Thanks to Ann6022 for reveiwing - your comments are both heartening and useful! :P

"Well. Isn't this place just the biggest disappointment you ever did see?" Bishop grunted once they had stepped through the wooden palisade around Port Llast, cutting it off from the long coastal curve of the High Road and the bordering grazing lands. But never from the crashing of the sea on the rocky Sword Coast.

"Oh, right, yeah," Shandra responded sarcastically, "Be careful where you tread. You might get some of the local culture on your boots."

Isaviel could only agree with the ranger, as they trudged through the mud against the cold, whistling wind that spiralled all about, down from the Frozen North and off from the Sea of Swords. Persistent rainfall had followed them all the way up the High Road from Neverwinter, and the mud churned beneath their boots still. It appeared the town had been built up along the sea front, a small natural bay whose curve the High Road had followed. The Crags rose up back to the south behind them, grey, snow-capped and vast, cutting off all sight of Neverwinter, that famed 'last bastion of civilisation' this far north. Houses here doubled as workshops or storehouses – the clang of a blacksmith's hammer or sawing of a carpenter's tools could be heard clearly through several open doors as they passed down the main central street. Stone buildings were anomalous – Sand had told them ahead of time that only two were to be seen in Port Last; the Head Office of the closest thing the town had to a mayor, and the only inn in the settlement.

Gulls screeched persistently, circling over by the piles of fish just being emptied from several large fishing boats into a great number of crates loaded along the nearest jetty. The townsfolk here had a grim, distrustful look about them, and Isaviel had already seen a few of those workers among the catches of fish muttering to each other as the group of five passed by. The rest of her companions had gone ahead to the Duskwood and Ember, to scout the places out while Isaviel had to report in at Port Llast. Sand had come along, and joining them had been Bishop, Casavir and Shandra.

Watching the cold stares of the townsfolk, the Moon Elf was becoming increasingly confident that somehow news of her accusations had preceded her – and that the trend was to believe in her guilt. It made her angry…and utterly unsurprised when a group of some four drunken brutes barred her path just ahead of the awning of the inn, a crumbling establishment of fogged-glass windows, rimmed by a 'garden' of gravel-covered ground. When she tried to move past them, one took her roughly by the arm and pulled her back. She heard the ring of steel as Bishop drew his sword in response, but her kukri was already pressed in cold threat against the inside of her aggressor's leg. One swift cut and he would bleed to death with no hope of help. Perhaps he was too drunk to recognise this danger, as he only tightened his hold on her arm, leering down at her.

"Stand aside and we will all be on our way as if nothing happened," she heard Sand offering calmly.

"Fine, fine," one man grunted with a smirk, raising his hands as if in surrender "We'll let you be. If you let us have her. She's the one that Luskan's looking for – we'd friends at Ember. And the bounty on her head's a pretty price. Not to mention that we aren't going to let her get anywhere near the last survivor – she's already killed all the others."

"Let's just kill these fools," Bishop snarled as Isaviel managed to wrench free.

"I am sure that will not be necessary," Casavir interrupted as he and Shandra joined the other three, having lagged somewhat as the paladin explained some trifling historical fact to the woman, who seemed to prefer to hear his voice than listen to it.

"Yes, I'm sure we can sort this out…" Shandra began, but the men looked to each other and laughed loudly.

"I think a night with her'd go a long way to covering the bounty we wouldn't get for the other one," another man grinned, and Casavir bristled, standing taller now with blazing eyes.

"Take that back, sir," he demanded stiffly, subconsciously shifting in front of Shandra as he spoke, his hand now on the hilt of his hammer, "Such actions would condemn you to the torments of the City of Judgement."

"Ha! Then we'll just take the Elf, then," the man moved to grab at Isaviel again, but she ducked past him, her kukri coming to his throat now.

Another of the men drew a dagger, lunged for her…and all at once everybody was moving, or imploring for peace. The one with the dagger reeled back with a cry of pain when Bishop's pommel smashed into his face, letting the first blood flow. Then two more went for the ranger, Isaviel still locked in threatening the man who had first moved against her. She and Sand had already discussed this near-inevitability, and had agreed that it would do no good to kill members of Port Llast's population if she was trying to acquit herself of a crime. No matter how tempting it might turn out to be.

Bishop dodged between the two men, one of whom was swiftly caught in a skilful arm-lock by Casavir, but the other was not so fortunate. The ranger had agreed not to kill…but he had not agreed to cause no harm. The first man he had attacked now slumped against the side wall of the inn, the group having fortunately congregated away from the windows and doors that might give a clear line of sight to onlookers. As well as having caused this, Bishop was still not content, spinning back around and bringing his longsword against the only other man's lower legs. This one screamed and crumpled to ground, blood beginning to run into the muddy ground as he continued to wail, hamstrung.

"Alright! We'll leave! Come on, help me with this bastard," the man Casavir held cried at last and Isaviel's aggressor moved away immediately to help him with the hamstrung man, the other following in their wake, still groaning.

Looking past the scene of their fight, which had come to be at the corner of the inn, Isaviel saw that several people had congregated just outside the doors or were peering fearfully through windows across the street. Several blanched when she turned their way, and the Moon Elf sighed. There would be no anonymity here – she would be a little too recognisable, and the Luskans had certainly been clear on their description of her.

"Your cruelty was not necessary, Bishop," Casavir berated angrily as the ranger took a few steps back to the others, coming up short at the paladin's words to sneer at them all.

"I don't follow your wretched code of honour, paladin," he responded curtly, "Those men would've been far less lenient with you. I wouldn't blame them, really…"

"Oh, enough of this! If you want to fight for your honour, Casavir, do it when I'm not there," Isaviel groaned, moving back into the street as the onlookers began to disperse, narrowing her eyes against the damp, icy air to look down the road which was suddenly so empty.

"Then what would you suggest now, oh mighty leader?" Bishop mocked angrily behind her back, but she did not deign to turn around to look at him.

"I think we should get to Haeromos's office," Isaviel nodded eventually as Bishop roughly re-sheathed his sword, Shandra still gawping at the blood spreading thinly over the mud.

"Indeed, that would be wise," Casavir nodded, frowning darkly, "It is a bad sign that the Watch has so little control over this town, though. It may be that he will be of little help to us."

"That's true, but we need to report to him. I'm not going to let the Lords' Alliance start calling for my head, too," Isaviel pointed out, which made Bishop grunt derisively to stalk past her in the direction of the only other stone building in town.

"Haeromos is a good, law-abiding man, if a little obtuse at times," Sand put in, pulling his dark cloak more tightly about his slight form and freeing his booted feet from the mud with two audible sucking sounds to gain her side. His pale grey eyes met hers calmly, but her answering stare was unreadable. She had trusted him more once, but he evidently knew more than he was letting on. She would not let him have any more of the upper hand than was necessary.

"Then I'd better not stay in his company too long," the Moon Elf responded, turning away and beginning to follow Bishop, the others keeping pace, "I have a feeling he won't like me much."

First Captain Haeromos did not match Sand's description remotely. His pinched face, with its thin, pale lips, had a permanently imperious expression, which tended towards a cruel sneer. He had a twitchy tendency to attempt to surreptitiously rearrange his thinning brown hair, which was supposed to have been combed so as to hide his significant bald patch. When his dark eyes settled upon Isaviel, they narrowed, exacerbating the deep lines around them, and grew even colder. A pair of guards remained inside his office, and another two waited just without as well once Isaviel and her four companions were shown into the simply furnished but large room, one long window to the right displaying the dreary world outside. It had started to rain again.

Casavir and Sand had both attempted to begin pleasantries, but Haeromos ignored them, staring straight at the Moon Elf instead as if he expected to murder her with a gaze. He had been seated at his cluttered desk, signing something with a long black quill, but now he stood slowly, resting his knuckles on the desk as he glared her way. Bishop tensed beside her, and Isaviel put a warning hand on his wrist. There could be no violence here – not unless he wanted to see them all hang in Luskan. It occurred to her briefly that he might want just that, after all. But she would not allow it.

"I'm surprised you had the courage to show up here. A lot of people in this town had friends, some even family, at Ember. Someone like you should have run when you had the chance. What kind of fool goes back to the one city where they can easily be tracked?"

"What kind of fool indeed?" Isaviel pointed out , rather enjoying his unnecessary liveliness. This man was clearly the real fool here, and she would enjoy tormenting him…if only to a point, "You must be Haeromos. I am most…disappointed to meet you. I heard I have to sign in with you like a good little lackey of Nasher's – or are you planning on claiming I ran, so you can cut my throat in my sleep? Mighty judgemental from a...man…wearing the badge of Tyr."

"Hold your tongue you worthless scoundrel. You'll hang one day, even if it's not for this," Haeromos hissed, disappointingly dismissing her now as he reeled in his anger, turning to Sand instead, "Wizard, I might not like it, but Nasher had ordered me to allow you to conduct your business here freely. But you'll be watched. If you have questions, ask them now. I am a very busy man."

"I heard someone mention that there was a survivor from Ember. I would like to speak with them," Isaviel told the First Captain, which gained her a long withering stare.

"Out of the question. She's been through enough, and besides, you won't like what she has to say."

"You almost say it as if you do believe in my innocence after all. If I were guilty, why would I expect anything less?"

"And Haeromos, you have sworn to Lord Nasher that you will allow Isaviel to search for the evidence she may need," Sand reminded him, "You disappoint me, cowering in the shadow of Luskan. They would not think of touching Port Llast, not now, not when they are at war with Ruathym – not for an adventurer, even one they clearly framed."

Haeromos blanched momentarily at those words, his dark eyes flickering over briefly at Isaviel and giving away his real, carefully hidden fears. But it was only fleeting, and he stood straight now and folding his arms across his chest, his face hard.

"We must have a right to speak with the witness!" Shandra exclaimed, and Haeromos's expression seemed to calm a little when he saw her, "I have been to Ember many times over the years. I know most everyone there, and a familiar friendly face would surely help. Isaviel does not need to see them alone."

"Very well," Haeromos sighed, nodding to one of his guards, who disappeared back through the door, "You may question the witness. But you will do so in my presence."

Several long moments of silence passed. Haeromos retook his seat and started sifting through papers like he was trying to pretend that no one was there, except the way he shuffled the documents had just a little too much aggression behind it. He looked liable to rip something, or break his quill. Shandra paced anxiously, something which Sand was watching with a bland stare. His handsome face no longer held the disappointment it had when first Haeromos had opened his mouth. Casavir stood by the furthest wall, beside the wizard, staring out of the window thoughtfully, but with anger in his eyes. She could fairly feel the waves of his righteous indignation. Meanwhile Bishop had leaned back against the wall beside her, spinning his bow around and around on one point against the tiled floor though it remained relatively impotent as a killing weapon, the guards having confiscated his quiver at the door. He was eyeing the First Captain with contempt.

Isaviel chose to watch the open door, staring down the narrow, dingy passageway that led to the main audience room of the building, wondering if this man Haeromos had been bought by Luskan, or if there was something else there, hindering his actions. His automatic anger seemed ludicrous, disguising a fear of Luskan most likely, as Sand had pointed out. Had they given him gold, or threats?

When the Moon Elf saw the young blonde woman being escorted down the passage towards her, Isaviel's heart sank. Not that useless, fearful little girl from Ember! Alaine was already staring at her with large, watery blue eyes. Her lips were trembling, her hands twisting in her long skirts as she faltered in her walk into the room. Whatever she had seen, or believed, it was enough to make her genuinely fear Isaviel.

"You!" Alaine gasped, just about keeping enough nerve to sound angry as well as fearful as the guards continued to flank her inside the office, keeping the door open in case of an escape becoming necessary, "Why would you bring her here?" she demanded, sounding sickened, as her eyes turned to Haeromos.

"Alaine, you survived! Thank the gods!" Shandra cried before the First Captain could respond, running to the young woman and hugging her tightly before the guards could respond. When Ember's survivor returned the gesture, the guards relaxed a little.

"They murdered everyone," Alaine whimpered as Shandra stepped back, staring at the older woman with fear in her big, pathetic eyes, "They…she butchered everyone. It was horrible…"

"Shh, it wasn't her, Alaine. We're here to help…"

"No," the young woman was suddenly very firm, taking Shandra by the arm and shaking her head, her glance flickering only briefly over to Isaviel, "I know what I saw. No one at Ember had any weapons, some even surrendered, but she…she…"

"And if everyone died, how exactly did someone as pathetic as you survive?" Bishop demanded, employing a cold tone that had Casavir bristling uncomfortably, glaring at the ranger, and Sand huffing at such lack of tact.

"I-it was trade season," Alaine paled at Bishop's tone, her eyes going even wider, glazing over as if she somehow agreed with the cruel words, "The shipments into Ember had fallen off…I had been trading some of my father's goods down the South Roads, and when I headed back to town in the evening I heard the screams and saw the smoke. I had smelled the burning earlier, but I'd assumed it was a bonfire or something…"

"I think we are all familiar with camping, girl," Bishop interrupted.

Shandra glared at him, and then at Isaviel. Can't you shut him up? she mouthed, but the Moon Elf just shrugged. She was struggling against her own anger at the injustice of this, and preferred to watch for the moment. Alaine was clearly an utter fool, or well deceived – likely both – for she was convinced of Isaviel's guilt and full of hate along with her fear.

"What happened after you saw this?" Sand put in now, a little more calmly but still with a sense of urgency, and Alaine's chin became to tremble.

"I left my wagon and went into town. That's when I saw the bodies…I saw her kill the quartermaster while he was on his knees, begging for his life."

"You saw me do the killing blow? Was it just me?" Isaviel demanded, "And where did I…"

"Isaviel, please…" Shandra started, looking horrified as Alaine stared back at the Moon Elf, tears falling over her cheeks as she nodded sharply to every word.

"We don't have all year, girl," Sand interrupted now, stepping forward so that Alaine could see him clearly. In a sense he was the least threatening of their group – they had been forced to leave their blades and arrows behind at the door, but Bishop and Isaviel both retained their bows, while Casavir had his metal armour. Every one of them but Sand had an empty weapon holder or two about their person.

"Young lady," Casavir offered now, and Alaine's pale cheeks flushed when her gaze settled on him, "This matter is of the greatest importance, and we have only limited time. The trail of the town's killers is going cold, but your help could change that."

"There were others but I didn't seem closely. I ran as hard as I could to Port Llast, and they have taken me in," now she turned to Isaviel, pointed at the Moon Elf as her expression eerily stony, anger taking over, her voice grown rough, "But you did do it."

"Or someone who looked the part – there are many magics that can cloak one's appearance…even allow one to change shape," Sand pointed out.

"I know what I saw."

"But that does not mean you know the truth behind what you saw, you foolish little…" Isaviel began, but stopped herself, flinging her hands up in frustration and turning away to stare out of the window, stepping past Bishop and leaning her hands on the sill. The rain was torrential and miserable, market stalls being buffeted in the wind as their owners attempted to remove them for the day.

"How exactly did you get away if you got close enough to identify her?" Sand probed, and momentarily Alaine looked confused, "You could not have run all the way to Port Llast, dear. Not even those running from death can run all day long."

"I…don't know. I just started running. I suppose they didn't see me…"

"Who else was there with 'Isaviel'? Were any of us there, for example?"

"She had about a dozen of her friends with her…but none of you."

"Then they were not her friends, I believe…unless you saw a half-Demon girl?" Sand pointed out softly, "And that is interesting…a dozen, you say? Did you see a Gnome, perhaps a pouty teenage sorceress? A Dwarf, or maybe a young woman who always dresses in brown robes? No?"

"Well…no," Alaine frowned, "I believe they were all human – and all men."

"Well considering that there are no more among her company, that would make little sense. That must surely seed some doubt."

"But she could just have hired others," Alaine said shrilly, clearly desperate to see someone recognisable hang for this.

"Yes, my dear," Sand sighed, "But as your hesitation suggests, why would anyone waste their money on mercenaries for such a job when they have trusted allies who would follow one anywhere, despite their common sense? Er…no offense," he added this with a smirk, looking pointedly at Shandra, Bishop and Casavir.

"That's enough now," Haeromos broke in, "I'm sorry to have put you through this Alaine. Guards, please see that she reaches her quarters safely."

Once Alaine had gone, Haeromos looked to Isaviel with some significantly impatient expectation.

"Well," the First Captain prompted, "Do you have more of my time you would care to waste? Elsewise, I would gladly see you leave my sight."

"Must be something in the water," Isaviel suggested with a roll of her eyes to Bishop as she turned more fully to face Haeromos, "Unfortunately for you I do have more to ask before I can leave your wretched town. There is a man associated with Luskan…have you heard of Black Garius?"

"He is an archmage of some power," Haeromos nodded through his sneer, "Not someone you want to cross. Like many of the Arcane Brotherhood, Black Garius aspires to rule, regardless of what harm it may cause."

"That is a common attitude among the Hosttower mages," Sand pointed out, "But it is uncommonly notable in Garius."

"What worries me is that he may well succeed in his aim to rule," Haeromos admitted grudgingly.

"Why do you say that?" Casavir asked.

"He is amassing power at a pace I dislike. I suspect his Brothers are beginning to grow wary of him. Followers flock to his side like vultures to a battlefield. Two in particular keep me awake at night; the woman Torio Claven and the giant brute Lorne."

"Ah, and so the pretty little circle reveals itself," Sand nodded, a wicked smile coming to his face. Isaviel shared the look. This made a lot more sense.

"Torio you might know as Luskan's ambassador to Neverwinter. A treacherous snake that one. The other one, Lorne, lacks Torio's guile, but compensates for it with brute force. He's a savage fighter, and extremely good with a blade. I suspect he handles most of Black Garius's dirty work," Haeromos paused, staring down at his table, then looked back up to Isaviel, his expression icy once more, "Now the lot of you out. I have work to do."

Port Llast's only innkeeper, the dubiously proud owner of The Ruffled Sail, had proved a shrewdly non-judgemental man. It was correct payment and some relative peace that he needed, and he told them as much when he returned from showing Shandra and Casavir up to their rooms. They were all weary when they trudged into the inn, trailing mud and freshly fallen water. The main room, complete with a bar, was warm and dimly lit, with only one window to let in the daylight and a large fire around which a few tables with soft chairs had been arranged. It was not quite deserted – a few old men sat smoking, drinking and jesting familiarly in the far left corner, while another man of about their age swayed on a stool at one end of the bar. A young woman, dressed in mud-caked travelling leathers with a long braid of auburn hair sat at the other end, nursing a bowl of broth with one hand as she hungrily spooned the food into her mouth.

"Your newest recruit seems somewhat shaken from today's events," Sand remarked as he joined Isaviel and Bishop at the bar.

"Shandra, you mean? Casavir tells me she has taken to her daily combat practice better than most Greycloaks he has seen," Isaviel pointed out, but sighed, staring into her ale, "But you're right, and it worries me a little. We can't have her gagging at the sight of blood. There will be much more before this is over."

"But she knows that survivor, Alaine. They seem to trust each other, even care about each other. If we can, it would seem wise to use that to our advantage. That girl will inevitably be called as a witness at your trial," Sand pressed.

"She's a stupid little bitch with no sense. I'd sooner slit her throat," Isaviel groaned, and Bishop snorted at her words.

"Promise me you won't talk like that in the trial," Sand beseeched her, and she laughed bitterly at him.

"If they find me guilty – and if that little bitch is called up I don't see how they won't – will they hang me?" Isaviel felt a strange coldness stab through her heart at the thought – thus far she had managed to avoid such ideas, but Alaine's single-minded hatred had led her to doubts.

"No," Sand shook his head, "Hanging is a betrayer's death. You are not a betrayer, you would be branded murderer if you were to be found guilty. I believe your accuser has the right to choose your death."

"The Luskans," Bishop growled, "They'd burn you, don't doubt it. Some fake words about fairness, justice. Fire for fire."

"Fire has never done me much harm," Isaviel said a little feebly, "Whoever my father was, there's something in my past which means I don't burn."

"Qara's fires burned you," Bishop pointed out.

"Yes, and trust me, they will find a way," Sand nodded grimly, "Although…there is another option. It would not be possible to invoke it until after a failed trial, but if necessary, we could claim the right of trial by combat."

"And who would I fight?" Isaviel asked incredulously, "That harlot Torio? All the hosts of Luskan?"

"Of course not, and of course it would not be easy. You could always call up a champion, though. I imagine that's what Torio would do in your position," Sand told her with a roll of his eyes.

"The paladin would fight for you. And the Dwarf," Bishop grunted.

"I am not a defenceless little girl! If fighting is necessary, I will fight for my own life," Isaviel scowled, and that brought a smirk to Bishop's face.

"Hmm. Let's wait until later to think on that. It is a last resort, after all," Sand said, watching the pair with careful eyes, "If you need me I will be by the fire. It has been some years since I went a-travelling and I am certainly not used to all this mud and rain."

As Sand left, Bishop's eyes lingered on the auburn haired woman over to the left, a look akin to horror passing over his face before he composed himself. She seemed to sense him looking, for she turned around and blanched at the sight of the ranger, then looked to Isaviel with tired blue eyes. Her face was drawn and pale, her frame thin. She had a bow and quiver by her feet, but no other visible weapons.

"Bishop," she hissed.

"Malin," he agreed, his pretence at amiability dripping with mockery, "Still playing girl-of-the-wood?"

"I was wondering when you would drag your sorry carcass back to Port Llast," the woman, Malin, hissed in response.

"You waited for me," he sneered, "I'm touched. Then again, it's not like you could have tracked me down if you'd wanted to."

"I take it you two know each other?" Isaviel demanded with some annoyance. It was bad enough that she was being forced to lean back for them to have this hateful interaction, but they clearly also had some past knowledge of each other. That made her angry, as well as uncomfortable.

"You could say that," Malin shrugged, regarding the Moon Elf more steadily now, looking her up and down with no particular judgement clear in her eyes before continuing, "Liking him is another matter, however. You'd do well to think on that, whoever you are."

"This half elf slip of a girl here nearly got me…and herself…killed several times over while scouting the Luskan border. Impatience, incompetence…these things get scouts killed. And those are her most endearing traits, let's just put it that way. That's the trouble when you're not fully an Elf…and not fully human. It's like you've always got something to prove."

"Try telling Sand that and see what he has to say," Isaviel remarked, narrowing her eyes at Bishop's tone. She did not know if she should be offended, too, so she turned away from him and towards Malin, instead.

"What's your business here, anyway? I dread to think how he managed to wheedle his way into your life. Believe me, you'd do better without him."

"Watch your tongue, girl," Bishop warned, but Malin ignored him.

"I think that's for me to decide, not you," Isaviel responded sharply now, watching the way the two interacted. They looked to hate each other just a little too much. Oh, yes, there was definitely history there.

The Moon Elf was therefore substantially relieved when Bishop huffed, downed his drink, and stalked out of the inn's front door to seek the solitude of night. Watching him for a moment, Isaviel decided that she wanted a little more time to form her accusations towards him about this gangly auburn haired ranger beside her, so she moved to join Sand across the room.

"Wait," Malin hissed, taking her swiftly by the arm, though she pulled back quickly when the Moon Elf placed a warning hand on a kukri.

"What is it?"

"You have to stay away from Bishop. There's no love in him; there's nothing at all but hate. He doesn't care about killing – or…he care's about it so much it's the only thing he loves. Even more than himself."

"Mind your own business. I can take care of myself."

"You're jealous, I know, but…"

The Moon Elf's anger flashed at the words, wishing it weren't true, and she hit the ranger hard, the half-Elf's head snapped to the side, and she spat blood. She looked like she had expected it, and a slight smirk curled on her lips, hate in her eyes. When their stares met once more, Malin made no move to retaliate, but that smile was enough.

"You are a monster too, just like him," she told Isaviel with a steady voice that cut like cold, cold steel, "But he will destroy you if you let him."

Shrugging on her pack and bow, Malin stalked past Isaviel and headed for the little swinging door that led up to the bedrooms, not looking back once, but the Moon Elf followed her movements, her anger altered to a strange kind of sickness. It reminded her of doubt, regret and disappointment. She had always told herself that she did not care what others thought of her, but something about Malin's words had made her uneasy – even through her jealousy. Looking across the room, beyond the path the young ranger had taken, she saw Sand watching her thoughtfully, by the fire as he had promised. He had hung his cloak up close to the flames with his boots below that, as though some strange invisible person stood there with his back to her. Karnwyr sat gnawing on a bone beside those boots, still looking utterly bedraggled after the day's rainfall.

"I'll have no more fighting, girl, or you'll be out on the streets," the innkeeper was telling her as Sand gestured for her to join him, and she looked now towards the big, bushy-browed, bearded man at the bar, a little dazed.

"Yes, I know," she nodded absently and he raised a sceptical eyebrow at her as if he expected some apology, but she just turned with barely a thought and headed for the exit.

Stepping out into the night, the air was cold and gusty, battering at her cloak as only coastal winds could. The briny smell of the sea was all about, mingling with the lingering damp. The sky was pitch black with night-time cloud and the mud churned under her feet as she walked, past the spot where those thugs had bled earlier in the day and around to the right, closer to the coast, where the muddy ground gave way to a patch of grass before crumbling to hard, crunching gravel. Soon she espied a dark cloaked figure against the shifting cold swell of the sea. He was quite a distance away, standing at the very end of one of the jetties, leaning against the tall post to which a fishing boat had been moored. As she approached, she could not help but wonder at his thoughts, for he could not be admiring the view – it was too dark for human eyes, and none too pretty besides with all that cloud and endless, endless still water. The Sea of Swords was tame this night, but he was certainly not listening to its calming rhythmic slosh, either.

"We have to leave," Bishop said grimly as Isaviel approached, though he did not look round. She had not tried to quieten her footsteps, for then he surely would not have heard her.

"And where would we go?" Isaviel sighed, "It's the coward's way out – I didn't take you for a coward. But if you want to run, go ahead. I'm not your master, I won't stop you. I won't even bother judging you…" she was interrupted when he spun around suddenly, kissing her hard, dragging her body against his.

"That's not what I'm going to do," he growled against her.

For a moment she stared up at him with wide golden eyes, fearful of the emotions she saw in his, even as one hand twined into her long braid of hair, pulling her head back as he moved her around so that she was pressed against the wood post. She could feel the thick rope fastened around it to moor the boat there. She could hear it creaking in the swell…but then Bishop's free hand was travelling over her skin, as he kissed a line down her neck. When they drew apart a little, Bishop was grinning at her and she narrowed her eyes at him playfully.

"Weren't you just talking about running?"

"It's you they want, not me. And like I said, killing Luskans is a hobby of mine. You might be a fool for not leaving when you have the chance, but so long as I have the power to do…that to you, I'm staying."

Have the power. That was indicative of his outlook. Power. He knew he could control her – though he seemed to have forgotten she could match him in that, as well. And she meant very well to remind him of it, taking him by the hand and heading back to the inn. Two could play at this, and two would, especially when they had one more night after this one in Port Llast before leaving for the wilds and Ember.