Almost a tenday later Dee was no closer to beginning her journey to West Harbor. Instead she was crouching behind some debris outside of a ruined keep waiting for Vale, Nasher's contact from the Many-Starred Cloaks. Months had passed since she had accepted the idea that she had little control over her destiny, but that didn't mean she had to like it or wouldn't fight it every step of the way.

She surveyed the crumbling walls of the structure and shook her head in disgust. "What a shithole!" she hissed to Neeshka as she peered through her spyglass. "Trust Luskans to set up in ruin that'll probably come crashing down on all of our heads the minute they start casting spells. And how the hells did they get this far into Neverwinter territory without any of Nasher's people knowin' about it? Damned sloppy if you ask me." She also thought to herself that it was damned careless of Nasher to let such a strategic fortress fall into ruin in the first place, but she kept that to herself. She bit back the blasphemous curse that danced on her lips, mindful of Casavir to her right. She assigned Elanee and Neeshka to watch and lay back in the grass to get what rest she could while they waited.

Bishop went off scouting, but he was surly and next to useless lately anyway so she didn't even bother to ask where he was going. He didn't want to take orders, fine. She knew he had a strong enough survival instinct to take care of himself, stay out of sight, and not bring the Luskans down on them all. The only reason he had agreed to come along was because of the promise of Luskans to kill, and from the intelligence they had received, there would be plenty to go around. He had hardly spoken a word to her otherwise since the night he got back. It hurt, but not as bad as she thought it would.

She had just returned to the tavern that night from checking in on Cormick, gut-shot by mage fire and nearly killed but recovering like a true Harborman. Though she knew she wasn't responsible for his injury and Aldanon's abduction, she still was tormented by the thought that if only she had gone to Aldanon the night she first heard he had information for her that she might have prevented it. Earlier in the day she attended a memorial service at the Mask for Melia and a few others who the warlock and his demon minions had slaughtered. Casavir, Elanee, Sand, Grobnar and Shandra had come along. Lord Nasher was there and the Nine with him, along with many of his knights, the nobility, and the merchants of the city. It was a pleasant service; the focus was on how they lived rather than how they died. This was followed with plenty of food and drink, music, and dancing in remembrance of the dead. Ophala called it a "celebration of life," and Sand told Dee this was the Elven way.

As the afternoon wore on, Dee became the object of interest of several middle-aged and elderly men who engaged her in casual conversation as she picked at a plate of food from the buffet table. She had never had so much male attention in her life, and she didn't know what to make of it. Several of them peered closely into her face as if searching for something, one even had the audacity to take her chin in his hand as he spoke with her, and she heard her name mentioned a few times in snatches of whispered conversations. Apparently it was thought she had some old lord's eyes and another's mother's nose. She also heard the name "Draven" more than once, a name she vaguely remembered reading in one of the histories. Dee was naive about a good many things, but that didn't mean she was lacking intelligence. Her knight had many wonderful qualities, but his one great failing was that he gossiped like a school girl, something everyone knew and even his squires teased him about. Therefore, it wasn't hard for her to figure out the sudden interest in her in light of their conversation at the temple. What was appalling was the sheer number of men who had taken an interest in meeting her. What kind of woman was Esmerelle?

There had been a portrait hanging in Lord Taverick's bedroom of a delicate, beautiful woman holding a lyre dressed in ancient Ilfarn garb standing before a ruined temple. She had hair the color of Dee's, and her gut told her that this was one of the portraits of her mother. It wasn't the time to ask him about it though, what with demons threatening to eat their entrails. He had taken to his bed after his ordeal, so she hadn't been able to return to him. She had gone through some of the rooms upstairs with Casavir looking for Ophala to take her leave of her so they could visit Cormick and had stumbled on another portrait in one of the private rooms of the same woman with a fair-haired man lying on a bed of red satin, neither wearing much of anything at all and locked in an passionate embrace. Dee blushed scarlet and fled from the room, and Casavir followed on her heels.

"Don't be embarrassed, my lady. Such paintings are common in this sort of establishment," Casavir said softly, puzzled as to why she found the erotic painting embarrassing when she wasn't embarrassed to walk about half naked, or worse in the tavern and when they camped.

Dee blinked at him and replied, "'Tis not that, Cas. I..." She blushed again and turned away then whispered, "You wouldn't understand...unless, did you ever walk in on your parents in the act?"

He flushed scarlet in the way that only someone who had could. "You mean that..."

"I think that was my mother!" She was no longer sure if she wanted to learn anything else about Esmerelle.

She was deep in thought the whole way back from the temple infirmary where Cormick was recovering. Daeghun's reluctance to talk about Esmerelle was more understandable now. What Dee didn't understand was why they became such good friends in the first place. Had they been lovers as well? It wouldn't surprise her since apparently her mother had taken half the men in Neverwinter as her lovers. Then again, in the short time she had traveled with her companions she had formed strong bonds with them. Perhaps he overlooked her faults, like she did with Neeshka, or she had to admit, with Bishop. Or Qara. There was an evil thought. Gods, what if Esmerelle had been Daeghun's Qara? If she were to show up at her door a few years from now alone and with a swollen belly, Dee wouldn't turn her away. It was something to add to the list of things she was going to demand Daeghun tell her when she got to West Harbor. For now, she needed a bath, so she made her excuses and left the others in the common room.

He was waiting for her hidden in the shadows when she entered her room. She hadn't expected him back from Highcliff so soon, but the captain of The Villigance took pity on him and hailed a passing ship heading for Neverwinter which allowed him to transfer over. Cillian paused to inspect a fish left in a bucket just outside her door as she opened the lock. She glanced at it with a frown and wondered why the hells Duncan had left it there instead of feeding him in the kitchen as she unlocked her door and stepped inside. She patted his back fondly and said, "Go ahead, love. You deserve a treat because you were so well behaved today." She was exhausted from too little sleep the past few days and the muggy late summer heat and distracted by thoughts of her mother and the day's events or she would have sensed something amiss.

Her sword belt was already unfastened as she stepped through the door. She hung it on the stand and kicked off her boots and wiggled out of her leggings. She started to unfasten her jerkin and was considering going back to ask for a cup of Elanee's tea to help her sleep. Cillian looked up from devouring the fish as he caught a familiar scent. He abandoned the fish and growled a warning, but it came too late as the door slammed in his face and the bolt was thrown. Dee's braid was snatched from behind as she turned. Bishop forced her to face him, and with a savage open-handed slap, sent her spectacles flying. Dee heard him mutter something but her ears were ringing from the slap, some kind of curse ending with "whore" and slapped her again. "What the hells, Bish!" she demanded. She punched and slapped back at him trying to break free and managed to connect an elbow with his teeth.

Cillian heard the struggle inside and roared to get in then threw his weight against the door several times sending a crack running along its length, but the latch held. Like many low-rent taverns, Duncan's doors were doubly reinforced to guard them against damage by drunken, rowdy patrons. He looked frantically down the hall and ran to Shandra's door then to Casavir's, slapping a forepaw hard against each of them the way the two-leggeds did and roaring at both, but neither of them answered. He looked back towards Dee's room helplessly and was about to run back and continue to throw his weight against it until it broke. Then he remembered that Dee wanted to sit in the warm water instead of eating with the others. That's where they were! He ran as fast as he could to the common room to find the other two-leggeds.

Bishop muscled her into the center of the room, grappled her and threw her on the bed. He stood over her glaring murderously as he wiped blood from his mouth and spit out what looked like a tooth before he snarled, "You must've thought it was pretty fucking funny sending me off alone, bitch. You and whoever you're screwing must've got a pretty good laugh at my expense! Or did the dyke put you up to it?" He balled his fists and stalked towards her. His breath reeked of cheap liquor and more than his breath; his pores exuded it. She knew how bad he could get normally, but drunk he was ten times worse. But she had just about had it with his accusations, and her outrage overcome her fear.

She scooted backwards on the bed trying to get out of his reach and spat indignantly, "Hells, Bish, that's your own damned fault. If you hadn't waited until the last minute to get on the ship, Uncle Duncan could've told you I had to cancel the trip! And I'm not bedding anyone! You're the only one who's screwing around!" Cillian had become strangely quiet, and the thought that Bishop might have poisoned the fish made her want to vomit.

She swallowed and spoke softly as he stood over her trying to reason with him just as she had talked the two thugs who shot Cormick into surrendering. It occurred to her then that they were not murderers, just afraid and desperate, and she could talk them into surrendering instead of sending them to stand in Kelemvor's queue. Looking into his eyes she could see the fear there too. She said evenly, as if trying to calm a wild animal, "I thought you took off without a word again because you didn't want want to talk about what the others told me. Bish, I cried myself to sleep for two nights before Wolf told me he tried to stop you from getting on the ship, but you were moving too fast for him to catch you." Actually, Wolf hadn't tried to stop him until several minutes had gone by. He felt guilty about letting Bishop get on the ship, so he ran to the dock, but the ship had already weighed anchor. He didn't say anything to her for two days because he was embarrassed, but eventually the guilt cut through him like a knife every time he saw the stricken look on her face.

Bishop listened to her and felt his heart soften a bit when she said she had cried over him. But then he sneered, "Figured you would have an excuse ready, not that I believe a word of it. You're going to tell me who he is, or who they are, and maybe I'll let you walk out of here after I'm finished with you, that is if you still can walk!" He stood over her menacingly as she backed to the far side of the bed. In the back of his mind, the part where sanity struggled to claim his attention, he remembered seeing the brat standing at the dock waving at him on the ship. He remembered returning the wave with an obscene gesture. But the drunken fury prevailed.

He dove at her as she slid off the other side of the bed onto the floor. She was momentarily out of his reach, but she had boxed herself in. If she could get to her feet she could defend herself. He leaned over and gave her a glancing blow with his right fist which she blocked, then he grabbed her by the throat and squeezed and rolled off the bed on top of her. He was still shouting at her, but his words made no sense. She drew her knees up defensively as she reached down to the hidden sheath inside her jerkin where she kept Bishop's knife. She had kept it after Marcus returned it, reasoning that she had more than repaid him for it. Her hand closed around it and she drew it out. His left hand found her braid again as he tried to force her knees apart. She grabbed his wrist, trying to get his hand off her throat and felt something warm and wet hit her cheek, once, and again, and again. It was his tears. She had a sickening realization that there would be no talking him down from his seething rage, and he wouldn't stop until she was no longer breathing, but still she hesitated to use the knife. Anyone else she would have made a corpse by now. Instead she shoved with all her strength and managed to get him part way off her. She followed up with a knee to where it would get his attention.

He cursed and doubled over and grabbed his crotch, but he still maintained a death grip on her braid with his left hand and kept her from escaping. He fought back the waves of pain that took his breath away. Once he could move again he would make her pay for that. If he had to he would finish the lying bitch and he would take care of her uncle too, and anyone else who got in his way before made his escape. She tried to scramble away, but he jerked her back. She slashed desperately and blindly behind her with the knife and then flew forward on the bed gasping for breath as he howled in pain and his hold slackened. As he hauled himself up the side of the bed cursing, she rolled across and grabbed at one of the wands on her nightstand, and prayed to whatever god would listen it was the right one as she held it up and aimed.

Meanwhile Cillian sped into the common room, his claws scoring the wooden floor along his path. He ran up to Shandra and Casavir finishing their supper, roared at them, and ran back towards the door to the hallway, but they didn't follow. He roared in frustration as they just sat there looking at him then each other in bewilderment. He looked around the room. Where was the two-legged who could speak with him? She was nowhere to be seen, and he didn't smell her badger. He howled, ran back to the bar, and tugged gently at Duncan's apron. "What's wrong big fella, you need to go outside?" Duncan asked with a chuckle. Cillian snorted in exasperation and considered biting him.

Neeshka stepped out of the privy, took note of Cillian's odd behavior, looked around, and exclaimed, "Where's Dee? Something's happened! Sal, go get Sand!" Cillian chuffed in relief; he should have known that the two-legged with the tail would be the smartest of the lot.

Casavir was on his feet at once, and he and Shandra followed Cillian as he raced back down the hall. Dee had any number of enemies who might have gotten the drop on her, including most recently the murderous warlock who was in a three way competition with her and Garius to gain possession of the shards. Shandra cursed herself aloud for leaving her alone. "Why did her room have to be all the way at the end of the hall?," Casavir thought as he drew his hammer and resolved not to leave her alone again no matter what the scoundrel she shared her bed with thought. Duncan followed them, his worry instantly sobering him, and he fumbled with his pass key when they reached the door as Shandra and Casavir knocked and shouted for Dee.

Neeshka went the faster way out the front door, climbed agilely from the window to the fire escape to the roof, and ran diagonally across to Dee's window, which she knew was most likely unlocked and open this time of year. She got there first. She dropped to the ledge from the eaves landing on her toes, squatted on her haunches, found a finger hold on the window frame while sticking her tail out behind her to help her balance on the narrow ledge, and peered in. She was scared sick for Dee, but she was also prudent enough not to rush in unless she knew what she was facing. Maybe whoever took the sage came after her too. She didn't sense any devils or demons, but then she would have sensed them while still in the common room.

Dee was sitting on the chair near the door holding a knife defensively in one hand and a wand in the other, and talking calmly to someone. Neeshka shielded her eyes and peered across the room where she saw Bishop lying rigidly on the far side of the bed, clutching his hand which was wrapped in some kind of cloth stained crimson and glaring at Dee like he wanted to strangle her. Neeshka tapped at the window to get her attention before she pushed it open; not even a minute later, Duncan shoved the pass key in the lock as Shandra and Casavir called out to her. Cillian nearly knocked Duncan over as he forced his way past the second the door was open and ran to her side, reared up on his hind legs with his fore paws extended in the attack posture and roared at Bishop.

Dee lay the wand on the table and called him until he came to her side. She stroked his fur and spoke to him gently. "No mauling tonight, love."

Casavir and Shandra almost tripped over each other as they pushed through the door and Neeshka swung in through the window. Sand had run from his shop to catch up with the others and arrived hard on their heels. Casavir still had his silver war hammer raised, and as he quickly assessed the situation--the ugly purple mottling on Dee's throat and the angry welt rising that promised a black eye--he glared at Bishop daring him to give him a reason to use it. But the ranger was obviously injured too, and besides an obvious wound to his hand, his face showed evidence that she had given as much as she took. Yet despite this, it looked like she had tried to make him comfortable. She had even placed a pillow under his head.

Shandra was the first to speak. "Dee, are you alright?"

Cillian was still snarling lowly and baring his razor-sharp teeth though she was making great progress in calming him. Bishop lay there shooting poisoned arrows at them with his eyes. His hate was almost palpable. She answered without looking away. "Hmmm? Just working some things out with Bish. Cas, it would mean a lot to me if you could go heal him, or could someone go get Elanee? Sand, do you have some of that ale purgative? I need him sober so he'll listen to reason. And Cas? I need you to bear witness. He may not like you much, but he knows you won't lie and you can tell if others do."

Casavir glanced at her with an long-suffering expression that said he'd rather clean the privy with his bare hands than touch Bishop, but he said softly, "Of course, my lady."

Bishop made an odd strangled snarling sound as Casavir approached him, still glaring at him with hate.

Dee sighed. "Don't look like he's ready to listen to reason yet. Don't get any closer, Cas. I'm not sure how long that Hold spell is gonna last, and I'm not sure if it'll work a second time." She kept the wand at the ready anyway. "He's damned lucky I grabbed that wand and not the one those thugs shot Cormick with. We're both lucky."

"Very well, I have a better use of my spells," Casavir replied tersely as he asked for Tyr forgiveness for thinking that it was too bad she had only hit him with a Hold spell and not Magic Missile. He walked back to Dee, put his hands gently on top of her head, and whispered a prayer to Tyr.

Neeshka hopped back onto the window sill and said, "I spotted Elanee out in the salt flat by the river when I ran across the roof. I'll go yell for her."

Sand weaved his way into the increasingly crowded room looking through a bag he grabbed on his way out the door. "I have a potion to neutralize poison. That will have the same affect." He approached Bishop warily as he calculated the time remaining on the spell. "Little girl, I don't know if I should regret teaching you how to use wands. He's not going to be able to drink a potion in his current state, but fortunately I have the spell memorized." It was a quick spell to cast. As soon as he finished he gathered his robes and ran back to the safety of the others. As he crossed the floor, he grimaced as her spectacles crunched under his foot. Fortunately, he also had a Mending cantrip memorized.

Duncan stood next to the door with his arms crossed. Why was everyone so quiet, and why wasn't anyone doing anything except the bear? He gave Bishop a dangerous look and growled, "I'm thinkin' he needs to leave my niece's room--now! Casavir, help me to carry him out."

Dee shook her head at him, brushed her hair out of her eyes, and replied softly, "Please Uncle, he can't go anywhere for the time being. We're going to talk, you see, and that'll be after he's listened to what I have to say. We had a misunderstanding. He thought I sent him on that ship on purpose to get him out of the way so I could take up with another lover, and he doesn't care to hear the truth. There's much besides that still has to be said between us. After we're finished, I'd appreciate it if you helped him to his room."

"If you're sure, niece." Duncan observed her closely. She was too quiet, eerily serene, and it occurred to him that it was mostly due to shock. "I'll be close by though." He glanced from Shandra to Casavir, who rested his hand on his war hammer. He kissed her on top of her head then looked at her puzzled as he realized something was different. "What happened to yer hair, lass?"

She blinked at him in confusion, set the wand back on the table within easy reach before she put her hand to her head and ran her fingers through her hair as if for the first time. The eyes of the others turned involuntarily to see what he was talking about, and Shandra and Neeshka gasped, just now realizing what was different about her. Her hair fell in an asymmetrical bob, hanging down to her collarbone in front and shorter in the back. She gave Duncan a dazed look then glanced across the room. "'Tis over there." She nodded towards the bed, where her braid landed after she slashed through it with Bishop's knife; lying beside it was the tip of Bishop's left thumb. "He wasn't kidding when he said that knife was sharp," she added dryly.

So they did talk, or rather, she talked and he listened grudgingly. Elanee arrived and cast several healing spells until Bishop's thumb was a healthy pink, albeit shorter with half of the nail gone, while Sand cast a few discreet Clean cantrips on the blood staining the wall and floor. Shandra led Duncan out of the room to give her some privacy but stayed close by, and Sand and Elanee followed them once they no longer had an excuse to be there. Only Casavir and Neeshka remained. He lit a few candles to make himself useful then stood grimly on the other side of Cillian, blushing as he was forced to hear more of the intimate details of their relationship than he ever cared to know, and attesting to the truth of what Dee said when prompted. Neeshka perched on the window sill holding the discarded wand, not having any particular reason to be there, but not shy about wanting to listen.

At some point Bishop realized he could move again, and he brought his hand up to look at his thumb trying his best to ignore her. He still couldn't believe she cut his thumb off! Could this be any more humiliating being forced to sit here like this with all the sheep bleating in the hallway as they listened to her? He was sober for the first time in days, and he considered their relationship in the harsh light of reality. He sat up on the bed, causing the bear to growl a warning at him. Dee patted his neck soothingly. He turned his attention to her as an awkward silence filled the room and he realized she must have asked him something.

She sighed and repeated herself. "Did you hear me? I swear before Tyr I've not been with another man but you since we've been together, and you know you're the only one I've ever had."

Casavir added curtly, "By Tyr, she speaks the truth."

Bishop snorted and replied, "Yeah? Only a matter of time before a wench who likes to do the deed as much as you do isn't satisfied with one cock. Maybe I taught you too well. You know, your holiness, I've taught her about things a pro charges extra for, and she hadn't refused me much. She's as well trained as any festhall wench, and I'm thinkin' she's too much for a pious man such as yourself. Tell me, is that the truth?"

Casavir shifted uncomfortably and flushed as he struggled in vain to vanish the images of taking her in various positions, but he took a deep breath and replied with a catch in his voice, "Then you're a damned fool. An intelligent man would be happy to have a pliant and giving lover."

Dee pushed her hair back and gazed at Bishop. "I've been content with you except for when you get like this. I don't want anyone else, and I don't think it's too much to ask for you to be faithful to me if we're gonna be together. Otherwise, what's the point of you sharing my bed? Maybe Ophala's right and I should take a few more lovers before I settle down with one."

"What, you mean now you have an excuse to go whoring around?" he spat back at her.

Dee sighed in exasperation and said, "You see how you got, and I'm innocent. How am I supposed to feel? You shouldn't messed with my friends. If you really needed to have another woman with us, I could have arranged something with Ophala. 'Tis not something I'm interested in, but I would have tried it for you." Casavir nearly choked at that.

He snorted as he picked up her braid and toyed with it. "You say that now. And I suppose that in exchange I'd be expected to be a good little lapdog and follow you blindly to my death like the rest of the sheep. And if we manage to survive, settle down, take up farming, and get you with a half dozen brats?" He was torn; there was a small part of him that wanted this very much. He had grown to care for her more than he would admit to anyone, and she wasn't a bad choice. They would have good looking kids who would be tall as trees and strong as bulls. She had the kind of strong-boned face that would more than likely age well. He wouldn't have believed it, but the short hair really suited her face, making her almost beautiful. But what would he give up for that? Only his freedom. He chose his words carefully. "That's all I need, a wife and a bunch of brats tie me down. Might as well cut off my balls now and hand them over. And you'll probably get fat too!"

Casavir turned to Dee and stated matter-of-factly, "He speaks the truth." He stepped closer to the door with his arms folded across his chest looking like he desperately wanted to flee.

Dee stood and walked over to the bed and took her braid from Bishop. She muttered, "I should sell this to a wig maker. 'Tis no use to me now." She set it on the nightstand and sat on the bed so she could into his eyes. "Bish, what it comes down to is I've decided I have enough people tryin' to kill me without my lover doing it too. I don't believe that beating the hells out of each other should be part of normal life either. I forgive you for all of this, but if you're not ready to settle down with one woman, perhaps 'tis best if we part. You can still travel with us if you like, and I'm going to make the rest swear to treat you no differently if you stay with us, but you'll come with us as our scout and archer and not as my lover."

He stood and stormed away from the bed as if she had struck him. "You're mistaken if you thought I was gonna reply with honeyed words of love, begging you to take me back, sweetheart. You're a great lay, but that's about it. I was getting tired of risking my ass all the time for you anyway with the way you attract trouble. And besides, you snore, and so does your bear. Finally I can have a wench then go back to my room alone and sleep in peace!"

She stretched out on her bed and turned on her side, facing away from him as he left. "Funny thing is after I cried until I had no more tears to cry, only emptiness, I saw I don't love you, so your honeyed words wouldn't have moved me anyway. Good night, Bish."

"Damned wench always has to have the last word!" he thought as he stalked angrily to the door then past the gauntlet of her friends.

Casavir noted with grim satisfaction as Bishop shoved past that she was speaking the truth, but he saved Bishop the final humiliation of declaring it. He suppressed a smile as he said, "My lady, I don't feel you should be alone. You've had a great shock, and you're not yourself." He blushed and added quickly, "Not that I'm suggesting I should stay with you, but one of the others should." This was a lie, but he silently asked Tyr for forgiveness.

* * *

Since that night she had hardly had a word with Bishop, who seemed to be making an effort to avoid her in turn, though from time to time she caught him watching her just as she watched him when she thought he wasn't looking in a reverse of the first night they saw each other. He made it known to anyone listening that he was visiting a different brothel or festhall every night, but she was surprised that it didn't hurt nearly as much as she supposed it should have, though she did miss him at times. "That's what comes of having a shard of silver for a heart," she mused to Cillian.

The Many-Starred Cloaks had searched diligently for Aldanon for days, and someone finally scryed unusual activity around an abandoned keep to the north. Dee had been handling special projects for Nevalle and Lord Nasher as she waited. "Special projects seems to be the code for things no one else is crazy enough to take on," she whispered dryly to Casavir, and she managed to provoke a chuckle from him at that. She couldn't think about going back to West Harbor until this was resolved. Finally they were summoned to Castle Never and given the news and set out at once for a place called Crossroads Keep.

Then it was a matter of sneaking in through a forgotten escape tunnel that led to the lower levels. Dee thanked the gods that Qara had refused to come along. She wished Khelgar had been finished with his training as they descended into the tunnel so he could check its stability, but along with the acceptance that she had no control over her fate came a sense of assurance that she wasn't going to die until she had fulfilled whatever it was she was destined for. With them sneaking in the back way and the main Neverwintan forces coming from the front, the Luskans didn't stand a chance. They disrupted the ritual just in time, and all that was left was the clean-up of the Luskan dead. Neeshka winked at Dee and made short work of looting the bodies. Vale used a Teleport spell to transport Aldanon and a mysterious veiled captive back to Neverwinter. Aldanon argued that he should be allowed to stay to catalog the rare books in the library, but he was promised he would be allowed to return once he had recovered from his ordeal. Dee was left in charge of the clean-up.

The ground was hard from the lack of rain, and so to save time, she had a pit dug in which the corpses were piled along with furniture broken beyond repair gathered from the keep and dry brush gathered from the nearby woods. As she watched the corpses being gathered, she was disturbed to see that several of them bore definite marks of torture. She shivered; it was one thing to kill an enemy out of necessity, but what had been done to these men sickened her. She wondered for more than a moment where Bishop had gone "scouting."

Elanee and Sand unleashed their fire spells after Casavir spoke a few words over the dead. Dee watched the bonfire quietly and felt more at ease than she had for months with Garius's death. She left a few Greycloaks standing guard over the bodies until the fire burned out. In the morning they would fill in the grave before they left. She finally had leave from Lord Nasher to set out for West Harbor, so they would leave as soon as they were finished in the morning, using the horses he had provided for them.

But Lord Nasher decided he had other plans for her.