher kicked me out with the words: 'Now clean your name, 'cause I'll have more duties for you in the future'," she grinned. "It's good to be needed." Neeshka winced, her lips clearly articulating 'bloodsuckers', but gave no voice to the word – Adele figured it was mostly because of Casavir not far from her.

"So when do we leave?" Shandra asked, surely ready to march at the moment.

"As soon as possible, I'd say," Adele assured her. 'We' – she repeated to herself Shandra's say. – Indisputable 'we'. "After I figure everything with Sand. Maybe even today, towards the evening," she looked over her friends. "Though I have a bad feeling that none of you slept tonight".

"You expected us to?" the blond woman seemed incredulous.

"Well… yes." Why not, I slept. "At least I hoped. Have quite a way ahead of us. Speaking of which," she raked her hand through her hair, "where's our ranger, by the way?"

"Who knows?" Neeshka snorted. "Anywhere. Left in the evening, never came back."

"…I see," Adele pursed her lips. "Well, have time to rest and prepare, then. And eat," she smiled at Duncan pleadingly. The half-elf looked around for Sal, but, finding none, waved Qara towards the kitchen for her to see that some meal was arranged. Adele did her best not to snicker as Qara left with the same jaded 'the-depth-to-which-I-sink' look Sand had at Castle Never. "Easy there, uncle," Adele teased. "Don't want our kindle to faint from exhaustion half-way."

"Don't count on that," Qara shouted from the kitchen, and the next moment something really heavy - and obviously breakable – met the floor. "Oh, great! Who put it here?!"

"Is she doing it on purpose?" Duncan wondered at no one in particular, seeming torn between going to the kitchen and a wish to stay and hear out everything Adele had to say.

"I shall see what is wrong," Elanee gave him a soft nod, making him stay, and shuffled towards the noise and Qara's curses.

Duncan grunted and shook his head. "I swear, this girl costs me more than all her work does. I sometimes feel like paying myself to get rid of her."

"No need to, I'll take her for free," Adele propped her head with her hand and smiled at others. "Okay, guys, you can stop watching me like I'm going to fall face down with a Luskan knife in my back and get your rest."

"We are -- " Shandra started, but Adele raised her brows:

"An order."

"But -- "

"We heard ya, lass," Khelgar rushed Shandra towards the doors leading to rooms. The woman looked like she wanted to object, but waved her hands in resignation and finally yielded. Neeshka followed, her face appearing almost gloating, but stopped in the door-way and leaned her shoulder on the post, probably also not wanting to miss anything. Regarding Adele with a long gaze from head to boots, she giggled and shook her head: "Squire, my tail."

"Do not mock, Neeshka," Casavir chided, and the tiefling feigned a pout, sticking her lower lip forward.

"Why can't she?" Adele smiled. "She's not in Neverwinter service."

"Such things should not be taken lightly," the paladin looked at Adele, his words clearly meant for her. "No matter the circumstances."

She didn't answer, looking at him in turn, understanding perfectly that he wanted her to realize her responsibility and everything – she couldn't blame him, really. It was something Casavir seemed to never be able to get – that she realized well, too well to her liking, what was going on. 'Serve Neverwinter – and it shall serve you,' Nasher said. Neat deal, she wouldn't have argued… if in front of her wasn't a man who, faithful and loyal as he was, preferred to stride all the way to Old Owl Well and deal with orcs by himself rather than trying to move Neverwinter to do it.

Casavir suddenly cleared his throat, and Adele blinked, back to reality again. "I did not mean to discourage you," he said, taking her thoughtful gaze as a sign of brought down spirit. "And there is no reason for you to be…"

"No, no, I'm fine," she smiled at him, "just tired also, so I… doze off a little. With the vigil and assassins and -- "

Something warm and soft brushed against her leg, and she lowered her gaze at Karnwyr who strolled past her. She didn't turn her head – and neither needed to, for she already knew that the ranger was somewhere behind her back. Adele started to seriously suspect that Bishop intentionally chose moments for his arrival.

"— and the rest," she finished in a different voice.

And here comes my hero.

"What, our princess wore herself out?" Bishop drawled, also coming past her.

"A bit," she nodded, deciding it was better to stare at his shadow moving along the floor than at Bishop himself. The shadow, at least, couldn't stare back.

Should have known better, expecting to get away that easily, - she scolded herself inwardly as he came up not to the counter, but to her, throwing his arm over her shoulders, and placed his hand on the back of the chair she was still leaning on, hanging over the woman. Strange, but apart from his usual scent of forest, earth and ale, he smelled of soap and… perfume? Brothel, - it dawned upon her. – Sweet. I get Nevalle as a morning company, and he – a merry whore and a pint of ale. Where's justice?

"A surprise you didn't," Neeshka sniffed at Bishop. "Loafed somewhere for the whole night himself."

"Want me to tell you where?" the ranger wondered, and Adele could hear that crooked smirk of his.

"We are not that interested," Adele smiled, lifting her gaze at his face, seeing mostly lines of his neck and the underside of his lower jaw. But before her eyes even rested on him, he was already aware of that, lowering his head enough to parry her glance with his. And, yes, he was smirking.

"A shame," he dragged the word out derisively. "Such a thrilling story…"

"Oh my, a story?" Grobnar immediately raised himself, his fair head shooting upwards from the journal he was busy with.

"We really don't have time for juicy tales," Adele felt her smile becoming more of a convulsion of face muscles.

"A juicy one it is, eh?" Wonder if I spit in his eye from this position – will I hit the mark?

"You know others? I doubt it."

"Try me."

"I believe she made it clear she does not want to listen," Casavir's voice came, and Bishop's eyes switch to the paladin.

"Not a mannered sort, are you, paladin," Bishop filtered. "I'm talking to a lady here, and you are interrupting."

"Enough, you two," Duncan interfered even before Adele could. "Unless you want to drive lass mad."

"…Don't think I mind that very much," Adele grinned, pushing herself off the chair and moving backwards to escape from under Bishop's arm, glad of changing the subject. "Would have made a lot of things easier, I suppose," she nodded meaningfully at Grobnar and retreated towards the counter, on her way placing a soothing palm on Casavir's forearm. The paladin's face was stony, but his jaw tightened at Bishop's obvious scorn to her, even though he couldn't figure the reason. Then again, when Bishop even needed a reason? Feeling her touch, Casavir glanced down at the woman and, after she whispered "drop it", nodded: "I shall be in my room."

Like, you know where to find me if you want the ranger's face broken? – Adele's cast a glance at Neeshka, the tiefling's face mirroring her grin as she disappeared in the corridor after the paladin. The woman would have gladly followed, but leaving Bishop and Duncan alone (Grobnar couldn't be of help here, really) was not the best idea – she suspected that Bishop was too much in high moods. And Bishop in high moods meant bad moods for everyone around – even if it would make him dangle her 'saving' in front of the half-elf's face. And cursed she be if she dealt him that card.

Duncan, in his blissful unawareness, patted the place at his side, making her come closer, and lowered his voice: "So how's it going? Seriously. Now, since others don't hear you."

"…You know me better than I thought," she sighed. "But, no, really, everything's fine." What a handy word 'fine'. Can mean anything from 'wonderful' to 'I'm screwed'. "Sand's got some thoughts already. And a really good feeling about the whole case."

"Good. Not something I'd say any other time speaking of Sand, but he's smart in this things. He is. But…" he shrugged expressively, "feel free to send him to search for clues in spider-dens if you feel like it." Adele chuckled, and Duncan, apparently pleased with that, grinned again. "Want some coffee? You had a sleepless night too, after all… Don't want you to faint from exhaustion half-way."

"Don't worry," Bishop murmured from his corner, another dagger-edge sharp smirk slashing his face. "She's in good hands."

Sonavabitch, - Adele thought helplessly, seeing the half-elf glowered at Bishop. The ranger held his cold stare, the smirk not wavering for a moment. – As if I don't have enough problems besides you getting under everyone's skin.

"No coffee, thanks," somehow she managed to keep her voice even and light. "But some water would be nice."

"Take something stronger, princess," Bishop shoved his crossed legs up on the barstool next to his.

"Nah, I'm through with strong drinks. Does harm to the health and all that."

"Ah. Gets you sleepy. I see."

"Yeah, exactly," she smiled at Duncan. "Water."

Duncan moved to the far shelves of the bar, his face a perfect mixture of bewilderment, concern and irritation, and Adele turned to Bishop, significant smirk still in place on ranger's lips. "Not another word," she whispered.

"Or what?" the man probably couldn't have looked more self-satisfied even if he wanted.

"…or you'll make me very angry."

"Now there's a scary thought."

Duncan came back, on his way filling a high glass with water from the pitcher, so Adele had no chance of answering the ranger – not like she knew what to answer. As slowly as possible, the most un-thirsty woman in the world bottomed the glass, ignoring Bishop's eyes fixed on her. "Can you lead us from Port Llast to Ember?" she asked finally, without looking at him. Stick to business, yeah.

"You wound me. Through Duskwood – my favourite route. Behave, and I might even lead you by a safe road," another godsdamned smirk hooked the corner of his lips up. "Whatever it takes to pay a debt, eh, Duncan?"

Oh, you're asking for being ungrateful, ranger, - Adele fumed silently, seeing how Duncan regarded him with an extra frosty gaze, clearly not willing to fall for the ranger's baiting – but this time Bishop didn't look back at him, keeping his stare on the woman. "Besides, we have our own debt to settle, don't we, princess?" She narrowed her eyes at his, cobalt fury on amber laugh, and Bishop leaned back on the stool, driving in the blade up to the hilt: "In addition to my knife given to the beggar-sop, of course."

"Bishop, lovely," she purred, bending over the counter to him, her voice so sweet there should have been sugar crystallizing on her lips, "how old are you, anyways? Makes me curious, with all your 'big-bad-girl-took-my-knife'."

He sneered: "Now that was painful, princess. Almost right into the kidneys."

"I'll pay you, Bishop," Duncan suddenly stated, his usually lively voice flat.

"The day I'll want collecting debts from you – go ahead and kill me," the ranger snorted, then looked back at the woman: "You were saying?"

"No," she smiled. "You were saying. But if I wounded you that much with taking your knife, then tell me when your birthday is – and I promise, I'll present you with a new shaving-blade."

Bishop chuckled, a hoarse rusty sound that seemed to scrub her skin. "You don't need a knife with a tongue as sharp as yours, I can tell you that."

"Yeah, cut my cheeks from the inside all the time."

"You can try shaving me with it," he cocked his head to the shoulder, slight challenging angle.

"I'm afraid I'll yield to temptation and slit your throat during that. And I am a mass-murderer already," her smile glaciated. "We shall come up with something else, I'm sure."

Bishop grinned, lacing his fingers on the back of his head, pleased flecks gilding his gaze: "Good to hear." Her smile withered at this joy, which only made him look even more pleased, sucker on her anger like he was – and all too aware of her resentment, Bishop dropped his feet to the floor and rose from the barstool. "Is that a smell of meat roasting? Think I'll help myself with some."

"Don't choke," Adele pointed coldly, following him with her eyes, "your corpse will be a bad guide through the woods."

Pausing for a moment, he measured her with a long gaze, then ran his tongue over the inner side of his bottom lip as if savouring the taste. "Well, ain't she a piece of cake?" he smirked at the abyss of silence behind Adele's back that used to be her uncle, and moved towards the kitchen.

Adele snorted quietly, finding herself already more amused than angry. "Gods, he's so sick it's almost sweet," she said under her breath, turning to Duncan. The half-elf didn't answer, looking at the doors where Bishop disappeared, and the woman tilted her head, unable to grasp what made him so grave.

"Watch out for him," Duncan suddenly said, his voice serious as never.

"…Come on, he's just pushing. I thought you know him well enough to bother."

"It's not about that, lass. It's…" the half-elf looked at her intently. "Do not put much trust in him. He's loyalties won't go far the moment he'll decide he paid his debt in full."

"Aw, and I already planned on running away with him to Icewind Dale, build a house of our own and give birth to many-many little Bishies and Dellies."

"Please, lass. I mean it. I'm afraid he'll sell you out to the highest bidder for half-a-copper when he gets a chance."

"Well then, we'll know my exact price," his face remained tight, and Adele sighed, seeing warm and honest worry for her in his eyes - eyes so similar to Daeghun's, yet so utterly different. Daeghun never showed concern for her or anybody, even if he felt it, strong in his belief that one must deal with their problems by themselves. He taught her that way, he made her get used to that belief as well, accept it. Right now she didn't know if she should thank him or curse him for that. Because she better knew Circles of the Nine Hells than what to do with people who were worried for her. "Look," she said finally, her voice as soft as she could manage. "As much as I hate it myself, I need him. Especially now. I need his eyes and his knowledge of the area. And I'm afraid I'm in no position to reject any help, even if not the most unselfish one. And if he'd feel like selling me, then I'll become the highest bidder. I'll handle Bishop. I'll handle everything. So relax and smile, will you? Pretty please?"

Duncan shook his head, but a smile crawled to his lips, even if unvoluantarily one. "Alright, lass. But if something happens to you…"

"Nothing will, my word," she arched her brow. "And, by the way - half-a-copper? I'd like to hope I cost more than that."

"You do, you do," Duncan waved her off. "Now go get a bath and a meal before I changed my mind and locked you in a closet not to worry anymore."

"You won't, you are too a wonderful and fair man for that…" she purred unctuously.

"Stop it…" he chuckled.

"Now that's much better, isn't it?"

"It's impossible arguing with you, you know it?"

"Then don't," Adele stated with a final grin and gave him a salute. "In case some more assassins come looking for me, I'm in the bath from now on."

"Get lost already," Duncan laughed, leaning on the counter and, as she obeyed, couldn't help but snigger once more. "Esmerelle in flesh…"

Her smile held on her face until the corridor. But since the corridor was empty, Adele dropped it.


She placed the washed plate on top of others, the soft 'clink' echoing weakly in her ears. All sounds seemed distant, the feeling she was not comfortable with. The whole city she was not comfortable with. It made her feel… tiny, helpless, severed from the endless veins and cores that ran through the land, through every thing living and growing. Console she took in freeing her senses to brush the minds of creatures inhabiting this prison of silent stone was only for a time… and she couldn't deny how appealing was the thought of not bringing those senses back…

Elanee took a breath, steadying herself. That was what she had been warned about by the druid of Neverwinter forest. That was what destroyed Kaleil, trapped him in the form of a bear, drove him mad. Whatever lurked beneath the Mere, was indeed spreading… this feeling… this tempt

"Qara, lass," Duncan went into the kitchen, and the sorceress folded her arms, tapping her foot on the floor in anticipation of more orders. But the half-elf froze on the threshold, looking at Elanee instead. "No-no, washing dishes is her work."

"She came by herself, I didn't ask her!" the girl declared heatedly, and Elanee waved her hand, small droplets of water falling on the floor:

"It is alright, Duncan, I did." If only she could explain how good water on her fingers felt. "No trouble."

"You are a collection of the most stubborn creatures I've ever met," Duncan admitted, throwing a quick irritated glance at the snort from the human ranger, who lurked in the corner of the kitchen, picking at a piece of roast meat. His wolf companion was doing partially the same, wandering around the small cozy room, looking for anything he could eat. The girl's weasel watched him guardedly from his mistress' shoulder.

Elanee drowned another plate, rinsing it carefully, no longer paying attention to what Duncan had to say to Qara, until they both went back to common room. More dishes, perhaps. Or discuss something about this mockery of a trial Adele had to go through. Elanee couldn't pretend she understood this ways of cities and civilization, all the laws people invented to convince everybody – and mostly themselves – that they are no animals ruled by mere instincts, desires and nature.

But if that was what it took – she could bear it.

Her mind drifted easily towards the wolf – Karnwyr, as he and his human called him – but lingered, not dwelling deep, only sliding along the surface of his being, a weave of coloured smells, scented images, pure and simple desires… The wolf stopped, his head turning abruptly towards her, the animal feeling her invasion – and not wishing to let her in. For his mind was shared. Shared with the human in the corner, coexistence side by side making them almost one. His fur bristling on his neck and along his spine, he retreated to his companion, almost crashing his muzzle on the ranger's lap, as if to make it clear who was his master here. Still occupied with washing, Elanee watched him asquint for a few heartbeats – until calloused fingers dug softly into the wolf's wiry fur.

"Something you need, druid?" derisive voice wondered.

She rubbed the plate dry with a cloth. She couldn't read the mind of the wolf clearly – but that wasn't even necessary. The sense was fresh enough to feel. Sense of night, and high grass, and cold rapture of hunt… outside Neverwinter walls…

Sense of Solace Glade.

"You may know paths of the wilderness and forests," she said calmly, placing the last plate on a small tower of dishes. "But every forest has thousands of eyes and ears… And they are all mine."

A pause, so small it could have almost been ignored. Almost. "Was that a threat?"

"If you think it should be," Elanee dried her hands and put the cloth down, turning to face him. "Then it is."

Hooded wolfish eyes regarded her up and down, and the ranger snorted, returning to his meal. "Go get laid, druid," he expertly cut a piece of meat in smaller slices. "You surely need it."

Not deigning his barb with an answer, Elanee reached for the kettle of boiling water…


He watched her as she left, probably to drink her herbal tea, then run and hug the nearest tree or make a daisy-chain, whatever. With the tip of the knife Bishop shoved a piece of chop to the side of a plate and pushed it further, dropping over the edge for Karnwyr to catch, and rubbed between his ears.

"Another rabid dog ready to tear throats to defend the precious half-breed," Bishop murmured to the wolf. Karnwyr sniffed in agreement and lashed his tongue out to lick his muzzle. The ranger stuck the knife into meat, hooking another slice and throwing it into his mouth.

Nice job, princess.