Jaheira felt herself falling through an endless abyss. She kept her eyes shut. If she believed them for a moment, she was lost.
But after some time had passed, all sensation stopped: no wind in her face, no sound above or behind or below, nothing within reach. It was as though whoever conjured the illusion had removed their attention, leaving her suspended in midair.
If Kalah thought he could simply wait her out, wait for her will to break, he was badly mistaken. Nonetheless, she wondered if she would be trapped here forever, with solid ground always out of her reach.
She searched for anything, any memory to distract herself from this predicament. A familiar face surfaced alongside a memory unbidden, every detail surprising her with its sharpness.
Jaheira was back in Irenicus's laboratory, inside some kind of entryway. Irenicus had killed Dynaheir in the ambush, but as far as she knew, the others in the Company were still alive. Or, at least, they had been just before he had drugged and restrained her. The cloud around her mind was lifting now, especially since the acrid smell of chemicals was overwhelming.
She moved one arm, then another. One was slightly loose.
She managed to bring herself up to sitting. She and Khalid had been tied up and were now laid upon light blue tiles arranged in the shape of a star. Above, copper pipes ran along the length of the ceiling, meeting a series of ridged pillars that sat against the wall. Everything had a harsh gleam, taken from the small wisps of white-blue light in iron sconces upon the wall.
At the end of the entryway was an open door with an achingly bright light pouring out, framing the shadow of a powerfully built man. Two beetle-browed and grim dwarfs, their faces distorted and contorted with mocking smiles, were dragging a thin, small figure towards him. Imoen's screams filled the hallway, tearing away the last trace of fog from Jaheira's head.
"This is the other girl, then?" The man's voice was deep and cold. "Bring her downstairs."
Two more of the same kind of dwarves came forward from a shadowy side door. Khalid finally stirred as the dwarves linked their arms in his, starting to drag him away.
She got loose the arm free, using it to move towards him. In desperation, she flung herself towards them, grabbing onto one of Khalid's bonds.
Khalid lazily opened his dark eyes, giving her a warm smile. For a moment, she thought he might still be drugged as well; this was far from the tightly-wound man she knew.
But the clarity in his glance told her otherwise. "Jaheira, darling," he said softly, "don't - don't worry about me. It'll b-be all right."
She felt a strong kick, one she didn't remember, and was thrown violently forward, landing face-down.
A sudden crash of sounds and smells burst around Jaheira as she came to rest upon the ground. She lay there for a moment, then finally opened an eye to a shadowed basalt flagstone.
Immediately she pulled herself up and looked back. The yellow and white strips on the tent quivered and rippled, finally settling into their usual pattern.
She turned. Inches away from her face was the point of a spear.
The spear's owner shouted, "Someone's out!"
Immediately half a dozen more guards converged, turning one spear into a thicket of points. The Helmite guard and a figure in a black cowled cloak rushed to the scene, close behind them, and pushed their way forward.
"Wait," the Helmite guard said. "You came in earlier, didn't you?"
"Yes. How long ago?" Jaheira asked.
"No more than half an hour or so," he said. He gestured with his hand to the figure in the cowl. "She wants answers."
Even from her spot on the ground, Jaheira couldn't discern the woman's eyes or face; the dark cowl covered everything except for the olive skin about her chin and throat. "Who is responsible?" the Cowled Wizard said, her voice a deep, serene contralto.
"Kalah," Jaheira said. "The inside is some kind of illusion, but he may be capable of much more."
The hooded face above her was motionless, but one of the guards snickered, saying, "Eh, why not just smoke the knee-biter and have done with it?"
"There may be many more inside," Jaheira said, shooting a glare in his direction. "All are trapped. I myself escaped by only the barest chance."
"You realize that a rescue may be impossible, if this Kalah is as strong as you say," the Cowled Wizard said.
"He can only harm those inside. Let an attempt be made, at least."
The other considered this for a while, then said. "Then make it. But for now, the only way to stop this is to destroy the tent and everyone inside. We cannot delay much longer."
Jaheira took her leave. She wandered the grounds around the circus tent, looking for someone she'd spotted on the edge of the commotion. Several smaller white tents were nestled in the back of the field, next to some animal pens. Nearby was a covered wagon filled with cargo - foodstuffs, extra poles and wires, and a rack of colorful and garishly decorated costumes. Inside sat a small girl, no more than ten, hugging her legs and staring nervously at the guards.
She flinched when Jaheira approached. "I didn't know he'd do it, I swear!" She unfolded herself and scurried backwards.
"Do you know something?"
The girl's eyes darted towards the costume rack on her left. "I didn't see anything!"
"That was not my question." Jaheira climbed onto the wagon with one stride.
The girl curled up again on the floor, sobbing. "They're all gone...they're all gone…"
"They can still be saved, but you must help me." She stood above the girl. "Look at me."
The girl wiped her eyes and obeyed.
Jaheira knelt down until her eyes were level with the girl's. "Tell me everything."
The girl bit her lip nervously. "My name is Myara, and I travel with the circus." She paused, seemingly unsure if that was what Jaheira wanted.
"Go on."
"As we were coming into Athkatla, I caught Kalah sneaking away one day while we were setting up. I, uh, didn't want to do my chores, so I followed him. He went to the Crooked Crane near the gates, and talked to a merchant. His name was Jafir, and he sold Kalah a magic lamp, and promised him he could have anything he wanted with it. I didn't like Jafir. There was something about him that made the hairs on my neck stand up."
Jaheira leaned forward. "How did you escape the circus tent?"
"I never went in. I saw Kalah go inside just before his performance today. He changes shape, sometimes, for his big entrance, but he was really scary-looking, like an ogre. It was in his eyes, too. And then all the guards came running and told me to get away -" She stared at the wooden floor of the covered wagon.
"When I said everything, Myara, I meant everything. There is something still that you know."
The girl bit her lip again. She said in a small voice, "I stole his lamp. I...I got it from his tent."
"Where is it now?"
The girl went over to the rack of costumes and pulled out a wooden crate filled with masks. The one she pulled out was round and hollow, hinged in front and back, and was covered with every kind of face on every side; along the Sword Coast it was common to wear such a mask when one was pretending to be a doppelganger. She pressed down on a small tab, and the hinge sprung open. Lying inside was a small bronze lamp, oval-shaped and inscribed with the letter J.
Myara held out the lamp inside the mask, as though she were afraid to touch it herself. "It's broken or something, I don't know," she said. "I can't make any magic."
Jaheira gently lifted the lamp out and looked inside the hole just above the J. The lamp was seemingly empty. According to the myths, such things needed to be rubbed in order for the magic to work. She guessed that if it were simple, Myara would already be living like a princess.
"You have been a great help, child." Jaheira palmed the lamp and got to her feet. Just before she left the wagon, she turned one last time to the girl. "Do you know Kalah?"
"Yeah. He'd talk to me sometimes. I think he's nice and he just wants some friends." She studied Jaheira's face. "Did he do something bad?"
"I will discover the truth." Jaheira jumped down from the edge of the wagon, turned right, and started making her way to the bridge, keeping a brisk pace.