Will to Live

by CMY187

39-year old dwarf Dorean lacks strength, power, and a commanding appearance. What he does have are his skills as a thief, the teachings of his foster father Gorion, a willingness to do anything it would take to survive, including manipulation and murder, and the detachment of a sociopath. He will see himself and Imoen through this crisis, no matter the cost to everyone around them.

37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

With a low growl, Kagain stomped down the hall and into the study. "Clangeddin's arse, what the hell is ya-"

He stopped upon seeing Thalantyr's face.

"Close the door," the magus ordered. The dwarf hesitated before obeying, keeping his eyes on the man.

"Did you tell him about the tunnel?" Thalantyr asked coldly.

Kagain's eyes widened briefly before narrowing. "No, I sodding didn't."

"Then how did he know about it?"

Kagain's beard bristled as he looked away.

"Well?" said Thalantyr. Kagain growled again, his mood black, before turning back to him.

"There was a bloody mutiny at the inn. He ran from one of the traitors an' ended up in it."

Thalantyr's face dropped as he slowly eased up off the desk.

"That answer ya sodding question?"

A moment passed.

"How did it happen?"

"What do ya care?" Kagain snapped.

A muscle twitched in the old wizard's cheek, yet he remained silent.

"Ya still owe me for savin' ya sorry ass, so gimme a goddamn answer already! Ya gonna help me or not?!"

Thalantyr's eyes flashed. Kagain neither faltered nor backed down, coldly glaring back. After a moment, the magus breathed in deep, exhaling slowly, and it was then that Kagain noticed the lines around his eyes; the old man had not slept in some time.

"If I do this," Thalantyr said slowly. "You will be in my debt."

The dwarf paused, then sneered and gave a loud snort. "Yeah. Fine."

"How soon do you intend to leave?"

"After midnight. Six, seven hours. The boys've been walkin' all day. An' we're gonna need some things from ya. Still givin' us the discount?"

"I will maintain it for now."

"Ya better," Kagain retorted. "An' why are ya usin' the golems? Where the hell's the rest'a ya security?"

The conjurer hesitated. "I sent them out."

"All of them?!"

"Yes, all of them!" the magus snapped. "Now if there's nothing else-"

"The elf."

Thalantyr froze. "What about her?"

"Who is she?" Kagain asked, his voice low. Thalantyr paused.

"She has been a customer here for the past few months, before this trouble you are in started."

"Why's she here now?"

"It's only temporary. She needs treatment."

"For what? An' why here an' not at Kelddath's?"

Thalantyr hesitated as he considered and then resigned himself to the fact that Kagain was not going to back down. "She is not welcome there."

Kagain's eyes narrowed even further. "Why?"

"Kagain, this isn't your-"

"I've been backstabbed an' sabotaged too many times this sodding week," the dwarf growled. "So pardon me just a little sodding bit for bein' careful!"

"She is no friend of the Flaming Fist," said Thalantyr. "Of that, I can guarantee. Beyond that," he added, his tone conveying that the matter was now indisputably closed. "It is not. Your business."

Kagain glared up at him, his bushy eyebrows furrowed together. He then snorted loudly and crossed his arms across his broad chest.

"Ya house," he growled through the grinding of his teeth. "Ya rules."

..

---

From the window, Imoen watched the last rays of sunset fade into the horizon. She then gazed at the trees on the hill-slope, imagining Flaming Fist mercenaries hiding behind every one.

"Do you think they'll get tired and leave?" she said quietly.

"Nah," replied the lookout next to her. "Fist are stubborn bastards, an' they've got a mad-on for this dwarf'a yours. They're out there, alright." He glanced at her and paused upon seeing her forlorn expression. "But they won't be sneakin' up on us," he quickly added. "Try anythin' like that, we'll make 'em very sorry."

Imoen looked up at him and then gave a smile that did not quite reach her eyes.

"Thanks for this, by the way," the mercenary added, holding up a half-eaten chicken leg. She nodded in answer and then moved back to the centre of the lobby, passing one of the flesh golems which now stood against the wall like a macabre suit of armour display.

Whatever improved mood that Kagain's men had enjoyed from the end of their long march had mostly evaporated with the unexpected arrival of the Flaming Fist. They were now all tired, hungry, and their spirits had been further dampened by Dorean's reluctant delivery of Thalantyr's order to clean the lobby.

An argument had ensued when several of the mercenaries demanded that the party alone carry out the magus' task. Voices had risen along with fists when, thankfully, the half-orc Lene stepped in and ordered a drawing of straws to determine who should join the party in cleaning the lobby.

Once again at Jaheira's instruction, the party had gathered at one end of the lobby area near the door while the Dented Shields occupied the other end. Both groups avoided conversation with one another as the party and five unlucky mercenaries began wiping mud and grime off the floor.

Similar to when they set camp in the Coast Way while awaiting Dorean's rescue from the Friendly Arm guardhouse, Jaheira was sitting cross-legged on the floor with her back to a wall, eyes closed and hands resting on her knees. Imoen tilted her head at the half-elf and made a mental note to ask her later if this was mere basic meditation or if she was actually using her druidic powers to watch the area outside the building.

Dorean was now kneeling, right arm rested on his thigh as he slowly wiped the floor beneath him. Imoen paused to study him, and despite their situation, a smile broke out on her lips as she noted the advantage his short height afforded him; everyone else was forced to work and move around on their hands and knees. Nevertheless, the dwarf's slow, meticulous pace was a sharp contrast to Imoen's who had already finished cleaning her allocated floor section.

"See anything?" he asked as she kneeled down next to him.
"Not a soul," she answered, taking a cloth from his belt and starting a battle with a particularly stubborn bit of dirt. She glanced up at the hallway leading to the interior of the building. "You think Thalantyr will help us?"

"I don't know," Dorean answered quietly without looking at her, and Imoen immediately knew that this avenue of conversation was closed for now; he clearly did not want to dwell on it. Rather than push the subject, she gave his shoulder a squeeze before returning to her battle with the patch of dirt.

If the old man refuses...I could steal something from here that may help us.

"Not that I am complaining," Eldoth commented as he scooted backwards past them on his hands and knees, a muddy cloth in each hand. "But this is not an activity I anticipated partaking in when I joined your company."

"Leave, then," a voice answered from above. Eldoth scowled up at Montaron who was sitting in the rafters and gazing out one of the high windows.

"At least he's helping us," Imoen said reproachfully.

"Bite me," the halfling replied.

"Please, just ignore him," said Xzar. "He has no manners whatsoever."

Imoen looked at him. Xzar had selected an area to clean that had put him next to Ajantis; the latter was concentrating on his own task and was clearly trying not to look at Xzar's robes or his right hand, both of which were still covered in blood.

Imoen tilted her head and continued to stare at the odd wizard until the sound of melodic humming drew her gaze to where Garrick was seated with the Dented Shield mercenaries. The minstrel had chosen to ignore Jaheira's instruction to keep their distance from the mercs and had even offered to help clean their boots. From the haphazardly arranged pile next to him, Kagain's men had been all too eager to accept despite their distrust of freelancers.

Her curiosity piqued, Imoen abandoned Dorean to face the tenacious dirt on his own and went over to Garrick, pausing along the way to hand more chicken, bacon and mutton from her food-bag to nearby mercenaries (are sell-swords primarily carnivores?)

"Want some help?" she offered upon reaching the bard.

"Thank you, but no," Garrick replied jovially, scrapping mud from the bottom of a large boot onto sackcloth that he was now using as a carpet.

Imoen glanced around before sitting down in front of him. "Y'know, you don't have to do this," she said, recalling that he had joined the party and the caravan escort in order to make amends for the Silke Dilemma .

"I know," Garrick replied, still smiling. "Obligation is not my motive here, Imoen. You see, I am taking an opportunity to learn more about my peers."

Imoen tilted her head. "By cleaning their footwear?"

"One could learn or make deductions about others by looking at their socks."

Imoen's brow furrowed sceptically. "Really?"

"Yes, really!" Garrick replied enthusiastically, waving the boot in his hand and nearly concussing a nearby mercenary. "Take Ajantis for example!"

Ajantis looked up and blinked at Garrick and Imoen staring at him.

"Our young friend," said Garrick, waving the boot further and earning a scowl from the mercenary next to him as it again narrowly avoided striking her head. "Is wearing socks made of fine, high-quality wool; a kind that is favoured by the nobility of Amn!"

There was a brief pause.

"I am not Amnian nobility," said Ajantis.

"Oh," said Garrick. He seemed to deflate slightly, but his jovial smile returned as his eyes locked onto a new target. "Khalid's socks are long and beige-coloured. What does that tell us?"

Imoen paused in thought for a moment as Garrick, who looked more pleased and enthusiastic by the second with her involvement, awaited her answer. "That he's from the desert?"

"Correct, though not quite on the mark. His socks are the same kind worn mainly by Calishite soldiers. So we can safely deduce that he used to be one himself."

Rather than blink, blush or stutter, Khalid appeared not to notice their conversation at all, despite his acute hearing. Imoen's brow furrowed again as she contemplated the man's socks before looking back to Garrick. "I'm not sure you can call it a safe deduction, Garrick. Lots of people wear beige socks." She paused and then pointed at Jaheira's feet. "She's wearing beige too, and she's from Tethyr."

"Oh, that just means she wears her husband's clothing," Garrick replied cheerfully.

Jaheira's eyes snapped open and she glared at the bard and thief, both of whom immediately clammed up and gave what they hoped were innocent smiles. She looked about to speak when a series of loud footfalls drew their attention to the hallway.

Everyone paused in cleaning, eating or resting to face Kagain and Thalantyr. The latter took a moment to appraise the floor, his nose wrinkling in disapproval that some dirt still occupied it, before returning his gaze to the two-dozen people in his lobby.

"I have decided," he said shortly. "I will help you all reach Beregost."

There was a collective sigh as a number of mercenaries and party members release their held breaths. Montaron did not look away from the window.

"If anyone wishes to buy anything, follow me now. I will be manning the store only for the next one hour, after which I do not want to be disturbed."

"Get some chow an' shut-eye, an' keep an eye out," Kagain ordered. "We'll be outta here in about six hours, an' I don't wanna see anyone yawnin' when we..." he stopped and frowned upon realizing that the company's attention seemed to be focused elsewhere. Even Thalantyr who appeared to have noticed it was looking in the same direction.

Kagain paused, then followed everyone's eyes down to his feet, both of which were wrapped in light-blue coloured, polka-dotted socks.

He looked up. So did everyone else.

"Whattaya bloody lookin' at?!" Kagain yelled. Snarling, he turned on his heel and stomped back down the hallway, barely-suppressed snickers from his own men following after him.

..

---

Thalantyr's 'store' turned out to be an enormous round chamber whose ceiling appeared to extend to the very top of the building. The party's footsteps echoed loudly as they followed Thalantyr towards an enormous crystal hovering above a dais, its glow providing illumination in the otherwise unlit chamber. Shelves and tables surrounded the crystal, their surfaces crammed with doubtlessly enchanted items.

"Do not touch anything while out of my sight," Thalantyr warned. As though to reinforce its master's point, one of the flesh golems lumbered through and stood in front of the doorway behind the party. Looking around, Imoen realized that there appeared to be no other exit from the chamber. She caught Dorean's eye and pouted before nodding in answer to his silent warning.

No stealing.

Kagain had stomped off in a huff, presumably to check on Maija in the dormitory, leaving the rest of the party to browse Thalantyr's wares.

Khalid and Jaheira made a beeline for the potions, dragging Dorean and Imoen with them. Within ten minutes, both Dorean and Imoen had been handed and ordered by Jaheira to purchase three healing potions and two poison antidotes apiece, all of which were picked out by Khalid. Imoen was also forced to buy an infravision potion, and after Thalantyr had counted out her money, she weighed her now much lighter coin purse and scowled at Jaheira.

"I'll pay for the rest," Dorean told her. "I still have some money from that night in Beregost," he added, lowering his voice as Thalantyr moved away to resume his spot in the chamber where he could watch everyone.

Giving him a quick but grateful hug and earning a muffled grumble from him, Imoen left Dorean with Khalid and Jaheira, both of whom had fallen into an argument over buying potions for faster speed or invisibility, and went over to Garrick, Eldoth and Ajantis. The two bards were each holding a crossbow bolt and appeared to be arguing, albeit in a much less heated manner than the married couple, and Ajantis was quietly standing off to the side.

"What are they talking about?" Imoen asked Ajantis.

"Arguing over which is better to enchant into a projectile; lightning or poison," the squire answered. "Garrick believes that lightning is a better component to use in battle, while Eldoth finds it less predictable and prefers the 'safety' of poison."

Imoen was reminded of Silke's lightning bolts. She shook her head slightly to dispel the thought. "What do you think?"

"Magic is not something I am knowledgeable in, I am afraid," said Ajantis. "I ought to have taken more of an interest."

"You wanted to be a wizard?"

"Oh, no. It's just..." Imoen tilted her head as Ajantis paused. "I used to leave most of the arcane knowledge to my teacher. But he is not here now, and..." he trailed off again lost in thought.

"Well...you could ask me, if you want."

He blinked and looked down at her. "You can use magic?"

"Just the basics," Imoen confessed with a smile. "Not enough to be a real mage, and certainly not like ol' Thalantyr there. I don't know anything that'll enhance my voice or control flesh golems."

"They make my skin crawl," said Ajantis, glancing back at the silent sentinel blocking the only doorway.

"Yeeaahh, can't blame you there," replied Imoen. "From what I know, flesh golems can't be called from other planes. They have to be made."

"With human remains," Ajantis said grimly.

"I don't think humans were all that went into it," Imoen said mildly, pointing at the golem's left leg. "I think that might have belonged to an ogre once."

Ajantis shuddered. "Only a twisted mind would think to take the remains of the living and mold them into such a monstrosity."

"I dunno," said Imoen. "I think it's kinda cute."

Ajantis stared at her. Imoen looked up at him.

"Just standin' there, not making any sound, awaiting the command of its master." She paused. "Almost like a nine-foot tall dog."

"I had dogs, milady," Ajantis replied in a dead-pan. "There is nothing in that thing that I find remotely dog-like." He looked over at Thalantyr whom Dorean was purchasing more potions from, and his eyes narrowed. "I know I should not speak ill of our host...but I am beginning to question his practices."

Imoen's eyes darted to Ajantis' cloak, upon which the colours of the Radiant Heart were emblazoned.

Uh-oh. Paladin.

"Maybe we should ask Xzar first," she said quickly. "He's the only other wizard here." Her eyes scanned the chamber. "Ah, there he is."

Before Ajantis could protest, Imoen took his hand and pulled the tall, mail-clad squire along, away from Thalantyr and his golem and towards Xzar who was leaning over a table on the far side of the dais, Montaron standing a good ten paces behind him.

"Hey, Xzar?"

The wizard jumped and turned to face Imoen, leaning back from her.

"Ajantis has something to ask you," Imoen said quickly.

"Hm?"

Ajantis looked at the patiently waiting Xzar, then at Montaron, and finally frowned at Imoen before turning back to the wizard.

"I was just...wondering if you could tell us anything about that golem." He paused. "Specifically, how it was made."

Xzar blinked at him for a moment. Then, without so much as a glance at the golem, he smiled and clasped his hands behind his back. "Well, I can certainly say that it was not made here."

Ajantis' brow furrowed. "You are certain of this?"

Xzar frowned. "Of course I am. I just said so. Do try to listen, boy, it demeans you not to. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Well, the golem could not have been made here, because there is nothing that vaguely resembles a lab for such a task. No drain to dispose of excess blood, no table with shackles to collect parts from live subjects..."

"E-excuse me, live subjects?" Ajantis sputtered.

"Why, yes. Body parts are generally more accommodating when fresh. Even a few minutes post-modem could affect the quality." Xzar smiled. "Anyway, like I said, there is absolutely no sign here that the hermit made the golems."

Imoen and Ajantis stared. Imoen then took one look at Ajantis' face and quickly turned to the table. "What were you looking at, Xzar?"

"Hmm? Oh, just some-"

"Archmagi robes!" Imoen exclaimed, moving over to the table. Xzar hurriedly backed away as she drew close to him, holding his hands up against his chest. "Mister Thalantyr! How much is this?"

"Will you please not shout in here?!" the magus hollered back as he stomped over to them.

"Sorry, sorry, how much is this?! I've got to buy it!"

Thalantyr took one look at the robe, then at Imoen, and said in a deadpan, "Thirty thousand."

"What? Thirty thousand gold?"

"Yes."

"...could you consider giving us-"

"I have given you people a discount. And I have stretched my generosity to its limits. Thirty thousand. If you don't have it, put it back."

He pointed at the table. Imoen pouted, then placed the robes back on the table with as much care and tenderness as if she were handling a fragile object.

"You have a beautiful crystal," she said after a moment, looking up at the dais.

"Hm? Oh, sure," Thalantyr replied gruffly, smoothing out the robe on the table.

"It's a power source, ain't it?" said Imoen. "To enchant all these," she waved a hand at the merchandise. "How did you make it?"

Thalantyr frowned at her for a moment. "I had help," he answered shortly. "Now, if there is nothing else-"

"There's something in it," Imoen said abruptly, squinting at the crystal.

"What? What are you - get down from there!"

The rest of the party turned to see Imoen standing on top of one of the shelves and staring up at the giant hovering crystal, ignoring Thalantyr angrily waving his arms angrily at her.

"Imoen, what are you doing?!" Dorean shouted.

"How dare you stand on my furniture!" Thalantyr yelled. "Have you no respect for a man's home?!"

Imoen continued to ignore him, placing one hand over her brow as she attempted to discern the object she had glimpsed within the crystal. Thalantyr paused, glaring up at her, then planted his hands on his hips.

"Young lady, you come down from there this instant , or-"

"It's a hand!" Imoen hollered.

"What?" Ajantis breathed, his eyes darting from the crystal to Xzar and then to Thalantyr.

"I-it's not human!" Imoen stammered with a glance back at the paladin. "It's some kind of paw!"

With a snarl, Thalantyr waved his hand and Imoen was suddenly borne backwards off the shelf as though grabbed and held by a giant invisible hand. She was then lowered to the ground in front of Thalantyr who opened his mouth to speak only to be cut off.
"I'm very, very, very, very sorry, Mister Thalantyr! Please forgive me, I was not thinking, I only wanted to look at it, I wasn't gonna do nothin', no sir, I swear!"

Thalantyr paused for a long moment and then frowned down at the pink-clad girl whose expression of remorse and regret was so convincing that it wasn't.

"If you do anything like that a-" he stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening as he looked back to the crystal. "Oh, not again!"

Imoen whirled around to see Dorean standing atop another shelf opposite them. The dwarf was staring straight up at the crystal, his eyes glazed yet also narrowed in intense concentration.

Thalantyr began to lift his hand again when Khalid quickly reached up, scooped his arms around Dorean's chest, and plucked him from the shelf. The dwarf blinked rapidly, then looked up at Khalid's worried and anxious face.

Thalantyr stomped angrily up to Dorean and the half-elves, but before he could verbally tear into the dwarf, Jaheira rounded on Dorean instead.

"What were you thinking?! That crystal is clearly not a safe thing to touch! You and Imoen should know better!"

"I..." Dorean's eyes moved from Jaheira to Thalantyr. "I am sorry. I don't know what came over me." He lowered his head, avoiding their dual admonishing glares. Khalid chose that moment to worriedly feel over Dorean's forehead.

"Is it harmful?" he implored, looking at the crystal and then at Thalantyr. "Will he be alright?"

The magus looked at the clearly anxious Calishite, then at the entire rest of the party hurrying over to them. He then turned another glare onto Dorean, though it was now increasingly difficult to remain angry when he looked so forlorn in Khalid's arms.

"Khalid?" said Jaheira. Khalid looked up at her. "You can put him down now."

Khalid blinked and gave the dwarf yet another worried look. "Y-you sure?"

Jaheira frowned at him before looking at Dorean. "Can you stand?"

Dorean glanced up at her while keeping his head down. "Yes," he said meekly.

Jaheira looked pointedly at Khalid. After a moment, the Calishite gently and reluctantly lowered the little dwarf to the ground.

"Not to discount your reason for doing it," Eldoth said dryly, cutting off Thalantyr as the latter was about to speak. "But from what I understand, dwarves in general do not appreciate being kept from the ground."

Jaheira turned a burning glare onto the bard while Khalid turned scarlet and sputtered as he looked anxiously to Dorean.

"It's okay," said the dwarf. "You were right to get me off there. I was out of line." He looked up at Thalantyr. "I am sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

Thalantyr glared at him for a moment before looking round at the party. "Well, if you all are done standing on my furniture, please hurry up and buy what you need and then..." He trailed off. The party blinked at him, then all turned towards the crystal to see Xzar standing in the dais directly below it, looking down at something in his hands.

Thalantyr went very still, his face losing all emotion. Nobody moved or spoke.

Xzar slowly turned towards them, still looking down at what now appeared to be two objects clutched in his hands; a sound horn and a severed claw at least four times the size of a human hand.

"Kazgaroth," whispered Garrick. "His paw. And that's one of his tusks. But it looks like it was made into a...horn?"

"You," said Thalantyr, his head high and his voice reaching across the chamber. Xzar's green eyes locked onto the magus' face. "Put those back. Now."

Xzar did not move. He continued to stare at Thalantyr, lowering his head while keeping his eyes on the older wizard.

"Xzar...?" said Imoen.

Xzar ignored her. His gaze remained fixed on Thalantyr. From the corner of her eye, Imoen saw Khalid reach for his sword and grimace upon realizing it wasn't there; their weapons and footwear were all back in the lobby. Her gaze flicked back to Thalantyr; the magus' face remained as emotionless as ever, while Xzar's eyes were now narrowed to slits.

"Xzar?" Imoen called again.

Xzar dropped the claw and horn as he raised his hands.

Thalantyr's own hands shot up.

Imoen felt Khalid and Dorean's hands grasp and began to pull at the back of her tunic.

Jaheira's own hands began to rise.

Ajantis, Garrick and Eldoth all bent their knees to leap away from Thalantyr.

The one second passed, and then Xzar was suddenly pulled backwards, his heels colliding with the edge of the dais as he fell onto his back.

Montaron's foot pressed down hard on his neck. Xzar violently twisted and squirmed, his nails digging uselessly into the leathery, hair-covered limb. His eyes blazed hatefully up at the halfling's cold, blank face as he struggled to cast a spell despite being deprived of air.

No one else moved, watching the one-sided struggle of the two Zhents.

"Montaron!" Imoen shouted, her eyes widening as she saw Xzar's face began to pale as his partner pressed his foot down even harder.

Imoen started forward, straining against both Dorean and Khalid, when a hacking cough told her that Montaron had loosened his grip, if only just enough to let him breathe.

Twisting his head to the side, Xzar's eyes focused once more on Thalantyr, the bright green irises blazing with hatred. He snarled inarticulately, and a scream erupted from his lips.

"Helm above, he's mad -!" Ajantis exclaimed.

Xzar's arms reaching out towards Thalantyr despite the latter being more than fifteen paces away, and he screamed and shrieked for about five seconds before Montaron pressed down hard on his throat again.

Nobody moved, transfixed as they were, save for Imoen who again strained uselessly against the combined strength of Dorean and Khalid as Xzar once more gurgled and struggled, pounding his fist against Montaron's leg.

Then he suddenly stopped struggling, lying still and staring up at the ceiling.

For a long moment, there was no sound save for Xzar's heavy, wheezing breaths. The wizard turned his head again, this time looking at the horn and claw that had fallen and rolled to the other side of the dais.

He then laughed.

It started as a small, inaudible chuckle, then light snickering.

Then full-on, mouth-wide-open, head-tilted-back, belly-rumbling laughs.

Montaron kept his foot over his throat, yet this time made no attempt to silence him. His face remained blank while Xzar laughed and laughed and laughed, his eyes locked on the two artefacts all the while.

Then, with no warning, Xzar suddenly stopped, as though he was struck by a Silence spell.

He slowly turned his head away from the horn and the claw, and the party could no longer see his face.

Montaron removed his foot from the wizard's neck. He remained standing over him, looking even more lifeless than the flesh golem standing at the doorway.

Silence filled the chamber again.

It was then broken by a single, barely perceptible sob.

Imoen hesitated. Then, without looking at either of them, she slowly removed Dorean and Khalid's hands from her tunic, walked over to and climbed over the nearest shelf, then slowly approached the dais.

Montaron glanced at her. Imoen looked at him for a few seconds before walking around to stand next to him, looking down at the supine wizard.

Xzar was now completely silent, and would for all appearances seem asleep were it not for the tears flowing from his closed eyes.

Imoen looked down at him for a long moment. Everybody watched her.

She then sat down with both knees in front of her, removed a cloth from her belt, and began to dab at his face.

Xzar did not respond to the touch. He remained as still as the grave, the rise and fall of his chest the only sign that he was alive.

..

---

He was brought to the dormitory.

Thalantyr used the same spell he used on Imoen, hovering the necromancer in front of him and depositing him on one of the beds. He said very little, and after binding Xzar's hands and feet with magical rope, he instructed the party to keep watch over and to not untie him until it was time for them all to leave.

The store was now closed to them, and the flesh golem stationed at the only means of entry. Mundane provisions were now all that was available to them for purchase.

Kagain did not take it well, and had approached the bed with the intention to tear the restrained and unconscious Xzar apart with his bare hands. To the surprise of half of the party, Ajantis stepped in and planted himself between Kagain and the wizard, earning a string of threats and curses from the dwarf.

Dorean offered to cook for everyone. Thalantyr accepted, albeit reluctantly, before leaving to see to the store and replace the two artefacts. Imoen suspected that the old magus may not be as callous as he let on.

As Dorean and Jaheira waited for her near the doorway, Imoen removed the covers from another bed and carefully placed it over Xzar.

His eyes opened as she pulled it up to his chest.

"Get some rest," she told him. "I'll wake you when dinner's ready."

He did not say a word, instead watching her as she exited the dormitory with Dorean, Jaheira and Garrick. He ignored Ajantis, Eldoth and Khalid, all of whom were either standing or sitting near his bed. His eyes remained fixed on the spot where Imoen had disappeared from sight.
Montaron sat in the ceiling rafters above Xzar's bed, peeling and eating a banana. He said nothing to anyone, and ignored their questions.

In the kitchen, Dorean, Imoen and Jaheira made an unspoken agreement not to speak of what happened in the store, at least not until they were gone from Thalantyr's home.

Garrick, however, peppered the supervising magus with questions on the claw and horn, only stopping after a thoroughly nettled Thalantyr threatened to use him to test his enchanted crossbow bolts.

"I was only curious," the minstrel replied, turning away to help Jaheira clean the vegetables.

..

---

Night fell in High Hedge, the wall-mounted candles in the building lighting and extinguishing themselves as Imoen and Jaheira made their way down the hallway towards the lobby, carrying a large metal pot of beef and vegetable stew between them.

Lene once again proved a blessing by preventing the mercenaries from squabbling to be the first to eat some hot food, ordering them into a line. Jaheira sternly refused to grant second portions, and when the last mercenary had filled his bowl, she promptly snatched the ladle out of his hands, turned on her heel and marched back down the hallway with the considerably lighter stew-pot in her hands.

In the dormitory, Ajantis and Khalid received their dinner gratefully, while Eldoth raised an eyebrow at the brown stew before quickly giving his thanks after Jaheira stated that he could simply decide to skip dinner.

Knowing that Montaron would help himself if he wished, Imoen ignored him, instead bringing a bowl over to Xzar. The wizard's eyes opened at her approach.

"I can't untie your hands," she said. "Sorry."

Xzar looked up at her, then silently sat up and allowed Imoen to spoon-feed him.

"I did this to Dorean once," she told him. "Said I wouldn't untie him unless he let me feed him. He didn't speak to me for days after." She smiled. "He always hated me treating him like a younger sibling."

"He doesn't hate it."

Imoen blinked and stared at Xzar.

"He is usually irritated. Sometimes frustrated," the wizard said quietly. "But he does not hate it."

Imoen slowly tilted her head, unsure of how to handle this unexpected response. "You think so?"

Xzar nodded. "'Hate' is not an emotion that he has reserved for you."

Imoen blinked quietly at him. Xzar blinked back, then looked down at the bowl of stew. She hesitated, then smiled warmly and fed the strange wizard the remainder of his dinner.

After he had finished, Xzar stared at the empty bowl and at her before silently lying back down and closing his eyes.

Imoen tucked the covers back over him, ignoring the looks from the rest of the party.

..

---

Dorean, Imoen and Garrick returned from cleaning the kitchen a half-hour later. By then, Ajantis, Eldoth and Jaheira had all gone to sleep, the latter after losing an argument with Khalid over who would stay awake to watch Xzar. Despite everything, the long march from the Coast Way to High Hedge had taken its toll on their stamina. Everyone badly needed rest.

Garrick yawned, went to and fell on the nearest empty bed without removing his armour, and fell asleep almost immediately.

Dorean went over to the nearest empty bed, which happened to be the one next to Xzar. He climbed onto it and sat with his back against the headboard, tilting his head back to look up at Montaron sitting in the rafters. He did not look away as Imoen sat down next to him.

"Not sleeping?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

"Mm."

She looked down at him. He was still dressed in the boy's tunic loaned from one of the mercenaries.

"Too much on your mind?"

He grunted again. She suppressed the urge to sigh and instead leaned back, joining him in looking up at the halfling.

"What are you thinking of, right now?" she asked.

"Right this second?"

"Yeah."

"I'm wondering if he ever sleeps."

"Montaron?" Imoen whispered. "That's a silly thing to wonder about."

"I don't think he's slept even once since we first met him."

Imoen opened her mouth and then closed it upon realizing that she too could not recall a moment in the past six days that Montaron had ever not been awake. "Now that you mention it..." She paused. "Hey, Monty?" she called softly. The halfling did not respond. "Do you sleep?"

"Shut up an' get some yerself."

Imoen scowled up at the anti-social assassin before blinking at Khalid approaching their bed.

"I d-don't think you should talk to him," said Khalid, sitting down at the foot of the bed and glancing up at Montaron. "He doesn't seem to l-like talking."

"What does he like, then?" Imoen asked.

"Eating," Dorean answered.

"Change the subject 'fore I come down there," said the ceiling-dwelling halfling. Khalid bristled, but then closed his eyes and took a deep breath before looking back to the two roommates.

"A-are you okay?" he asked Dorean. The dwarf blinked at him and then at Imoen.

"Is this about earlier with the crystal?"

"You just started...g-g-going towards it. You had me worried."

"I'm alright now. I was probably just...well, it's been a long day."

Khalid gave a gentle smile and nodded.

"What are you thinking of now?" asked Imoen.

"You're being nosy tonight," Dorean replied, though his voice was devoid of any annoyance.

"I know, it's just...we haven't really sat down and just talked like this in a while." She paused. "It's only been six days since we left Candlekeep. Yet it feels...so much longer than that."

"You're t-thinking of home," Khalid said softly. Imoen blinked at him and then smiled.

"I guess it's the cleaning an' cooking. Done so much of it I can now do it with my eyes closed." A memory came to Imoen and she chuckled. "One time, Dorean and I tried to do all our chores blind-folded."

"Thanks for reminding me of that," the dwarf grumbled. "Reevor nearly killed me."

"C'mon, little brother, we've had worse exercises than that."

"I doubt it."

Khalid watched as Imoen and Dorean respectively grinned and frowned at each other, and a small yet sad smile came unbidden to his face.

It faded when Dorean uncurled the fingers of his left hand, revealing the Harper pin. All three of them gazed quietly at the object in Dorean's palm.

"...didn't even know I'd been holding it," the dwarf muttered. "Sometimes I...I'd just take it out and look at it." Dorean paused. "Six times. Once a day."

He slowly closed his fingers over the pin before returning it to his pocket.

Imoen wanted to hug him. To kiss his brow, tell him that it was going to be alright, that Gorion was in a better place where no one could ever hurt him.

But the look on his face told her that right then, right now, all those things would be the wrong ones to do.

"I want revenge," Dorean muttered. "More than anything. I can't stop wanting it. I don't want to die, but..."

"But you can't get it out of your head."

Dorean and Imoen looked up at Khalid. The man was still wearing his kind, gentle smile, but there was now an edge to his eyes; barely perceptible yet clearly there, even in the dim candlelight.

"If revenge is what you want," Khalid said quietly. "I will help you get it."

Dorean looked at him for a moment. He then simply nodded. His eyes suddenly narrowed as they flicked to look behind Khalid.

"She's watching us," he said quietly.

Imoen blinked before looking to the elven stranger. The woman was exactly in the same posture as before; sitting upright and watching them in complete silence.

"I'm starting to wonder if she is even real," said Imoen. "We are in a wizard's home, after all."

"Good point," Dorean replied. Khalid did not turn around, though he leaned back with his eyes moving in the direction of the unknown elf.

"Do elves need to eat, Khalid?" Imoen asked. "I know that you're not a full elf, but..."

"I d-don't know," Khalid stammered. "Y-yes, I think?"

"Hmm," Imoen mused, pursing her lips in thought. "She might be hungry. Thalantyr may have forgotten to give her dinner. Wouldn't be surprised, with all that's happened since we showed up."

"Imoen..." said Dorean. Ignoring him, the pink-clad girl hopped off the bed, picked up her food-bag, looked through it, shrugged, and then promptly began crossing the dormitory towards the elf. "For Lathander's sake..." the dwarf muttered, hopping off the bed as well.

"Good evening, miss," Imoen greeted upon reaching the side of the elf woman's bed. "I want to apologize for earlier at dinner; I was serving everyone and forgot to ask if you wanted some too. Are you hungry?"

She held out the entire food-bag. The woman blinked and stared at it.

"Imoen," Dorean growled as he caught up to her with Khalid in tow. "I am very sorry if we have disturbed you, mi-"

The elf silently reached into the food-bag and drew out a chicken leg. She stared at it, at the trio, then took a bite and chewed slowly.

"Ah, so you were hungry," said Imoen, clearly relieved that she had made the right choice. "Here," she added, turning to the bedside table and removing a plate, knife and fork from a side-pocket of the food-bag. The woman said nothing, watching Imoen place the utensils on the table.

"I don't have any drumlets left, and I don't know if you mind getting your hands dirty or if you have to NOT get them dirty - I was told you are a patient here - so here you go," Imoen said cheerfully.

She placed the food-bag on the floor, then removed and unwrapped several strips of meat before placing them on the plate. The woman blinked but remained quiet. Dorean sighed in exasperation as Imoen piled more food onto the plate.

"She's like that," he explained shortly. "Alright, Imoen, we've bothered her enough and it's late. Imoen?"

The girl was kneeling down to remove yet more food from the bag. She had frozen in place, and appeared to be staring at something under the woman's bed.

"Imoen?" said Khalid, moving behind her. He then too went still, eyes focused on the same spot.

Dorean's eyes flicked to the woman. He then moved from the foot to the bed to Imoen and Khalid.

He saw the belt propped up against the backpack, and instantly recognized the engravings of moons and ice.

The Belt of Antipode.

Dorean and Imoen's eyes flicked to each other, then to the woman. She did not look back. Instead, her eyes were focused on Khalid.

Slowly, Dorean and Imoen both turned their heads to look up at him.

Khalid's face was now like Montaron's; completely blank.

No one moved or spoke for five seconds.

"Kha-" Dorean began.

Khalid reached for the dinner knife. His fingers closed around it at the same instant that the elven woman drove the fork into his neck.