A/N: Man, I should really kick my lazy ass back into shape and update more regularly :/ It's hard to take a grip of the language after the break, so there might be more mistakes here than usual:)
On the good side: got my own account on DeviantART all up and running. So if you are curious of how exactly Del looks like, take a peek through the 'Homepage' link in my profile – there's plenty of the girl in my gallery. And not only her ;)
Another dialogue-heavy chappie. I luv dialogues:) And I luv Adele's high bluff skill ;)
XXVIII: Change of Hearts
Adele did not expect to find Port Llast in ruins, of course, nor suddenly grown to a huge fortress or rich gold-strewn megalopolis. But glancing up and down tiny knobby fish-smelling streets, she realized she did not expect to see it so the same as well. Wind-bitten houses, chipped bricks with whitish scab of salt, puddles gathered in the chuckholes – even the brooding shade of dusk looked just like the semidarkness of early morning they had arrived here the previous time.
Three days, so thoroughly eventful for their band, slipped by totally unnoticed by the small town. Adele found it almost insulting.
Most of the citizens had already left for their homes, but the rare patrolling soldiers were there, and quite enough to bring up the risk of attracting attention. Even on a crowded street a bunch of dirty travellers bristling with weapons was a speck in the eye, not to mention the welcome they had got in Port Llast before. But those sensible assumptions did nothing to quell the disappointment when on the border of the forest Adele felt a slight touch to her elbow from Sand, followed by a meaningful circling gesture around the head inviting her to ruffle through her backpack in search of her much-resented hat. A weird crazy thought, but she found herself willing to just march and parade herself through Port Llast undisguised, seeing if anyone dared to…
Here I am, bashing up wolves, dryads, spiders, Luskans, dark priests, but had to tuck my tail under a hat 'cause of a bunch of guards…- adjusting the hat, Adele scratched her skin under the brims. Already itching. Even her body seemed to reject the damned thing. - …Surely doesn't take much to rile me today.
Not that it was surprising, with a tired haze her strained mind was floating in. Sleep hadn't come easily last night. To be more accurate, hadn't come at all, because those short snatches of oblivion that had come over her at times surely could not qualify as sleep – especially since they left her even more hollow and annoyed than their absence. The moment she was falling into a dream the coldness of the cave around started to seem too much like freezing soil reeking of soot and rot, so much she was afraid that it would take the barest of movements – and her limbs would no doubt bump into burnt flesh of peasants' corpses around…
Her consciousness wasn't that masochistic, jumping out of the dream the same instant, leaving her staring blankly into the darkness, wondering if it was possible to kill the dead again, simply to make them stop bothering her.
Though, as she remembered now with a humourless smile, in some of those not-really-dreams she had asked Bishop how much he would take for killing the dead. Could not recall his answer, though. Wasn't sure he answered at all, since she ended up occupying his mouth long before he could…
Now that's really not the thing worth reminding yourself of…
Regret had a sour taste, like a tiny bead of mustard stuck between teeth, too deep for saliva to wash it out. Adele still couldn't figure what kind of a vile imp had been sitting on her left shoulder and tugging at her tongue the last night, but she had a whole day to curse him for that. It weren't even the said words that bothered her, but the fact it was Bishop to whom she went and piled out her insides to. Somehow him being for once sincere – from the totally childish joy when he was speaking of his knife, to that deadpan declaration of his ties with Luskan - didn't help in the slightest. It seemed to bring a sort of understanding, if not intimacy, between them. Far stronger – and far worse – than that of friends or even lovers.
Intimacy of accomplices.
Might have as well put a leash on my neck and handed him the end of the rope.
He didn't bring it up. Of course. And if it wasn't for the knowing smirk during her training spar with Shandra, when he was the only one noticing that all her dodges and stances had been aimed at keeping her chewed arm off reach, Adele would have presumed he had forgotten all about it. But Bishop really had a knack for 'not doing' that seemed more meaningful and purposeful than actual 'doing'…
…or maybe you just screw your brain too much over that.
Nimble fingers, used to picking locks more than anything, closed on the knot of muscles in the junction between her shoulder and neck, giving a tentative knead. It sent a nearly painful jolt down her nerves, and Adele hissed, tearing her shoulder free. Neeshka blinked at her innocently.
"Want me to do that to you?" Adele jerked her head at the rogue's bandage.
The tiefling answered with her usual fake pout, sticking out lower lip. "Sure, abuse the weak and wounded, why don't you." Dropping her pretence, she frowned, inspecting Adele up and down: "Why so jumpy?"
"Nothing," Adele's tone came out more of a growl, grating even to her own ears, and she took a breath to smooth it. "Hate this place, Neesh. Hate to even spend a night here… but we will, anyway, we will," she added to Qara, who caught a bit of her words and was getting ready to object to the prospect of camping outside the town. The girl froze for a moment with her mouth half-opened, probably thinking that since she opened it already she might as well say something, but decided against it finally.
Grinning at the sorceress, Neeshka turned back to Adele: "Take it easy. We're not doing anything, all calm and peaceful. Besides, we've got a paladin carrying a sleeping little boy. If you know a more innocent picture, name it," Adele shook her head, stifling a smile at Casavir walking ahead of them, Marcus somehow managing to settle himself on his shoulder between all the plates of the armour. The boy was sleeping almost throughout the whole journey, making Adele wonder if he had had any sleep at all during his staying in the well. "So no one's gonna bother us."
Adele nodded, looking to the side as they were passing Haeromus' office. Solid figures of the guards keeping watch were half-covered by darkness, but she caught a glimpse of the face that looked familiar (Berth, is it?) and couldn't deny herself a twisted pleasure of inclining her head markedly, with an overly polite smile plastered on her lips and her fingers touching the hat in mock salute. The soldier didn't move, but she felt his glare following her, peeling off her skin like a branding iron being dragged over her body.
Turning back, she was met by ice-cold stare of Sand, the wizard totally unimpressed by her flippant taunts.
"I'm glad you find your situation so thoroughly hilarious," he said, toneless.
"You have no idea how much I don't, Sand," she muttered. "I'm just trying to."
"Then I have to ask of you to stop."
"…'kay," she agreed easily, stretching her lips in her best girlish smile, which only served to make the wizard graver. As much as she wanted, right then she couldn't bring herself to care. The inn (…and bar…) ahead of them held much more weight than Sand's moods.
She did slower her pace, though, noticing a lonely merchant-tent on the already deserted market-place. The elven herbalist, Nya, was busy collecting her wares from the stand for the night as well, assisted by a snub-nosed human girl of about ten, probably her apprentice.
Seeing her stalling, others stopped as well, looking between her and the merchant, but Adele waved for them not to: "I'll catch up with you at the inn, people, go ahead."
"What, again?" Khelgar leaned pointedly on his axe, to emphasize he was staying right in his spot – and, probably, to ease the work for his still unrecovered leg. "Ya'r always so eager to jest get rid of us, lass, I won't let ya on principle."
Qara glared at him, then at the rest, seeing that she was left in the minority, and rolled her eyes helplessly, enough for another grin to split Neeshka's face. Shandra flinched at her:
"Gods, Qara, a couple of minutes won't shatter you," she muttered and nodded to Adele, "We'll wait here, go on. She'd like to know."
"Yeah, princess," Bishop murmured softly, drawing the woman's suspicious glance, "go play the saint again."
…And here it comes again…
It was a small consolation, imagining in colours how she could plunge her nails into his face and drag them all the way down, clawing off his smirk in one bleeding shred of flesh, as she had to settle only on a tight 'go-die-scum' smile. "Don't try me, ranger. Not today."
Whatever he had to say in return, Adele no longer paid any attention to it and simply headed off towards the merchant's stall.
Nya smiled, recognizing her at once, but her smile seemed more of expectant than truly cheerful. "Hello again."
"Hi," Adele glanced briefly at the girl. "It's about Ember."
"Talia dear, go on, I'll be right back," the woman said to the child without missing a moment, not dropping her smile, which now seemed as weak and false as a paper fish. The girl didn't answer, sneaking a puzzled glance at her mentor as the latter skirted the stand to come to Adele. Taking hold of her elbow, Nya brought her a bit away, closer to the rest of the band.
"Easy there," Adele murmured. "The guards might decide we're buying some funny herbs from you."
"…Sorry," Nya gave a nervous chuckle, nodding to Adele's companions in greeting, then turned back to the woman, her dark shimmering eyes searching. "So?"
"We took care of the bodies. Well, as much as the amount of wyrmsage allowed, that is."
"Wasn't enough?" Nya's voice dropped to shocked whisper, but she got a hold of herself quickly, pursing her lips and nodding. "At least something. How… how was it?"
Do you really want me to go into descriptions?
I know I don't.
"…Bad," Adele said simply, looking at her.
Nya nodded again, slowly, probably understanding everything there was to understand, and ran her fingers through her short hair fretfully. "I see…" she breathed out quietly.
"Luskan will be forced to bury them at some point," the woman added on impulse, to soften her own words somehow, "if they decide to re-build the place and bring new settlers in. The position is convenient, so I don't see why they wouldn't." Only as Nya's dim eyes got locked on her, did Adele realize that neither her words, nor her tone sounded particularly comforting. Though the only feeling it evoked in her was even greater weariness. Rubbing her eyes, she shrugged. "There's little that can be done right now, anyway. When all the commotion dies out… maybe Haeromus can be persuaded to spare some people to bury them. He seemed to have taken it almost personal, so as long as he'll be able to do it quietly without any mess with Luskan…"
She fell silent, giving up at the dead look the elf was staring at her with.
Damn you, woman, I wasn't the one to come up with these laws.
"…I suppose you have a point," as if answering her thoughts Nya muttered finally, shifting her gaze away into distance. Adele mentally thanked everyone there was to thank for merchants' practicality that chose the best time to awaken in the elf. "At least, worth a try."
"Everything's worth a try," Adele forced a tired smile at her – to which, surprisingly, Nya answered with a smile of her own:
"However it turns out, thank you. I really mean it. No one was willing to do a thing, and you… I don't even know if I can repay…"
"No need to, it was on our way," Adele objected, but without particular heat. Some coins never hurt. She could use new boots. And could surely use some spare money – simply for the sake of having them.
You never know, and ten thousand is one damn big pile to collect if suddenly needed…
"Wait," Nya hastily unbuttoned the high neck of her robes, and after a second of fumbling hooked up a thin chain, pulling it over her head and handing to the other woman. Adele blinked at the small, but skillfully done egg-shaped locket encrusted with a tiny blue jewel in the twine of silver carvings. "Take this."
"…Oh," money was one thing, but a pendant – a pendant the woman kept this close – was quite another. "But you-"
"Please," Nya almost pushed it into her hand. "It's a bit of an amulet, too, has minor protective charms on it. Minor, but still worth of something…"
She grew quiet. Adele looked down at the medallion, running her nail over its side until found the chink, and opened, without any surprise finding it empty. Closing the locket, she stared at Nya, who was following the pendant with a vacant look.
"I'm not sure… It looks like it was a gift, no?"
"It was supposed to be a gift, from me," she shrugged. "But the receiver was gone before the jeweler finished it, so… I have no use of it. Really."
"…Alright, if you say so," Adele closed her palm over the medallion, the chain slipping through her fingers. I'm still accused of mass-murder, but, at least, will have a charmed trinket meant for a priest of Kelemvor. Ta-dah.
Hells, I'm a bitch tonight…
"It'll look good on you. If not, some merchant would gladly relieve you of it, I'm sure," Nya offered her another weak smile, reaching out and squeezing her elbows for a moment, before stepping back. "Thank you again. Whatever you might need, don't hesitate asking. And good luck on the trial."
Half-nodding half-shrugging, Adele took off towards her companions – only after a dozen or so steps coming to fully realize Nya's last words. Glancing back, she saw the elf already joining her apprentice, both of them packing up the last of the merchandise.
When exactly had I introduced myself?
The thought brought a small smile, not that happy or relieved, but a smile still. Shaking her head, Adele went on, twirling the locket on her finger.
"Jewelry," Bishop's caustic voice was the first to welcome her. "Don't tell me you, gals, got engaged."
"You are a big boy, you'll get over it eventually," Adele answered flatly, letting go of the amulet as Neeshka tugged it to have an inspection.
"Wow, crafty," the tiefling brightened, glancing up at her. "You want to sell it – just tell me, I know a handful of those to give a good price."
Adele arched her brow, "What, for silver trinket? How much is 'good', I wonder."
"Tymora kick me, Del, sometimes you are such a bumpkin. It's white gold, not silver."
"…It is?" she stole another peek over her shoulder, but the herbalist was already gone.
"Yeah," Neeshka grinned. "Merchants who have golden jewelry simply lying there for handing it to everybody coming across… Go figure."
"Don't think she has that much, just was quite eager to get rid of this one."
"Why, it's so beautiful," Shandra noted, also fingering the locket.
"…Ah," the tiefling's smile faded a bit, and she handed the medallion to Shandra hastily, shrugging at her puzzled expression. "Maybe it's cursed or something."
Snorting at Shandra's look, Adele snatched the locket from her: "It's not. Simply a memory of her former man she doesn't want to remember anymore, that's all. And no," she added to Neeshka, "I don't feel like selling it."
"Sentimental, are you?" Neeshka shook her head. "Fine, your chachka."
"Not me, she is. Handed me her heart, have to respect that," she trailed off, noticing a strange wistful look Casavir was giving her, faint, but starkly obvious on his usually stony face. For whatever reason, but it left her uncomfortable, with a weird wish to explain or make excuses; a feeling that he understood something she didn't mean. Again. "And it is pretty."
"Shame the poor thing had no idea she was 'handing' it to the supposed murderer," the ranger murmured.
"You know, Bishop," Shandra snapped, "If you keep that bullshit you are thinking to yourself, no one will miss it."
…You just condemned yourself to listening to him for hours to come, Shandra, - Adele thought grimly, seeing the ranger smirk dryly at the farmer. – Even if he runs out of words, he'll start humming. Just to spite.
"She had an idea, in fact," she said aloud calmly, smiling when Bishop glanced at her doubtfully. A small triumph was a triumph nonetheless. "And a damn good one."
"…Indeed?" Sand echoed.
Adele frowned down at him, "I'd feel much better if you didn't sound so startled, Sand." Though she had already learned that thoughtful expression to mistake it for simple surprise. "Woman just happened not to believe all the crap that is told. Thank the gods for small miracles and all."
"Worth of some consideration," the wizard remarked vaguely. "Though, not in the street, I hope?"
"…Right, sure."
Still smiling, she followed him and the rest on the renewed way to the inn, running the chain of the pendant through her fingers and secretly admiring the dance of gleams and shades on the tiny jewel. The more she looked at it, the better seemed the idea of keeping it.
Oh Hells, never had a trinket before. Why not this one?
The pain echoed through her arm as she undid the small clasp of the chain, but Adele didn't allow it to stop her. Neither did she pay any particular heed towards the scoffing glance Bishop presented her activity with.
"Jealous, lovely?" she curred without looking at him. "Don't worry, we'll find a damsel who will give you her heart."
"Dangling on a chain as well?" Bishop sniffed. "I'll pass. Seems too much like a brand."
"Never thought you would care," she locked the chain on her neck.
"Never said I would," his stare was deliberate, leaving an almost tangible trace on her skin, following the pendant as it slid down into the cut of her jerkin. "At least it's a wonderful heart. Golden and with jewels."
Her smile didn't waver. "You are disgusting, ranger."
"Whatever turns you on, princess."
Unlike the town itself, the tavern was much more tightly packed than during their previous visit. It appeared that nearly all of the male population of Port Llast made their way here after the sunset. Not to mention numerous sailors that swarmed all over the tables and counter, loud, drenched in salt and ale; their uproar and sheer number was enough to make Elanee look sick. Even Marcus stirred in his sleep on Casavir's shoulder, squinting at the crowded room. Shandra moved closer to them, murmuring something to the boy, something Adele didn't bother to try and distinguish.
Instead she took a breath and cut into the throng, elbowing her way towards the innkeeper's table with her undamaged arm.
"Neverwinter Watch!" she barked at the back of particularly heavy and unmovable sailor, almost making him jump out of her way from mere unexpectedness. Looking back and seeing that the threat was nothing more than a soiled spindly girl, he broke into a meaningful smile, but Adele already made her way from him far enough not to care.
She found the innkeeper at his usual spot in the corner, his gaze attentive at the counter and the mob gathered near it. From the way his right hand was lowered under the table, Adele figured he had a weapon stashed there. Probably, for too special occasions.
"Evening," she raised her voice to shout down the crowd, smiling as he turned to her.
"Ah, welcome back, miss," his gaze swept over her bruise still richly covering the side of her face, then her dirty armor and cloak, her crumpled hat… Adele didn't stop smiling. "Tough trip?"
"You could say so," she nodded at the uproar. "Any chances there are spare rooms left?"
"Why, sure, as much as you want. You think they come here to have a nap? Half of them prefer crawling back and sleeping off the ale between their unloaded crates," he threw another quick inspecting glance at the crowd, when his eyes widened, "Is that a wolf?"
No, it's an ungrateful swine.
"It's a dog," Adele answered instantly without even looking and leaned on his table, flashing him a broad smile. "So, about rooms?"
He had no time to answer, interrupted by a burst of noise, and Adele dropped her head doomily before turning to see what the matter was. Her coin was for Khelgar, but she found the dwarf not far from herself, already with a tankard and undeniable innocent look. Who didn't look innocent for sure was a ragged brawny sailor, sitting at the counter with a totally idiotic lewd grin that screamed of several barrels of ale.
Grin that was targeted at Qara.
Oh boy…
"What did you say?" Adele didn't even realize it was possible to shriek and hiss at the same time, but Qara managed. "'Warm you up'?"
Casavir lowered Marcus on the floor, leaving him on Shandra and looking damned determined to enforce peace if needed. Khelgar grinned, sopping up ale foam from the top of his tankard, clearly intending to enjoy the show, and elbowed Adele in the side, welcoming her to join him.
"Oh, go to Hells," with a groan Adele pushed herself off the table, heading towards the pair, inwardly cursing the fool who could molest any other woman in the room – but, no, in unending stupidity chose the exhausted infuriated sorceress. "Qara, don't!"
Pale green eyes snapped to her, the girl's every move seeming marred through the slight blur of air heating around her.
"Qara," came a warning drawl from Sand.
Great, throw in a wizard to the pile.
Regarding both of them, the sorceress glared back down at the sailor, who still seemed far from realizing what was going on. More so, he looked ready to spew something about how 'he liked 'em with a temper'.
"I'd run," Neeshka offered him helpfully, leaning on the counter at the sorceress' side.
The sailor only gazed her up and down, inspecting what little appearance the tiefling's hooded cloak allowed to see, and grinned even broader: "Hey, you're fine, too. How 'bout the three of-?"
The rogue didn't bother to listen further, shoving her boot into the stool he was sitting on, hard enough to send the man landing on the floor, accompanied by Khelgar's gleeful whistle. It was the same moment Adele took a hold of Qara's forearm, growling quietly: "Don't even think, we need this place."
"Oh please, I didn't even do anything yet," the girl sneered, but Adele was no longer looking at her, fixing a glare at Neeshka.
The tiefling shrugged, although it was obvious she had hard time not to smirk, all too sure that they would get unscalded out of any hot water: "He started it."
And is pretty intending to finish it, it seems.
The sailor was quick to collect himself from the floor and staggered to his feet, his expression changing to clear anger. "You'll pay for that."
"That was payment already," Adele flatted at him instead of Neeshka. "You said your piece, got treated accordingly, everyone's even, now off with you".
"Who the Hells asked you, wench?"
"I, for one, think the lady is right," came the voice from his side, and Adele smiled inwardly at the nervous gleam in the sailor's eyes when he glanced at its source. With Casavir's height, built, armour, set face and every word being so clearly cut, even his politeness could appear threatening.
"For almighty gods above!" the innkeeper moved in, a club in his hand, and pointed it at the sailor. "You won't start a fight here. At least since no one's interested in taking part."
"That's what I always say," Khelgar guffawed, taking another sip of his ale – but already in the spot from where he could rush in and join the battle should it erupt. "Ya need number fer fun, or it's jest a waste o' time."
The sailor glared around, seeing that, indeed, there were no willing allies to his cause. Most of the other patrons chose Khelgar's strategy, settling back to watch, only gave occasional half-hearted encouragements. Adele presumed fights weren't a novelty around here – perhaps, for the exception of a sorceress taking part in them – but that probably meant that the local guards were just as ready for them and wouldn't need much time to appear.
Wouldn't they appreciate the possibility to finally arrest her for disrupting the peace?
Just begone, - she sent a mental command to the sailor, calmly keeping her eyes on his broad spade-like face. – Or take a tankard and have a…
"Hey, I know you!" he suddenly exclaimed and sneered at her, casting victorious glance around. "Heard the descriptions! She's the Butcher of Ember!"
That had to be the deadliest silence the inn had witnessed.
…Huh? – seemed to be all her mind was capable of. – What the Hell? They have a title for it already?
Adele let go of Qara's arm.
"I hope you have at least some weight to your words, young man," Sand commented dryly, "not just puppy-yapping at every-"
"Aye, that would be me," Adele nodded curtly at the man. "The Butcher of Ember and her merry men. So?"
The sailor gaped at her, his sneer evaporating in confusion and alarm. She was risking, she knew it even without the unbelieving stare of Sand from across the room – these salt-curried men were no guards, and the only reaction to threat they knew was to wipe the floor with the named threat, throw it to the ditch and congratulate each other on being tough fearless guys. Coming from the Mere, Adele even respected and admired such simplicity. But, damn, if she wasn't too tired to care. All she wanted was to wake up and discover it was a nightmare – the feeling all the worse from the knowing that would never happen. How come that from all her skills fooling herself was one she always failed at?
Adele smiled.
"I believe you had a reason to bring it up," she murmured at the sailor, her voice, even as hushed as it was, perfectly clear in the silence. "Got some village that needs razing out? Come on, tell me. I know some girls like knitting, or cooking, or fussing with kids…" She smiled broader: "Some would even consider lying under a dirty drunk-through pig like yourself waiting for him to finally finish a tolerable way of spending her time. Me, I just can't imagine a good ending of a tenday without killing at least fifty people. We, wenches, can be weird like that."
They were all staring at her by now, patrons and her own companions alike, and Adele felt that just a bit more – and she would end up jumping up and down, howling or laughing or…
Surely it was Bishop who chuckled. A quiet masculine chuckle, with already familiar 'she-is-stupid-but-funny' undertone – but exactly the type to resonate with the rest of the patrons. Another snicker from the far corner followed, then another – and soon the rest of the sea-folk was laughing in honest. Just like that the Butcher was gone. Simply a pretty girl with a strange sense of humour and gutsy like Hells-know-what. Something they could respect and admire. Innocent again.
"Whoe'er she is, she has more balls than you do, Jarek," someone called from one of the tables. "Get lost already, save some face!"
The sailor, left on his own again, seemed to be ready to say something, but there still was Casavir near him, and Khelgar got even closer to 'his lasses' at the bar, so he soothed his pride with an obscene gesture and whirled towards the exit.
"Aww", Qara crooned after him, "how I love them crawling back with their tail between their legs after something they started in the first place."
Neeshka blew out a relieved sigh and shot Adele a fast glance: "Who could have guessed kicking the chair leads to something like that, huh?"
Adele answered with an empty stare, feeling no wish to argue or reprimand the tiefling – though her silence accomplished the same, as Neeshka squeezed out a guilty grin and fingered the bandage on her shoulder absently, as if subconsciously reminding that she was 'the weak and wounded', thus should be spared.
Some patrons actually followed the sailor, shuffling to the door as well. Not much, but still. The rest, thankfully, got back to their ale, throwing occasional looks at the company and discussing something in hush voices and sniggers. Friendly enough.
Turning her head a bit, Adele wasn't surprised to see Bishop's expectant gaze on her. She nodded her thanks. He smirked, narrowing his eyes in mocking acceptance.
Understanding of accomplices, indeed…
"So," came the innkeeper's grave voice. Adele turned to face him, already a smile on her lips. He eyed her coolly. "Butcher of Ember, eh?"
"Please, you can't believe it, honestly."
"Supposed Butcher of Ember?"
"…If I may interfere," Sand slithered to their side, his silken tone drawing attention of the man. "We are here in a number of nine individuals. Intend taking a separate room for every one for the whole night. Don't we?"
"Yeah, how much's that, by the way?" Adele reached eagerly for her beltpouch.
"And I bet that is a wolf," the innkeeper added sullenly.
"Besides, most of us are exactly in the mood to empty half of your kegs."
"…"
"Of your best."
"…Alright, deal," he spared a wary glance at Qara. "But the girl better behave."
"Me?" the sorceress hissed. "It was me who didn't behave?"
"She will," Sand nodded calmly.
"…As long as there's a bath in this barn," the girl seeped through her teeth.
"Actually," Adele grinned, "I second that."
Her arm hurt like all Hells from the rub, but Adele didn't care – she had hot water, soap and cloth she had no wish to miss. Getting rid of as much of dirt and blood as possible both from her gear and herself, she rinsed her hair several times until it almost didn't smell of smoke anymore, then, without waiting for it to dry, tied it back under the hat, pulled on her clothes and tapped to the main room with a certain objective to drink herself to stupor so she could sleep like a log without any dreams.
Both Casavir and Elanee were gone to take care of Marcus. Qara after her wash also retreated to her room, making Adele guess that the girl wasn't really that much into getting attention as it could seem at first sight. The patrons, though, increased in number during her absence, and from the way some followed her with curious gazes the woman presumed they were drawn by the story from before. Khelgar, who was quick to gulp down several mugs of ale already, finally found himself a handful of tipsy sailors, with whom had a joyful fist-fight, after which went on drinking in their company – and exactly with them soon took off towards the kitchen looking for second supper.
Adele was surprised to see Sand in the mob as well. The wizard made himself comfortable behind the table in the very corner, shifting through his journal, raising his eyes at the patrons only when the uproar seemed to get particularly loud. His pale chiseled face held a mixture of disgust and surprise, as if he couldn't fathom how such a noise was even possible without any magical or demonic support.
Neeshka and Shandra took it upon themselves to fetch some meal and drink, with Grobnar as an always-willing assistant. In anything. Bishop neither helped nor hindered them, occupying the end of the table, his back flatted against the wall, his feet on the table, and sipped his ale slowly. He was keeping an eye on the entrance and appraised quickly every one coming in – especially if it was a female – but at the same time attracted little to no attention to his person. Even when his mug got empty, and the ranger made it towards the counter for another, he slipped between people so deftly and quickly that no one turned. Karnwyr was lying under his chair, this time trying his teeth on a bone, so huge it could fit an ogre as a mace, and threw occasional unfriendly glowers at Sand.
"Everything's okay?" Adele wondered, slumping herself on the stool near the wizard.
"Sure," Neeshka grinned from across the table, still a bit too eager to cover her previous lapse. "Though the sop clearly has a grudge, 'cause the guards turned up. But Falgor shooed them off."
"…Who?"
"The owner guy. Said things are fine and he never noticed anything out of sorts," she shook her head with a smile. "Think he has a crush on you."
"Lucky me, then," Adele nodded, glancing at Sand. "Never thought you will enjoy yourself in drinking."
"Live as long as I have, and you'll learn to enjoy even the strangest of things," the wizard shrugged, looking up at Shandra waiting for her order at the counter, then smiled at Grobnar who was engrossed in reading the elf's journal from under his arm. "My little friend, if may ask for a favour…"
The gnome's head shot up: "Oh, of course."
"Make sure the owner of this… establishment is aware I'll need some spare candles in my room."
"Sure," Grobnar jumped off the chair and hopped deeper into the room, leaving only the three of them at the table.
Sand's smile was gone.
"There's a reason I was waiting for you to join," he nodded at Adele, casting another speculative gaze at Shandra, as if checking how long will it take her to come up to them.
"…Yeah?" Adele rubbed her lids, fully expecting to get her scolding for before. "What's up?"
"Alaine," the wizard said instead, and the woman lowered her hand to the table, frowning at him. "I believe we have learnt enough both from Marcus' words and visit to Ember to prove her story wrong."
"…I see," she took a deep breath, realizing Sand had just added another couple of glasses to all the amount she planned on drinking tonight. "You… I… Sand, I'd really appreciate if you handled another interrogation on your own… I don't-"
"That's not what I meant," he cut her off. "Or, should I say, I meant exactly the opposite. My suggesting is that we don't interrogate her again."
Adele stared at him, unable to tell if she was too tired or suddenly too stupid to get his point.
"But…" Neeshka leaned closer to them. "You said yourself that if we don't use her, the Luskans will."
"That I did. What I say now is - let them."
…Yes, you were wise to make sure Shandra doesn't hear it…
"First, it'll put Torio's at ease," the elf went on. "Why, the key-witness will be at her side. Considering that she planned on delivering our squire to Luskan in the first place, now she is as much in a forced hurry over the case as we are, and would be pleased with any success," not for the first time Adele thought that Sand had a really creepy gleam in his eyes when speaking of his foes. "Second – just think how much more of emotional impact the girl's retraction of testimony will cause when done in the middle of the trail. From my part I guarantee that she will retract."
Neeshka shifted her eyes to Adele, not saying anything, but her uneasiness was almost palpable. Adele didn't answer to her gaze, still looking emptily at Sand.
…So, yet again, it is my decision to make, huh?
Gods, I need a drink so badly…
"I really don't fancy the idea of handing her to Luskans, Sand."
"From what I remember of her reaction towards us – and you – she'll obviously choose them over you if asked. My dear, as much as I may sympathize with the girl," the dryness of his voice, though, conveyed none of sympathy, "it's your life that was… entrusted with me," she wanted to object, but he forestalled that: "I am sure she will not be harmed. Torio is not that careless – and she needs this witness. I'm sure she will spend hours at her side, wiping her tears and stroking her back. My word she'll be all but pampered in their custody."
"Your word, exactly," the woman muttered, leaning her head in her hands and scratching her temples. "And how much of a Luskan are you, Sand, to be so sure of their actions?"
"…Accurately enough, no more, no less, if dealing with them might be called that," he answered grimly.
"And according to that you suggest we trust the victimized scared girl into their hands and then, once she takes her part in the trial, crash her testimony in front of Hells know how many citizens and judges?" no answer came, and Adele didn't even raise her head to see his expression. I want to drink. I sooo want to…
And it'll help you how?
Makes me stop caring.
Are you?
…
"It better work, Sand," she muttered finally, straightening up on the chair and seeing Grobnar zigzagging his way through the crowd back to the table. "It better work."
"It will," the wizard nodded, briefly covering her forearm with his palm, shifting his gaze from the gnome to Shandra. "And I would highly appreciate if both of you spared me arguing this case with anyone else."
Neeshka shrugged, but in sort of an agreeing way. Adele closed her eyes for a moment.
"Everything's settled, master Sand," Grobnar informed them, climbing on the chair Bishop used to occupy, not minding Karnwyr's quiet snarl. "The innkeeper said that for additional twenty coppers you'll have enough candles to corn them for winter. And that is a lot, I guess."
"Charming," Sand murmured, picking up his journal from the table to free some space for mugs and glasses Shandra was carrying towards them.
From the stern look of the farmer's face, though, she hardly would have cared for the inconvenience. She simply slammed the dishes on the table, hard enough for some of the liquid to splash out, rimming the bottoms with wet circles.
"What's up?" Neeshka queered over-joyfully, while Adele grabbed one of the glasses with wine.
Shandra leveled a grave gaze on them.
"I hate him," she informed the table in a frosty tone. "And not in a 'boy, he's an ass' way, but honest-to-gods hate him."
Adele snorted into the glass, stealing a glance at the ranger's back at the counter. "I don't think it's going to upset him," she muttered, taking another gulp. Wine tasted good, bitter-sweet, and smelled of fallen leaves…
Shandra tossed her head, trying to banish the memories, and eyed the rest: "What you've been discussing so thoroughly?"
"Nothing," Adele smiled. Easily. The spirits were definitely starting to take over her quickly, since she hadn't eaten anything essential for a long time. "Just talking 'bout some trial nonsense again."
"…I think you should really take a break," Shandra said, taking her place, and threw her hands up: "Just saying, but your trail isn't going to run anywhere from you."
"Aw, you're my girl," Adele saluted her with the glass, taking yet another draught.
"Well, if not about the trial…" Neeshka edged closer to Shandra, her tail twining in curiosity, and lowered her voice. "What did the bastard say this time?"
"Really, you don't expect me to repeat, do you?" the farmer scoffed, shaking her head once more, and glanced at Adele. "Haven't you ever wanted to strangle him?"
"Many times," the woman nodded with all honesty. "But if I did, I would have to look for another ranger all trained up and not giving a damn about the dangers we go through."
"Oh, come on," Neeshka waved her hand at Shandra. "It's even funny at times, all his 'I'm such an evil badass' stuff. I just can't take it seriously. I mean, if he was, he wouldn't just go around claiming it so openly, right?" she looked around the rest of the company. "Right?"
Sand rubbed the tip of his nose absently, all back to his writings: "Denial is a well-known mean of mind and conscience self-defense. So there's always a possibility that the man is aware of it, so there's really no need for him to justify his actions in any way - as those who want to will find excuses for him on their own."
The tiefling blinked, moving her puzzled look from the elf to soundlessly chuckling Adele.
"Gods, Sand, you are on fire today," Shandra drawled.
The wizard smiled coldly. "I believe it's more Qara's field of expertise."
"…Well, okay, I didn't get that," Neeshka stated sullenly, leaning back on the chair and crossing her arms on her chest.
"Oh, miss Neeshka, it is actually very simple," Grobnar piped in merrily, "like everything that is genius! The matter is—"
"No, you, little cheat, don't even start!"
The gnome fell silent and glanced back curiously, looking for the one Neeshka was addressing, but finding nothing but the wall behind him measured it with a confused gaze. Taking another sip and still smiling, Adele licked her lips:
"Sand meant that you might be right and as well might be wrong."
"…Oh. Well, could have just said," the tiefling scratched the point of her ear, then grinned again. "So anyway, what I'm wondering is when exactly Casavir going to run out of patience with him. He should at some point, right?"
"Well, logically, yeah," Adele nodded.
"Care to bet on time?"
Sand looked over them and shook his head regretfully: "I suppose that simply a surprised innocent face is not going to persuade others I have nothing to do with your group and happen to be here by accident."
Neeshka snickered: "Come on, you can join."
"Why, of course, I've never been this eager," he deadpanned. "I'll just wait for the first next receipts from my shop."
"I thought you closed it," Adele arched her brow at him.
"No, I left a Leomund's Merchant element instead of me."
"…Huh?"
Sand heaved a sigh. "…No matter. Just believe me when I say the shop is working as is supposed."
Shandra snorted, taking a sip from her own mug: "Sometimes I wish I inherited some… arcane sense from my grandfather. I bet he did something apart from constructing labyrinths of death and then hiding them Hells know where."
"No one said they were actually 'of death'," Adele noted.
"Well, yeah, I suppose Mother was exaggerating, but… wizards do build overly-protected towers and sanctuaries."
"Right," Neeshka chuckled. "Look at Sand and all his towers."
The elf smiled. "I like to think I am too young still to build my own tower."
"Wait, I just figured… Did you happen to know him?" Shandra asked, peering at him. "Seeing that you are close to-"
"No, I didn't. He was gone before I… moved to Neverwinter. Though I heard about him later, that I won't argue. Still… heard not enough as should have been about a court wizard," he fell silent before looking at Adele. "So you believe that his sanctuary holds some answers to those shards of yours?"
Adele grinned. She never would have guessed that after constant reminders of Ember and trial looming over her, speaking of the damned silver rubbish would be a relief. Yet it was. At least it gave a nice feeling of 'after'.
"Perhaps, perhaps not," she answered, rolling her shoulder lazily. "But that's our only clue so far. And, besides, Ammon Jerro is said to have been a specialist in githyanki and everything concerned. Buuut," she made a wide gesture towards Shandra, nearly spilling some of the wine. Damn, that stuff is strong. "We still have no idea where was that place he hid himself in from beard-pulling granddaughters."
"A-ha, very funny," despite her efforts, the farmer failed at sounding sarcastic and smiled, ruffling her hair. "Alright, I thought about it, but honestly I have no idea. And the whole thing with needing my blood to get there… I'm really in no hurry."
"What, it has to be Jerro's blood?"
"How should I know? That's what Mother said. But I won't mind trying someone else first!" her grin turned gloating. "Maybe we can catch Bishop off guard?"
"The way you are going, girl," suddenly came the ranger's snide voice from the counter, muffled, but still discernable even in the noise of the room, "you might not have any blood at all in you by that time."
Neeshka and Grobnar both stared at him in surprise, but Bishop simply went on drinking, not answering their glances. Shandra flinched:
"His hearing is sometimes too sharp, if you ask me."
"He heard?" Neeshka hissed quietly, fixing her round eyes on smirking Adele. "He heard everything from the start?"
"Yup," the woman nodded, taking another sip of wine and studying Bishop's profile from above the rim of the glass. "Aaaand he still does."
Bishop turned his head a tad, looking at her from the corner of his eye, smirked and lifted his tankard, as if toasting for the power of her observation. Grinning, Adele returned the gesture.
"You are evil," Neeshka grouched. "Couldn't you warn or something?"
"Pfft, why bother?" putting away the empty glass, Adele stretched herself languidly and smiled, allowing her arms to fall on the back of her chair. She felt warm and lazy. Good. "If he can say whatever the Hells comes to his mind, why others can't? So tell me, Sand," she turned to the wizard, "when exactly had your sarcastic neglect of the shards turned to interest, hmm?"
The elf threw her a glance, making Adele wonder if he could say that she was tipsy already. Not that you are hiding it, girly.
"To be completely honest, something in them hooked me the moment your uncle and your… father brought them to me years back," Sand answered finally, pursing his lips. "Something was in them even then. It's just the way I am – always prefer answers to questions. And an unsolved mystery is able to keep me awake at night."
"Oh, me too," Grobnar agreed. "And mosquitoes as well. But not that often. Though sometimes it even happens that—ouch!"
He all but fell off the chair when came up Bishop took a hold of its back and shook the gnome off to the floor.
"Bishop," Adele cut off with almost Casavir's intonation, while Neeshka managed to catch Grobnar.
The ranger paid no attention to her, pushing his chair a bit to the side, so he could clearly see the entrance to the room, and sat down, nursing another tankard.
"My, I think I almost flew," Grobnar grinned, returning to the table – but again from Bishop's side, and the ranger pointedly lifted his legs, placing feet on the table and blocking his path. Grobnar stared at him questioningly.
"This here is my place, gnome," Bishop sneered at him and waved his tankard at nowhere in particular. "And way over there is your place. So – mind your place."
"But from way over there I'm hardly going to hear anything."
"And it's written all over my face how much I give a damn."
"Bishop, what's the godsdamn pleasure of nagging him?" Shandra snapped, pushing his feet off the table.
"I can nag you, farmgirl, but that's an easy victory."
"Grobnar, come over here," Adele called for him. "There's a place here."
"Why, thank you, miss Adele," he smiled, "but I'm quite alright here."
"You know," Sand muttered, inclining his head to the woman, "I have a weird feeling he's actually enjoying it".
"The same here," she sighed and looked again at the gnome. "Come on, Grobnar, keep me company. I'm bored on my own, tell me something interesting."
"Oh, of course, my pleasure!" the tiny bard immediately rushed to her side.
Bishop spared her a sidelong glance, quirking up his brow:
"You surely have a death wish, princess."
She smiled dryly. "Apparently. Allowed you to tag along, didn't I?"
"No, that proves you have some sense in you after all."
The woman had no time to answer – just like Grobnar had no time to start any of his stories – because at that moment Casavir stepped into the room, tactfully but persistently pushing his way through the crowd.
"Marcus is asleep", he stated as calmly as ever, taking place near Neeshka. "Elanee took him with her, will look after him."
"That's good," Adele nodded.
"Why are you still awake?" Bishop wondered, throwing a short and already bored look at Casavir. "Early to bed, early to rise – Tyr smite you otherwise."
Neeshka choked on her ale, and Grobnar had to give her an accurate punch in the back. Casavir didn't pay any attention to that, regarding the ranger with a long stare full of unending cold patience:
"Are you ever going to get tired, Bishop?"
He smirked: "Never in your life, paladin."
"Well," Adele cut into the budding argument with an overly broad smile, "it's good at least that Marcus can sleep at all after everything."
"…Yeah," Shandra shivered. "He's so strange. As if he doesn't even care about what happened."
"Why should he?" Bishop replied serenely. "Nothing happened to him, after all. Kid took a knife, didn't lose a grip and survived. Other idiots could take a lesson," he shrugged, smirking, "if they weren't dead already, that is."
"You are so damned pleased with it," Neeshka noted, "that makes one wonder if you had anything to do with the whole shit."
"Trust me, demon, I would've had enough brain to check the well for survivors."
"…And that'll be all," Adele rounded, throwing up her hand. Her head was already whirring from all the wine. "Enough of black humour for one evening."
The ranger didn't answer, glancing at her shortly, and snorted quietly into his mug before taking a long draught.
"What's so funny now?" Shandra demanded with apparent anger.
"Nothing," he answered, keeping his gaze pointedly away from her, on the entrance-door. "Just remembered one fairy-tale…"
"Oh, which one?" Grobnar jumped in immediately, staring at Bishop with round adoring eyes.
"About a siren. You know, a winged wench that ensnared sailors with her singing. No one could resist and died. Until one guy figured to stop up his ears with wool – enough to still hear her, but to be immune to her charms. Curiosity, and all," Much to her own displeasure Adele found herself listening. She knew that nothing good was to be expected – but couldn't help it. "Surprised the crap out of her, but she spared him. After all, no one was ever able to listen to her properly without falling to her charms," he smirked. "So she sang, he listened, then they talked, walked, watched the sun, shagged, the usual. Actually made a pretty happy couple. And the wicked lonely creature she was, she fell asleep in his arms," with the same smirk, Bishop emptied his tankard and wiped his mouth with his wrist. "And when she did, the sailor took a stone and split her scull open."
"…Why?" the gnome frowned.
"Because she was a fucking siren, gnome."
Adele closed her eyes wearily. Gods, does he actually enjoy it when everyone around hate him?
"That's a sad tale," Grobnar muttered.
Bishop shrugged, getting up from his place: "Just a tale," his gaze slid to the other side of the table, lips curling in another smirk. "Just a tale, paladin. Nothing to throttle me with your glare for."
Yup, he does.
She followed the ranger with her eyes as he passed the table and moved towards the doors, not troubling himself with goodnight wishes. Just as silently and quickly Karnwyr slid out from under the chair and was gone after his companion.
"…Okay, that was creepy," Neeshka confessed.
Casavir sighed and shook his head, muttering grimly: "Great Tyr, grant me patience."
"You have enough to share, if you ask me," Shandra snorted, scowling at the door where the ranger disappeared. "I want to beat him senseless with a stick most of the time."
"Just pay him no heed, that's all," Adele shrugged.
"Yeah? Care to share a secret how you do it?"
"…Me?"
"Well, all those things he calls you…"
The woman snorted, starting up yet another glass of wine. "Whatever he says, he ends up doing what I need him to do. He can call me even shit-golem if it makes him feel batter."
"…Wow," Neeshka stared at Sand. "Is there a shit-golem?"
"I'd be glad to live my life without knowing, my dear," he glanced to the side. "Please, Grobnar, don't consider it."
"My point is," Adele raised her voice to stop all this nonsense, "just… tune him out."
"I'm trying, but… " Shandra waved her hand. "Fine, he doesn't care about a damned thing, good for him! But why does he need to… rub it in all the time?"
"Dunno, so that no one ever thought otherwise," Adele shrugged, looking down into her glass. "After all, words can't kill you."
Casavir, probably feeling something in her voice, fixed a stare at the woman: "If he offended you in any way-"
"No-no," Adele nearly jumped up, blinking at him, actually afraid that paladin could make up his mind to go and beat the ranger. "I mean… I don't care what he says; I care for what he does."
Shandra chewed her lip, glancing at Neeshka. The tiefling raised her brows at her look: "What? Del talked a giant spider into helping us. If she trusts the ranger, so do I."
"Good point," Grobnar grinned.
"Do you?" Casavir asked, still looking Adele into the eye. "Trust him?"
She took several moments to drain her glass, then put it on the table: "That depends on your definition of trust. Do I trust him to put an arrow into the head of any thing that ever attacks us? Hells yeah. Do I trust him to always be there to do that?" she smiled. "…No. But then again, it's not actually something you can demand from a person, right?"
After a second of consideration, Casavir nodded thoughtfully, shifting his gaze into space. Adele saw that he still had his doubts, but was thankful to him for trusting her judgment.
Wordplaying to screw the opinion of paladin of justice about a murderer… - the voice inside drawled acidly. - Sweet. Wonder if there's a special Circle in the Hells for that.
"…Fine then," Shandra agreed with a sigh. "After all, you seem to be the only one whose words carry at least some weight with the bastard."
"Well then, let it be my job to argue with him all the time," Adele smiled, pointedly ignoring Neeshka's sleazy grin, and nodded to Casavir in mock gravity. "But if he goes too far, you have my permission to smite his brains out. And that's not a total joke."
Casavir smiled slightly and inclined his head in agreement – recognizing a joke, not rejoicing at the given authorities. Gloating was something he never seemed to feel.
Maybe it's a paladin thing. They just don't gloat. By default.
"…And I'm out of wine," Adele concluded, getting up to her feet. Quite a feat, it appeared. "Anyone else?"
"I could have another one too," Neeshka backed up, exchanging glances with Shandra. The farmer nodded as well. "Repeat the whole round."
"I'll pass," Casavir answered, back to his calmness.
"Come on," the tiefling shoved him with her shoulder playfully. It occurred to Adele that as of late the rogue hardly cared for any discomfort the paladin's aura used to give her. "You've slain so many evil orcs, demons and gith – I'm sure Tyr will forgive a tankard."
Casavir's smile became more apparent, but he still shook his head at Adele's gaze. The woman looked down at the wizard then:
"Sand?"
The elf regarded the mugs and flinched with distaste: "Have to decline."
"…Mages…"
"It is my opinion of an alchemist that matters here more. It so happened I care for my stomach."
"Boy, thank you," Shandra grouched, studying her own mug.
"Oh, then I want to!" Grobnar chimed in, already dangling his legs on a chair Bishop left empty. "I love to guess the content of the liquid by taste."
"Should we risk?" Adele smiled, eyeing the others.
"For the sake of experiment?" Sand smirked. "Why, of course."
"Yes, let us!" the gnome grinned.
Chuckling to herself and gathering all the empty mugs, the woman went towards the counter, almost floated, as her legs seemed to enjoy shuffling rather than walking after all the wine. Squeezing herself between two patrons, she piled her load on the table top and gestured to the bartender for refill. The man at her side sneaked a surreptitious glance at her legs, but she placed her hand on the hilt of the rapier, tapping her fingers over it, and, as he looked up, smiled at him coldly. Shrugging, he edged away, already totally disinterested.
Adele smirked grimly at the thought that Bishop wouldn't have probably turned away even if she punched him in the eye.
Someone touched her elbow from behind, and her fingers instinctively closed on the hilt as she took an abrupt turn – but stopped, finding herself staring into the dark, dimly shining eyes of Malin. Adele frowned, not even aware until now that the ranger-girl was around, but relaxed. A familiar face was a pleasant sight:
"Hey."
"Welcome back," Malin nodded. She wasn't too obvious in studying her bruise, Adele gave her that. "Any luck? Found anything in that cave?"
"Well… you could say so. A couple of werewolves."
"…What?" the ranger gaped at her.
"Gnome werewolves even," Adele couldn't hold back a crooked grin. Gods, I'm drunk. "Sick thing, really. But they are dead now."
"Wait, wait," the half-elf rubbed her forehead. "A pack? In Duskwood?"
"No, no pack – two isolated females. Seemed… lost."
"…Probably left from the previous one. Damn," the ranger jerked her head in irritation, making her long braid sway behind her back, then smirked darkly. "Don't suppose you had a chance to ask them any questions, huh."
"Nope," Adele smiled in return. "How's your leg?"
"Better."
"Have a drink with us?" she nodded at the table, where Grobnar already climbed on its top and was in the middle of some no doubt thrilling story. Khelgar joined them, coming back from the kitchen with a plate of what looked like smoked ribs, and was now waving furiously to Adele, thus stating he wouldn't mind some ale as well.
Malin glanced back briefly at the company, but turned back. "No, I…" she licked the corner of her mouth, nervous. "Look, I don't even know you, never even learnt your name, sorry."
"Del," the woman introduced herself without any details and lowered her voice: "He's not here if you wonder. And sorry for before, I could have guessed you and him know each-"
"No problem," Malin waved it off, wincing a bit. "Was a bit unexpected, but… that's how it always is with him."
She fell silent, looking to the side. Adele didn't break the silence, seeing that the half-elf intended to say something, but was struggling for right words. Although she had an unpleasant feeling what it could be about.
Finally Malin heaved a determined sigh and turned her head, staring point-blank at her:
"Are you sleeping with him?" Adele drew a bit back, arching her brow at the flat tone, and Malin raised her hand to stop her possible objections. "I'm not jealous or something. I swear. I just need to know first."
"…I really don't see how that's any business of yours," Adele said levelly, "but no, I'm not."
The ranger nodded, suddenly content: "Then, perhaps, my words won't fall on deaf ears."
"Perhaps," the woman drawled warily. "Why?"
"Get rid of him."
"…Excuse me?"
"Get rid of him. As soon as possible. Better right now."
"Huh. Funny," Adele screwed her eyes shut for a moment to clear her head at least a tad. "Well, okay, not that funny. Why would I get rid of, your words, 'probably the best ranger on the Coast'?"
"Because otherwise he'll get rid of you."
"…Uh-huh. Sure, he can try, but…" I'm drunk, I'm so drunk… "You serious? Look, I give him job to do. No one gets rid of the goose as long as it gives golden eggs."
Malin winced dismissively, "The man doesn't care for money as much as he likes to pretend. Just thinks that doing anything for free is stupid. So he doesn't. Ever," Adele found herself unsettled and irritated by the piercing look of those dark eyes. It was almost Bishop's look. But in this case she couldn't joke or flirt it off. "Tell me, did you hire him? Or was he the one to offer his services?"
Adele smirked: "From your tone I can already guess which variant is a bad one," Malin mirrored her humourless smirk, but the woman crashed her expectations. "Both. At first he was forced to… help us, then got a taste and decided that sticking around longer was worth his while."
"Forced?" Malin echoed, but Adele only crossed her arms and eased her back against the counter, silently stating she was not going into explanations.
The conversation was wearing down her patience. She didn't like the steel determination the half-elf was interrogating her with. Bishop was Bishop, and to paint his image pink and fuzzy could only the blind… but the whole thing seemed wrong. He was the band, and for all his filthy nature, forced or not, but he fought side by side with them, he spilled his blood and risked his neck just like everyone. He earned his right to be an ass around them, just like they earned their right to hate and curse him for that. But this girl was from the outside. Technically, she was no one, suddenly popping up with an opinion. An opinion that wasn't worth a rotten egg as far as Adele was concerned.
Whatever of her thoughts Malin managed to read from her face, but there appeared something nearly desperate in the line of her thinned mouth. "Look," she said quietly, "I'm not going to pretend that I'm a saint. No saint could work with him out of free will. I did. I saw what he is capable of. Sometimes… gods, sometimes I even took part in it."
"You hate him, I got it."
"I don't hate him," Malin hissed with sudden vehemence. "I hate what he does. And I hate that he always gets away with it."
Adele took a slow breath herself, shifting her shoulders in a shrug: "So far he did nothing wrong."
"Of course he didn't. Because when he starts, it means he had it all figured out already, weighed all pros and cons, learned all the ways in and out… By then it's too late to stop him." Adele didn't answer – not even knowing what to – and Malin sighed. "Believe me, for whatever reason you think he is with you, you are probably wrong."
"I never said there was a reason. He simply helped us out. Took us across Luskan border to-"
"…Ah," a grim understanding smile slid over Malin's lips. "Of course… Luskans. Should have gathered it has at least something to do with them," as Adele didn't say a thing, staring at her expectantly, the ranger nodded: "He hates them. The only genuine feeling I recall seeing in him at all."
"Can't blame him," Adele shrugged. "Not a fan of them myself."
"It's hard to be, indeed," Malin smirked in agreement, but her smirk didn't last for long. "Still, you've probably just didn't see him when…" she cast her eyes away. "When we came across their patrols, he killed them. Except for one. Always left a single one to… question."
There was something in her tone, something close to shatter, and Adele found herself clearing her throat, as if there was a bone stuck inside: "Like…? Torture?"
"If it can even be called that way," Malin's eyes were empty, staring into nothing. "The things he did to them… I'm not justifying them or something, but… they are living breathing creatures after all…" she shivered.
"…Sure, no point torturing the dead," Adele muttered bleakly. The taste in her mouth turned sour. That mustard-like flavour again… With her inner eye she suddenly saw the pale blood-stained face of a boy with slit throat, sand-powdered orbs forever staring into the sky. Somehow the prospect of inflicting at least a bit (…or better much…) pain on the one who had done it didn't seem all that horrible.
…But that's because it's personal… Unlike killing, torture is personal.
But now, as she thought back, every single thing Bishop ever said about Luskan, the mere sound of his voice reeked of 'personal'… Much more personal than simply a fed-up ex-soldier…
"The man is sick," Malin stated finally. "Without any 'almost' or 'like'… He is sick. I, too, thought that it was just a way he likes to carry himself or something… I was wrong. He is every single thing he seems to be."
"…I …see," Adele pursed her lips. Her head was humming, and all she wanted was for the ranger-girl to simply get off. She was exhausted, and angry, and drunk, and really-really tired of this Bishop-centered world. "I got your point, alright. Thank you for the warning."
Malin studied her face, her eyes now almost sad. "You're tough, huh. Very well, I see there's no point for me to prove something. But he's honestly not the guy to test your toughness on. Trust me, I leant that the hard way."
Adele didn't answer again, looking back at the woman and realizing – no, she did not hate Bishop. She was actually afraid of him. After all the time – she still was.
With another sigh Malin stepped back: "Watch out for him. And your back." And she was gone, disappeared in the crowd, leaving Adele staring into space.
It was the call of the bartender that shook her out of the reverie, and the woman turned back towards the counter, facing her filled mugs. Blinking at them, she finally shoved all the dishes into her hands and stomped to the table.
"Ah-ha, reinforcements!" Khelgar grinned, picking up a part of her pick.
"Something wrong?" Casavir asked carefully, looking at her face. "Who was that woman?"
"Nah, it's nothing," Adele shook her head. "Just… I seem to have my fill. Need to sleep. A lot," she smiled, hoping that her smile doesn't reveal how tightly her teeth are clenched. "Good night everybody. Don't sit long."
"Sleep well, miss Adele," Grobnar cheered.
Others bid their farewells as well, but as Adele was tuning away, it didn't escape her how they exchanged wondering glances.
Passing through the common room, she went out into the hall, took a turn to the stairs towards the rooms…
…You are not going to sleep, are you? Want to take advantage of yourself being drunk-n-bold?
Her hand lingered on the railing of the staircase, as she shut her eyes and shook her head so vehemently the hat nearly fell off.
…I'm going to do it, ain't I? Waltz in and ask 'Bishop, are you really a psychopath'?
Stupid… Stupid, stupid, stupid.
That's another side of 'accomplices' to you. To have someone's back, you need know against what.
Taking a breath, she started up the stairs…
