A/N: Oh my, do you see it, too? It's an update! Shh, don't spook it ;)))

Am still not totally pleased with the chappie – but, I guess, if I don't post it finally, I never will :|


XXX: Ins and Outs

Admitting his decision to be wrong was a rare occasion for Sand. And an unpleasant one. Even more so when he weighed all pros and cons – and according to every bit of logic the pros were leading – but still somehow it did not work in the end.

Just like now, as he watched the blade of the girl's rapier swish in a horizontal arc, barely missing one of his shelves, he could not help but doubt that bringing her to the shop was a good idea.

On one hand, of course it was. With the trial getting closer and closer, citizens of fair Neverwinter started showing too much unhealthy curiosity as to who the notorious accused was. Gods knew how, but soon rumors of her staying at the 'Sunken Flagon' spread like forest fire, to the point that even Duncan wasn't happy about the amount of 'customers' piling in with hopes to get at least a glimpse of his ill-fated niece. Needless to say the niece in question became snappy like a dry twig. At first shutting down the establishment 'until further notice' seemed like a way out – but, really, once the target was already spotted, hardly anything could keep gawkers away.

Instead of wasting his time trying to put out a fire, Sand just took away the source of the flames and dragged young lady Farlong across the street to his place. Wizard's aura and whispers of deadly traps he kept on his shop (not totally false, actually) worked better than any doors and shutters. Keeping the girl away from her motley crew was an added bonus. After all, he wanted her undivided attention, without having to interrupt their sessions for his client to chitchat with one of her endless companions. Not to mention the ranger. That one didn't even have to open his mouth – the moment he stepped into the room he totally stole the spotlight of the girl's perception.

Kids and their most inconvenient crushes.

On the other hand, there was a thing Sand did not take into consideration (should have, but did not) – that undivided attention would not necessarily be centered on him. Right at the moment he was miserably losing to martial practice held in the middle of his front room.

"Did you give any thoughts to the witnesses?" he wondered.

"Witnesses of what?" was the reply, while the blade made another intricate path in the air. Sand raked an irritated hand through Jaral's fur, the cat curled in his lap. "There's only Alaine and Marcus. We have the latter, Luskans have the first."

"Witnesses of you, my dear," he flinched. "And for Mystra's shining eyes, just sit down, I beg you."

Adele stopped, with her hand stretched onwards, her rapier continuing the perfect straight line of her arm. Smiled, disarmingly. Charming creature, indeed, but in wizard's opinion she tended to misplace her charm too often. "Come on, Sand, I won't break anything. And it helps me concentrate. You know, when the body is occupied, mind works better."

And a liar.

It wasn't about concentration. Just as long as she was doing something else, she could let the thoughts of the trial pass by without taking them seriously. As if her mere reluctance was able to turn the whole thing into a joke.

Yet again Sand had to remind himself that, despite Adele's looks and behaviour, he was dealing with a child. She could appear a reasonable grown-up woman to humans, and her upbringing probably forced her to become self-reliant and rational very quickly, - but in half-elven years was still a child. And a stubborn child at that. Not the kind to throw tantrums at every turn to prove her point, no – she'd smile, nod, agree with you, and go on doing things her way.

In any other case Sand might have even found that admirable. But not in this one, where he was the person to deal with it.

"Just sit. Your method of concentration distracts me."

She shrugged, but obediently slid into the chair on the opposite side of the table, straightening her back and placing her hands on her knees, her rapier clutched snugly between them. Smiled again. Perfect picture of school-like obedience, little mocker. "Am all yours. What witnesses were you talking about, anyway? Like… to prove my alibi or something?"

"We have no way of proving your alibi," Sand pointed out, scratching behind Jaral's ear. The cat purred monotonously in approval. The elf always found that relaxing. "The exact time of destruction of Ember is unknown. Both Alaine, wandering Duskwood for time unnamed before coming to Port Llast, and Marcus, sitting for ages in that well, are very confused when it comes to particular dates. As it stands now, you and your companions were the last ones passing Ember before its tragic fate. Apart from real murderers, of course."

"Then any of my companions is a witness - that nothing happened and nothing I did."

"That is true," Sand smirked, "but the things is – indirectly any of them is also a suspect. An accomplice," for whatever reason the word elicited a mirthless chuckle out of the girl, but other than that she didn't object. "We need people to assert your reliability. Those who can help us state that in no way you are even capable of anything near the thing you are accused of."

"…And that still leaves any of my companions. At least, I'd like to hope so."

"But we need witnesses that are trustworthy both for the court and the audience," Adele slowly arched an insulted brow, and Sand shrugged. "With all my respect, but if to reason carefully, who can vouch for you? A deserter-paladin with a record of his own, a thief with demon blood, an overly-temperamental dwarf with problems of keeping his fists to himself, a sorceress-girl thrown out of the Academy by her own father…"

"…Father?" she echoed.

"Oh yes, her father is one of the Masters of the Academy. And the mere fact of even him resorting to such drastic measures in the end can state plenty about his daughter," he shook his head, having no wish to dwell further on the annoying subject and give the girl a reason to stray away into the whole 'dad-n-daughter' line of thoughts, which was obviously one of her 'favourites'. "I think you get my meaning. Who else do we have? Miss Jerro I do not trust in the sense of being able to emotionally and mentally endure interrogation by Torio. Druids are known to show little to no interest in humans and their settlements – so the testimony of our dear Elanee can appear doubtful as well. And I don't even mention a shady individual with a clearly culpable past who, on top of everything, doesn't go under his real name," the girl smirked, slumping herself back in the chair, tapping her rapier on the floor. Sand sighed, spreading his hands. "I suppose we do not consider Grobnar, unless our aim is to drive the whole courtroom raving mad."

Adele didn't answer at once, looking into space and still smirking darkly, then chuckled again: "Dammit, you do have a way to persuade, Sand. It appears no one can vouch for me, then," her smirk turned to a grin. "And with a company like that it's a wonder I haven't butchered Ember."

"…I have to say, the sneer you are wearing right now is in itself enough to make one wonder. Mark it and forget it, I don't want to see you sporting it in the courtroom," she rolled her eyes, but nevertheless banished the smirk. At least she was listening to him. "And - yes, your words were exactly what I was implying. Or should I better put, what Torio would imply were we to bring any of your companions forward."

"What about the Watch, then? Any of the command?"

"The same story. The reputation of the Watch within the city is tarnished at best. Even their brilliant upstart, their ray of light in the darkness, their all-around-wonderful and heroic lieutenant of the Docks ended up being accused of mass-murder."

"…I love you, Sand, have I already said that today?"

"Not in the last hours, no."

"My, I must have had a reason for that, huh?" with a heavy sigh she buried herself deeper into the armchair, crossing her legs and placing her rapier flat on her knees, her fingers absently tracing the windings of the hilt. No matter what she was doing, it seemed she couldn't part with her weapon. Scared? Nervous? She has all the rights to be… but is she? Looks more like she is not even here, but in some other place, doing something else, where having a weapon at hand is very much desirable. "Very well, my dear lawyer, since you chose to thoroughly destroy all my suggestions, that should mean you have your own?"

At that Sand just had to smile. A stubborn child, yes, but at least a smart one.

"I do. Even two, in fact. Callum to assert your reliability and-"

"…Who again?"

"Callum," Sand repeated dryly, almost unbelieving. "One of Neverwinter Nine, commander of Old Owl Well?"

"…Ah, that one," she grinned, relaxing. "Forgot all about him."

He felt torn between amused and terrified. "Indeed? Just like that? You did a tremendous service – if not favour – to one of the Nine, and then you forgot about it?"

The girl – for all the gods – shrugged. "Well, I didn't know back then I'll end up in the courtroom…"

"But you never know, my dear. That's the point. So never forget those who can be of use later."

"Oh yeah," Adele grinned again. "What I need, alright – my own blackmailing list."

Sand lowered his lids a bit so that it would be easier to roll his eyes. "Blackmailing. Who ever talked about blackmailing? Truly, it'll never cease to amaze me how people tend to dismiss simple gratitude. While a truly grateful person doesn't even need to be blackmailed – he'll do nearly anything for you and remain pleased at the end," her smile was in place, but turned skeptic. "Yes, he will. Otherwise Callum would have never said it is his duty and honour to help clearing you of this… how he put it… 'outrageous dirt the rats ditched upon you'. And surely the merchant from Port Llast wouldn't be making a way on her own right to Neverwinter to testify in your favour," disbelief was gone, replaced by puzzlement, and Sand didn't bother to hide a smile. He knew very few pleasures that were greater than appearing right. "Eager to help, if I might add."

"Nya? What in the Hells can she testify about?"

"Why, your generous and helpful character, of course. Taking time and trouble to put the dead of Ember to rest."

"But I didn't do it to-"

"Doesn't matter. What matters is that she is sincere. We get a witness, she gets a possibility to pay you back for your help. It's a win-win, really. With the right calculations, possessing a 'generous and helpful character' can turn out very profitable."

The girl looked like she wanted to object, but thought better of it and only flailed her hand in a defeated 'do-what-you-want', chuckling grimly: "Still, I'm almost sure that what you said is somehow disgusting."

"Please, my dear, just don't go all morality priestess on me. If any of our churches truly believed that, none of them would have had that fine golden embroidery on their altar shrouds. Disgusting – is a massacre carried out with a single purpose to accuse one girl of it, all we do is acting accordingly."

That wasn't single purpose, of course, not even the main one; at least he didn't believe that. It probably also served as a distraction. From what of Garius' occupations specifically, and what was the girl's part in it, Sand couldn't tell. Yet. But he didn't need to be shoved into something face-first to realize that the 'something' in question was happening. All the talks about the King of Shadows, and Nasher taking almost personal interest in seeing young lady Farlong alive and well, not to mention a particular piece of weaponry the girl was carrying in her ribcage… That last one even made Sand suspect that the affair with bringing Adele to Luskan was fueled with the aim of not only serving their variant of justice, but also getting her body and its contents into their possession. Of course Sand didn't know the whole picture (again - yet), knew probably even less than Nevalle and Nasher – but the pieces on their own were enough for his intuition to flood him with both nauseating and exhilarating (and nearly-forgotten) feeling that he was tapering at the borders of something big. The trial they were being through was merely a tiny thing in the whole. It won't end anything and won't start anything, for things had already started and were long way from their pinnacle yet.

Sand could feel the vortex. And as much as some part of him grew fond of calm incognito life here at the outskirts of Neverwinter, he knew well enough that his talents were not meant to rust in the backroom of a drug-shop. Terrible waste otherwise. So already now he was nurturing the thoughts of hinting Nevalle how his further closeness to the newest squire could benefit everyone. Sticking with her was the best way. He didn't posses any recklessness to rush into the tide of things, certainly not, always left that to others, but being in the first row of the sidelines was another story. Perfect position to turn the flow if possible without being washed away with it – and, who knows, to fish something useful out of the flood.

Of course, first and foremost for that even to happen he needed to make sure the girl stayed safe and clear of the whole mass-murder nonsense. Which he knew he would do. No matter what anyone thought about his methods and treatment of witnesses. He long since learned that most people had the breadth of views of an earthworm, and the wizard possessed neither patience nor a shovel large enough to broaden their horizons at every turn point.

Although I can hardly be accused of the lack of trying…

His musings were interrupted that very moment, when Jaral, feeling neglected, cast an irritated glare on the hand lying limply on his back and arched his spine into it, demanding for stroking to continue. Sand complied (the cat was always hard to deny) and collected himself, coming back to reality and his client. Whom he found looking at him with strange curiosity, clearly for some time already, her head propped with her slender hand, lips curling in a smile. Sand tried to remember if he had said anything funny, but could not.

"…Yes," he muttered, annoyed with himself for losing track of his own monologue. "What was I about?"

Adele moved her shoulder in a slow shrug, her smile growing wider: "Really, Sand, presuming to know what you were going to say would be extremely self-confident of me, wouldn't it?"

"Why, you shameless little sycophant," he grouched, leaning forward to reach for his notes on the table and to give some stretch to his spine at the same time. "Go on, go on."

She snickered, and Sand couldn't help it, starting to smile as well even while scanning through the records. All the reason and calculations aside, he still had at least one motive to pull the trial through - he came to like Duncan's kid.

"Very well, if we are through with Callum, Nya, who else can we have?"

"Kistrel? She seemed to be fond of me."

"…My, you are a fountain of humour today, aren't you. Even my talent won't be sufficient to explain how getting along with giant spiders makes you a trustworthy and innocent individual."

"But at least it'll be quite a show."

"Let's save it for the celebration, after we win."

"And if we won't?"

"Tsk".

"No, seriously."

Sand cast his eyes up from the notes. The girl was sitting in the same position, propping her head, her legs curled under her, free hand on her rapier, watching him… only now there was something tense in the whole coil of her body.

How did Grobnar put it? A spring, yes, that'll break loose if you press it the wrong way or wind too tight.

He knew she was scared. Had to be. But it put him a little off, not seeing any fear in her eyes. Adele watched him closely, dark cobalt of her eyes attentive, almost expectant – but not scared.

What are you up to?

"My dear…" he started softly, but she cut him off with a quick smile, sharp and thin.

"Yeah, I know. We will, of course, blah-blah-blah. But it can also happen that we won't. You have to admit that there is such a possibility," she arched her brow questioningly. Sand chose to remain silent, not arguing, but not agreeing as well – not before he could gather where she was leading to. "It's not that I don't trust you – I obviously do, sitting here and all…"

"You don't have a choice in that," he smiled dryly.

"Uh-huh. Sure I don't," she chuckled just as dryly. "Come on, Sand, we both know I could pack my things and hit the road. Not that I didn't get any advice to do just that," from the way she shifted in her spot, her lashes lowering a bit, eyes growing even darker, Sand suddenly had a very good idea of who was the source of that suggestion. But, again, didn't say a word, only suppressed a sigh. "Yet here I am. Because I do want to pull it off the… right way, without anything left hanging. It's just sort off… stressing, thinking that there's only one way to go. I need to know there's a back door. For the sake of knowing."

And here I am. Caught.

This time a sigh did escape his lips, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tiredly. Adele smiled again, clearly intending for this smile to be a nice one, but it didn't work, not after her words. Sand had his suspicious how much, despite her reassurance of the opposite, she didn't like handing him the reigns. It wasn't about trust, in that he believed her - but she wanted a choice. Would have preferred to be able to deal with the situation on her own.

But you cannot, my dear. That is what annoys you so.

Not for the first time Sand thought that behind the brittle sheet of silky friendliness and easy charm, somewhere deep inside Adele Farlong was a very forceful and autocratic woman. A trait unsurprising for her heritage, of course; not to forget the upbringing that probably forged vague wish into adamant need. In some sense her stubbornness, elusiveness, resourcefulness, even her overbearing niceness grew from that one and only root – to have things her way.

The very reason he didn't intent on telling her all the possibilities.

Feeling his unwillingness, she threw herself back in the chair, raising her hands, her smile growing to a full-blossomed childish grin: "I'm not saying I'll change the course. Just need to be sure we have a back-up plan. You know, not the type where I'm diving into the ocean to escape the ship already on its way to Luskan. I don't swim that well under shower of arrows."

"We have a back-up plan, my dear" he admitted stiffly, "but it'd be so much wiser of you to finally pay serious attention to the one we are trying to play out right now."

"I do. Honestly," another grin, bringing up a wish to slap some sense into her. "But what if something happens to you?"

"Pardon me?"

"Torio hires an assassin or something. I'll be screwed without you. You can't really expect me to stay so dependant?"

Sand glanced helplessly at Jaral. Logical reason. He had no cards to beat that one.

"Very well. There is a… certain tradition among Tyrrans that we can use as an appeal if losing," he capitulated, rubbing his nose. "It is called a 'Trial by Combat'. Champions of both the accused and the accuser face each other in a duel, with the case being solved in favour of the winner. But that is-"

"Wait-wait-wait," her eyes narrowed, fingers making another caressing slide over the hilt of her rapier – before closing over it in a tight grip. Yet her voice remained steely calm: "Are you saying that all this time all I needed to do was beat someone they put against me – and I'm innocent?"

And that reaction is exactly why I didn't bring it up.

"De juro – yes," he admitted as evenly as he could. Which he could. "De facto?" Sand gave her a thoroughly disappointed grimace. "Really, my dear, how do you expect to dissolve an accusation of act of violence with yet another act of violence? Surely, on paper you'll be innocent, and Luskans won't be able to get hold of you – but to people of Neverwinter the mere fact may not be convincing enough. Stated, but not proved. And since I want to save not only your life, but reputation as well, I'll resort to mutilation only if there's no other way."

Not to mention that Nasher is so liable to crowd opinion. And it has already cost us Aribeth once.

"…M'kay," she said just as calmly, if not airily, but with her eyes still narrowed and dark, enough for the elf not to believe her lightness this time. Or at all. "Did say I trust you, didn't I."

Is that a question?

He let it slide.

"Besides," the wizard added instead with a smile, "when it comes to people and audience, you have a weapon much more potent and large-scale than your blade - yourself."

She didn't answer, still watching him, making Sand feel like he had lost points in some game and was now allowed to try and retake them. Not a pleasant feeling.

"Really, my dear, you are likeable." And you know it, he added in his mind, as her face held nothing of surprise or modest confusion, just an accepting, if a little annoyed, smirk. "And it doesn't take much from you to be, which is a valuable trait the nature blessed you with. So I think you'll be your own best character's witness."

"If you say so," Adele shrugged with the same unwavering phlegm. Truly, does she expect me to feel guilty for not allowing her to stab someone? "As long as you are not saying it just in attempt to hit on me."

That was sudden and, were it not for a held-back grin he could read in the line of her mouth, would have been awkward. But she did smile, so Sand simply waved her off: "Oh believe me, you are fully protected from that by being ten times younger and – forgive me my selective honesty - not fully an elf."

"Meh, figures," she whined jokingly. "So much for me being likeable, then."

Much to his own surprise Sand nearly laughed. "Not now and not like this, of course. We'll clean you up, dress you in something pretty, take away your weapon – yes, we will – and you'll be a picture of innocence. Add to that your charm and my expertise, and no court will hold."

"So you do the talking, I do the looking, eh?"

"Roughly speaking, yes. Although I doubt Torio will miss an opportunity to take you apart while questioning. But that's nothing you can't handle. All the more startling in comparison to your timid looks."

"Fine, I'll play the flower pot," she held her hands up, all easy and sweet again. "But I won't wear a dress."

"You don't expect I'll let you wear your usual rags, do you?"

"Seriously, Sand, I'll be standing there forced to prove to the whole city I'm not a camel. I'm not gonna make it worse by constant fear I'm going to trip over the skirt and fall on my face."

"At least buy a new tunic, then."

"Okay. A pretty one. With laces."

"And hemstitch."

"What's that?"

"…It's pretty."

"…Fine, whatever. And I'll leave the audience guessing how in the Hells was I able to become a Watch lieutenant and deal with a whole orc tribe, being so fluffy and all."

"A bit of mystery won't hurt."

"That was sarcasm."

"I know, and I've intentionally missed it," he presented her with a small wry smile to which she rolled her eyes. "There's no need of us to purposefully accentuate any of your… most harsh endeavors. Just a tad of right highlights, and you are a lamb. Leave in the shadows everything questionable, like your run-ins with the githyanki, or orcish bloodbath, or your drow heritage…"

"My what?"

"Must say you are lucky there, pale skin is enough to confuse anybody…"

"What are you talking about? I don't have any drow heritage!"

Sand stared. Adele stared in return. This time, there was fear in her eyes, but the elf didn't find it relieving.

Impossible. No. Oh all the gods above, there's no way she couldn't have known

On the other hand, he came to realize, why not? No one ever discussed it. He had presumed it was mostly because the topic was hardly pleasant – but the possibility she didn't know… That unnatural white in her hair, and her eerie empathy with spiders, and the way her pupils glowed red in darkness… How on the face of Toril no one ever noticed…?

"Your darkvision," he drawled calmly. "What is it like?"

"Huh?" eyes still empty, uncomprehending.

Come on, dear, snap out of it.

"When you switch to seeing in the low lighting, what does it look like?"

"I…" she shook her head. "The usual. Warm things are red, cold things are dark," the girl trailed off at the expression of his face and flinched: "Not right, huh?"

"That's not darkvision, that's thermovision. Innate for some outsider beings and races that spend their lives in darkness of caves and underground…"

"…like drow," she muttered and dropped her head into her hands, furiously rubbing her scalp through the mane of hair. "Fuck."

Sand carefully observed her every move, cautious of any signs of panic or hysterics. It was the last thing they needed. The fact that he was partly to be blamed for the possible outburst didn't help his easiness either.

"How comes you never knew?" he asked carefully, evenly, doing his best to channel his calmness to the girl.

"I… I don't know," she murmured into her palms. Chuckled. "Never really walked around poking others and asking what their darkvision looked like. I just… presumed it was like that for everyone."

He nodded. Understandable. Just like he presumed he couldn't be the only one to figure.

I should stop thinking too high of others.

"Drow…" Adele heaved a sigh, straightening in her chair, a smirk on her lips that had nothing to do with fun. "Well, I'll be damned. Way to go, Mom."

Sand could think of other much cruder possibilities for a human woman to get impregnated with a drow child – but from the haunted look on the girl's face he guessed she knew it too. Was simply struggling not to crawl into a ball of miserable self-pity. Noticing him staring, she stared back, her eyes like dark empty holes on the paleness of her face. Looking at her right now, it was easy to forget that colours even existed.

It were moments like this when the wizard wondered if he regretted his long eroded ability to empathize or was actually relieved not to have one.

"I need a drink," Adele finally concluded, tearing her eyes away from him and darting them around the room.

"While I need you sober."

"Sorry, Sand, but in the nearest half an hour I can't bring myself to give a shit about what you need," another cold sparse smirk. "Just saying."

He could argue, of course, but found no wish to. So only pointed deeper into the room: "Behind the folding screen, dark wood sideboard. Some of them are old and strong, so don't go too hard on them."

She wandered off into the direction of his small but cherished collection of wines, her moves scant and jagged, as if every muscle in her body was strained, until disappeared behind the screen. Sand didn't move, turning all ears, following every shuffle and rustle and (he winced) clatter of glass.

"Makes sense," her words caught him off guard, making wince yet again from sheer unexpectedness. He heard a smile in her words, but not a good one. "I mean, with the hair and all. Never saw anyone have 'em so damned white. Like albino. And the skin, you know, when I get a bit of tan… it's not brown or pink, it's grey. Shit," another clatter, followed by a harsh chuckle. "First a lump of sword I've been carrying around for year, now this… how could I be so fucking blind?"

Sand kept silent, knowing perfectly well she didn't really need any answer from him, while his pragmatic self tried to guess how much time they would lose on this unplanned breakdown – and how much bottles would it cost him. He'd put her to sleep with a simple spell if it did any better, but that was highly unlikely and still time-consuming. The wizard looked at the girl's rapier left lying in the chair, then lowered his eyes to Jaral.

"Well, my friend," he murmured, rubbing the soft fur on the underside of cat's jaw, "so far this 'private discussion' business turned out to be a total disaster, don't you think?"

Jaral blinked lazily in agreement, measured the distance between his master's lap and the far corner where Adele was having her little eye-to-eye with their sideboard, then jumped to the floor – not before snaking his whole body in a way that allowed him to scratch the most of his back over Sand's fingers. The elf had his doubts whether Adele Farlong was the type of woman to be calmed and softened by a purring furball rubbing against her calves, but let Jaral give a try.

At least it won't hurt, - he reasoned, a little suspicious of the silence from behind the screen. Not that he expected to hear sobs, but… - That's the whole thing. I simply don't know what to expect of her. At all.

The bell at the door gave a melodic ring, announcing the visitor, and Sand didn't bother to hide his irritation as he glanced at the tiefling sneaking in from the street, a heavily-loaded tray balancing in her hands.

"Door-to-door delivery!" she beamed at him, ignoring his displeasure. "Duncan figured you two could use a dinner. Said you can starve over your case all you want, but he won't let Del being dragged into it as well. She's tearfully scrawny as it is."

"How very thoughtful of him," Sand drawled, giving the tray but a dismissive peek. "Should I also believe that your eavesdropping on our conversation and then passing it over to him was not among his ideas?"

"Nope, that one is totally my own," Neeshka served the plates quickly and deftly, like a swindler dealing cards, all the while grinning and glancing around. "So, where's Del, what did you do to her?"

"What could I do to her?"

"Dunno, you could kill her and hide her body under the floor planks. You short and quiet types are always weird."

"I'm over here, Neesh," came Adele's voice, with a tint of laughter that Sand considered sincere enough. At least it sounded like that.

"Damn you, wizard, you buried her alive!" the thief gasped. "You okay there, honey? Should I fetch Stumpy?"

"I'm fine," she said, and in any other place and time Sand would have actually believed her. The girl could be a singer, so accurately she hit all the right notes and tones with her voice. "Want a drink?"

"No, she doesn't, she's leaving," the wizard seeped out, staring pointedly at the tiefling. Neeshka grimaced. "You'll have her at your disposal in the evening, for now we have more important things to deal with."

"Gee, Sand, don't get yourself a stroke over it," the rogue grumbled.

"Come on, we can spare a couple of minutes, I'm sure," Adele stepped back into the room, with Jaral sprawled on the berth of her crossed arms, a glass snuggled between her fingers – and a smile feeling just as comfortable on her face. Whatever transformation had occurred behind the screen, it was worth it.

"Very well, I give up," he sighed, playing along. "But if you get executed, you'll have only yourself to blame."

"I'll keep it in mind," her smile grew wider, not shining – blinding.

The two girls slipped away into the back of the room, discussing whatever they thought was that much significant, the tiefling easily led by her still smiling friend. If Adele needed that for a distraction, he was more than glad to provide. Although, ruffling through the papers and stealing occasional glances at the girls, half-drow smiling, half-demon shaking head, he couldn't help but wonder who of them was distracting whom. Even as the latter finally turned away to leave, the former kept smiling.

"I would be easier if you said why the Hells you even need that much," the tiefling grumbled at the threshold, making Sand pause in his studies.

"I will. Later. Can't I have a secret from you, guys?"

"Bah."

"Wow, you already sound like Khelgar, you know that?"

Neeshka presented her with a sour scowl and left. Sand expected Adele's easiness to vanish that very moment the front door closed behind her friend – but no, the girl quietly snickered and patted Jaral on the head before placing him carefully on the nearest counter together with the glass of wine.

"What was that about?" the wizard wondered, both a bit curious and testing her moods.

"Nothing, really, just a little favour I asked of her," she stretched languidly, pausing to kneed the back of her neck to relieve the tension. Or, perhaps, buying time not to face Sand straight away. "Look, could we just…" a flippant scissor-like gesture with her fingers, "cut out the last part of our conversation and… revelations – and stick back to trial business."

"And Mystra heard my prayers," Sand commented, spreading inviting arms to the armchair she used to occupy.

Noted: as balanced and predictable as a crossbow with broken safety latch.

Adele slid into the chair. Smiled.

Enough to make any lawyer apoplectic.


Del seemed okay. More important – confident. Whatever the Hells that sleazy slip of an elf was doing, he was obviously doing it good.

But that was Del. And if there was anything Neeshka came to know about her, is that Del would be dying with the most confident look. And 'I'm fine' would probably be her last words.

Standing at the stairs to the wizard's shop, Neeshka felt her tail twitching under the cloak. Keeping calm was something she was never good at. Let Sand and the like be 'the thinkers', she was always a do-er. And no way she could even force herself to sit idly while her friend was in danger.

Damn, she didn't have that much friends to go and throw them around like that.

Skipping down the stairs, the tiefling glanced at the sun and shadows, estimating the time of day, and took a turn away from the 'Flagon' across the street. Surely Duncan was waiting for her to come back with news, but at the moment Neeshka could risk his peace of mind. Crossing several blocks under the cover of low roofs and tents, the rogue dove back into the light of a small dusty barren.

Even in the coldness of late autumn, the sand and ground here kept much of warmth from the sun during the day. Mostly to the comfort of a bunch of street kids that spent their time here, playing pebbles and chasing each other in the dirt. Open air, wind from the docks and ever-present mud made them all look the same over the time – sunburned peeling faces, grimy hair, colourless clothes, chipped dirty nails and sore feet that were lucky to have a pair of threaded-down shoes. Worn in turn anyway.

It was a small world inside a larger one, with its own rules and hierarchy, the world she used to be a part of. But now she was a grown-up, and felt alien, so didn't spend much time observing the kids, just enough to spot the one she was looking for.

The tall dark-haired boy of ten (although his sunken cheeks made him look older) wasn't playing. He kept aside, taking place under the shade to watch over others, absently carving something out of a slice of wood with an old kitchen knife. Carefully sharpened, as Neeshka noticed.

"Hey, Wolf," she settled at his side.

"Hey, horn-head," he echoed, measuring her with a sullen stare. "Not a chance I pass any of your greetings to Leldon anymore. His piss is already boiling, so I ain't game. Came to like my head where it is."

"Ah, forget about Leldon," Neeshka couldn't hold back a grin, but at least was able to banish it quickly. "Say, how are you about earning some coin? Aaaand I'm almost sure I can arrange a couple of dinners at the 'Flagon' for you and your guys. Maybe even a place to sleep."

Wolf frowned: "Too good to be true, horn-head. What do you want?"

"Just some… sneaking around. Any of you happen to be near Castle Never?"

"Dori sometimes helps at the kitchens there. Why?"

"I need to know the quarters of Luskan Embassy. All ins and outs and stuff."

"What, planning a break-in?" the boy sniffed.

"Nope, more like a… possible break-out."

"…It's about that Watch-lass you're hanging around with? Heard about the trial."

"Know her?"

"Not really. Some of the lads saw her. Said she's tough. In a good way. Nailed Moire, too, so…" he sighed, squinting at Neeshka. "And you can have a talk with ol' Duncan? Think he'd agree to take us in from time to time?"

"That Watch-lass is his niece, Wolf. You help her, he'll damn adopt you all. I mean, look at me, living all packed up."

Wolf gave a whistle, putting aside his knife and woodcraft. "Now that's something. Alrighty, I'll a pass a word around, tell Dori and others to do some stumbling around the castle. But none of them is risking their necks, hear me?"

"Wouldn't want that myself, partner. Only, you know, keep it quiet," she winked at him. "Like you, guys, can."

The boy gave her a cocky lopsided grin, just the grin that in five-six years would be able to drop a lot of girls on their backs. Hells, Neeshka couldn't even promise she won't be among them.

"Deal, horn-head. Keeping our tails low."

Neeshka grinned as well, rising from the ground. Now it felt better. Like she was doing something useful. Or, rather, something that could turn useful, were things to become drastic. She was sure it won't take much to get Stumpy to her side. Some of the others, too. And if Del suddenly got into Luskans' hands, she wouldn't stay there for long.

"Never thought I'd be helping someone from the Watch," Wolf chuckled.

"Neither did I," the tiefling smiled at the sun. "But, y'know, good stuff comes to good guys."

Now back to the 'Flagon', to pass Duncan a word that Del was, of course, fine – and pack some more things she has asked Neeshka to sell before the trial begins.

Tymora only knew why in the Nine Hells Del needed ten thousands all of a sudden.