Crossroad Keep, Neverwinter Territory
Lady Neeshka Lainsford, Commander of Crossroad Keep, sat with her legs tucked up under her on the great oaken chair from which she held counsel. Little Addie was balanced on her arm, fast asleep, and she took great care not to awaken her. She was a robust baby, with lungs and vocal chords to match, but colicky, and getting her to be quiet for more than an hour was no small feat. And so, there she sat, the most powerful woman in Neverwinter, slave to a twelve-pound child, sitting in her uncomfortable throne while her legs fell asleep.
She nearly sprang three feet in the air as the heavy wooden door was thrown open with a "crack!" The baby awoke, blinking her yellow eyes several times before taking a deep breath and howling. Neeshka furiously tried to soothe her. Tiefling babies were often unpredictable. Khel, who was now going on two, sometimes had tantrums so violent they actually opened portals in the fabric between worlds, and the last time the cook had failed to give him the loaf of sugar he wanted, she wound up having to fight off several lesser demons with her rolling pin. She couldn't tell what Addie might do, but as each cry let loose the unmistakable odor of brimstone, she feared what might be to come. She glared up to see who had considered it appropriate to make such a noise.
"Sand, what in the hells do you want?" she all but shrieked, leaping to her feet and gently bouncing her daughter in her arms.
The moon elf looked down his nose at the squealing infant. He snapped his fingers and a transparent orb rose from his hands, sort of like an enormous soap bubble, and drifted towards them. Neeshka had learned that the enchanter, while easily annoyed, was harmless, and was downright relieved when the orb turned out to be some kind of sound barrier that enveloped the baby and left them in blissful silence.
"I know you've had quite a bit on your plate, what with all the... spawning," the elf said, "And the running of the castle and the rebuilding and all that nonsense..."
"The rebuilding of the castle and that nonsense affords you a home and a place to study," Neeshka said. She had been practicing pitching her voice lower, ever since Nasher had bestowed upon her the title of Captain and control of Crossroad Keep. Her natural voice tended towards the "shrill" or "piercing" and, as she had observed with her predecessor the Lady Adahni Farishta, a lower voice made for a more compelling command. She had also practiced using big words, just like Addie had. At first she felt silly, using turns of phrases like characters in classical novels did, but soon it came naturally to her, and she appreciated the respect given to her when she did so.
"I do not in any way intend to disparage such fine... ah... work," Sand said, hurriedly, suddenly reminded of the frequency with which either he or his associate, the mage Kailana Andarion, accidently blew a hole in the wall or let acid eat through the floor in a botched experiment, and also the speed with which the new Lady of Crossroad saw that they were patched up, "But, back to what I came here for... you, of course, remember your predecessor here?"
"I named my daughter after her," Neeshka said. The sensation of holding the infant's writhing body in her arms but with no sound rattling her eardrums was a strange one, but given the child's sheer lung capacity, not all bad.
"Well, then, you will remember that her body has not yet been recovered," Sand said.
"We were very deep under the Mere," Neeshka said, swallowing. The memory of that dreadful day, of the elation of their victory over the Guardian cut sickeningly short by the collapsing ruins, still woke her in her sleep and sent her into a panic which had her curled in a fetal position in the corner for an hour at a time. She held her daughter tight against her chest as though to guard against her heart, which had begun to beat double time.
"And the excavation has gone on for nearly two years," Sand said, "Under the guidance of myself and Kailana. Yes, yes, I know, we sold it to Nasher as an archaeological project, strictly to study the Illefarn and to figure out if anything they left behind might cause us such problems in the future," He sighed heavily, "But Lana did lose her son. And so she's thrown herself into it with a vigor I've never seen from her before. And, well... it's taken two years and some of the strongest magics we've managed to conjure, but we've gotten to the bottom."
"The bottom?" she asked.
"We found them," Sand said, "Mostly skeleton by now, of course, but... they were there. Elanee and Grobnar and Khelgar and Casavir and that gith whose name I could never pronounce. Qara too. Right... where we left them."
"And Adahni," Neeshka sighed, "Well, we all knew they were gone. I suppose we can give them proper funerals, as they were due. Bagpipes and all that."
"No," Sand said, "That is what I needed to tell you about. What is not news is the corpses we found. The news is whose corpses we did not find."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Adahni was not there. Grobnar, Zhjaeve, and Elanee fell in the main chamber. And Qara when Adahni ran a knife through her. Khelgar was under a bunch of rubble where he held up that pillar while we escaped. Adahni and Casavir were on our heels as we made our way out, and then we were separated by that cave-in."
"I remember," Neeshka said. Addie – Little Addie – Addie Lainsford - had stopped crying and fallen asleep on her shoulder, and she held her tight against her, worrying irrationally that her own dreadful memory would destroy her daughter's innocence, "I was there, remember?"
"Casavir was there, just where we left him," Sand said, "But only him. She was not there. There was, also a small chimney there, as though someone had dug down - or up."
"So she managed to crawl off somewhere else to die," Neeshka died. Hope kindled in her breast, but she dared not believe for a moment. It would just mean disappointment.
"We've been tearing that ruin to bits for two years," Sand said, "We would have found her, if she were there. Now, I can't make any promises, but I will tell you this... if she is dead, she did not die in the Guardian ruins. And, that's not all. You may have noticed that there are two other people we did not find there."
"Ammon Jerro," Neeshka said. She furrowed her brow and searched her memory. The adrenaline had been coursing through her veins, but as she tried to relive that awful day, she realized she could not remember where he had been as they made their escape, "He didn't even run with us, did he."
"He's a man with great knowledge of walking among the planes," Sand said, "I should not be surprised that he managed to wink out of existence. I don't suppose we'll be seeing him any time soon. But, there's one other."
"Bishop? Well we knew he might have escaped, he had a good long head start before the chambers began collapsing. That's why we've got that manhunt that has gone on since then," Neeshka said.
"Yes, the manhunt that you are supposed to be heading up, and which has come up with a fat lot of nothing in the time you've been in charge of it," Sand said, "Now, I'm not casting aspersions on your investigatory prowess, I know full well it could never hope to compare to my own. However..."
"What," Neeshka said, "I told you loud and clear how I feel about that!"
"It makes you look weak," Sand said, "News that the bodies have been recovered is going to hit the streets of Neverwinter like a ton of bricks and you, my dear Mrs. Lainsford, are going to be under intense scrutiny when people remember that little to no headway has been made to locate the traitor Bishop. Or... the Knight Captain Farishta, who may or may not be alive."
"I can't dare to hope," she said meekly.
"Well," Sand said, "You know that, and I know that, but what the common folk of the territory know is that if she is found, you are no longer the lady of this Keep."
"I could give two sticks about being lady of this Keep," Neeshka said, the indignation making her voice return to its customary pitch, "I didn't even want it. I only took it because someone had to do it. And I can't exactly go back to thieving with a husband and two kids who still crap their pants!" She looked down sheepishly, "Wait, this spell keeps her from hearing what I can say too, right?"
"She's too young to repeat you," Sand said.
"Khel's started cursing," Neeshka said, "He's barely two."
"Well we shouldn't really be surprised," Sand said. He walked up to her and motioned for her to hand the baby to him. He cradled the little tiefling, stunted horns and all, in his arms and studied her face with the tip of one long, narrow finger. The baby looked up at him, yellow eyes wide.
"Do you really think she's alive?" Neeshka asked.
"Well," Sand said, "I saw the tunnel myself. There have been cave-ins since, but... well... you know I have superior powers of extrapolation."
"You only talk about them every other day."
"Casavir died of his injuries. Broken ribs, fractured skull, big blow to the back of the head," he said, "As though he were face down when the rocks came down. What if he shielded her from the worst of it?"
"But they were so far underground..."
"And she was injured as well. Hells, the fight with the Guardian alone would have killed a lesser woman. There is no way she could have dug herself out."
"So somebody else..." Neeshka raised her eyebrows, the realization washing over her, "You think Bishop got out and went back for her. Why would he do that, after he betrayed us?"
"I think he loved her in his own way," Sand said, "And since you know how I feel about that particular emotion, you know that I do not say this lightly."
"I almost want to let them be," Neeshka said, "If they've managed this far. If they haven't both perished already."
"It would be nice to have a body to give to Nasher," Sand said, "Or some other proof that they've passed on to the next world. Whichever world that may be."
"They could be anywhere," Neeshka said, quickly qualifying it with, "If they're still alive."
"Well," Sand said, "I have to ask a favor, if you would like me to find out. Like I said, word of this will hit the masses of the Docks of Neverwinter eventually. they suffered sorely in the war, surely it will not be welcome news that the Betrayer may live. It would reflect poorly on all of us, and I know better than any the fickle charms of the public opinion."
Neeshka sighed, "I knew it. Always a favor with you."
"Turn the investigation over to me," he said, "And give me the resources I need."
"What's your plan?" Neeshka said, "You always have something up your sleeves."
"Well, we can rule out one possibility very easily. If they are dead, if they are no longer in this world, then they must be in the next. Adahni may be difficult to track down, I don't think any of us really knew what was in that head of hers. Bishop, however, made no bones about his refusal to follow a god."
Neeshka shivered. Sand handed the child, who had yawned and gone to sleep in his arms, back to her mother, "So you propose to seek him in the next world?"
"It's not outside of the realm of possiblity. If Kailana and I, with the help of Aldanon, could figure out to travel there, we could determine once and for all the fate of the Betrayer. It would be off your head."
"You're going to the Wall of the Faithless?"
"It would remove some doubt. Nip a few riots in the bud," Sand said, "And you know how Nasher hates riots. If I can show him with his own eyes that the Betrayer of Crossroad is now in the tender care of Kelemvor, it will put the matter to rest. It won't nip at your heels any longer. It's worth a try."
"Draw up the paperwork," Neeshka said, "You know I'm barely literate. I'll sign it."
"Thank you, my lady!" he said, clapping his narrow hands together, "Oh, this will be such a change from figuring out how to levitate those damned boulders."
There was a grand processional from the Mere where they had fallen, up the winding road to Crossroad Keep. Neeshka headed it up with her husband Cormick, followed by her lieutenant Bevil Starling and his wife, who had been Adahni's sergeant, but who had left the military life to resume her peacetime trade blacksmithing. She never made swords anymore, though. Only horseshoes and plowshares. The pipes played lowly, the drums beat a slow but steady beat. The journey took most of a day at their solemn pace. Neeshka, knowing the corpses of her friends were being drawn by black horses behind her, long to hold her son to her breast, but the cold and damp of the Mere was no place for a small child, and so she settled for squeezing her husband's hand. But for now, they would be escorted by their friends and enemies, from the Mere to Crossroad keep, and from there to their various resting places. Casavir's mother, Kailana, took his remains to Arvahn, and there laid him in the crypt, where a stone sarcophogus had been prepared for him years before. Grobnar and Khelgar they cremated and installed in slots in the wall besides the lovers who had predeceased them. Elanee was brought to the Mere she had called home and there left to the trees she had loved.
Qara was carried in a burlap sack back to Neverwinter and dumped unceremoniously into the Tomb of the Betrayers. As Neeshka heard her two-year-dead bones crack dryly against the stone walls, she felt an air of finality. However, on her ride back to Neverwinter, she thought on what Sand had told her, and knew that something was just beginning.