Note: As usual none of the characters are mine except a bear lovin' ranger and an occasional NPC. Also, bear in mind that Bishop as he exists in this world, one world of many in the multiverse, is the CE the game says he is and not the CN that was depicted for the most part. As always, reviews and constructive criticisms appreciated.
Chapter 29 Alliances
The room was bathed in crimson. The tawdry furnishings, the faint light streaming through the thin curtain all glowed with it. It was if the whole world had been painted red. Bishop looked down at the wench's face through the red haze flooding his vision. She had been hitting him, clawing at his hands, trying in vain to break his hold on her neck, but no longer. He came to his senses as the red haze faded and dropped her roughly on the bed. He sat heavily on the flimsy chair and shook his head to clear it. The thing to do was not panic. That would send him to the hangman fast, even for killing a drug-addled whore.
He listened, but the only sounds he heard were loud grunts, feigned moans of pleasure, and the rhythmic creaking of the bed springs in the next room; the wench hadn't made so much noise that she drew attention to them. He cursed himself for a fool; he didn't know who was more a fool though, him for his need to uncover some dirt he could use against the paladin, or this wench, who was too stupid to know when to shut her big mouth. Why did he even care about the paladin anyway? He had to kill that thought because of the festering poison of her words.
He looked around the room and ran his hands through his hair. "Think, Bishop, you fucking fool." There was a cheap traveling bag resting on a shelf mounted over three pegs on which hung the bulk of her wardrobe. He could stuff her possessions in it, make it look like the wench ran out. There wasn't much to pack. He would make sure no one was around and drop her out the window wrapped in the blanket, weigh her down with rocks, and dump her under the docks or out in the salt marsh. Or into the sewers, though that was risky since they were heavily traveled by those who didn't want to be seen on the city streets.
He walked to the window and looked out. From here through the alley he could see a a growing crowd forming at the docks trying to arrange passage out of here before all the hells broke loose. Too many around to risk it now, but It would be high tide soon, and most of those who didn't manage to book passage on a ship leaving tonight would disperse until morning. There was still too good a chance of being seen, but there was no other way out unless he chanced the back stairs. But then he would run the risk of encountering one of the other whores or the cleaning people.
Luckily he had been smart enough to buy the wench for the night. She had draped a gaudy purple scarf around the door knob before she shut it as a signal for the madam after she took his coins. He thought she would be more cooperative if he gave her the incentive of a night off from sucking cock, and besides that, he hadn't wanted anyone pounding on the door shouting that his time was up just as the wench was remembering something useful and distracting her. Had the barkeep gotten a good look at his face despite the hood? He had been in this festhall before, but then so had hundreds, maybe thousands of others this year. He told himself to wait, and he could get away if he played his cards right and left in the early hours of the morning. In fact, it might be smart to get some sleep on the rug for now once he figured things out.
And after that, what? Back to the Keep? He could leave word with Duncan or whoever was about that he was bored and going back early. But the more he thought about it, the more he saw he was just stepping back into the snare. Why should he even go back at all? He answered the devil girl's question that he wasn't staying for the celebration with his usual sneer, so he knew no one would look for him until they were ready to set out for the Keep in a day or two. Screw it all! Screw her, screw him, screw themall! Grab the mutt and get out of here, that's what he should do. He could get away fast on the horse he rode in on, but he thought better of that as he took a long drink from a bottle of cheap whiskey on the dresser. Though he could travel faster by horse, they needed a good deal of upkeep, unlike the mutt, who took care of himself.
On foot then. Head east maybe, blaze his own trail over the hills and into the mountains now that the snows had melted and turn his back on the Sword Coast. Lay low in the mountains for a year or two, like he offered to do with her so long ago before the trial. He felt a twinge of guilt as he remembered she took him up on the offer too. But she hadn't meant it anymore than he had. No wench means anything she says he reminded himself, and they could be trusted as far as he could throw them, her included. Looking back now he could see that she was only testing him, and he had seen in her eyes he failed. He shook off that thought with a curse and wished it was her lying on that bed instead of the whore. No, he was better off with no complications. There wasn't much a wench could do that he couldn't take care of with his own hand. The mutt was enough company. Eventually he could make his way to the Golden Road and work his way down it as a scout and hunter, if he needed to work at all. He could live off the land and had a pouch hidden in his boot stuffed with small gems he had saved from his share of their loot that would last him for years.
There was also the possibility of getting on a ship headed south to Waterdeep and beyond. He hated traveling by ship because he had never gotten used to the constant rocking motion, and that was in a calm sea, and it always made him queasy. He hated looking weak in front of the others, especially her. But if he went by ship tonight he would be many miles away before they found the body. He stood and grabbed the whore's things and shoved them in her travel bag. It occurred to him that he should put one of the gowns on her. Otherwise if she was found in only her chemise, her last customer would be the most likely suspect. He selected the best of the three and walked to the bed. As he knelt to dress her, he realized that she was still breathing. Shallowly, but she was breathing nonetheless. His first impulse was to hold the pillow over her face until she stopped.
As Bishop had entered the festhall on his quest to undo the paladin, Dee and Casavir had arrived at the Flagon. "They're here!" Neeshka squealed excitedly bouncing on her toes as Dee walked in, followed by Cillian then Casavir, who was holding the door for them. She ran up and threw her arms around Dee and squeezed Casavir's hand and led them to a pair of tables in the back of the tavern where Duncan had prepared a celebratory supper. They had waited over an hour for Dee and Casavir to arrive until finally Sand convinced Duncan that they might not even be allowed to return from the castle until the next day, depending on how long Lord Nasher's planning session took. Marshall Cormick dropped by shortly after this with word that he and Captain Brelaina had just left the Castle, and as they were leaving Lord Nasher was sending a guard for Dee. So they gave in to their hunger, and most of the dinner had been eaten by the time Dee and Casavir finally arrived.
Khelgar passed them each a mug of thick black dwarven ale as they sat down behind the table. Cormick was talking about the difficulty, if not impossibility, of evacuating a city of this size, the need to impose martial law to force the reluctant on, and his fears that the poor of the Docks District would be the last ones to be thought of in the evacuation, and that Axle's gang would take advantage of the resulting chaos. With a tired sigh he gave Dee a hug and took his leave.
Everyone gathered around full of questions about what happened, and as Duncan passed them plates of what food was left (she didn't have the heart to tell him they had eaten at the Castle, nor did Casavir), Dee leaned tiredly against Casavir's chest and she retold the story of the attack and her discovery of Neverneath. Casavir interrupted and corrected her on parts she left out or had changed, since he had heard it twice already. She stuck her tongue out at him the second time but kissed his hand and said with a grin, "See, that is why I'd never make a decent bard." Then she grew serious, leaned forward and told them of Lord Nasher's orders for her. "But they're my orders, not yours. I'm the one who swore to serve him, and I wouldn't blame any of you if you took off at first light."
Sand listened with a skeptical frown as he sipped a delicate red wine from Suzail. "I don't wish to add to your troubles, but making an alliance with the lizardmen seems a pointless quest, dear girl. You might just as well approach what remains of the orcish clans. But as far as finding a way to destroy the Shadow Reavers, Lord Nasher is right that the Hosttower might have some knowledge on that front. I also will work on that with Aldanon while you're gone. Someone needs to be there who can keep him focused. But you should take Qara with you. You'll need a spellcaster, and we don't know how far we can trust Jerro. She could use some exercise before she outgrows her robe, though you will have to restrain her impulse to blow up everyone you encounter."
Dee choked as she sipped the thick, sour ale then turned to Khelgar once she finished coughing. "And the Ironfists—do you think they'll be willing to help, Khel? Can we convince them of the danger?" It had taken time, but she had shown her friend how he had offended his clan by leaving to become a monk. She didn't know how to tell him tactfully that they didn't have time to waste going all the way to his clan's stronghold if they refused to join the fight.
Khelgar patted her hand reassuringly. "Don't you worry, Captain. Most of 'em will welcome the chance to send the King of Shadows to the hells, but 'tis Keros, our clan leader, we have to convince. Trouble is he and I never got along, even as lads. He accused me of being the reason Khalia the Red refused to marry him, and not his bad breath and worse disposition. He's a fool if he doesn't see the threat to the Ironfists as well as Neverwinter, but then he's always been something of a fool."
Dee stifled another yawn as she wondered if it would be prying to ask him more about Khalia the Red. Casavir kissed her cheek and whispered, "You are tired, my lady. Would you like to retire to our room now? I think it's too late for that bath though." He was almost successful in hiding the note of disappointment that crept into his voice, and she squeezed his hand sympathetically.
She was about to agree when Grobnar, who had been listening quietly as he strummed his lute, said "There's always the Wendersnaven."
Dee stood and stepped aside so Casavir could get out from behind the table. "Wender what?," she asked sleepily through another yawn.
"Not the Wenderwhat, the Wendersnaven," he corrected her. The Wenderwhat's an entirely different entity." He smiled beatifically and launched what promised to be a lengthy explanation of what sounded like some kind of Gnomish deity, all the while strumming a hypnotic tune on his lute. She blinked and tried to make sense of it all and gave Casavir a puzzled look as she leaned against him, but she was too tired to think about creatures that were "many Khelgars high, or maybe infinitely small." At the same time, to her tired brain seeking out the help of some esoteric gnomish entity didn't seem any more far-fetched than trying to form an alliance with the lizardmen.
But he could go on all night, and probably would, so she held her hand up to stop him. "Please, we'll talk about it tomorrow, Grobby. For now, I need to get to bed." By this time nearly everyone but Neeshka and the gnome were also ready to seek the comfort of their beds. Dee could barely keep her eyes open. She had slept little the past few days since Shandra's death, and it was catching up with her.
Duncan had saved for them the room that to her would always be their room. The memory hadn't faded of waking up that first morning, feeling the tickle of the hair on chest against her back and his hot breath on her neck. Then turning over, she found he had been watching her and she gazed into his brilliant blue eyes. Remembering the way they twinkled when he smiled at her before he slipped his hand behind her neck and gave her a soft kiss still caused her to tingle.
Cillian ran in ahead of them to claim his place in front of the fire. Casavir shut the door and took her in his arms, and they exchanged a soft kiss then stood there quietly for a moment in one another's arms. He murmured, "Alone at last." She removed her armor and swords and he quickly undressed and put on his night shirt. He retrieved her favorite nightgown as she undressed and handed it to her. "You look utterly exhausted, my lady, and you must get some rest. Let us sleep tonight. There is always tomorrow."
But she wasn't so sure about that anymore, not that she was ready to confide that to him yet. She lay the nightgown on a chair and put her arms around him and nestled her head against his shoulder. "It's been so long, Cas, since that night before we found Jerro's Haven when Sand conjured us that little hut." It had been done at Shandra's suggestion. Dee overheard her mutter to Sand that Dee was irritable because she needed to get laid, and he had tittered and replied, 'I believe I have just the spell.'
That bittersweet memory gave her a twinge of grief, but she found she wasn't bursting into tears or fighting them off when she thought of Shandra anymore. In the first days after Shandra's death the idea of love-making had seemed disrespectful. Yet how many tomorrows would she have? Sir Nevalle's assertion that she could be the next hero of Neverwinter terrified her more than she was ready to admit to anyone because she had read enough history to know that more often than not, the hero dies at the final battle. So she snuggled into his embrace, nuzzled his neck and whispered, "I am tired, but I need you, Cas, that is if you're not too tired. We won't have as much time in the coming days to slip off by ourselves anymore, but we need to seize the time we do have together."
Her otherwise restful sleep was marred by another nightmare of falling rocks, but she didn't wake screaming this time and thus didn't wake him (Cillian woke up, but he was used to her nightmares by now and went back to sleep once he saw there was no danger). She shook it off and sat up with her legs drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her knees, crying silently for a while then lay back beside him, holding him tightly as if she feared he would be snatched away from her.
In the morning they dressed and made a breakfast of an apple tart Duncan made from Rhetta's recipe (it had turned out to be one of the most popular items on his menu) that they had been too full to eat the night before. No one was there but Khelgar, who had been helping Duncan haul kegs of stout off a delivery wagon into the storeroom, though Duncan grumbled that there wouldn't be much need to buy more provisions if the customers left. Casavir followed to help Khelgar while Dee went to let Cillian out the back. She looked for Karnwyr too, but he wasn't at his usual spot waiting for Bishop.
Duncan paused with a bag of flour hoisted across his shoulders as she called for the wolf. "He's not here, lass. Bishop came by early for him while we were just getting breakfast started. Told me he was bored of this shite hole of a city and was heading out early. I told him what you told the others last eve about Lord Nasher's orders, and he just cursed about not following orders and left."
Dee shrugged and tried to hide the sting from the disappointment that the ranger apparently wasn't as tamed as she had believed as she fell into her old pattern of justifying his behavior. "Not surprising. The city gets to him. He's not much of a pack animal either despite traveling with a wolf. Kinda ironic, I'm the one with the solitary companion and he has the wolf. I guess I can fill him in when we get back to the Keep if...if he's there. It's like I told the others. Lord Nasher's orders were for me, not them." Yet she also felt annoyed that she and Neeshka were going to have to share scouting duties. "I'm going to have to try harder with him," she thought. "There must be something I'm not doing. I've got to do more, or pray more for him or something. I won't give up on him."
Duncan was lugging a barrel of salt pork into the storeroom as she can Cillian came back in, and she went to help him and get her mind off Bishop. She tried to make light of the coming evacuation. "What about you, Uncle? You could come to the Keep until the danger is past, or mayhap take a vacation? When was the last time you did that?"
He made a sour face and scoffed at the very idea. "Vacation? Me? Saw enough of the world during my adventuring days, lass. I've no mind to travel anymore." But he glanced at the street urchins who still worked for him and frowned worriedly. "I should send that lot off to Waterdeep though. I've still got some old contacts. Probably very old by now I suppose, but I could send 'em. I can give 'em enough coin to last them until they find work, and I'll write out letters of reference."
One of them, a ginger-haired boy named Glen who had become quite a good cook since he had been allowed to work at the tavern, heard him and growled, "I'm not goin' anywhere unless you go too, boss. And I think the others will agree with me."
Dee put an arm around his shoulder. "What about you, Uncle? You can't stay. I know there's no way the Watch has enough manpower to force everyone to leave the city, but the danger is very real. I've seen what the King of Shadow did to West Harbor. People were just...dead in their tracks. Most of them except for Brother Merring and Georg didn't even look like they knew what hit them." She shuddered at the horror and fought back tears. "These city walls won't protect you, and neither will hiding out in your boarded-up tavern. And besides, truth be told, I have enough to worry about without adding you to the list."
He gave her a guilty look about that. Sand had been teasing her again last night about how she was much too young for the worry line she was developing between her eyebrows, and he was right. He took her hand. "Come along here, lass, and you too, Glen. I've got somethin' to show you." The boy looked up from peeling a potato and grumbled about having to put on the stew for the luncheon crowd, but Duncan silenced him with a look and led them to the cellar.
He lit a lantern hanging on a hook and led them into the storeroom then through a trapdoor and down stairs to a small cellar that was used for cold storage, where he moved a few crates aside. He stared at the wall for a few minutes rubbing his chin before he knocked on it in three places, which sprang open a secret door. He grinned at them and explained, "The previous owner did a bit of smuggling, so he had these built to hide his contraband in case he got raided."
Dee grinned back as she examined the mechanism. "Did he show them to you when you bought the tavern?"
Duncan chuckled. "No, I worked for him before I bought the tavern. I did a bit of smuggling too. Don't give me that look, lass, that's all in the past." He led them inside a small room filled with what looked like more empty crates and barrels. As he peered at the wall he muttered, "Now where is it?" Dee looked at the boy, who shrugged at her and turned back to Duncan. Finally he found yet another hidden compartment, a smaller one this time, and reached inside. He drew out a heavy woolen coat, a glowing cutlass, and then something that looked like a large piece of canvas folded into a triangle. "Here it is! It's a boat left over from my adventuring days. Kept it in case I needed to make a quick escape some day. I just have to teach the lad here and the others how to sail."
Dee raised an eyebrow as the boy looked at Duncan like he had lost his mind, but she had enough experience with magic to know that her uncle wasn't ready to be hauled off to the asylum. "I've heard of those. That's a folding boat, isn't it?" Glen also leaned closer muttering 'folding boat?' and stared at the bundle now that his interest was piqued.
He grinned at them and held it closer for them to see. "Aye, it is, lass. Say the command word and it expands to the size of a coaster, which is big enough since we don't plan to go too far out to sea, and it will hold me and Glen and the other four too, that is if they don't decide to get out on one of the caravans first! I only hope I remember how to sail it after all these years."
She looked wide-eyed from it to him. "You were a mariner, Uncle Duncan?"
He chuckled heartily. "Well you knew I wasn't always a tavern keeper. I was restless and wanted to see a bit o' the world before you were born. Hells, I suppose it was almost before your mother was born. When I was a lad about this one's age, I signed on a ship for a few years and sailed all over the world. There was a mage in Lantan we rescued from pirates who made these for me an' the captain. It was even useful a few times on land for shelter over the years. I think your mother might have slept in it once when we were on one of your father's errands." He pointed across the room. "Now down there's another door that leads to a tunnel and out under the dock. All we have to do is get her in the water at high tide. We can have our packs ready to go and a few barrels of fresh water and ale down here, and I'll show the lad how to make a barrel of sea biscuits. Those things will keep for years. So you see, you don't you worry yourself on our account."
Dee looked a bit mollified and gave him a hug. "Just don't you wait too long, Uncle. Lord Nasher got reports that there are thick black clouds that hang over the claimed lands. Watch for them in the south, and promise me you'll leave as soon as you see them, for the King of Shadows' army won't be far behind. Now I better get back upstairs before Cas comes lookin' for me."
All too soon Sir Nevalle arrived at the tavern, crisply dressed in a hip length black velvet doublet with a high collar and wide bell-shaped sleeves that fell almost to his knees, and red and cobalt blue silk parti-colored hose that molded to his muscular legs. He also sported a rather large mirrored silver codpiece, and Dee blushed as she fought the urge to stare at it. He was looking around the tavern in barely disguised distaste as if he was afraid something was going to soil his clothing. "Let us be off, if you are ready. As I told you yesterday, Mother abhors tardiness." He turned on his heel and walked towards the door.
Dee bit back a chuckle and gently nudged Casavir and drew his attention with her eyes to a bruise on the side of his neck that winked out at them along the top of Sir Nevalle's collar. She whispered to Cas, "I would never have figured His Grace for a biter. No wonder Sir Nevalle's so chipper." Casavir nudged her with his elbow, though she noticed he suppressed a chuckle too.
Dee led the way into the Merchant Quarter to Filine's Special Sizes Shoppe, one of the only places in the quarter where she could get clothing to accommodate her height without having them custom tailored or settling for men's clothing. She had assumed that the men would part company with her there, but they both had other ideas. Nevalle intended to approve her selection and hurry her along, while Casavir sat stoically with a few other bored-looking men on comfortable chairs provided for them. But after a clerk held up some things in view of the men in the chairs hoping to get their attention, one man after another got up and wandered over, and finally Casavir had a few purchases of his own in mind. He shyly perused the nightgowns and small clothes offered for his approval by the silver-haired grandmotherly clerk, which only added to his embarrassment, nodding quietly when he saw something he liked. Dee, meanwhile, pawed through the racks and muttered, "I can't believe I'm wasting time shopping with all we have to do. The only thing I should be buyin' today is another pair of spectacles and what supplies I need for the Keep."
Casavir murmured in agreement though he didn't take his eyes off something sheer and lacy the clerk held up for him. Sir Nevalle snatched an a emerald green jerkin away from an indignant looking half-orc with a half-apologetic, "Not your color, my dear, and you've got too much bosom for it to hang right anyway. Here, try this orange one." He paired the jerkin with a white cotton sateen shirt with blackwork embroidery on the neck and cuffs and handed them to Dee. "These will do. You certainly will have little time to shop after today, so I would suggest you get what you need now and don't feel guilty about it."
She changed in the fitting room, and Casavir paid for hers and his own selections, flushing crimson as Sir Nevalle came up beside him holding something he found to surprise Torio Claven with. Nevalle looked on, lips pursed in thought as Casavir's purchases were being wrapped, then stretched up and said quietly, "Might I suggest surprising her with that leather corset there and some silk stockings. And a riding crop. She seems the type." But before Casavir could reply that a leather corset wasn't to his taste because he was too distracted trying to figure out what a riding crop had to do with it, the half-orc overheard Sir Nevalle and beat him to said corset, flashing him a tusky grin of triumph as she snatched it off the display.
They had just enough time to get Casavir a new oxblood red cloak, which contrasted nicely with her jerkin (and for Dee to repay him by selecting some men's small clothes suggested by Sir Nevalle) and stop by the temple of Gond to order her two new pairs of spectacles so she could take a spare and still have one at the Keep, before they made their way to the Nevalle estate in the Blacklake District. There weren't as many people leaving today as there were last night when morning came with no sign of any further attack, but there were clusters of concerned citizens gathered before the temple of Tyr asking questions about the evacuation. As Dee scanned the crowd, she spotted that strange blond woman again, and there was no doubt this time she was staring at her. Dee stared back for a moment, scowled and said, "I'm gonna find out what the hells she wants with me," but Sir Nevalle grabbed one arm and Casavir the other arm and held her back. Sir Nevalle hissed, "Later. We will be late!"
They arrived at the estate, the perfectly manicured grounds of which rivaled the nearby park, and were told by the butler who showed them in that the tea was to be served in one of the small parlors. Sir Nevalle was visibly relieved because this meant his mother had decided not to subject Dee to the vicious scrutiny of the cream of Nevewintan society as she would have if she had decided that Dee was simply a social climber. Sir Nevalle looked about grimly; he had observed as he led them through the hall that the servants were going about their duties as if nothing was amiss, and there were no signs at all that anyone was planning to leave the city. No one was packing or covering the furniture. He whispered, "It's as I feared. They're not taking the attack seriously as a threat to anyone but Lord Nasher."
Dee looked around in astonishment as they entered the room that was considered one of the 'small' parlors, as it was as big as the War Room at the Keep. Casavir was seated across from Dee at a long, narrow table made of a deep reddish wood from Chult Sir Nevalle told her was called 'mahogany.' Dee was seated between Sir Nevalle and his unmarried older sister Giselle (unmarried by choice according to the gossip, as she was both beautiful and rich), who was approaching spinsterhood and now served as a companion for their mother and painted pictures of children and dogs in her spare time. The only other company was an elderly neighbor who was also a widow and a bit deaf, and a nephew, a boy of fifteen with long blond pressed curls framing a feminine handsomeness who was to be squired to Sir Darmon soon. Sir Nevalle gave his mother, sister, and the neighbor each a peck on the cheek before taking his seat. The meal consisted of three kinds of tea served in delicate porcelain cups that looked to Dee as if they would shatter if she pressed her lips too hard against them, and a variety of small sandwiches, cakes, tarts, and breads with jam and cream.
Lady Nevalle had left from Dee's vigil to get out of her stylish but uncomfortable wooden platform shoes and soak her bunions, but word had quickly come of the attack. She delivered her judgment to her nephew as she buttered a currant-studded scone that having such a ruckus as took place at Dee's knighting should not be done and advised against any similar displays in the future. Dee flushed in irritation and was about to reply that she certainly didn't plan for Castle Never to be attacked when Casavir nudged her with his foot under the table just as Sir Nevalle hissed, "Here, try this," and shoved a tongue sandwich into her mouth.
She dug her nails into her palms as she bit her tongue and chewed the sandwich too, then remembering she was a guest, and after she swallowed the tidbit took a deep breath, smiled sweetly, and kept her replies to Lady Nevalle's questions about her life simple—"Yes, Ma'm, I am a bastard," "Yes Ma'm, I really was a farmer," or "No, Ma'm, I suppose I have no feminine social refinements at all,"—during the interrogation that followed until Lady Nevalle peered at her and said flatly, "I must say you're certainly not the brilliant conversationalist that your mother was."
Dee had had about enough and replied tersely, "I wouldn't know, she died when I was two,"and received a nudge from Nevalle and Casavir as well as Sir Nevalle's sister on her other side. For the most part she resolved to get through this and consoled herself by eating her fill of the small lemon tarts and a variety of crustless sandwiches (which she had to admit were delicious—she tried at least one of every kind) though Casavir nudged her again and discreetly shook his head when she reached across the table to take another of the sandwiches with salmon filling rather than wait for the maid to serve her. Rhetta hadn't taught her that when she taught her to drink tea, but then Rhetta hadn't had two servants standing by to serve her either.
Lady Nevalle cut her son off curtly when he brought up the subject of evacuation and refused to allow any discussion of the matter, though Dee could see the fear in his sister's eyes. "I managed to survive the war with Luskan with only three servants, and I shall survive this one as well. Besides, your father is buried here, and who will tend to his grave? No, I am quite resolved. We will speak of this no further. Now, Gilles, there are a few young women I want you to meet before you run off again that I think have definite possibilities for you."
Sir Nevalle sighed deeply because he knew she would never give up trying to find the 'right' woman for him and this was a tactic she used when she wanted to end a conversation that wasn't going her way. He wished that Casavir hadn't been there so he could have implied he was interested in Dee. He was confident she would have played along, and his mother deserved it.
Casavir had been quiet until now concentrating on helping Dee, but he took the opportunity to try another approach with Lady Nevalle. He broke the awkward silence and asked if Lady Nevalle remembered his aunt, whom he had accompanied several times to the Nevalle estate for their Midwinter Festival balls and Midsummer Festival picnics when he was a boy. Lady Nevalle was one who always made a point of inviting the poorer among the local gentry to her parties, and she peered at Casavir at the mention of his aunt's name until she made the connection between the ruggedly handsome man beside her and the tall, awkward quiet boy she barely remembered, who in fact had been beneath her notice at the time.
He leaned closer, using his paladin ability to calm. "She has been living in Marsember for several years now. She writes that the climate is almost always temperate, the latest Cormyran fashions can be had for a fraction of what they cost here, and the mud baths and the mineral water at the spa have cured her gout. Dee and I have discussed going there on our honeymoon." He blushed and paused to smile broadly at Dee, who blushed and smiled back. "Perhaps you and your daughter might consider a journey there and you could take the cure. I could write to my aunt, for she provides accommodations for persons of quality. But you would want to leave soon before it becomes too hot for the overland part of the journey." Sir Nevalle and his sister both looked like they could kiss him as she agreed to consider the possibility.
After Lady Nevalle declared the tea to be over with a barely perceptible glance at the servants, who began clearing away the dishes at once, Dee and Casavir thanked her for her hospitality, and she gave Dee the name of a tailor for their wedding clothes, admonishing her that she must wear satin, for nothing else would do for a bride. They walked with Sir Nevalle to Castle Never to retrieve Blossom from the castle's stable. Sir Nevalle was subdued, thinking about his return to the Keep in the morning and leaving Nasher again when things were going so well between them. Nasher had agreed that he could continue his dalliance with Torio Claven, though he mainly saw this as a way of getting more information out of her. He thought about something disturbing Torio had related to them after her capture—that one of Dee's companions had been providing information to Black Garius. She insisted she didn't know who as Lorne had been the one who had been the contact, but he had his suspicions, and Nasher wanted the information withheld from Dee for now.
As she and Casavir led Blossom and walked back through the Merchant Quarter, Dee felt a prickling on the back of her neck and stopped in her tracks and looked around. She wasn't surprised to see her, still staring at her like she was weighing her soul. Dee turned to Casavir. "There she is again!"
He looked at the woman then closed his eyes and called on Tyr's power. "I don't detect any evil intent. Perhaps we should ignore her. It could simply be a coincidence that she keeps crossing your path."
"No, 'tis no coincidence, and I'm tired of this. I'm going to see what she wants." She tossed Blossom's lead to Casavir, who tried in vain to stop her. Dee strode up to her and stopped a few feet away with her arms folded across her chest, close enough to speak, but not so close as to offer a challenge. The woman was as tall as she, with hair that was nearly white and faint swirling lines on her forehead and in the hollows of her cheeks. She had the lean, strong build of a warrior and reminded Dee of Kana. "Is there something I can do for you? You've been watching me, or so it has seemed to me the past day."
The woman was a picture of serenity as she calmly explained herself. What she wanted was simple. She introduced herself as Light of Heavens and asked if Dee was to fight the shadows, or join them.
"I aim to stop the King of Shadows, if that's what you mean."
She offered a series of three challenges, and if Dee met her challenges, she would offer her services at the Keep. Dee shook her head incredulously as Casavir walked up beside her. "You want to fight me here, now? I don't even have my armor." She was wearing her swords because after the attack at the castle, she vowed she would never be unarmed again, but she was cursing herself for leaving her brigandine at the tavern.
The woman smiled tightly. "I will not make this offer again, Dierdre Farlong, and I must warn you that you will need my help in the coming battle. However, I will go easy on you this first time since you were unprepared for my challenge."
Dee turned to Casavir. "What do you think, love?" The idea of dueling the stranger right here in the middle of the Merchant Quarter for some mysterious aid to be determined later seemed mad, but then again so did most of what she had been asked to do lately.
"I sense no evil intent, my lady, and she wears the symbol of Lathander. Perhaps she has been sent to help us. If you wish to accept her challenge, I will serve as a referee." He lay his hand on her shoulder and uttered a prayer to Tyr, calling the god's protection around her.
Dee closed her eyes as she felt Tyr's power form a shield around her. "Very well, but not here. Let us get off the street and fight in the courtyard of that boarded-up house." She pulled a worn leather pouch that she had found in a hidden compartment in her desk at the Keep from her boot and reached inside, concentrating and willing a potion of Barkskin inside to the top. She grimaced as she swallowed the potion, which did taste of bark and dirt, and waited a moment for it to take effect. She drew her swords and nodded at Casavir, and the stranger nodded as well and drew her sword.
Casavir looped Blossom's lead around a low hanging branch of a tree and picked up a fallen branch off the ground as a makeshift quarterstaff. "By Tyr, I reserve the right to stop the fight if either of you are badly wounded. If I call 'hold,' you are to go to opposite ends of the courtyard." He stepped back , holding the staff out horizontally. "If you are both ready, lay on."
The woman charged faster than Dee expected, and almost at once she sent Dee's short sword flying from her hand. Dee cursed and thought "She's taking it easy on me?" as she followed up with with a series of blows that the woman easily blocked. The woman countered with another blow that sent her long sword flying just as she got close enough to grab her short sword without giving the woman an attack of opportunity. She dodged and rolled and grabbed her long sword. The woman had mastered the disarm technique, but Dee had a ranger's grace and used it to dodge the woman's blows. She also managed to punch her in the jaw the next time she was down to one sword and their blades were locked.
They fought for what seemed like an hour until they were both out of breath and their arms were leaden before the woman raised her hand and gasped, "Enough. You have passed this test. I will find you when it is time for the second test." She walked away without another word. Dee stood hunched over with her hands on her thighs trying to catch her breath as she watched her go. "Hells, she was good. I wouldn't mind havin' her to spar with, though I'm not lookin' forward to another fight like that."
Casavir dropped the stick and ran up beside Dee. "Yes, she seemed to be a formidable fighter. Come, my lady. Let's get back to the tavern and have Sand cast a mending spell and one of those clean spells on your jerkin before Sir Nevalle sees it."
Bishop stepped lightly over a log and whistled for Karnwyr, who came bounding out of the brush and ran up beside him and licked his hand. His heart felt as light as his step the further he got away from the city and all the chains tying him to her and her suicide mission. For that's what it was; it was clear to him now, so let her die. She was nothing more than this year's martyr. And why? Would anyone even care or remember when it was all done and she was rotting in some crypt? Maybe they would bury her with all the other dead heroes, maybe even raise a statue to the fallen hero that will be covered with pigeon shit within a year like all the others. But he wouldn't be around to see it. He paused to look around the forest for signs that anyone else was there, but they hadn't seen anyone for hours. Why hadn't he done this before?
He thought back on the previous night. He had debated for a few minutes before he decided the whore didn't deserve to die like that. Most likely she would be dead from the effects of the drug and drink before long anyway. She wasn't like the street thugs he hunted when he was stuck in the city and bored of life, though she did deserve the pain he gave her for what she said about him and the paladin. He had a thin vial containing a healing potion that he kept in his belt pouch for emergencies, not that it would go far to mend the kind of wounds he got lately. But it was more than enough for a common whore. He slipped a hand behind her head and pulled her up then got in behind her and leaned her head back and slowly poured it in her mouth a few drops at a time. He thought he would have to make her swallow but she wasn't that far gone, so her natural reflexes took over. It took several minutes to get it all down, but by the time she finished, the ugly purple mottling on her throat was fading and her breathing was steady.
He lay her back on the bed and sat back on the chair. She came to with a start, grabbing at her throat. He sat there calmly watching her and drawled, "I was just about to leave. I don't know what you were smoking, but it sure knocked you out cold. You were thrashing around in your sleep quite a bit too. Must've been some bad dream you were having. You really should quit that shit."
She nodded at him while she watched him warily like a rabbit watching the shadow of a hawk. "Yeah...it was." Her travel bag on the floor next to the bed gave the lie to his words, but she wasn't stupid enough to call him on it and enrage him again. She sat up, thinking she had to tread carefully and only of how to get him to leave. She opted for the direct approach. "Anyway, that's all I remember about Casavir." She watched him out of the corner of her eye, ready to bolt for the door if need be.
He chuckled darkly, which sounded more like a low growl, watching her as if he could read her mind and knowing that she would never make it half way across the room if he didn't want her to, but he was tiring of this game already. He stood and stretched, feeling generous. "You leaving the city too?" He nodded at the travel bag. He walked across the room to the door and stood in front of it, taunting her, then tossed her a small blue gem. "Here, this should get you all the way to Baldur's Gate and give you enough to live on if you want. Won't be long before Waterdeep won't want any more of Neverwinter's refugees." He saw her snatch the gem off the bed as he opened the door and slipped outside. He figured she was smart enough to take his hint that she should get out of the city as soon as she could, and that would be one less thing tying him to Neverwinter.
After that he collected his pack and the mutt from the tavern and bought a bottle of whiskey from the bar and headed out of town towards the forest. The further he got the more it seemed madness now, staying around because of a debt he felt he owed Duncan for saving his ass. If anything, the more he thought about it the more he saw that Duncan owed him for stealing the death he had wanted and deserved. But it didn't matter now. Screw Duncan! Screw Lady Dierdre. He chuckled coarsely. Not much of a lady in bed, but screw her, let the paladin have her. Screw him too for that matter. Screw the Keep, screw Neverwinter, screw Nasher, screw Luskan! Let the King of Shadows come and drag the lot of them to the hells! And screw Black Garius most of all. Let him just try to come to him now when he didn't know where he was. He threw back his head and shouted, "Go screw yourself, Black Garius, you fucking pansy." He laughed loudly and Karnwyr licked his hand again, glad to see his bonded companion so happy even if he didn't understand why.
They had been traveling all morning at a steady pace and had made a fair progress deep into the Neverwinter Woods. He wasn't sure where he was headed yet other than as far away from Neverwinter and the Keep as he could get. His plan was to get far out of Neverwinter territory before he let himself stop, out past the Trade Way, then maybe camp out for a while, find a cave or build a shelter and stock it with game for the winter then move on in the next spring. He had seen the map and knew how far the Ilfarn lands extended, and he was confident that the King of Shadows didn't have any designs on lands outside of those boundaries, though no one else wanted to listen to his opinion. But all he had to do was get past those boundaries and he would be free. It occurred to him that he wouldn't even have to worry about pursuit once everyone behind him was dead.
He stood and stretched, took a few more steps, and then doubled over from a sudden pain radiating from his gut and wracking his entire body. It felt like something was tearing him up from the inside trying to get out. He dropped to his knees it was so bad, and he bit his lip to stop himself from screaming. But after several minutes of the torture he fell face forward on the ground and screamed until he was out of breath. The pain subsided though it still came in spasms, just not as bad as the first onslaught. Karnwyr licked at his face in concern. His first thought was that he ate something bad, but that was usually followed by fire in bowels and a sudden need to empty them until he felt like they would come out too. Had the wench poisoned him? Not likely, but he recalled drinking her whiskey while he was trying to decide what to do with her. But why keep a poisoned bottle around? He tried to push himself off the ground and struggled to his feet. Wiping the sweat from his forehead and almost overcome with a sudden wave of fear, he tried to play it off. "Huh. That was strange," to Karnwyr, who sat on his haunches with his head cocked to the side watching Bishop. "Come on boy, let's get moving."
He took two more steps before the pain returned, but this time as he fell to his knees, a familiar shape materialized before him. Karnwyr snarled and flattened his ears. "Where do you think you're going, ranger? Your pain has summoned me and tells me you're trying to escape our arrangement, and it will only become worse before you finally pass out. In case you haven't figured it out yet, I placed you under a geas when you first approached us last year. I could let you die slowly in agony, but you're still of use to my master. And if by chance you work up the nerve to try to escape by taking your own life, think again. The geas won't allow it, you see. You will return to the Keep and continue giving your regular reports. For now you will tell me what news you have of Nasher's plans following our attack."
Bishop resisted, but the pain was too strong, as was the urgency to obey the geas. He didn't know any more than what Duncan had told him on his way out of town this morning, but he freely told what he knew as Garius listened impassively. "That's it." He wanted to scream his outrage until his voice gave out, but he wouldn't give Garius the satisfaction. But someone was going to pay.
Garius nodded, and his image wavered slightly. Bishop guessed the spell must be ending soon. "Very well. Your next assignment is to discover who else amongst the shard-bearer's company might be turned against her. You spoke of the sorceress..."
Bishop shook his head, grateful that the pain was subsiding, but plotting revenge. "Yeah. She wants power more than anything, but she's too stupid to be trusted to keep her mouth shut. But she might turn in the end if you play her right. But there might be another..."