Violet walked with Storm back into town, making the most of the opportunity to learn as much as she could in the time she was allotted. On the way, Storm assured her that magic itself is neither good nor evil. Rather, the person welding it determines whether it is used for good or evil. After her initial panic, Violet had to admit she already knew that, but it still made her feel better to hear it from Storm.

Storm also counseled her to either retrieve her grimoire or buy another one, then record all the spells she knew so far.

"Write out their specific effect," Storm said. "Be very detailed. How long it lasts. How far it reaches. The number of victims. The type of damage and how it is expressed. Don't leave out a single detail. This is how you will lock down the spell in your mind. The intent. Then, each day, memorize the ones you use the most, or think you will want to use. If you are staying in town, shopping, you might not want to memorize the same spells that you would want to use if you were going into battle, right?"

"Right," Violet nodded.

"Memorize them every day without fail. If you only have time for one, then memorize just the one. Not only will this lock them into your mind, but you will also be exercising your mind so that you will eventually be able to memorize more spells as you learn them."

"Try to set aside time to experiment with new spells and record the results. Work on it until you get it exactly the way you want it. But don't overreach. The best spells build upon one another."

That was one thing she knew from her mother and grandmother.

"You should carry your grimoire with you if possible."

Violet made a mental note to find something akin to a backpack or messenger's bag.

In front of the inn, Storm gave her one last piece of advice.

"Remember, it's not the words or the symbols or the components…," she let the sentence trail off.

"It's the intent behind them," Violet finished.

"Truly, I wish I had more time, but duty calls," Storm looked towards the northeast where Myth Drannor lay. "I do not know when I will be back, but I will seek you out if you're still here and we will continue your lessons." She turned her attention back to Violet, "if you change your mind about returning to your world, perhaps we can make a more lasting relationship. I may not have the power I once possessed, but I haven't forgotten anything. It's been a long time since I took on an apprentice."

"I will keep that in mind," Violet promised. "Thank you. For everything."

"Good luck with your quest for knowledge, Violet. Do not let it lead you down a dark path, though. Remember the source."

"I will. Good luck with Myth Drannor."

Violet watched as the elf strode away. She had a lot to think about.

Since it was lunch time, Violet had intended to grab a quick bite then retire to her room to work on her magic. However, as she entered, an easily recognizable shout greeted her.

"Violet lass!" Vorn Irongut thundered from a table near that bar.

Despite her disappointment at not being able to practice, it was hard not to grin at the welcome. Weaving her way through the full tavern, she approached the group watching her. Milya lounged on her stool with an amused smile and the two elf brothers exchanged looks.

As soon as she was close enough, Vorn wrapped her in a hug, lifting her feet off the floor and spinning her in a circle.

"By my ancestors, you are a sight for sore eyes!" he exclaimed as he proceeded to squeeze the breath out of her.

"Put the girl down, Vorn, before she passes out from lack of air," Milya chided him.

Immediately, the dwarf loosened his grip and she slid through his arms until her feet were planted firmly on the floor once again.

"Sorry, lass," he said gruffly as he released her, "Milya was terrible worried about you after we lost touch. Had to practically throw her over my shoulder to drag her out of them tunnels."

Behind him Milya snorted, "right. And who was clawing at the collapsed tunnel bawling like a smooth-chinned youth?"

Vorn coughed, "I have no idea what she's talking about. I had faith that you would find your way out, and here you are." He slapped her heartily on the back, making her stumble into the table. "Come! Join us."

"Thank you," she told him as she steadied herself and the table. Luckily, the four others at the table had grabbed their drinks, keeping them from spilling.

Tamirell pulled another stool up to the table for her and patted it.

"How did it go with Storm?"

"She's amazing," Violet answered. "She's given me a lot to think about and she offered to take me on as her apprentice."

"Her apprentice?" Tamival scoffed. "How will that work when you return home?"

Violet ignored him and looked over at the sixth person at the table, a lean man with long, black hair pulled back in a queue, a thin moustache with the tips waxed into points, and a neatly trimmed beard, also pointed. Despite looking like a villain in an old pirate movie, his dark eyes and smile were warm and friendly. He reminded Violet of someone, but she couldn't quite put her finger on who.

"Hello, we haven't been introduced," she said.

"Forgive me, lovely lady," he said, standing up and giving her a smart bow. "I am Osvif Gillain, Warden of the Beast Country."

"Pleased to meet you, Osvif. I'm Violet in case you missed Vorn yelling across the room."

His smile deepened, revealing a dimple on the right side of his mouth, "indeed, I think the entirety of the Dalelands now know your name."

She laughed gayly, feeling better than she had in a long time. Lunch with the group of adventurers was a gregarious affair with everyone taking turns telling stories about one ridiculous monster encounter or another. Even Violet had her own story to add about the blue-skinned creature that tripped while rushing at her and fell headfirst into the fissure. When she mimed its legs kicking in the air, everyone except Tamival burst out laughing. When the laughter died down, Osvif asked for a better description.

"Xvarts," he pronounced afterwards. "You were lucky. They aren't too bright. And the two of you? Sitting in the dark?" He shook his head in astonishment. "That guardsman should have known better. Something far worse could have crept up on you without you ever hearing it."

"He's lucky he's dead," Tamival said with a snarl, slapping his hand on the tabletop.

His words stopped Violet cold. She pushed back her stool, toppling it over, and grabbed Vorn's tankard of ale, flinging the contents into the elf's face.

"How dare you?" she said in a tight voice. "He is the only reason I'm alive to tell the story."

She spun away from the table and blindly pushed her way through the now quiet crowd, leaving the group stunned.

Once in her room, she shut and locked the door before throwing herself across the bed. Her eyes pricked with unshed tears that refused to fall. Hugging her pillow, she rolled over to stare at the ceiling.

Reed had made mistakes, yes. So had she, though. And he had done everything he could to keep her safe. Neither of them had ever been in the underdark, and he had been so young and inexperienced. He had only been a guardsman for two years and had never been out of Deeping Dale. Yes, he had let greed get the best of him at the end, but could she really blame him? She had, after all, grabbed a handful of enchanted jewelry. If she had been faster, if she had better control over her magic, maybe he would still be alive. Her breath caught painfully in her throat at the thought.

A quiet knock at her door interrupted her thoughts.

"Go away," she called sharply.

The knock repeated.

"I said go away!" she said more forcefully.

She waited for a third knock, but none followed. Whoever it was had obeyed her wishes. Now she was alone with her morbid thoughts.

"I'm an idiot," she sighed.

Violet sat on her bed with her back against the wall and breathed deeply. Remembering what Storm had told her about having a grimoire to record everything, she was trying something different. Meditating until her mind was calm, she pictured the carnelian stone she had left on the bar downstairs. Carl, the barkeep, had looked at her askance when she had placed it on the end of the counter and asked him not to mess with it.

Once the image of the reddish-orange stone was fixed in her mind, she focused her intent and spoke her incantation, "èist thigibh a m'ionnsuidh a nis."

Nothing.

Sighing, she started over. First clearing her mind, then forming the picture of the stone as it set on the counter.

"Èist thigibh a m'ionnsuidh a nis!" she said with conviction.

From downstairs, there came an alarmed shout. Then a scream and the sound of glass breaking.

Before she could scramble off the bed, the stone blasted a hole through the door to her room and slammed into her chest.

She let out a scream of her own. That hurt!

A heavy set of boots stomped up the stairs to stop in front of her door before it was thrown open. Carl, the barkeep, stood there glaring at her.

"What in the flaming foundries of hell was that?" he demanded angrily.

"I'm sorry!" she blurted, standing. "I didn't mean…," she stammered. "Was anyone hurt?"

"No, but you scared the life out of Jemma. She dropped an entire tray when that thing flew by her head. Barely missed her, it did!"

Violet rubbed the sore spot on her chest. "I'm sorry."

"You're gonna owe for the damages, you are." He looked pointedly at the ragged hole in her door, "all o'em."

She nodded, "I understand."

He glared at her a moment longer before stomping away.

After closing the door behind him, she flopped down on the bed and giggled. It had worked!

She just needed to refine it.

Breathing slowly, Violet pictured her grimoire left behind in Highmoon: the deep purple brocade that covered it, the feel of the fine linen pages, the way it smelled when she opened it.

With that image in her mind, she focused her intent, imagining the tome appearing in front of her here in Shadowdale and spoke her incantation, "èist thigibh a m'ionnsuidh a nis."

Before she took another breath, the tome popped into existence and dropped into her hands. She opened her eyes and grinned.

"Oh, sweet goddess! I did it! Did you see that, Nori? I did it!"

On the vanity, the fae lifted her head languidly and blinked at Violet, "merrow?"

She giggled, "I'm sorry I interrupted your nap, your highness. Please, go back to sleep."

Without another sound, that's exactly what Nori did, but Violet wasn't going to let her familiar's disinterest dampen her joy at her spell's success. Opening the book, she found her last entry and reached for something to write with, only to stop. She didn't have anything. She had only summoned her grimoire and not her writing tools.

Sighing, she set the book aside, she scrambled off the bed and opened the chest at the end of it. Shuffling through her few belongings, she hefted the bag with all her money. Going back to the bed, she dumped the contents out and counted what she had. There were 210 gold coins, she knew that for sure, but the rest of the coins were confusing. There were 10 pale gold coins, 35 large silver coins, and 105 silver coins that were just a bit smaller than the gold coins. The two different silver coins were almost the same color, but the smaller coins had more of a bluish undertone. Could they both be silver? Shaking her head, she counted out 10 of each type and scooped the rest back into the bag. The 40 coins she kept out she put in a smaller pouch and dropped into her pocket.

It was time to go shopping.

Violet's first stop was downstairs. She showed the different coins to Carl, who quickly got over his irritation when she dumped them on the bar. She was surprised to find that the smaller silver coins were platinum and worth far more than gold by weight. The strange light gold coins were electrum, which were worth half as much as gold, but five times as much as silver. Now, she knew what they were, but she was still figuring out their buying power. While she figured she may have a small fortune up in her room, it didn't do her any good if she didn't know how to spend it.

Armed with new knowledge, she made her way to the general store Storm had pointed out that morning. Upon entering, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dimly lit interior. Standing near the entrance, she surveyed the store. It reminded her of a cross between a small mom & pop owned mercantile and a cluttered antique store complete with the musty smell.

"May I help you?" the shopkeeper approached her.

"Yes," she answered. "I need a writing set, a bag big enough to hold one or two books, and…," she tapered off. What else did she need? She knew she would be traveling again soon and would need supplies, but she wasn't sure exactly what she would need. Maybe she could get Tamirel or Milya to come back with her and help. But they were busy, and she really didn't want to impose upon them anymore than necessary.

"And?" the shopkeeper prompted.

"I need a traveling kit, but I'm not sure what all I should include," she admitted.

He nodded, "I understand. We have a good selection to choose from, what with all the traffic we get through the dale. Let me show you and let you decide."

An hour later, she left the store with a tightly wrapped bundle made up of her new bedroll and a pack containing the rest of her travel supplies. A roomy leather bag with a saddlebag type of closure and a strap long enough to loop over her shoulder and head held a neatly packed writing kit, a new pair or leather boots, a beautifully embroidered pair of soft slippers, and a sturdy, tooled leather belt with four pouches of various sized attached that had toggle closures instead of ties. There was also room on the belt for her dagger sheaths. On her feet were a second pair of slippers with sturdy leather soles for everyday wear. Under her arm, she carried another bundle.

Dropping most of her purchases off in the room at the inn, she decided to visit the seamstress a little earlier than planned.

Shay was surprised to see her before dinner.

"I'm afraid I only have a few things finished for you," she told Violet.

"I understand," Violet assured her. "I know I'm early, but I wanted to talk to you about some of the items you're making for me."

As much as she adored dresses and missed all her dresses from home that she, her mother, and grandmother had lovingly made, they had just not proved practical for the situations she had found herself in since coming to Faerun. She had been thinking about it for a while and had come up with a compromise. She unrolled the bundle she had brought with her. Rolled together were two pairs of pants made with a sturdy, canvass-like fabric, two woolen pairs, and one pair made from a lovely dark blue cotton. All were too long for her, but she figured the seamstress could take care of that.

Shay was silent while Violet described what she wanted, nodding from time to time. When she was done, she looked at the other woman.

"What do you think?"

"It's a good idea," Shay answered. "I have seen something like it before." She picked up one of the heavy canvass pairs. "These are horrible, though. They will chafe and leave your skin a mess."

"Maybe a liner?" Violet suggested. She had picked those with her time in the underdark in mind.

"Maybe," Shay pursed her lips, thinking. "I might have something better, though."

For the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening, the two women worked together. Shay reluctantly allowed Violet to help by hemming items. Luckily, Shay had a stash of partially to completely finished garments that had been commissioned, but for some reason, the buyers never came back for. Using these and the pants Violet had purchased, they made good progress. By the time they stopped for the evening, Violet had three complete outfits with three others in process. Before she left the seamstress's home, she commissioned one last outfit and paid in full for everything.

Back at the inn, she hurried up to her room to change out of her borrowed dress and into one of her new ensembles. Unbraiding her hair, she brushed it out and just pulled the front back into a high ponytail, leaving the back loose. She didn't have any jewelry except the enchanted ones and her two pendants, which she left hanging outside her bodice. Not that she had much bodice to tuck them into anyway.

"What do you think, Nori?" she asked spinning in a circle in front of the mirror.

The fae just huffed from her spot in the middle of the bed.

"Fat lot you know," Violet scolded her good-naturedly.

The blue pants she bought had been taken up so that the fabric skimmed lightly over her hips and thighs without hanging too loosely. Shay had cut off the legs just above Violet's ankles and finished them off with the same lace her tunic was trimmed with. The tunic was a pale blue silk that had originally been an unfinished dress. The neckline was a plunging vee, but with a lace panel sewn in to keep it from being vulgar. The sleaves were fitted to her elbows, then flared out like trumpet flowers. The full skirt had been cut short in the front, hanging to mid-thigh, with the back left longer, reaching down to the backs of her knees. A wide sash made from a complementary brocade wrapped around her waist to complete the look. With her hair loose, flowing down her back to her waist in gentle waves, she thought she looked quite nice, even if she did say so herself.

Going back downstairs, she was met by Tamirell, who stood frozen, watching her approach. The look on his face confirmed that she looked good in her new clothes.

"You've been busy," he finally said.

She smiled up at him, "it's been a good day, for the most part." She looked around the tavern, "where's everyone?"

"They are waiting for us at the Harper's Hall. We're going there for dinner."

He offered her his arm and escorted her outside where Sirialle and Belia were saddled and waiting. Looking up at the horse she frowned. It was hard enough mounting the animal even before she lost nearly a foot of height. Now it seemed impossible.

"Let me…," Tamirell started, stepping towards her.

"No," she held out a hand to stop him. She couldn't count on there always being someone around to help her mount. "I have to learn to do this."

The first obstacle was getting her foot in the stirrup. Luckily, with her new wardrobe, she didn't have to worry about flashing her 'attributes' to everyone in sight. And she was grateful she had insisted that the pants not be skintight despite Shay's objections.

With her left foot in the stirrup and standing on her toes, she was barely able to reach the front edge of the saddle.

"Okay," she muttered, "let's not make a fool of ourselves."

Her first attempt ended with her on her butt. Getting up, she dusted off her clothes and chanced a look at Tamirell. Somehow, he managed to maintain a straight face. Her second attempt left her hanging off the side of Belia desperately trying not to fall again. When her grip failed, she slid down the side of the horse and barely avoided falling. A choking sound came from the elf behind her, and she refused to look at him. Her face flaming, she took a moment to collect herself before trying again.

"Any suggestions?" she asked, leaning her head against the warm side of Belia.

"Don't fall," came his half-strangled replied.

"Not helpful," she huffed.

"If you would just…,"

"No!" she snapped.

It was no wonder Tamival thought her completely inept. If she couldn't even master mounting a horse, how could he ever think her capable of taking care of herself?

With that thought, she straightened and took a determined breath. Reaching up to grasp the edge of the saddle, she kicked off with her right leg and lifter her weight with her left as she pulled herself up with the saddle. Throwing her leg over Belia's broad back, she fought to find her balance. After a moment, she settled down and looked over at Tamirell with a wide grin.

"I did it!"

He grinned back, "you did."

Then he walked to the head of the horse and picked up the hanging reins to hand them to Violet.

"You might want to hang on to these next time."