Ch 9 Outlaw
Dee stepped into her room, holding the door for Cillian to pass. It was a hot summer evening, and she opened her window to catch the breeze from the sea, wrinkling her nose at the dockside smells which were especially fetid from the heat. She set a plate of the food she promised Duncan she would eat on her table. Cillian looked up at her a hopefully. She kissed his snout and set the plate on the floor. He sniffed it and looked up at her guiltily. "You haven't eaten since morning. How're you gonna hibernate if you don't fatten up?" She smiled at him and answered, "I'll get something later, my love. And I don't need to hibernate." "Great," she thought with a sigh, "now my bear, my uncle, Shandra, and Khelgar are nagging me." The bear cocked his head and studied her before licking the plate clean.
She put on a brave front for her friends and companions, but as the reality of the trial sunk in she became more anxious. It didn't matter that she was innocent if the Luskans made her look guilty as sin, and there was no telling what dirty tricks they would pull. Bishop had been little help either. He disappeared for days at a time leading hunting parties for the nobles and wealthy merchants of the city, and she was too consumed with proving her innocence to go along, even if he had invited her. And despite the turmoil in her life, she still had her obligation find out everything she could about the King of Shadows and spread the warning along the Harper network. Just as she had predicted to Cormick, his cult had spread here among the spoiled brats of the nobility.
She hardly ate these days, and her fitful sleep was broken by disturbing dreams more than ever. Last night she dreamed she was standing on the gallows with the noose around her neck. The crowd, caught up in the bloodlust, jeered. Casavir was on the platform beside her admonishing her to repent, and Daeghun was watching in the crowd with a look of disgust on his face. The hangman pulled the lever that opened the trap door to send her plunging to her death. The last thing she saw as she fell and the noose tighten around her neck was the hangman removing his hood: it was Bishop. She awoke choking and promptly threw up.
She watched Cillian circle three times before he settled on the rug; it was funny how many animals do that. What would happen to him...she shook off the thought. That was silly; she would be with him in the Grove of the Unicorns if Meilikki found her worthy of claiming her from Kelemvor. It must be terrible to be faithless like Bishop, to have no hope for the next life. That might be why he was so angry and bitter; he mocked her faith constantly, and she in turn prayed for him. It filled her with despair, and she wished she knew what had caused him to lose his faith, but his past was still a closed book to her. He wouldn't even talk about his own frequent nightmares, and more than once afterwards he grabbed her and asked if he had been talking in his sleep. "At least I kept my faith despite everything, no matter how unfair it is," she said aloud. "Gods, could I be any more self-righteous?," she chided to herself in response. "That's what comes of spending so much time with Tyrians." Cillian just grunted.
She sighed and poured a mug of mead and drained it then brushed out her hair, kicked off her her boots and stripped down to her small clothes, tossing her clothes in the basket for the launderess. It felt good to get her clothes off. She wanted a bath but balked at the thought of soaking in hot water. Perhaps later. "What I wouldn't give for an icy mountain stream right about now, love." Cillian grunted his agreement. "I know, it's hot for you here too love, but I missed you so much I today." It had been a unusually hot day for this early in the summer, too hot for armor, and she was only wearing leathers. She pitied her squire brothers and sisters who mostly wore plate.
Sir Grayson seemed amused that she was actually taking her duties as a squire seriously. He wasted no time in making her train with a shield after he shoved her swords aside with his and knocked her on her backside with ease. He was also pleasantly surprised that she knew her way around a stable and a forge and didn't mind whatever hard, dirty work he assigned her, unlike many of his noble-born squires. Along with Shandra she mucked out his stable, cleaned manure off his boots, and did any other dirty job he assigned her without complaint. She even brought Elanee over to examine his favorite mare.
But she was learning there was so much more expected of a knight besides being good with a sword. Often she felt like a fraud. The other squires were so cultured that they made her feel like more of a country bumpkin that ever. They were expected to be versed in the politics of the city, know the popular court dances and music and be able to converse intelligently on many subjects. So often she was quiet when she was with them so as not to betray her ignorance. What saved her was she was fairly well-educated; Daeghun had seen to it that she could read and write Common and speak but not read Elven and some Orcish, though her education had tended towards his favorite subject, history.
Thus her table was piled with books on the conflicts between Luskan and Neverwinter that she had borrowed from the archives, the temple of Oghma, her knight, Aldanon, Sand, or anyone else who would lend them. Oddly enough, she found a case similar to hers that occurred three hundred years in the past. Dee filled several sheets of paper with notes she hoped she could use at the trial. She had to stop working for her uncle because so many people were coming in to the tavern to gawk at his notorious niece. She told him dryly that he should just start charging a two drink minimum. It left her more time to read, though. In her better moments she was beginning to understand that she was only a pawn in the never-ending game between the two cities. In her worse moments, she fantasized about different ways of making Torio die for what she had done.
She leaned out the window and breathed in the sea air. She caught sight of Casavir in the distance walking back from the evening service the temple. She waved, and he nodded in return. They had taken some small steps to mend their broken friendship. He had insisted on going with her and Sand that day to the Watch office to meet with Sir Grayson whether she wanted him there or not, and since Bishop was suddenly no where to be found, she grudgingly accepted his company. They walked back to the tavern in silence until he apologized for hurting her with his words but not for what he had said. It was the kind of apology that still left much unspoken, and she regretted that they had yet to resume the easy camaraderie that had existed between them.
Sand thought they had stalled about as long as they could in preparing for the trial. Sir Grayson warned her that Torio appeared in Nasher's court every day demanding justice. Yeah, she thought bitterly, I'd like to give that wench some justice. Dee had been given leave by Lord Nasher to go to Old Owl Well to see if Callum would appear as a character witness. She also was asked by one of the clerics at the temple of Lathander to take an offering to Brother Merring, and as it was on the way, it was a good excuse to see Bevil and Daeghun and her old friends for what could be the last time, but she had been ashamed to face them with the accusation still hanging over her, and now it was too late to make the trip. She gazed out at the ships and the lack of activity on the docks and thought again how easy it would be to stow away aboard a ship bound for anywhere and put this all behind her. She would need some kind of disguise though; she was too well known around here.
She was leaning over pensively on the window sill when Bishop slipped in the door, and he smiled as he took in the perfect view of long, shapley legs and firm, round ass, and he thought of taking her right there. She was so still he was sure she wasn't aware of his presence, but a sudden tension in her stance told him she had heard him enter. He glanced at the bear lying on the floor next to the bed, who looked back at him with what seemed like a smirk.
She was determined not to speak to him unless he apologized for disappearing again without a word. That day she found out about the accusation he had vanished and not returned for hours. His excuse was that he had to take the elk head to a taxidermist to have it mounted. She accepted it then, but he seemed to be making it a regular habit.
"I was beginning to wonder if you were coming tonight, or at all," she said coolly.
He thought to himself, "Yeah, and I wouldn't have if I'd gotten anywhere with that merchant's daughter." The wench was too skinny for his liking and wasn't as nearly as pretty or clever as she thought she was. He was perfectly aware that she was just using him to get back at her daddy, but she was very, very rich, so he would let her until he got all he could from her, which before long would lead to a bag of coins from her father in exchange for the promise of never seeing her again. He had to have something to fall back on if Dee was found guilty, as he expected. He had no faith whatsoever in justice and knew that Nasher would dutifully and happily hang her if it meant avoiding another war with Luskan. Besides, the way Dee looked at him now sometimes with her eyes shining, like he was the only man in the world, and the way he caught himself looking at her the same way made him nervous. If he didn't watch it, he'd be tied down.
She hadn't turned or spoken again, so he gathered she must still be mad at him. He was tempted to leave until she begged him to come back, but he looked at that ass again and wanted her tonight. He sent Karnwyr over to her. She liked the mutt almost as much as he did. She turned briefly and smiled at Karnwyr, who brushed against her then headed to his usual spot on the floor, before she turned back to the window. As she turned, her new 'spectacles' caught the light of the setting sun and offered him something else to stare at.
His lustful thoughts were cast aside and walked over to look more closely. "You got them then? How do they work?" He took her face in his hands and turned her to face him then pulled the spectacles off her face and examined them, questions pouring out. "They make your eyes look huge. Is this silver? Can you wear them while you're fighting?" Held them and peered through them at a book on her table. "You can actually see through these things? It's all a blur to me."
She took them back and carefully put them in a small case. She momentarily forgot that she was mad at him and beamed happily like a child with a new toy and blurted out, "Ooh, Bish, they're amazing! There are so many things she I've never seen before--the details of the heraldry on the pennants on the spires of Castle Never. Or clouds!"
He raised an eyebrow. "Clouds? You're telling me you've never seen clouds?"
She shrugged. "I thought I had. I was aware of the different colors in the sky, you know, blue, white, gray, but now I find myself stopping to stare in amazement at the different kinds of clouds!"
"They look fragile." He wondered how long they would last in a fight. "Were they expensive?"
She rolled her eyes. "Gods yes, even after the 'friend of Grobnar' discount, and I thought it would be prudent to buy an extra pair. You should have been there, Bish." She chuckled before she continued. "I was afraid of Gnomish technology after hearing Grobnar's tale of the pitfalls of spring-mounted codpieces. You should've seen the Artificer of Gond--he makes Grobby look sane!"
He snorted contemptuously. "He's a gnome. There's a big surprise. The only reason that race survives is that they breed like rabbits."
She turned and walked back out the window. "He listened to all my fears then explained patiently how they worked like I was a mentally deficient child and told me that they were perfectly safe. Then he showed me how I could use them to start a fire."
He chuckled and walked up behind her and put a hand on her hip and caressed it. "Sounds like a gnome. No more bar fights for you though, sweetheart. You'll have to find another hobby."
She snorted and replied, "Yeah, I've been put on notice anyway that I have to control my temper and avoid public brawls. It broke Khelgar's heart I think. Sand says it would help with my defense, and Casavir took me aside, at Sir Nevalle's request," she added, mindful of Bishop's groundless jealousy of the paladin, "and he lectured me patiently about the proper and decorous conduct of a squire, especially one trying to prove she wasn't a mass-murderer."
He leaned over her, pushed her hair aside, and kissed her neck then drew back to look at her. He ran his hand down her back. "You're too cute to be a mass-murderer." She was warming to him, like she always did. The lavender silk under clothes were trimmed with sage green ribbon. The top was cut low and the bottoms rode high on her hips. "These are sexy. You buy 'em for me?" Part of the reason he'd been staying away so much was to punish her for her refusal to dress the way he wanted her to. The way he saw it, if a wench had a body like hers, she might as well show it off. But she was trying to compromise with what she wore underneath or to bed, and it was almost as good. Funny how a wench wearing next to nothing was more erotic than one wearing nothing at all.
She looked at him over her shoulder and smirked, suddenly remembering she was mad at him. "No, but I 'spose they'll fit you. Didn't figure you as the type to wear women's underthings though."
He felt a throb of arousal at the thought of the delicate silk against his skin. Then he scowled and smacked her hard on her right flank for putting the thought in his head. She gasped then bent over and stuck her backside out at him and said defiantly, "Is that all you got? Grobby could hit harder."
He growled, "I've got more than you can take, sweetheart. Don't push me!" He smacked her again hard enough to leave a handprint then grabbed her and bit her angrily on the back of her neck and followed up with a flurry of kisses. Cillian's ears perked up and he looked over at her, but he decided she wasn't in danger. Karnwyr looked over too then lay back down. It was just one of their odd human mating rituals.
She frowned at an unpleasant scent on him she couldn't quite place but definitely killed the mood. She tried to shake him off. "Come on, Bish. Hells, you need a bath. I'm not gonna throw open my legs for you every time you decide to grace me with your presence."
He grunted as he unfastened his trewes and forced his knees between her legs, "I'm sure, the way you're dressed. Should have thought of that before you got me worked up, sweetheart."
She sighed as she tried to squirm out of his grasp. "I'm undressed because in case you haven't noticed, it's hot. Bish, come on! I have a lot on my mind. It's not like you're going on trial for murder. And you should be concerned too. You were all there in Ember."
She winced as he grabbed a handful of hair and jerked her head back and hissed dangerously in her ear, "That sounded like a threat, sweetheart."
Cillian sat up and growled a warning, so he released her. That damned bear of hers almost mauled him before she managed to call him off the last time he had to correct her smart mouth.
She reached back to caress his cheek, trying to diffuse his anger. Not long ago she would have elbowed him hard in the ribs until he let her go then thrown him out, but she was losing the will to fight with him. She spoke soothingly, "It wasn't a threat, Bish. I'm just sayin' we were all there. Hells, I'd have to be a really evil bitch to want to wish my trouble on you."
He slipped his arms around her waist, slid his hands up to her breasts, and resumed nuzzling her neck. "Comes with being the leader, sweetheart. You're the target. You brought it on yourself when you ran that Luskan ship out of town, and now they want revenge. I would've thought you were too smart to make enemies of the Hostower."
He lifted the camisole off over her head and kissed down her exposed back. She was going to make him work for it tonight, but he'd make her pay for it later. He looked at her murmured the first compliment that came to mind. Wenches always fell for that. "It's cute that you have dimples on all your cheeks, I ever tell you that, sweetheart" as he bent and kissed her on each one then dropped down to kiss a particularly sensitive spot on the backs of her knees. He smiled as he felt her shiver. That was more like it. He slid his hands up her thighs, following with his tongue, and tugged at the delicate fabric. "Ooh, these tie on the sides. You did buy these for me." He jerked hard on one of the ties, then the other then snatched the delicate fabric and let it fall to the floor.
"Hey! That's Sembian silk! You tear 'em, you owe me another pair."
He chuckled. "You talk too much, wench, but I know how to shut your mouth." He pushed her legs apart and worked his way up her thighs.
She gasped and bit her lip. Sweet Sharess, he could play her body like Grobnar played a lute. She gave in; it was going to happen anyway, so she might as well enjoy it.
Later they stood together quietly gazing out the window and enjoying the sea breeze. She hoped they hadn't been too noticable to the passersby below, and he had been grunting louder than usual to make sure they were. He stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her holding her against him. He hadn't bothered to undress, and her back smarted from scratches where the buckles on his armor had bit into her skin. He nuzzled his favorite spot below her ear. She turned her head to look at him and asked softly, "What do you think about the trial, Bish?"
He paused and met her eyes before he asked, "Are you just making conversation, or do you really want to know? I'll respect you a lot more if you admit it now."
She turned away and scowled as she said, "Just making conversation? Don't be an ass, Bish. Why wouldn't I want your advice? I'd think my lover of all people might have some for me."
He grabbed her chin and forced her to face to him so he could see her eyes. "You really want my advice?" She nodded, so he continued. "I think you should end this now. Just skip the trial and kill the Luskan ambassador. That'll send the Hostower a message of what you think of their justice."
She was quiet as she pondered that possibility. Finally she said, "Killing--yeah, it's what I'm good at, but you make it sound easy, Bish." She laughed darkly. "That would be fitting considering she accused me of murders she probably ordered. She matched the description of the woman in Port Llast who was stirring the folks there against me. I doubt she's an easy person to get to though."
He shrugged and replied, "She isn't bedding anyone, and other than a few guards and servants, the only one to worry about is the other ambassador. He's a really big, ugly brute with tattoos on his face. If you weren't with me I'd suggest you to seduce him, but I don't like sharing. But..." He wrapped a strand of her hair around his finger. "we could just run from the whole trial. We could find a hidden trail and camp for a year or two until this all blows over."
She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him softly. "Was that an offer, or are you just making conversation?"
He gazed searching into her eyes again before answering, "If it was an offer, what would you say?"
She swallowed hard before she replied, "What if I said yes? I admit I was thinkin' the same before you came in."
He raised an eyebrow, not having expected such easy acquiescence, and he wasn't really sure what to say next. "Careful, sweetheart, the paladin wouldn't be happy to hear you talk like that. You wouldn't want to disappoint him. You should proceed with the trial for now, and we'll keep our options open."
She sighed and looked back out the window. "It's not just him. I wouldn't be able to see my father or friends ever again, and everyone who believes in me would be so disappointed. I'd let my knight down too. I'd become an outlaw, a blackguard, and so would you if you were with me. We would have to go far away. There'd be too big a price on my head here." She sighed and looked down. "And the worst part is it would look to everyone like an admission of guilt. It's not fair! I didn't ask for any of this."
She hoped for comfort, but instead he sneered, "Knight? Sir Grayson? Don't tell me you're still taking all that squire crap seriously. You know they just set that up as a political maneuver." Another possibility occurred to him then, and he scowled dangerously and grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "I see what it is. You got your eye on your knight now, is that it? Already been serving him on your knees?"
She broke free and shoved him away. "Gods, Bish, you can be so disgusting sometimes! No, I don't have my eye on him, and I've never been on my knees for anyone but you. Besides, you don't have to worry about him. The gossip from the other squires is he likes men." It was true, but she would have said it even if it weren't. Bishop could get ugly when he was jealous.
He pulled her to him and nuzzled her jaw, momentarily placated, and said, "Your knight likes men? What is it about them? I'd heard that about Nevalle too. Just as long as he doesn't think you're manly enough he could go for you anyway, sweetheart."
She shook him off angrily and spat, "I am so sick of this, Bishop! Have I ever given you any reason for to be jealous?"
He grabbed her again and held her close and said defensively, "I've seen the way men look at you and it makes me crazy. You seem to spend a lot of time with Casavir and Sand, and it looks like a lot of flirting going on to me."
She gave him an incredulous look. "Why are you even surprised men notice me the way you had me dressing! I got tired of being asked how much I charged." She sighed. "It's not like I ask for it, Bish. I've always found talking to men easy." She paused then added, "I don't flirt with Casavir, you know that. And besides, Sand would be more interested in you than me." It was a lie; she and Sand used to flirt shamelessly but harmlessly without any intent to carry it further every time she went to his shop. That was, before she was with Bishop. She was getting good at telling him what he wanted to hear before his jealousy turned ugly.
He chuckled. "Is that so? I should've guessed from his hair and the way he dresses. Makes sense now that I think about it and probably explains his feud with Nevalle, especially if they were once lovers. I still think you spend too much time with him though."
"He is my lawyer, isn't he?" She turned and kissed him twice softly then drew his lower lip into her mouth and bit it gently before releasing it. "But it's you I'm with, Bish. I only want you." She almost used the word but held back, fearful of his reaction and not really sure about her true feelings for him. She changed the subject. "He's taking me shopping tomorrow to pick out something, how did he put it, 'suitable' to wear. But no dresses. I already told him I haven't worn a dress since I was five."
He grinned teasingly. "I'd love to see you in a dress cut down to here," running a finger between her breasts to her navel, "and up to here," putting a hand on her hip. "It would be a crime to hide those legs of yours under a skirt." He added, with a cruel smile, "Don't spend too much though, sweetheart. The hangman gets to keep what you're wearing as part of his payment, you know. He'll probably even chop off your fine hair to sell to a wig maker."
She pulled away and gasped in horror, "Cyric's balls, Bish, you're awful." She thought about it then added, "Good thing I didn't let Neesh burn the clothes I brought from West Harbor then."
He smirked at her as he snatched the lavender silk from the floor and held it to his nose and breathed in her musky scent. "I'd better keep these safe for you. They'll help me think of something pleasant while I'm trying not to kill those rich fools I'm taking out day after tomorrow." He could also put them to good use when he pleasured himself if there weren't any interesting wenches with the hunting party.
She looked at him sadly. "You're not leaving again? You just got back."
He shrugged. "It's a busy time of year, sweetheart. Those rich fools in Blacklake like to head out into the woods in the summer to camp, if you can call it that, and pretend they're hunters. I'd take you, but trust me, you would hate it. They can't even set out for a day without pavillions and fancy dishes and silver candlesticks and silk cushions and Calimshan rugs and at least half a dozen servants each and as many baggage mules. Then if I can get them to shut up so they don't scare off all the game, Karnwyr flushes some their way, and if one of them manages to hit it at all, I usually have to finish it off. Otherwise they just let me do the hunting while they take the credit. The worst part is they're not interested in the meat, they only want a trophy. It's disgusting."
She put her arms around him and gazed into his eyes. "If you hate it so much, why bother? You can't need the coin that bad after some of the hauls we've had."
He shrugged her off with a scowl, leaving her wondering what she said wrong this time. He hated it when she talked like that. It made him feel like a kept man. "It's what I do, sweetheart. Don't try to turn me into one of your pets like those other fools. I don't see you give up smithing or saving Faerun for me."
She looked as if she was about to cry and asked, her voice cracking, "Are you staying tonight at least?" She knew by now showing vulnerability served only to antagonize him, but she couldn't help herself. She swallowed and fought to control herself. With resignation, she asked quietly, "Will you be back in time for the trial?"
He stroked her cheek and replied, "I'll only be gone a few days, sweetheart. I want to be here." It was true. For one thing, the fools he was taking hunting wanted to be back. She was something of a celebrity, and her trial was the social event of the season. He'd gotten the last job because he was bedding her, and he entertained them around the campfire with lewd stories. But Bishop wanted to be there for the trial too. If they hanged Dee, he was going to make the Luskan whore pay for every false word she said against her. He'd get her. Not right away; he agreed with the old proverb about serving revenge cold, but once she let her guard down, he would get her eventually. He would do her slowly, and in the end she would beg for death. He had given so much thought to how he would do it that it rarely occurred to him that Dee just might win.
She walked over and sat on her bed, looking worried. As if reading his mind she asked, "I'm really getting scared, Bish. Would it be possible to kill the Luskan ambassador? I've seen their residence. The wall that surrounds the grounds is ten feet high and topped with razor wire. I would expect it's probably heavily warded too."
He came over and sat beside her and put an arm around her. "You've been to their embassy? Sounds like you've been giving it some thought then?"
She shrugged. "Oh, I had a crazy idea that if I could talk to her I could somehow reason with her."
He snorted. "Crazy. Yeah, you got that right. People like her don't understand mercy. You can't reason with them."
She stood and paced in the space between Cillian and Karnwyr. "Is it even possible? Alright then, how would you even do it? You could snipe at them from the rooftop of one of the nearby estates, but you would have to use a strong poison on your arrows to make sure she was dead."
He chuckled as he watched her pacing, fists balled like she was ready to punch someone.
"A woman like her probably has her food checked for poison, and there's a chance of killing some unsuspecting servant or cook anyway, so that's out. With a really deadly poison you could kill her with a scratch from a hat pin if you accidently bumped into her on the street."
He felt himself growing incredibly hard hearing her talk like this. "Yeah, that might work, sweetheart. Go on. What else could you do to her?"
She paused in her pacing and sat next to him again. She had the same deadly expression she usually reserved for orcs. "I'd rather make it more personal. Cut her throat in her bed. That seems too easy a death. I want her to suffer, Bish! I've had fantasies of staking her out naked in the woods with some raw meat to lure the predators and let them take care of her." She shuddered. It felt good to give voice to all her dark thoughts.
He groaned, grabbed her, and kissed her roughly. "I love it when you talk dirty, sweetheart."
She gasped and tried to break away. "Ow! Hells, Bish, you're insatiable! Alright, take off the armor at least."
He chuckled and said, "I warned you about getting me worked up, sweetheart."
She kissed him deeply and caressed his stubbled cheek. "Take the armor off? Please? I need to feel your body against mine. I want to taste your sweat and look into your beautiful eyes."
He chuckled. "Is that so? What else do you like?"
She looked at him through her lashes and answered, "I love to play with your hairy chest and feel those chiseled muscles of yours move under my hands. I like grabbing your hairy backside too and giving you a good squeeze. It makes you thrust so hard and deep I feel like you're going to split me in half. And I love it when you wake me up kissing me and your beard tickles me, then you're inside me again."
It was hard to argue with a woman who wasn't afraid to say what she wanted. He stroked her thigh. "Then put on that little white thing...the lacy one, or no, some stockings."
She smiled and pulled them out of the chest. "I only bought these for you, you know. Maybe I'll buy a gown cut cut high on the sides and low in front just for you to wear with them." She sat, lifted her leg, slid the stocking over her foot and rolled them up sensuously, caressing her leg slowly as he watched, then did the same with the other. She smiled seductively as she leaned back on her elbows and stroked his chest with her toe. "Now it's your turn. Strip."
He chuckled and stood. She'd done it often enough for him. "I can do that."