Fire and Water

by MorwennaTheWicked

NWN2 & MotB. You know the story. Dee is a ranger sent by her foster father on a quick errand to Neverwinter. She learns the difference between a bad man and a good man then meets someone who isn't a man at all as she tries to save her life and her soul.

58. Reunion

Chapter 58 Reunion

Usual disclaimers: The characters in this story for the most part are owned by a whole lot of other people and not me, other than a bear and paladin lovin' ranger and an occasional NPC. It's winding down now, and thanks to those who read and review.

Somewhere along the Sword Coast:

Daeghun understood now why Elanee so enjoyed taking the form of a bird as he soared through the night air, steering the magic carpet. His long brown hair streamed behind him as they flew through the pre-dawn darkness. He was the only one of the four awake. The two young humans were curled up in their bedrolls in the center of the carpet, while Mas had made a nest in Daeghun's pack, sleeping with his beak tucked under his wing.

They had made remarkable time in their journey north, as they weren't hindered by darkness. Daeghun could see almost as well at night as he could by day and had taken over the night flying. He had passed his reverie during the days while the other two took turns steering. They had bought a good supply of food before they left Baldur's Gate. Thus they had only stopped to refill their water skins, stretch their legs, and answer the call of nature.

Mas stirred first and greeted Daeghun with a deep rattling call. He smiled at the raven as he hopped over to him and stretched his inky wings. Lathander's first rosy light was breaking over the far horizon. The raven rubbed his beak against Daeghun's arm then hopped back to raid a pouch of dried fruit in the ranger's pack that the clever bird had figured out how to untie. As the first pinks and roses stained the sky, a flock of terns flew by below them, and after taking a few moments to break his fast, Mas dived off the side of the carpet and flew ahead.

By the time the sky lightened to gray and rose streaks gave way to orange, the young Shou woman had awakened, stood carefully to get her balance, and begun stretching, followed by a series of graceful, flowing, rhythmic movements. The surface of the carpet was surprisingly solid, allowing them to walk around (avoiding getting too close to the edges) and even exercise. The force of the air currents didn't seem to hinder her movements either, though Daeghun could only spare her a few glances. He was struck by how Elven she appeared because of her grace, her slender build, and her large green almond-shaped eyes. Even her blue-black hair made her seem more a Moon Elf than human. But no Elven woman he had ever known, and few Elven men, would have cut their hair so short. He guessed she normally shaved her head as many monks do, but had let it grow out as she traveled from her home in Kara Tur to Faerun.

When she had finished with her routine, she dug into her own pack and ate a tangerine and drank some water before she sat on her knees just behind the ranger. She said softly, "Good morning, Master Daeghun."

"Good morning, Lotus. Would you like me to land?" He glanced at her again, conscious that the girl might be too shy to ask.

She bowed her head to him. "That is most kind, but I can wait until Omar awakens." She peered into the distance. "I think I see smoke from many fires over there. Is there a city nearby?" They had skirted the City of Splendors, choosing to fly out over the Sea of Swords rather than raise alarms by being spotted flying over the city. But he had pointed out the smoky haze from the fires in the city's hearths that they could see for miles and miles.

He nodded as he steered left to avoid another flock of surprised birds. "Not just any city, but our destination. We will land an hour's walk outside the city gates so that Omar may roll up the carpet. The boy doesn't want to advertise that he owns such a rare object, and he's wise in that." He frowned as he appeared to be considering something. "Have you thought about how long you will be staying in Neverwinter? My half-brother owns a tavern in the Docks District. I could take you there so you may arrange lodging, though I must warn you it is in an unsavory part of the city."

Lotus bowed her head again. "Thank you, Master Daeghun, but if I am not accepted for training with the Shining Shield or Hand of Justice orders of Tyrran Monks, I will leave with the first caravan to seek training elsewhere. Perhaps back in Waterdeep. My honorable teacher in Shou Lung sent me to travel the world to seek out the proper path I should take to complete my training, and if it is not in Neverwinter, that means it is elsewhere."

He raised an eyebrow. "I see. I was not aware that you worshiped Tyr."

She smiled at him. "I believe in justice. Is that not enough? I know little of this god but that he is the god of justice, but his faith is one that has orders of fighting monks. The Shou people believe one must honor and pray to all the gods, not only one, for the Celestial One has given them each their own tasks, which only they can perform. If you only worshiped the god of justice, how could he help you when your rice crop was in danger? No, for that you must pray to the goddess of agriculture. Or how could he help if you needed the help of he goddess of the home and childbirth?" She blushed, hoping she had not offended the elder and brought dishonor to herself.

But if she had offended him, he covered it well. "It is quite different with the gods of Faerun. In fact, if someone here prayed to all the gods, but was not devoted to any one in particular, he or she would be in danger of being declared faithless by the god of death. But that's not saying we don't pray to a particular god or goddess for help when we have a need that is in his or her portfolio." She nodded back, thinking that didn't sound very practical. After a few silent minutes during which Mas returned from his morning flight and Omar began to stir, Daeghun added, "If they don't accept you, there is a dwarven monk at Crossroad Keep, Khelgar Ironfist, who trained at the Tyrran temple. He is building a monastery there that should be nearly complete. I don't know that he's taking students yet, but perhaps you could ask about training with him."

Lotus beamed at him. "The way of the Iron Fist? I had a dream about a fist of iron meeting a fist of stone while I stood at a crossroads! Perhaps I shall, if he will have me. Perhaps this is why the god of travelers allowed me to miss my boat and caused me to join with a merchant caravan instead, where I met Omar, which has led me to this place. If so, I will give him a special offering."

Omar sat up, yawned and stretched, then ran his long, tapered fingers through his wiry black hair. "Did someone call me? Good morning, effendis!" He rolled up his bedroll then began deftly wrapping the cloth that made up his turban around his head. When he finished, he tapped Daeghun's shoulder to get his attention as he shifted from foot to foot. "Will we be landing any time soon, sir?"

Daeghun nodded at him. "Yes, we can as soon as we pass over that hill, and land in that clearing. We will be close enough to walk the rest of the way." He had been unable to persuade the boy to give him Dee's letter or go to the Keep, which was closer, to give it to her husband. But he had to admire the boy's determination to see his parent's charge accomplished and deliver it to no one but the High Justicar himself. All that mattered was that there was word from her at long last.

Neverwinter:

A loremaster at the temple of Oghma was the only one of all those they asked who had heard of the Betrayer's Crusade, but it took the better part of four days for her to locate the journal containing the account of the rebellion of a high priest of Myrkul and the resulting punishment by his god. Finding it became a challenge for her, they kind of challenge that stole sleep but on which she thrived. She woke up late one night with a start after remembering the name of the journal where she had seen it, and she found it working by candle light. The next morning Casavir read the journal over Sand's shoulder, a grim scowl marring his handsome face. "I fear that if she's become the latest victim of Myrkul's curse, it may already be too late, or it surely shall be by the time we reach her. But at least this gives us a small hope."

While Casavir finished the first, Sand took another tome about accursed places from the Loremaster and read the indicated pages quickly. "Yes, but in all but a few of the accounts, the victim lived for six months to a year before...According to this, all of the accounts of the victims of the spirit eater curse have taken place around the city of Mulsantir, in Rashemen. That would explain why she was wearing a Rashemi robe in your dream."

Casavir stood wearily, stretched, and walked over to a map of the known world. He searched until he found Rashemen and pointed at it. "There. It is so terribly far away, it will take us months to reach it. Is it possible to travel there by magical means?" Sand walked over beside him and put his hand on the much taller paladin's forearm in an awkward gesture of comfort, concerned about how thin and pale the paladin had become.

Casavir had been in prayer and fasting for days, first observing the rite of Absolute Contrition for two days as penance for his part in Bishop's raising, and then following an obscure rite called Tyr's Merciful Judgment in Restoring That Which is Lost. His efforts showed in his sunken cheeks and in the dark circles under his bright blue eyes. He had also refrained from shaving and cutting his hair, as many Tyrrans did during their fasts. If he had it his way, he would have spent every moment when they weren't researching the mysterious phrase in prayer for his wife. But the High Justicar had asked him to assist him in the court to give him something else to do when he wasn't chanting or singing the required daily prayers. They needed all the help they could get, given the amount of crimes, both high and low, that had been committed under the cover of the evacuation and were only now coming to light.

Between that and administering his wife's estate in her absence, Casavir was kept busy, except when he was finished with his duties and his prayers and alone with his thoughts. He also hadn't come to terms yet with that task. Inwardly he rebelled at the very thought that he might not be considered her husband for much longer, but rather her heir. Widower—that was the word he heard whispered by two priestesses he passed in the hall. He turned to them and said sharply, "Not yet, gods willing!"

Dee had accumulated quite a bit of wealth which must be administered, when the hoards of two dragons were counted. He had given nearly all of his own share to the temple, and while she had given generously to several faiths and charities, she still had much left over even after rebuilding the Keep, which was becoming a thriving merchant stop. As Captain, she had been entitled to a percentage of the Keep's earnings from the merchants and the farms.

In addition, Judge Oleff had settled Esmerelle's estate as he had promised Dee, and even after more than twenty years of interest accumulating on her unpaid debts and back taxes, there was still a considerable sum left to her. The very desirable plot of land near the lake in the Blacklake District where her family's mansion had stood, sold for a small fortune.

He presented Casavir with a key one morning as they arranged the evidence in the cases coming before them. He explained it was to a townhouse in the upper Merchant Quarter, in an area which had been fashionable thirty or forty years ago, but the adjacent houses had nearly all been taken over by shops and the upper floors divided into apartments. It had been in disrepair, but Oleff told him he had taken it upon himself to hire workers to haul away the broken furniture, repair the roof and the chimneys, re-plaster the walls and repaint, and replace the rusted pipes from the city water supply for her, out of the remainder of her inheritance. And there was plenty left over to furnish it, though he had only had a box bed big enough to accommodate two tall people made for them, telling Casavir he had lived long enough that he knew better than to presume to guess a woman's tastes.

It was move-in ready, and he had every right to stay there while they were in Neverwinter. Yet Casavir had purposefully avoided the street it was on, though he knew it well, as his aunt's home, where he had been raised, had been two streets over. He told anyone who asked that he had been too busy to inspect it yet. But his real reason came to him the previous night as he tossed in his hard, narrow bed in the temple. It was her house, and it wouldn't be right for him to take possession of it without her. Nor could he even think of sleeping in their bed without her. No, he would wait until she had returned and they could see it together. It was one more little thing that he clung to.

He blinked suddenly as he realized that Sand had spoken to him while he was deep in thought and was looking up at him with a concerned expression, waiting for a reply. "Forgive me. What was that?"

Sand smiled at him and patted his arm. "Such as a teleportation spell? The biggest problem with that, my friend, is that unless you're using a permanent portal, the caster must be very familiar with the destination for the spell to be successful. Otherwise, you could arrive one hundred feet off the ground, or inside a wall, or a mountain, and what good would that do her?" But seeing the crestfallen look on his face made Sand want to try anything to help. "I will inquire at the Cloaktower to see whether anyone there has ever been to Mulsantir or somewhere in its vicinity, and could also cast the spell for us to send us somewhere safe. We can also inquire at the Academy. And who knows, perhaps someone even knows the location of a permanent portal we might use."

Sand had many resources at his disposal these days. Being one of the saviors of Neverwinter had its privileges. He was respected. People in the streets bowed or tipped their hats as he passed. He had significantly more clout at the Academy, even more because Qara's father had resigned and left the city (or had been forced out, as rumor had it). Sand had said nothing to anyone about Qara's betrayal, reasoning that the foolish girl had already paid for it with her life. However, Grobnar had included a verse about her part in the ballad he had written to commemorate the battle, and he had sung it at least once at the Moonstone Mask and probably elsewhere before the Casavir persuaded him to change it and let the dead rest in peace. Apparently, enough people connected with the Academy heard that verse that word got around anyway, though no one spoke of it except in whispers.

A few tentative gestures had also been made by the new headmaster of the Academy, regarding Sand's interest in resuming his teaching duties as a full professor. In addition, he had been approached by Vale about a position in the Cloaktower. But the offer he found most intriguing was made by Lord Nasher through his intermediary Sir Darmon, who offered him a place among his Nine, though his membership would be a secret known only to the other members (as was the case with at least two others that he knew of). No one could have been more surprised than he that he was giving that offer serious consideration. He had grown accustomed to his quiet life in his shop, as much as he complained about the indignity of it to anyone who listened. But he had to ask himself now if he had accepted his lonely life in exile in the Docks District crafting ale purgatives and prophylactic potions because he had no other choice. And now that he had choices, he intended to make the most of them.

He had gone to check on his shop as he always did when they first arrived in the city, and found that it and those of many of the other nearby merchants who hadn't returned yet had been efficiently burglarized. Neeshka investigated and declared that it was the work of a professional gang, possibly Axle's, with at least one mage assisting to take down his wards. His golem had been destroyed in the process, though it had taken at least two of the burglars with it. But he had already taken his most valuable personal effects with him to the Keep, and while his small workshop in the back of his store had been cleaned out of supplies and components, they hadn't found the secret entrance to his real workshop. He was giving serious consideration to making procuring him a suitable shop in the Merchant Quarter to use as a cover one of his conditions for taking Nasher up on his offer. As long as he could find someone suitable to run it for him, that was, for he was also considering taking on a light teaching schedule as well.

But first things first, he reminded himself. All that would have to wait until they brought their dear girl back. "Come along. Let's see about getting to Rashemen."

Casavir smiled at new-born hope, no matter how frail and trembling a thing it was. "I shall seek Tyr's counsel before we depart. Despite the dream and Bishop's information, this is still conjecture. I would hate to travel all that distance only to find that we're wrong and she's not there."

He had spent many hours in prayer, but with little result other than being certain in his heart that he was still in his lord's favor. Try as he might, however, he found it difficult to rid himself of the notion that she had been taken from him as a punishment. He had begun his ritual fast for her safe return, but had agreed to take bread and water, at the Prior's suggeston. The Prior had taken him aside and cautioned him that he would be no use to his wife, or to Tyr, if he allowed himself to become so weakened that he was unable to act when the time came. The worst part was feeling so helpless. But it occurred to him that perhaps that was a lesson that Tyr was trying to teach him, that he indeed was helpless without him.

Sand leaned his head back to meet Casavir's eyes. "We have arrangements to make before we leave, assuming everything works out in our favor. It would be wise to be well prepared before we travel to a country halfway across the world. I agree it would be better still if we had a way of contacting someone who could confirm that she was there. And besides, you look exhausted, my friend. I think we should get a good night's rest before setting out. I will find the remainder of our party and make the travel arrangements. However, that means only Neeshka and Grobnar will be with us. Pity there's no time to get Khelgar, and Elanee as well. But if we take the time to fetch them, our journey will be delayed by several more days."

Casavir nodded. "Agreed, but we should take a cleric with us. She looked so sickly in my dream. Perhaps one of the Tyrran priests?" He considered the priests he knew. "I will ask around when I return to the temple."

"Better a Tyrran than someone like that wild-eyed Doomguide of Kelemvor who has been preaching in the markets, though apart from his exhortations to choose a god or go to the Wall of the Faithless, he seems harmless enough." Sand thought of the priestess at the shrine to Mystra, but immediately rejected her as too old and grumpy.

"Indeed, and he's been ministering to travelers too. There was an spice merchant from Amn who had a stroke, but when one of our priests arrived to help him, the Doomguide had arrived first and helped him until he passed over. He's a bit intense, but he is very kind." Casavir seemed certain of that.

They carried the books they had been reading over to one of the Loremaster's assistants to ask him to set them aside for them, in case they needed to verify something before they left. As they approached the desk, Casavir recognized Brother Vin, one of Prior Hlam's assistants, who was talking the the attendant on duty. He whispered to Sand, "Perhaps there's a priest who would be willing to accompany us." The attendant pointed in their direction, and Brother Vin jogged over to them, his face red and gasping for air as if he had been running to get there.

Casavir strode over to intercept him, knowing in his heart that something had changed. "What is it, Brother? Has there been any word?" His heart leaped in his chest.

The portly young priest put his hand on his arm and leaned against him as he caught his breath. "Yes...Casavir. I was sent...to find you. Your father-in-law...is here with two foreigners...who claim to have a letter...from your wife... all the way from...Rashemen."

Sand and Casavir exchanged confident looks as Sand took the books from him. "Go on, dear boy. I'll deal with these and catch up with you there."

A wide grin broke across Casavir's face. "Thank you, Sand." He and Brother Vin turned for the door, the latter finding he was forced to jog to match the paladin's long strides.

A short time later, Casavir read her letter for the third time, fighting back tears. She explained what she knew of her abduction and the curse she now carried on the first page, though she didn't understand why she had been chosen, though she suspected it was connected to the missing Sword of Gith. The second part was a personal note to him:

My love, I don't know if I'll ever see you again. I am more worried about

you, as strange as that seems. Pray for me, but please, for me, live

your life. I told you I would meet you at the Gate that leads to the

Gray City, but please don't be in a hurry to join me, alright? You have

such a loving, giving heart, my love. I want you to be happy. I want

you to find another love and have a family if you have the chance.

I want to tell you that the past few months with you have been the happiest of my life. All my love,

She ended by hastily scrawling her name. He kissed her signature then carefully folded the page and slipped it inside his belt pouch. Conscious of Daeghun standing close by watching him, he handed him the first page of the letter to read then wiped his eyes and turned to the two foreigners. "I understand you brought this letter here? Could you please tell me what you know of what happened to my wife?"

The tall, thin boy that Casavir assumed was a Calishamite from his garb smiled toothily and bowed deeply, the feather in the brooch fastening his turban sweeping the floor. "Of course, sir." He repeated the story he had told Daeghun a few days before, sparing none of the gory details, though the Shou woman standing beside him, mindful of the horrified expressions on the faces of those who were listening, nudged him with her elbow from time to time when his details were especially gory. Not that he seemed to notice until she nudged him hard, wrapped up as he was in his tale.

"And no one would stand with her against the Bear King, except the wizard called Safiya, who has a Thayan face, if you ask me, and the winged priestess of Ilmater. No one would raise a sword to help. Not even the fierce berserkers dared fight against mighty Okku. But because she and her marvelous bear and her wizard slaughtered a dozen Red Wizards and their terrible gnolls who had invaded the Veil Theater and murdered the White Lady, the witches allowed her to seek help at the prison. But she had to choose amongst those who were going to be hanged or thrown from the top of the city wall. Of those, only the most notorious, the hagspawn shaman Gannyev, seducer of maidens in their dreams, accepted parole. I can't understand why the others preferred death by hanging to dying in battle, but there it is. I suppose that's why they were in prison in the first place. So while her companions were few, the gods smiled on them, and the proof is that after the battle the mighty Okku joined with her to help her end her curse."

He finished his tale up to the point where he had left with the caravan. "They visited with my parents again just before I left. I can't tell you where she is now, but she said that they would be staying at the Veil Theater. I know the winged priestess told her they should seek answers in the death god's temple in the shadow underside of the city, and your wife said the witches suggested she travel to the Ashenwood, to seek our an ancient tree spirit who faced a spirit eater before. The hagspawn also thought they should consult a coven of hags at a ruin in a city sunken in Lake Mulsantir. I wish I could tell you more, but I cannot."

Casavir frowned grimly as hope threatened to fly away, yet he was grateful to this boy, who had traveled nearly half way across the world for a stranger. "Thank you for bringing her letter, Omar. Let me pay you for your trouble in getting it to us."

The boy shook his head emphatically. "Oh no sir, I was only doing my duty to my parents and your unfortunate lady, and she already paid my way here. I could not take anything more from you. Waukeen has blessed my journey, and Tymora has smiled on me as well, so I have plenty to sell to make my way back."

Sand had arrived in the meantime and was reading the letter, which had been handed to him by Daeghun, after listening to Omar's tale. "If there's any hope of our helping her, we should leave as soon as possible." He passed the letter on to Sir Nevalle, who had come directly to the temple as soon as word reached Castle Never. "I shall go immediately to the Cloaktower..." Sand paused and regarded the two young foreigners and tapped his chin in thought. "It occurs to me that you are very familiar with Mulsantir, young man. Casavir, we have someone who could lead us to her right here! All we require is someone who can cast a spell sufficiently powerful to transport our party there." With a swish of his silken robes, Sand was gone in search of Vale.

Omar didn't even have time to reply to the Elven mage. He stood there with his mouth open then quirked an eyebrow at Lotus, who merely shrugged lightly at him in reply and looked at the floor. She said softly, "If that is our fate...We knew that our paths had crossed for only a short time, my friend. You were planning to leave as soon as you found a caravan heading south, and I was going to remain here and begin training, unless they will not have me. Do not worry about me. I shall find the brother of Master Daeghun at his tavern, as he suggested, while I wait to learn my fate."

He bowed respectfully to her. "I am torn, Lotus. I've never had a friend like you, and I will miss you. But I also see I miss my family very much, now that I have this opportunity to fly to them. Then again, I saw so many interesting merchants' shops and stalls on the way to this temple. I wanted to purchase a few of the famous Neverwintan water clocks take with me to sell. I looked forward to seeing what I could purchase in Waterdeep as well. And yet, with the help of these magi, I could be home by tomorrow, yes? I've never been away from them for so long. I do miss my family, and with the new baby, they will need my help when they move on in the spring." He had made up his mind. "So this is a good thing, and gods willing, we will meet again someday. And if not, may they smile upon you."

She took his hands in hers. "And fare you well too, my friend. But think for a moment. Surely you have time enough to sell what you have acquired on the way here and buy a few of those clocks before you leave, if you go now."

He grinned at her. "Excellent idea, Lotus! Would you come with me?" He looked over at Casavir, and not wanting to interrupt the discussion the he was having with Master Daeghun and a fair-haired knight, told one of the priests instead they would be right back.

Daeghun walked up to Casavir as Mas flew down from the rafters and landed on his shoulder. "We're going with you too." His determined look showed there would be no argument.

Nevalle handed the first page back to Casavir. "I would like to go as well, Cas. You'll need another sword, and you could use someone experienced in diplomacy. Nash will provide me a letter of introduction as an ambassador of Neverwinter that would help us should we need the cooperation of the local authorities. It won't take long, and he needs to be apprised of this situation."

"Thank you, I would be honored to have both of you with us. I'm going to put my armor on while we await Sand. Daeghun, in the meantime, could you find Neeshka and Grobnar and bring them here? They should be at the Moonstone Mask." Casavir turned and strode towards the room in the temple where he had been staying, pausing before the image of Tyr to offer a prayer of heartfelt thanks. He would find her, alive or dead, if he had to travel the whole of Rashemen to do it.

In only a few hours' time, the would-be rescuers had convened in the nave of the temple. Casavir had been unable to persuade Brother Vin to accompany them, but one of the priestesses who overheard their discussion, Sister Olivia, interrupted and told him she felt led by their Lord to help. She was the one who had described him as a widower to another priestess, and he knew that it was her way of making amends. He graciously accepted her offer. The only concern now was that the caster have the ability to send the eight of them.

Young Omar had given them a fright, as the priest who knew where they had gone was called away and sheepishly relayed the boy's message to them only when he returned. Omar and Lotus exchanged their farewells standing on either side of a bulging rucksack that held his purchases and his rolled-up carpet. He was still torn. He had never had as good a friend as Lotus, and he was beginning to realize from the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as they prepared to part, that he thought of her as more than a friend. But he was a pragmatic young man; they were young, and he acknowledged that they did have different plans for their lives. Besides, he reminded himself that his parents had made an tentative arrangement for him to marry the daughter of another merchant family, which might take place in five years when she came of age. So this parting was for the best.

Casavir had gone into a private antechamber to pray as the others prepared or waited to leave. Some scholar from the Academy had figured out the time difference between Neverwinter and Mulsantir (something only Grobnar had considered), and they had decided it was best not to arrive there in the middle of the night. He was elated that they were so close to finding her, yet something was troubling him in his heart. It was odd, like a heavy weight was holding him down. He left and walked out through the cloisters then into the temple herb garden and knelt and quieted his mind, opening himself up to his Lord. He waited until several minutes had passed, but the feeling of a heavy weight like a massive stone on his chest was still there. Something was wrong.

His stomach rumbled. It had been hours since he had taken anything but water, and five days nothing more than of a few crusts of bread. He was light-headed too, but on the other hand, he found his senses were heightened to a razor sharpness by fasting. And then it hit him as he tried to collect his errant thoughts and focused on the image of Tyr in the center of the garden. The ritual he had chosen to perform required a specific series of prayers to be said on each subsequent day, in addition to the fast, and he had the final prayer yet to chant at dawn. "But surely Tyr understands," he murmured to himself. Yet the weight was still pushing him down.

He prostrated himself on the ground before the image of Tyr. Did he understand? Why did he assume that? How arrogant to presume that his god should take second place to his own needs! What was he thinking? Had he merely paid lip service to Tyr? The ritual established a pact with Tyr. Had he merely been parroting meaningless words and making empty promises? Was his fasting an empty gesture to satisfy his own ego that he was doing something? Were his prayers nothing but raucous noise in Tyr's ears? He drew himself up to his knees then pressed his forehead to the ground. "Forgive me, my Lord."

Doubt worked at his resolve like a sculptor chipping away at slab of marble. They would delay their journey by another half a day, but what then, if they arrived too late? The way she looked, so pale and drawn...so close to death. Tears coursed down his cheeks. He could lose her. Moreover, how could he face the others if she died and they could have saved her? How could he live with himself? But how could he live with himself if he turned his back on his god?

He couldn't. It was that simple. He stood and bowed his head and spoke to his Tyr as if he was in the garden with him, for he was as far as Casavir was concerned. "She will understand, and if not, I would hope that she would forgive me. But I have faith in her. If it came down to it, I would want her to choose Meilikki over me, for our faith must come first. If I do not see her until I meet her in the Gray City, then so be it. But you will be first in my heart. Blessed be your name, my Lord." He felt a comforting warmth wash over him and felt the weight on him suddenly lift, and he knew he had made the right decision. He said a final prayer of praise and thanks then strode through the temple as if walking on air to let the others know, and steeled himself to resist their objections, Daeghun's especially.

But he need not have worried about their objections, though the reason why hadn't been made clear to him yet. Everyone he passed as he strode through the temple stopped and stared at him, as did the 'rescue party' when he arrived in the nave. They acted as if he had grown a second head. Someone dropped something. The only other sounds were gasps. The priestess who was to go with them, Sister Olivia, dropped to her knees and began praying. Casavir looked from face to face. "What is it?"

Grobnar was the first to answer. He sputtered, "Why Casavir, you're absolutely radiant!"

Prior Hlam rushed into the nave, alerted by a priest Casavir had passed. He made the sign of the shining shield and exclaimed, "It's true! Tyr has touched you! What happened?"

Casavir flushed with shame as he confessed his hesitation to fulfill his vow. Yet he had to in order to explain why they could not leave until tomorrow, or that they would have to go without him. At the same time, Grobnar's words were sinking in, and he looked at his hands, which were indeed covered with a iridescent glow.

Sister Olivia stood and raised her arms and began chanting loudly the very prayer that Casavir was to say the next morning. Casavir joined her without hesitation, echoing each line as she finished it, and when they were through, they repeated the chant, with every Tyrran present joining them. The other members of the rescue party looked at one another in awe. Sister Olivia took Casavir's hands, and he was conscious of a holy light in her eyes as her voice boomed throughout the chamber. "Let it be known that my servant has found favor in my eyes through his steadfast devotion. I have heard you, my child, you have fulfilled your vow, and that which was lost will find you soon."

It was all Casavir could do to remain standing. He couldn't say anything other than to offer praises to his god. He finished, and the Prior helped him to stagger to a pew. It was Omar who first spoke as he asked Lotus, louder than he had intended, "What does this mean? Are we going?"

A tall, thin, bearded young man with a hawk nose and earnest eyes, who had been waiting near the entrance for an audience with the Prior, walked hesitantly into their midst. He was wearing a simple gray flaxen robe along with an amulet bearing the symbol of Kelemvor. "Pardon me," he said quietly. "I don't wish to interrupt, but I'm afraid I must. You see, I have a message for you, I think. No, I'm sure now." Sand, Casavir, and the Prior recognized him as the Doomguide of Kelemvor.

The Prior approached him and introduced himself. "How can we help you?"

The Doomguide bowed and swallowed nervously before he answered. "I am Donovan of Kelemvor. You see, I felt I was called by Kelemvor to come to Neverwinter in a series of dreams. I am to spread his faith here, you see."

"I don't see. You said you have a message? Is it related to your mission?" The Prior stood with his arms folded, annoyed at this benign intrusion after a visitation by their god, after half expecting, when he requested his audience, that he would ask if he could build a shrine to Kelemvor on the temple's grounds.

He smiled more confidently. "I do, and it is, though I don't understand it. You see, as I was taking a rest in my wagon, I had another dream. The thing is, I don't think I was entirely asleep." He scratched his beard as he thought about it. "I saw this temple clearly, and then I had a feeling I should come here and tell you that you seek something. Then I saw a shining black mask. 'Your answer is there.' I think that's what I heard, and saw. You see, I got the impression that it was tied to obtaining my shrine. Do you see?"

The Prior rubbed his balding head, and he tried to dismiss the Doomguide as gently as he could. "That was certainly an interesting dream, Donovan. I'm not sure what it means either, but thank you for sharing it with us."

Grobnar had been listening quietly for once, though his fingers went through the motions of plucking the strings of his lute. "Mask—could that refer to the god Mask, or...perhaps the Moonstone Mask? And what do we seek, other than the Captain?"

Sand tossed back his hair in annoyance, thinking that they could always trust the gnome to say something inane. "Are you suggesting that she's sitting there, drinking a glass of wine, waiting for us to come to her?"

The gnome's reply was uncharacteristically terse. "We have messages from two gods—a mask, and the good sister's words, "that which was lost will find you soon." Do you have a better interpretation? We don't have to go to her. She's coming to us!"

Casavir stood feeling exhausted, yet energized at the same time. "There's only one way to find out." He strode to the door without another word, Daeghun and Mas right behind him. The rest of the rescuers looked at each other then followed, a few of them feeling rather foolish, and only a few of them actually expected to find something at the festhall. Omar and Lotus shrugged at one another as he shouldered his rucksack and they followed.

At the same moment, one of the festhall's entertainers was playing a game of "the bishop and the naughty priestess" with a refined gentleman old enough to be her grandfather, at the very least. Suddenly, she let out a squeal and fell off his lap. He put down the paddle he was about to use to discipline her and looked in the direction she was staring. A circle with the color and sheen of gray marble appeared on the wall, expanding slowly. The "priestess" scrambled to her feet, then motioned him out the door as her demeanor changed. She ran over and pulled a sconce on the wall down, which activated an alarm. The elderly lord threw off his bishop's robe and jumped into his trewes then snatched up the rest of his clothes and ran out. She opened a hidden panel in the wall and grabbed a wand, never taking her eyes off what she recognized as a portal. A loud clanging sounded in the room, and a few minutes later, Ophala and one of her bouncers ran in, the former also armed with a wand, while the latter was armed with a mace.

Casavir was about to open the door to the festhall when it was thrown open, and an elderly man ran out as quickly as he could while fastening his clothes. Nevalle did a double take. "Uncle Ferdie?" The elderly gentleman spared him half a glance as he hurried for the safely of the Watch outpost.

The clanging alarm was much louder with the door open. "Something is happening!" Casavir sprinted in, looking for trouble, then followed the eyes of the patrons and entertainers who hadn't also made their escape. One of the entertainers moved to block them from going upstairs, but she recognized Sir Nevalle of the Nine and the Prior of the temple of Tyr, so she stood aside. Casavir took the stairs two or three at a time, and caught up to another bouncer, running in the direction of the alarm. Daeghun, Mas, and Nevalle were right behind him.

The bouncer ran into a room with Casavir just behind him and the others not far behind them. Ophala was standing near the door with her employees, wands and mace ready. She had cast a protective barrier in front of the portal, which had grown to ten feet in diameter but had stopped expanding and hung there suspended. She had cast another protective spell on herself. Casavir and Nevalle took up defensive positions in front of the spell casters in the middle of the room, though he didn't draw his hammer. The others crowded behind where they could, Sand and the priests chanting protective spells, all except the Doomguide of Kelemvor, who leaned against the wall and watched, scratching his beard. He broke the silence. "If I'm not mistaken, that portal leads to the Fugue Plane, and I don't think I am."

A few grunts and nods were the only acknowledgment of his statement. The minutes dragged on, increasing the tension as they waited for something to happen. Suddenly a bright white light flared around the edges of the portal then spread inward until the entire circle was filled. A heartbeat later, a huge bear's head emerged, followed by the rest of the enormous beast. He was so big that he took up nearly all of the available space between the portal and the barrier. His fur was glowing white, and swirls of reds, blues, and greens covered his legs. He roared, "Lower your weapons. We mean you no harm." They stared, astonished, as the bear was clearly speaking, and not telepathically.

Ophala nodded at the bear and lowered her wand, and the others followed her lead. The bear turned his head and roared at the portal, and a man with long hair with a blue sheen to it, whom Casavir recognized immediately, stepped through. Casavir murmured, "It's the one from my dream!" Hard behind him was a woman in a peacock hued mage's robe, embroidered with eyes, and a bat-like creature that hovered beside her. She held her hands up and out in a universal gesture used by mages to show she held no weapons and that she was casting no spells. And right behind her, another much smaller bear appeared, a tall blond figure stepping through beside him. As soon as they were all through, the portal collapsed on itself.

Casavir took a step forward as Ophala lowered her barrier, staring at the woman he scarcely recognized, and she likewise took a step forward staring at him, trying to reconcile their memories with the reality standing before them, as if neither of them could believe what their eyes told them. They were both greatly changed, yet still the same, and recognition replaced shock. They called each other's names simultaneously, "Dee...Cas" before they ran sobbing into each other's arms.