The stench of the undead wights, once they were no longer animated from the negative energies, was abominable. And all over our fucking campsite.

There was nothing for it; it was the middle of the night and the only reasonable thing to do was to roll them down the hill. Terese and I drew the short straws and Boe cut pine boughs to sweep over the coagulated dead blood, trying to dispel the stench. Elyvia had her hands full trying to calm down the horses.

Terese grumbled, "That makes… How many undead attacks?"

I sighed. "Since heading to Uluvin and back? Three. But there were also the wyverns the other day—" I gritted my teeth and yanked as the dead wight caught on something. I groaned when a long strip of its flesh was yanked off in the brush. Terese started to laugh, then the deep breath on the initial inhale worked against her, which made me start to laugh, and we both gagged before we got it back under control. "Hells."

"Right. Good job Boe has those stealth spells. Don't fancy a fight with two hunting wyverns. You don't think all this is sent by the Zhents do you?"

I sighed. "More likely? The woods are dangerous." I grunted with the exertion, then shoved the body with my boot down. "More likely coincidence. They've got their own problems right now. Besides, they didn't send the gnolls yesterday."

She groaned. That had been a nasty fight. Or, rather, what could have been a very difficult fight indeed, except that Boe had, once again, bought us time once we got the horses into a run, and by pure happenstance, had ran into Ghost Tribe hunters. We had set up an ambush; I volunteered as bait and I had ran them right through our traps and tripwires—rather proud of myself for that one. Not that it meant much to Elyvia. The flind had been nasty.

Terese said, "I'm not so sure. Andrews raised dead before."

I wasn't going to debate the issue. I did not want to talk about my ex. And I did not want to think about him. And I did not want to spend every damned night wishing it had been different.

I wished a lot of things had been different.

She must have noticed my melancholy. "You all right, Val?"

I lifted my head, stepping back from the corpses. I made a face. "It's the smell. And you are covered in it, Terese." It was the reason we were judged as the best to haul them, since we were already splattered.

She grinned. "Give us a hug, Val." She lifted her arms.

I gave a mock gasp of horror, and we both laughed.

She waved me over. "There's a stream over here." We walked over to the shallow brook and spent some time washing off the blood and the stench. She was a bit pensive, likely still cooking up some conspiracy-like way to blame Reyne.

By the time we made it back to camp, the others had cleaned up the site. I was grateful to crawl back into the tent, listening to Terese tell the others about her idea that we were being targeted. I refused to lend any credence to the idea. I knew Reyne didn't care about killing us. He had every opportunity to kill me or have me followed back to the others if he wanted that.

I shouldn't have confessed what I had seen.

He had trusted me with it.

Or else had been so arrogant that he knew the outcome would not matter.

We recuperated in Loudwater. Boe outfitted an inexpensive wagon with a couple of draft horses, which he assured us would be better for the road and carrying supplies. He had writs, talked to Lady Moonfire about allowing unharassed passage of the clans, should they agree and come through.

However, Orlbar didn't agree to it, and she cautioned us away from talking to Telbor about it. Were the rumors about him true? Did he serve the Zhentarim?

Gauntlet Frey called a secret meeting with us in a private room on the opposite end of town. Curuvar was there, and even Stewart.

They wore cloaks, and said that Frey and Stewart had come here in secrecy. They believed they were under watch by Zhentarim spies.

Frey said, "Telbor has squashed the plan to betray the Zhentarim. I started to push back, but considering how angry he became, I decided against it." He took a breath. "But through our secret communications with Moonfire, our plans are still supported, from her."

Stewart nodded. "Lady Moonfire will support our tactics. We've done our best so that Telbor has forgotten about them."

Frey went on to speak about other goings-on in town, mostly about the steady stream of refugees still in operation, his tactics as he carefully informed his officers, tested their loyalty. He added, "Captain Andrews dropped by again while you were away. At our meeting, Lord Telbor brought up the subject of the miners you brought, and their testimony against the Zhentarim. Andrews absolutely lost his composure, demanded they be arrested." He sneered. "I reminded him that this was not Orlbar and speaking against an alleged employer is not libel or slander here, especially with as many witnesses." He laughed. "You should have seen the way he seethed."

The others laughed. I remained quiet. I didn't for a moment doubt the miners' testimony, or the cruelty of Reyne's order, and that was part of what hurt. No one was really innocent here.

Curuvar puffed on a pipe. "I've hidden the rescued miners for the time being and am keeping careful watch upon them." He exhaled a plume of rich tobacco smoke.

What they were discussing was a coup. A fucking coup.

The others discussed Boe's plan, offering any advice or encouragement they knew that might help. Only I pointed out the obvious, "Orlbar will hear about it. Shouldn't they be informed, just so they don't attack on sight?"

The others largely regarded this as unnecessary. Stewart saw some benefit in keeping up appearances, though Frey thought it risky.

As we left the meeting, Elyvia split to visit her temple. Boe went with her. I walked with Terese back to the Red Boar Inn. I said, "I want to get Orlbar to agree to let them pass if they sign the treaties."

"There's no reason to go back there."

I shook my head. "I've thought about it. Thing is, the Uthgardt are afraid of me. You can see it on them every damned time they look at me. My presence will just be a detriment to the peace talks, and I'm no good at that either." I crossed my arms, to control my shaking hands. "So I'm trying to help in a way I actually can."

"If you're no good at talking to people, why do you think you can convince Orlbar?"

Because I'm fucking Reyne. "I don't have to. I just need Loudwater's approval, and a copy of the writ from Moonfire or Telbor to agree to allow movement through territories." I took a breath. "And I'll meet you back in Loudwater."

Terese tried to talk me out of it, but in the end, she agreed to talk to Frey in the morning before she and the others left about getting the writ I needed. I went with her. She reiterated my sales pitch, and I added, "We'll tell them that it's to move the Blue Bears out of the area, if we don't want Orlbar to know about Uluvin allying with them." Though I privately thought they'd figure that out fairly easily anyway.

Frey didn't like it much, but he conceded that it was a good course of action if I were confident that I wouldn't face trouble. I saw the others off and got the writ by noon. Another caravan was leaving the next morning, so I made plans to ride with it—it was safer.

The half-orc in charge of the caravan was almost two feet taller than me and twice as broad. I felt like the giant of a man would squash me by accident. He was no goliath, but he was still massive. I was glad he was on our side.

And I was sorry I had killed his full-orc relations in the forest. I didn't talk to him about it. I knew how I would feel if someone mentioned killing devils to me; for one, I would feel like it had nothing to do with me so why bring it up? For another, I would wonder why they felt the need to tell me at all—and know it was only because of my bloodline. Applying that same logic to this situation, I wasn't sure why I felt so guilty.

A Zhentarim patrol, two days from Orlbar, looked us over briefly, then waved us on. They were anxious and grim, and their recruits seemed particularly green. In the city, able-bodied men and women were going through physical training. Others were on an assembly line making arrows. The smithy was a noisy mess of banging hammers and hissing steam.

I found the open-air desk under the awning. No one was airing grievances. A sour-faced woman sat at the desk today, giving orders, reviewing shipment manifests and signing off on documents. She had an abacus and an accounts ledger.

I said, "Ma'am."

She glanced at me. "You're from Loudwater. The tiefling." She frowned. "And you look like you want something."

I sighed. "Captain Reyne Andrews."

"He's busy. Anything you can say to him, you can say to me."

I frowned. "I doubt it. But you can at least help with this part." I offered the document. "On Telbor's orders, Loudwater has forces negotiating with the Blue Bear tribe to break their alliance with the giants and head further west, to display that they are not involved. They'll need to move past Orlbar lands."

As she realized she didn't have authority to sign off on the agreement, her already sour expression curdled. "Hey, you." She called to a recruit. "See that the tiefling talks to Mayor Aisling. Hop to."

The recruit saluted smartly and showed me the way. I clutched the document in its case. The mayor's office was a bustle of other activity and I thought I would get lost in the goings on amidst the people. I was told to wait. I sighed, and waited, and waited some more.

Then I got up and started asking, then waited. Then got up and asked again. And waited.

At last, my patience was worn down and I got up to complain. People streamed in and out the open door. I started toward a clerk, then stopped. Reyne stood, just past the doorway, glaring at me. He walked past, set something on the mayor's desk and exchanged a few words, asked questions, then he stalked over to me.

I was reminded of what he had said earlier. My eyes fell. He said, "What are you doing here, tiefling? Lord Telbor sends his own correspondence."

Something caught in my brain at his words. I shoved the thought aside. "Waiting to talk to the mayor, actually. And I was available, so I'm the messenger." I held up the scroll case.

Reyne took it from me. "I hope they didn't keep you waiting long. I hate to think of you sitting here watching everyone go back and forth, eavesdropping."

It seemed more directed at anyone listening than me. I sighed. "Over an hour."

He looked up briefly, then pried at the scroll case. He tucked it under one arm and unfurled the small missive. He read it once, slowly. I waited, shifting from one foot to the other. He at last said, "They can pass on the outskirts, and only after presenting their clan seals. I want a copy of whichever clans agree. And I want to be informed on the entire operation."

I took a breath. "Can I get your demands in writing to bring back to Loudwater please? Ser." The last I said through gritted teeth.

Reyne dictated it to someone else while they wrote furiously fast. Reyne started past me. "You should be off immediately, tiefling."

I glared. "It's dark soon. The caravan already fucking left." Had come in to see about me and everything. I had had to wave them off and resolved to go on my own.

Reyne stilled. His voice was quiet, "The inn isn't presently accepting travelers."

That certainly didn't bother me. There were many empty homes on the farms. I shrugged and took Reyne's missive, put it with the other document, which bore Orlbar's seal of approval now, but I had to wait for Aisling to finish writing up the addendums. I said, "That's fine. I can camp."

Once an aide brought me the addendums as a seperate document, I rolled it up with the original and put it back in the scroll case.

Reyne was outside, talking to the woman who had directed me to the mayor's office. I passed them on my way to the stable. Reyne looked up, then hailed me. I grimaced, but I stopped. What did he want now?

He stopped a few feet from me, much further than even a casual acquaintance. "I sent a runner to the innkeep. They're to give you a private room." A pause. "And a bath."

I contained a sigh and looked away. "Thank you, Captain."

His voice was quiet. "Get out in the morning. Don't come back."

I knew I was going to be watched this time. I knew giving me the room at the inn was a way to watch me too. But I had no intention of snooping around.

I went to the inn. The innkeep's son, maybe a year younger than I had been when the adamantine was welded to my neck, glared at me across the counter as he found my key. He dropped it onto the table and it skittered then rested. I said, "Did I do something to offend you?"

The man sneered. He was skinny, and by the bruises, had clearly been drafted, and still had to come back to work after training. "Captain Andrews's orders. I'll get your washtub."

It took me longer than I am proud of until I understood, until the man had nearly filled it, one bucket at a time, refusing to let me help. "Were you and he together?" I said at last.

He glared. "An aasimar would never be interested in a fucking tiefling."

I blinked. "An aasimar?" I knew perfectly well what Reyne actually was. I just didn't think others realized it. Unless Reyne had told him?

"He's clearly descended from angels. Just look at him," the boy said, but his tone was still testy. Ah, Reyne had made that kind of impression on him. For a paladin, Reyne sure did get around. I doubted Bane cared. "Pine all you want, devilspawn. You look like a vagabond dock worker." An arrogant glare.

He really should have let me help with the water. Probably thought I'd poison the well. I sat on the chair in the small room, and tried to stay out of his way. Talking to him was only going to make me angry. But, being myself, I did it anyway. "How long ago was it?"

He glared, dumping out the last bucket of boiling water into the tub. "He got back from fucking Loudwater after the solstice, said we were done. Now he goes back and forth all the damned time."

I was quiet. "Andrews is suspicious of me because of my friends. He just wants me watched, that's all. I'm leaving in the morning." I hesitated. "And you know the bath is a slight, right? He's an aasimar. I'm a tiefling. I smell like smoke."

This seemed to please the man, and he left in much better spirits. I stayed in the bath until the water was cool. Removing it was more of a trial, and the man was busier by then. I got the idea that his da was also conscripted, and both were busy and exhausted. I stole the bucket from the kitchen and resolved the washbin myself. I drug the damned thing to the scullery. I had almost made it without the man spotting me, when he walked in as I was rolling it against the wall.

He glared. "Put it by the water pump. Need to scour it after you used it."

I rolled my eyes. "As you will." I moved it against the wall by the pump. It didn't fit well. He shooed me out immediately. I had to go to him for food, and had to painstakingly insist on a diet of entirely meat, which was expensive.

My master had always complained of how expensive I was to feed.

I took it to my room. The inn was busy as more Zhentarim were relieved of duty and wanted to wind down. The others thought of them all as some kind of hivemind. I only saw individuals. Scared, angry, but mostly disciplined to a point of hardness. In the youngest of them, I still saw the fear and uncertainty, before it would be trained out of them, if they lived long enough for it.

I wondered what Reyne had been like as a novice or a squire—a devastated boy who had wanted to be a painter with his dreams crushed and his future determined for him.

#

It took the others over a tenday. It gave me lots of time to repair armor and weapons and to talk to the Harpers. My biggest concern was those recruits with the Zhentarim, but they assured me that they were working on getting those green recruits to retreat with Loudwater. I was relieved.

Reyne was an adult. He "knew the risks", in his own damned words. I shouldn't be as worried about him as I was. We were done.

The others looped around back through Loudwater, needing to update writs. They had one more clan left to get to. I reluctantly went with them. They had some luck at two of them, and just needed to clarify certain aspects of the contracts. Elyvia said they would cut a wider arc on the return and pass out the travel writs to the two agreeable clans.

"And the third?" I asked.

Terese sighed. "Unfortunately, he said the only thing that would stop him joining the assault would be Andrews' head. 'Bring back his head, or don't come back'. His words."

The thought made me sick. "Getting into the Zhentarim base to spy was one thing. Getting in to fight and saw off someone's head is impossible."

Boe nodded. "We tried to explain that letting the stone giants on their own fight the Zhents would have the same effect. They were unswayed."

"And the last?"

"They pledged to Kayalithica, and seem loyal to the guy we talked to. They say he's a werebear. But we ought to go anyway."

We took Boe's wagon, for personal comfort, and his sturdy draft horses. I left Macha in the stable, with enough pay to cover it while we were gone, and mostly rode with Boe. Terese and Elyvia had riding horses from the Loudwater guard stables.

We only had one minor altercation with some hobgoblins on the way there. The rest was relatively smooth. Smoke from cooking fires led us toward them. I spied upon the camp from afar, down the hill. I said, "There's a wagon. Looks like it has the stolen Zhentarim blasting powder. It'll be to the camp soon."

"They did want it destroyed," Terese said.

Boe agreed. "I don't much like them having it in either case."

Terese, apparently arriving at some kind of decision, knotted a rag dipped in lantern oil around an arrow. She spurred her horse. My eyes widened. I looked through the spyglass. Terese rode down, drew back the bow. Loosed.

It was at the maximum possible distance. It should have been a difficult shot to make. It shouldn't have made it.

The wind blew just right and the flaming arrow arced. Thudded into a barrel.

My cherry skin paled to pink. My heart thudded hard as the arrow point went into the barrel. Then it exploded. People were hurt. Killed. Almost a dozen escorts, some caught in the blast. Terese wheeled her horse around. "Let's get moving," she said. "Boe, your trick?"

He cast his spell to hide our tracks and we hurried through the forest. We cut a wide berth, and Elyvia guided us around, approaching from an entirely different angle.

I was shivering for a long while, and barely held together. We had to go far beyond their patrol areas to make our deception look viable, and approached a few hours off of evening. Their guard was alert and surly.

They at first told us to bugger off. Boe, who had studied their customs, instead asked for a test of arms, and put Terese forth as champion.

All the fighting on the road seemed to have paid off. She was quick and smart, diving at openings, dancing back from the bigger warrior. She fought to disable, and he to kill. He did not blunt his blows with his spear, and she used the flat of her big sword. Even with such a handicap, she prevailed, grinning, bleeding in places, but fought him to the yield, not the death.

They were downright congenial as they brought us to the chief. Some runner had apparently gone ahead.

Boe said, "Terese, do you want me to heal you?"

"No, I think the spilled blood would actually be to our benefit." She grinned. "They say spilling blood together, even one another's blood, thickens the bonds. I hope it will work in our favor."

I suppose her fight with Reyne didn't count.

The chief was a woman. She was proud and musclebound, her hands callused from her ax. She was at first suspicious, but Elyvia spoke to her as one who knew and respected the forest, and Terese hailed her as a fellow warrior, and her suspicions eased.

We had successfully avoided blame for the explosion, without really commenting on it. I stayed quiet.

With the day wearing on, she offered that we could make camp there and rest safely, but she had no intention of breaking her oaths to her clan, and she feared that if she did, that the tribal chieftain would hunt her down.

It was a justified fear.

Elyvia was flirting with her rather brazenly, and the chieftain seemed amenable to it enough to share her table at the meal. They roasted two pigs over spits. Trays of food lined the chieftain's table. I sat on the far side, beside Boe, and carefully spooned any vegetables that wound up on my plate onto his.

He waggled his finger when he caught me, laughing. "I have outright doubled my fiber intake since meeting you, Valac. You should eat your vegetables."

I laughed. "Can't. I have the dietary needs of a cat." I shrugged. "Tiefling thing. I wish I could eat more."

He made a face. "That sounds like hell—no offense, I mean."
"None taken." I poked at a piece of roasted pork. It smelled wonderful. "I taste more flavoring in the meat than you would. Sorrow, its pain before it died, fear. That kind of thing."

"Hells. I'd be a vegetarian." He blinked. "I mean, if I was able."

I made a face. "I've never known any different. It gets expensive though—my master used to complain about it." I looked up. "Is there anything unusual about being a genasi? Can you swim, for instance?"

He scratched at his chin. "Well. Minor inconveniences. My clothes tend to become pretty earthy. Can't keep anything clean exactly. Not sure about swimmin'. Never tried." He laughed. "But when I was a kid, I was sick in bed for nearly a week, and started growin' moss. Y'know like the ole sayin'."

I chuckled. "Were your parents frightened?"

"Oh, a little. At first. Local priest said it was a blessin' from Chauntea, to be so close to the earth. But y'know how it is. People stare, that kind of thing."

Hells, did I ever know exactly what he meant. Except for the blessing; no one wanted a blessing from Asmodeus.

I said offhandedly, "Kids used to throw rocks at me. Until my master bought me. He never would have tolerated that."

"It's despicable, what he did."

My eyes flicked toward Boe. I wasn't sure of what he meant. The tattoos? The collar? "I don't hate him; I feel sorry for him." I made a face. "Red Wizards are taken away from their families, most when they were younger even than I was. And they're raised in the Academy, without love or empathy. So of course they never learn it." I shook my head. "You can't learn compassion when everyone around you is cruel."

"You did."

I looked up, then back down. I didn't even know how to respond to that; Boe was right. I didn't think I was special; that I was some saint who had figured out something essential when so many people had missed it. I said, "Maybe because of the spirits. I don't know." I looked away. "You see my collar and associate it with cruelty, like he did that to me specifically to be cruel." I shook my head. "That's just not true." I made a face. "Tattoos are just part of Thayan culture. They're to signify your hopes and dreams or accomplishments. Who you are. When I was tattooed, it wasn't out of cruelty or narcissism." I wasn't explaining this well enough for someone else to understand. Someone who hadn't been raised in Thay. I rubbed my temples. "I've worn a collar of some kind since I was five. To me, this is nothing." That only inspired pity, and I grew frustrated at my own inability to explain. "Jivan didn't weld an expensive collar on my neck and imbue it with magic out of cruelty; he did it for the same reasons you'd put a collar on a cat or dog. The magic in it tracks me for the same reasons you'd want to be able to find a favorite lost cat."

"You're more than a cat, Valac."

What I was failing to articulate was that, to Jivan, I wasn't—not really. What I could not seem to get across was that Jivan wasn't exactly cruel about it. Or at least, his intentions were not inspired by cruelty, but a strange twisted form of caring; he didn't want me to get lost. His name on me had been a way to signify where I belonged, just as a part of keeping me safe.

Maybe he was right though, and it was cruel in its own right.

Boe was quiet for a moment. "Feel free not to answer, or tell me if you're angry I asked, but do you miss him?"

Does he mean Reyne? No, that was impossible. "What?"

"The Red Wizard." At the look on my face, he said quickly, "You speak of him often. With more sadness than vitriol. You're not even angry at what he did to you. And it occurred to me that…" He sighed. "Well. For most of your life, he was all you had."

No, you're wrong; I've never had anything. I smiled, because it kept me from screaming. Or weeping. "No." I looked away. "I feel sorry for him. He just doesn't understand, that's all."

We watched a demonstration, a battle reenactment of Uthgardt history, with a storyteller's booming voice narrating. It was the story of who they were named after. I watched it, enjoying the demonstration, until I realized that in the battle, they were actually hurting one another. Someone's arm even broke to a mace blow.

Terese remarked that such a thing seemed wasteful so near a battle, but the chieftain waved off her concerns, asked her about Loudwater, then asked Boe about Uluvin, what he knew of the attacks there.

Elyvia mentioned the Grandfather Tree and her family's history at a slight prod, and they discussed that. I assumed I had gone unnoticed and unremarked, when the chief said, "Tiefling. You are not from Loudwater. Your markings are foreign. If I asked a display of how you wield those knives, I guarantee it would be just as foreign. So where are you from? And what is the strange metal around your neck?"

I stared. "I am not from Loudwater, you are correct." I swallowed, thinking of the bang and smoke of the exploding casks. "My home was in Thay, the Land of the Red Wizards. To go back to it means to go back to slavery. And so I choose to stay gone, so I suppose, like your tribe, I don't have a home exactly."

She frowned. "You were a slave?" She seemed surprised. "How did you escape?"

"To a Red Wizard." I looked away. "We were separated. I got lost and ended up in Secomber. Then I went to Loudwater."

She studied the adamantine. "And what did you do, as a slave I mean?"

I grimaced. "I was a Red Wizard's prized 'pet'. I have a connection to the dead. I suppose you could call me a not very powerful oracle."

She was interested, but I couldn't call her fascinated. "You may speak to the dead?"

I shook my head. "Not as such, no. It's complicated. I hear them. They don't always say anything useful, or even interesting."

She lost interest as soon as she understood I could not converse with them, and turned her attention back to Elyvia as the half-elf again mentioned her knowledge of the Grandfather Tree that was denied to the Blue Bear clan.

Elyvia did not much like attention being put on someone that was not her. She preferred to go through life as if all of it was just for her, as if no one else really mattered except for herself. As if she were the main character in everyone else's story.

The chief, nonetheless, was drawn in to the discussion like a fish on a hook.

I wondered who she had lost. I looked around the camp, wondering how many more would be lost in the days to come.

#

I woke to the sound of heavy hide boots, the jangle of weapons as they approached. Sleepily, I sat up. "What—"

"Tiefling." The chieftain glared. "You and your companions are no longer welcome in this camp. Get out." She had the voice of a war chief when she desired it, and her words boomed around our tent. Elyvia slunk away from the group of warriors, looking sullen.

Terese stumbled out of the tent. "What is going on? Why are we being forced out in the middle of the night?"

The chief was furious. "Do you think your devilish manipulations would go unnoticed? Do you think that you can use magic to influence another's mind and face no repercussions? If you've further questions, ask your tiefling runaway. I might have guessed."

My eyes shifted toward Elyvia.

Smiling lipsticked lips, whispering a spell. Gossamer fairy wings.

The charm of the fey.

I might have guessed it was her, and the chief was quite happy to blame me entirely, with no idea it had been her who did it. Why would she do that?

Both of their rumpled clothing, the tangled hair, told me why.

My fingers clenched. She had cast a spell to manipulate someone, to guarantee that she was going to get laid, and when it all went to shit, as she had to know it was going to, she had quickly lain the blame at my feet? All to make getting into someone's bed a little easier? They were getting along anyway. Why do this?

Unless it was intentional? An attack on me?

My heart lodged in my throat. I was so angry I couldn't speak even to defend myself. Terese was trying to argue, insisting that neither she nor I had any magic like that, but my confession of being an oracle last night was enough to damn me. I tried so hard to trust people. Why was I shown, again and again, that I couldn't?

We packed quickly and loaded the horses, under the angry glares of the Uthgardt warriors.

We rode out under escort, and Elyvia commented, "I talked her down from killing you, Valac." Her tone implied I should be grateful.

I tried so hard to stay neutral in my attitude towards her. It wasn't her fault. She was doing her best. She wasn't evil, it was just that all of her life experiences told her that I was and it led her to be petty and take the easy route of letting me be blamed for everything. Her speceism was something she had to unlearn.

The issue is that she was only digging deeper into it the more time we spent together.

I had thought that maybe if she just saw me, and understood that I was just a person, like her, maybe things would be different. But it wasn't.

I gritted my teeth. "I know it was you." My lips curled in a fiendish snarl. "The spirits said as much. You could have told the truth."

She did not even have the dignity to apologize. She said, "How convenient that something only you can hear declares my guilt, devil."

No one stood up for me. No one defended me. Boe looked on me with pity, as if he thought that I had done it but perhaps it wasn't intentional. Terese only frowned in thought, as if she were trying to decide my innocence or guilt based on two different accusations with no evidence either way, but neither said a word in my defense.

#

A woman used a flat stone as a table while she constructed a bandage. Her horse was in clear distress and anxious.

Ever a bleeding heart, I hopped down from the wagon and hurried up the path toward her. "Are you all right?" I called.

She looked up. "Yes. I escaped the hobgoblins anyway. I can't say the same for my mare. The arrow went all the way through, but her leg is lame." She frowned at me. "Can you heal her?"

"No, but maybe they can?" I looked back at Elyvia and Boe. Boe looked around the woods. Terese shifted on her horse.

Elyvia sighed and swung down off of her horse to go to the woman's. I went toward her. I asked, "Hobgoblins?"

She nodded and sighed, setting the bandages aside in her kit. "Yes. I was just trying to make a paste for the wound." Elyvia soothed the horse as we spoke. The woman studied me. "You're the only tiefling I've met out here."

I smiled. "I guess I stand out."

"Your tattoos. They look arcane—and Infernal? May I read them?"

Elyvia's hand passed over the wound on the shivering horse. It knit slowly.

I gave a half grin. "I mean, you could just say outright you'd like me to strip." I chuckled. "But yeah. I can tell you what I know about it, I guess. They're Thayan, actually."

Her eyes passed over the collar. "From Thay?"

"Afraid so." I turned my arm. Her fingertips traced the ink. She had a wand on her belt, a crossbow on her back. "I'm Valac, by the way."
"Fiona." Her fingers curved around my bicep in a way that would have been suggestive, except for her feral grin. The disguise fell. The fire genasi grinned wickedly and I gasped. Before I could pull my arm back, an electric current ran down my body. My muscles seized and I gasped in pain. "You're a trusting fool," she said.

Three hidden Zhentarim in dark clothes emerged out of the shadows, before any of the others could draw weapons. Elyvia was knocked to the ground. The horse whinnied, hooves thudded too near her head not to gasp. A man poised above her with an ax, ready to bring it down on her back. Another's shortsword swept right past a chink in Terese's armor. She lost her grip on the reins, reaching back for her sword.

I said, "Please, why are you doing this?"

"Do you make a habit of breaking into a sorcerer's tower, tiefling?"

The flameskull. That room was hers. It had seen me, and I was the only tiefling in the area—it wouldn't be hard to put together. But maybe it had only seen me.

A woman jumped onto Boe's wagon. He raised his arms to defend himself. Blood blossomed where the woman's blade cut.

Terese leaped off of the horse. Elyvia axes practically jumped into her hands. The two Zhentarim were fast. Elyvia was having a hard time hitting them, her blows sailing past or deflected. Terese faired better, a flurry of swings as her horse panicked and bolted. A swift kick to the man's leg and sidestep sent him sprawling.

A vicious stab to Elyvia's leg made her stagger. Boe swung his holy symbol around his head. A beam of light sailed past Fiona, and hit the rock behind her. The woman attacking Boe leaped off the wagon and grabbed a glass orb on her belt. She hurled the orb. It shattered on the ground. A plume of fine red dust covered him. The horses grunted and snorted, struggling to breathe. Boe slumped to one side, clutching at his face as he gagged on the dust. A wind scattered the red particles, but it seemed to have already done its job. The two riding horses, with no one to control them, bolted into the woods at the combat.

Magic swirled around Fiona and ferried her to a safer distance. Her wand twirled in her fingers. Her smile was wicked when she pointed it at me. The magic hit me with the blunt force of a punch, pummeling me down. I felt flesh bruise.

I looked at Fiona. "Please, let them go and I'll go quietly. I don't want to see them hurt for something I did. Please."

She sneered. "I'd rather take you all."

I yanked the dagger from my belt and tossed it at the nearest. The hilt hit him in the temple. He stumbled, but recovered. I cursed my ill luck and, moving a little stiffly, tried to run for cover where I could make myself more useful, and out of Fiona's sight. I wasn't sure I could take another hit from her wand.

Terese doubled over, helpless, stumbling back toward Boe. Elyvia seemed to be struggling, bleeding in places, bruising in others. She had to take a breath to heal herself rather than attack, but it left her open to another attack. Boe recovered from the dust first, got the horses on the wagon under control. He held a hand out for Terese and hauled her into the wagon. She dropped down behind him and his magic healed her wheezing.

He cracked the reins hard. One of the horses screamed, jostled the other, but Boe kept them steady with a strong arm. The Zhentarim rolled under, between the wheels, then popped out on the other side, somehow still intact but bruised.

The wagon thundered toward Elyvia. She prepared to leap. I needed to get in too; the others were making a run for it after it had gone so badly.

I started toward it.

The first hit from the magic took me in the chest and knocked the breath from my lungs. The second hit me in the back and I stumbled to my knees. A third in the side knocked me sideways and I slid backwards in the dirt, down the hill. A fourth hit me in the head.

The world spun and twisted and nothing would stay still.

Then it was dark.

#

I woke only slowly, and with the grim understanding of what had happened. There wasn't a brief moment of blissful ignorance. I remembered exactly where we had left off.

A tree was at my back, my wrists tied around its narrow trunk. The bonds were too tight to give, and my ankles were bound.

"Think he's awake, ma'am," a voice said.

Fiona stalked over to me. "We'll be in Orlbar by tomorrow evening." She reached down and her slender fingers tucked under my chin. She forced my head up. She expected me to be glaring. I felt, not calm exactly, but acceptance. "But I can start some of the interrogations now."

She had, in her other hand, a knife.

I flinched. "Then let me spare you the trouble. What do you wish to know? I'll tell you." I looked down. "And I'll also tell you that there's a Red Wizard who would pay a princely sum for my safe return."

The fire genasi seemed disappointed.

I looked past her, at the fire, the three Zhentarim. Most of them were nursing wounds. One was asleep. We were nowhere near where we had been.

Fiona said, "You're not only a fool, but a coward. You don't think your friends will come rescue you?"

I looked up at her. I thought of every instance that Elyvia had ridiculed me, threatened me, said something awful about my lineage, and the way neither would do anything in my defense. I looked back down. "No. I don't think that's likely."

At most, they would rescue me to spite the Zhentarim, but it wouldn't be about me. No, that's unfair to Terese and Boe. They might want to rescue me, and Elyvia would so she could play hero. It was my despair, however, that did the talking.

"Pathetic too." She sneered. "Not going to beg for your life, tiefling?"

I stared at the dirt. "Why? You're not going to free me. And while I'd rather not die, death is better than what would await me in Thay if you sold me back to my master." Who was seeking undeath, and I didn't want to one day feed his phylactery. And I definitely didn't want to be his vampire spawn.

I had not quite taken away her fun. While she had been hoping to break me, and was disappointed to find me already broken, she was also opportunistic. She said, "Then tell me everything about the night you broke in."

I was quiet a moment, then I told her what she expected. I left out Elyvia, said that I had gotten in between patrols, over the wall with a grappling hook, that I had picked the lock on the tower and climbed in, only to find the skull. I had escaped it, or so I thought, and continued looking around. Found the helmed horror and left it alone. Found the library and touched nothing. Found some mention of worries about Cyric and the cult's activities.

I said that I had hidden and watched the sacrifice in the chapel, at her prodding, and I leaned back against the tree and smiled up at her. "I of course don't speak Elvish, so I couldn't understand her. But I could taste her fear and her pain even from where I was hidden."

This part I worried about, because we had been caught once in the tower. Maybe Reyne had silenced the patrol since then.

Fiona listened carefully. I said that I had left after the ceremony, which was true—just not immediately after.

She said, "You're lying."

I jumped. "What?"

"You couldn't have done all that alone."

I cringed. "Well. I'm never alone." I looked up. "I had invited a spirit to possess me, to stay with me and help me succeed." Also true. "So of course I wasn't alone, as such."

The three listening in seemed profoundly disturbed. Fiona less so. Her eyes ran over the tattoos again. She had implied she understood what they meant. I wondered if she had actually looked all that closely. "You are an oracle then?"

"Of the variety you'd find in a discount store in rural territory. Yes."

One of the two listening men stifled a laugh. The other scowled at him. Fiona said, "So not a very good one, or you might have seen through my guise."

I shook my head a little. "That's not true," I whispered. "Fiona, had I recognized you, I still would've stopped to help you."

"You're a great fool then." She sighed. "It's a long march come morning. You should rest, tiefling. Might be the last time you see a dawn."

She turned on her heel and walked from me. I was quiet. My fingers felt numb.

I nodded off once or twice, but lying down was impossible. The tree was too narrow to comfortably support my back, and too wide for me to have enough movement in my arms to maneuver to lay down. They certainly knew their business well.

They didn't bother feeding me. The one who had laughed grabbed one of my horns and forced my head back. He said, "You need to drink something." This was accomplished by a waterskin put to my lips that nearly drowned me. Better than nothing I suppose.

One of them held a knife to my throat while the other untied me. A set of shackles around my wrists, in front of me. A long rope attached to the chain, fixed to one of the other's horses.

"Keep up, tiefling."

I grimaced.

It was absolutely miserable. I was exhausted. My head pounded. I was hungry, quickly thirsty again, and footsore. Yet still I had hoped that the others would have caught up to us.

No, logically, they would have had Boe cast a spell to help obscure their path.

The Zhentarim had taken injuries, I saw. They had gone on fighting a bit longer before they had cut and ran. With both sides taking the injuries they had, Boe and the others would want to heal and then track me down. And the Zhentarim had anticipated that, and gotten moving. By the state of their horses, they had pushed them hard.

I hoped they hadn't died. Fiona wasn't likely to tell me outright, but she seemed like the kind of person who would have taunted me with their deaths if they had killed them. Plus, they probably would have preferred to have looted their bodies. I'd at least see Elyvia's axes on one of them, and I didn't. They had gotten away.

Trouble was, so had the Zhentarim.

When they started to slow, I knew it was too late to hope for rescue. And I was too tired to try escaping, even if I could.

They went around the city gates and with a sense of doom, I realized we were going up the road to the keep.

The gates opened after a brief halt and I was led through. I stared down. I felt incurious glances my way, a couple more visible stares.

There were so many spirits here.

Someone fresher, without injury, took the end of the rope. Another stepped to my other side and said, "Not one wrong move, foulblood."

Fiona did not even look back.

They led me, sometimes pushing, toward the keep, and down the stairs to the dark.

#

It wasn't the cold that bothered me, so much as the damp, the scent of old blood. The horrible knowledge that I was trapped and left to contemplate, and stare, and wonder.

Fiona sat on the simple chair, primly sharpening a set of thin knives. She had been quiet. I didn't see a point in talking.

She said, "You do sing like a pretty little bird, don't you?"

She hadn't touched me, and didn't need to. We had a simple relationship. She asked me a question, and I politely answered it, entirely truthful. She was going through questions previously asked, and a few new ones—to see if my story ever changed, I imagine.

What did you see that night?

Did you take anything?

A more complicated answer, because I had, so I had to be very careful with my wording, because I was not a skilled liar. "I needed to remember the name Cyric. I thought it might have something to do with your activity, and the church's movements in the area. So just paper."

Who did you tell?

That one was harder for me, but she raised an eyebrow, held the knife up to the light. It was polished so nicely it showed her reflection. I shivered, and gave her a list. "Terese. Boe. Elyvia." And I cringed, and said, "Lady Moonfire."

That was a big enough name that she did not continue to press me about it. "And what did Moonfire say, devilspawn?"

I frowned. "She was perturbed, but didn't want to talk about it."

She nodded. "And did you research Cyric?"

"A little. Yes."

"So you researched Bane as well?"

I hesitated. "I only know a little." The blood had drained from my hands. My fingers were numb, suspended from a hook above my head.

She asked several more questions, some I didn't know the answer to, and when she threatened me, I cringed, insisted I wouldn't keep it from her when I knew she could wrest it out of me anyway.

The thing was, they didn't need to torture me to get me to talk. I knew better.

When she lapsed back to silence as she thought, scribbling notes from her questioning down, I licked dry lips. I took a breath. "The amulet. Please let me have it back."

She looked up, and shook her head. "It's expensive. No."

I shook. "Please. My collar grants my master the ability to track me."

Fiona shook her head. "That can't be all it does." From her belt, she removed a single white pearl. She rose, rather ladylike, and stalked over to me. "Tilt your head so I can see your collar."

I lifted my head, staring at my hands near the ceiling. She pushed my head from side to side as she worked, going over the collar carefully. She pursed her lips. "Hm. There's no way to get that off of you without alerting your former master."

I stilled. "What?"

She only explained because of my obvious distress. "Tampering with it will alert him. If you try to break it, it will stun you, probably until he can be bothered to collect you." She smirked, as if the last part were particularly devious. "To say nothing of the contingency on it. If you ever try to attack him, the collar has a contingency spell upon it. Disintegrate."

My eyebrows lifted, horrified. Why had he ever thought that was even necessary? Why hadn't Talia told me? Maybe she had been afraid that, if I knew that my master would know, I would never consent to letting her remove it. I wished she had at least told me about the contingency. I had never had any desire to attack him, but I would have liked to know what a bad idea that was.

My options, then, if I ever had the chance, was to broadcast to Jivan that I was a runaway, or submit, because I couldn't fight him. There would be no way to avoid the spell; it would kill me.

Her hands touched either side of the collar. "I have to wonder, though, what makes you so important that he would bother?"

I didn't know either. I was valuable, but was I this valuable? And why had he ever thought I might attack him? That one, more than anything, puzzled me. I was so loyal to him, my entire life. It felt, strangely, like a betrayal. Like all this time, he had never trusted me and had to know that I was effectively rendered harmless.

I looked up. "Do you intend to sell me back to him? He's a wealthy Red Wizard and would pay a premium to get his prized pet back." It had to be better than torture and death. It had to be better than that.

My thoughts were so tumultuous. First, I think death is better, now I think slavery. Everyone is brave until they see the flaying knives.

She considered. "It's Captain Andrews' decision what to do with you. And he hates you lot." She laughed. "You might wish I had used the knives on you." She walked toward me. She had had a bath and washed the road dirt and sweat from her. Her clothes were the same, as if she did not wish to dirty a fresh set by coming down here. The sorceress tickled my navel with the knife blade. She whispered, "You had best hope he thinks we need the money from your sale more than either of us wants the satisfaction of killing you on that altar."

I looked away. The slightest movement and the blade would cut.

"Fiona," a voice said.

I hadn't heard Reyne come in and my head jerked up. Fiona looked back, drawing the knife blessedly away. She smiled sweetly. "Captain. You'll see I've apprehended this tiefling. I had just finished questioning him. He's been very compliant."

I hung my head.

Reyne walked over to where she had been taking notes by the candlelight. He looked over the slip of paper, and back at Fiona. "This devilspawn has been a thorn in my side for some time."

Fiona smirked.

Reyne said, "Leave us. I've a score to settle."

She gave a quick bow and replaced the knife in her velvet-lined box. Reyne went to me, as if debating. She picked up her box, leaving him with the cruder instruments. His gauntleted fist flew in a vicious backhand across the side of my face. I gasped.

I heard her chuckle as she shut the door. Reyne was utterly still until the echo of her boots faded, until the louder door above shut, then he stepped toward me. I lifted my head. "Reyne—"

He grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. I flinched. The side of my face was bruising where he had struck me, but he had pulled the swing so he wouldn't knock out teeth. I imagined it had been believable, from Fiona's perspective. He was furious. "Valac, why didn't you tell me? I could've headed it off. Said you were looking for me and gone to the wrong tower. Something." He glared. "You're lucky the Dark Terror is away. I convinced her that we want as few people as possible to know about a breach in security, for obvious reasons of morale." His teeth gritted. "Why did you—?"

I pushed slightly from the wall and tilted my head to kiss him. He stilled. His hand reached to the side of my face and I felt a trickle of healing magic trace along it, then as he looked me over, more poured into me. He said, "A moment."

He had to lift me to pull me off of the hook. I lowered my arms gratefully. My shackled wrists between us, he reached down to touch the cuff. Regret?

He grimaced and handed me a wineskin. I drank gratefully. I knew what a position I had left him in. I knew that what he should do is put me back on that hook, or at least to the wall. He rubbed his temples in thought.

I said, "Reyne."

"Not now. I have to think of a conceivable reason to let you go. Fuck, I couldn't even dissuade her from collecting you herself, Val. Not with all the other shit I have to do right now."

I sighed. "Reyne." I reached toward him and he knocked my hand away. He was still angry. That wasn't likely to change.

I set the drained wineskin on the desk, stared at the pliers, pincers, and knives along the walls and tables. A brazier for hot coals.

Reyne paced the width of the small room and back as he thought. "Should I say I'm letting you go under an understanding? I can't—you fucking told Fiona—"

My voice was quiet. I was trembling. "Reyne."

He stopped suddenly. "What," he snapped.

I flinched. "I'm sorry. I've put you in another impossible position." I shook my head and looked at him. My eyes flicked up to his incredibly handsome face. "But the obvious solution, Reyne, is what I am. Not so much who." I flinched. "I'm an oracle. I perfectly reflect Bane's colors. I have a connection with the dead. Say my abilities are a gift from Bane to you, that you beat me until I acquiesced." I went toward him, raised my arms and dropped them around his broad shoulders. I pushed my head against his neck. He smelled so good. "And I am yours."

His hand touched my back. He said, "You want to be my slave, Val?"

I relaxed against his shoulder. "It's better than what Fiona planned for me." I flinched. "And it will give me a reason to stay close to you. Until you decide I'm loyal enough to let me go back to Loudwater."

He took a breath, staring at the ceiling. "Why would I ever let you leave?" With the hand on my back, he pushed me in close. I felt entirely at ease, despite the shackles.

I said, flatly, "Because if you don't, the others will break in to get to me." I sighed. "And you'll tell Fiona that you explained to me that if I don't comply, you have a means to contact a Red Wizard who has more than means enough to collect me. So you see, now you have a potential spy you're extorting."

It was a string of good reasons, and by his silence, I knew it.

He said, "And what will you tell your friends?"

"The truth. That you asked me some questions. I answered them. You punched me. But then you let me go, under a similar threat."

"Won't that just make them more determined to kill me?"

I laughed gently against his neck. "At this point, there's nothing I can do to dissuade them from that." I thought, Frey has an entire plan to betray you.

So far, everyone here was awful. Reyne was awful. Yet here I was, my arms around him, heart pounding like a lovesick teenager.

"All right." He took a breath. "I'm getting you some food first. And you need to sleep." He touched the side of my face in something dangerously close to caring. Terese would insist the whole thing was a charade to trick me.

He swiped the key to the shackles, gesturing for me to follow. He said, voice under his breath, "Head down. Subservient. You address me as 'sir'. Pretend you're cowed."

I made a face. Issue was, calling him that was something we'd done in bed since the first time. To compound it, he'd just rescued me and I was sadly enamored by him—and I liked being restrained. "Reyne?" I lifted my shackled wrists. "Can I call you by your rank? Calling you that, given our history, and the shackles—I'm going to get aroused," I confessed. It was one of those things that was halfway embarrassing, and halfway too serious for my tail not to wag hopefully.

A tension in his shoulders visibly relaxed. His hand raised to stifle the kind of laughter only borne from stress. His gorgeous eyes softened. "We'll fuck with the shackles on," he promised me, his voice low. I started to smile. "And no, you can't address me by my rank. It implies I'm favoring you. We need this to be believable to anyone watching."

My eyes flicked up. My smile died. "Yes, master." It's how everyone else would see our "relationship" anyway. What did it matter?

Something flickered over his face—a variety of emotions from pleased to something like distress, bordering on sympathy. "Val…"

I shook my head. "Go on. I'm fine."

He went to me and forced my head up to crush his lips against mine, then he pulled back. "How I will have to treat you—"

"I know. I get it." I looked away. "Don't worry about it. Make it believable."

He touched the side of my face, then nodded. He snuffed out the candle and took Fiona's report. I followed him out of the cell, down a hall. A set of stairs. The guard at the door opened it for Reyne. Eyed me, following behind him with my head down.

Reyne led me down a series of hallways, back outside the fort. A quartermaster was overseeing a series of storage sheds. Reyne said, "My new slave's effects. Where were they?"

"Everything went in a crate for now, until I can survey it," she said.

"I'm taking all of it. No arguments." He signed off on a clipboard for it, tilted his head toward me, eyes flicked to the box. "Tiefling. Take the crate."

It was difficult to carry with my wrists in the shackles, but I didn't complain; Reyne had just gotten me back all my weapons and armor. Reyne opened the tower door with a key. A guard walked past, frowned at me, but continued on.

Reyne said, "Foulblood. You are to never enter the main cathedral hall unless I bring you. Walk five paces behind me, to my left." The guard was still within earshot, as he paused to survey the area. Reyne opened the door. "Follow." He stepped inside. I followed him in. The door to the cathedral was open, probably for the airflow. He tilted his head to the door. "Set the box down and shut the door."

I gently set the crate down and shut the door. I twisted the bolt back, picked up the box again. Reyne brought me up to his room, unlocking it with another key. He had me set the box in an empty space. He dropped into a chair after kicking the door shut. "Hells."

I looked up. "You play the role very well." My tone was slightly accusatory, though I tried to keep it from my voice.

He glanced at me. "You knew who I was, Val."

I grimaced, pained, but I went to him anyway.

It might have looked strange to someone else. I was in shackles, calling him "sir", but we did what I wanted to do, exclusively, and I got angry any time Reyne tried to pin me or take control. It ended in his chair, my shackled arms around his shoulders, panting. I rocked a little, milking whatever was left of him into me. My tail thumped to the floor. I kissed his bearded jaw.

He lifted me off of him and ducked under the chain. He really was a lovely sight naked. Sunlight filtered in through the window in the tower. It seemed to bathe him in a nimbus of light. In the sunlight, it was so entirely clear what he was—some descendent of a celestial creature, beautiful beyond measure.

He unlocked the shackles and dropped them on top of the crate. He poured water into a basin and this divine descendent used a towel to wipe me off. I was embarrassed, tried to take it from him, but he wouldn't let me. He pushed me down gently into the chair when he got down to my feet, his fingers massaging out the footsore pain, a little magic trickling into blisters and sores accumulated on the way here. I was reminded, again, how tired I was. The spells on my collar. Not only a leash, but a means of control.

He stopped and said, "Valac? I should have let you sleep."

I shook myself to wakefulness, and forced myself up. Reyne pulled away and threw the rag back into the basin. He looked at my face. "Get some rest, Val." He inclined his head to his bed. It was fairly military, but would accommodate both of us if we didn't mind being close, given our respective size. I flinched away from it and lowered my head. He said, "Valac. It's all right."

"I don't sleep well in beds."

"Just lie down. I need to work for a while."

I was too tired to keep arguing. Naked, I curled on top of his blankets. The pillow was too alien to me. I was too tired not to sleep.

It was the colors of the nightmare that I most understood. The scream of the sacrificed elf. The voices of the dead.

My appearance. My connection to the dead. Even my compassion.

Bane's colors. The Dead Three. The compassionate are meant to be ruled by the strong.

I had found Reyne because I was supposed to serve him. I was drawn to him because I was meant to be his.

My master had been entirely wrong about my abilities coming from Asmodeus. He had made assumptions based upon my bloodlines, Thay's history with my bloodline and Asmodeus. It was Bane. All along, it was Bane.

And I was kind and compassionate because I was supposed to serve Reyne.

I woke with a start, Reyne's hand on my shoulder. He said, "Nightmare?"

I sat up and threw my arms around his waist. I buried my face against his stomach. His entire chest was a little too hard for me to get far doing that. I shook. "I think Bane meant for you to have me."

"Bane doesn't mean happiness for anyone. I have to take it where I can find it," he said mildly. "Val, are you all right?" His hand rested on my shoulder.

I shook my head a little, trying to calm my racing heart. "I make you happy?"

He swore with feeling, and I laughed, pulling myself back. He tossed me my clothes. "Get dressed, Val." He sighed. "I never miss dinner or take them alone, and I can't afford to look like I'm changing habits suddenly. So I'm going to make sure you get some real food, and I'll send you to the kitchens to eat it. And you can stay back there and help. It'll keep you away from Fiona. Is that all right?"
I smiled. "Yes. I can do that." I climbed down to dress hurriedly.

He took a breath and started for the door, then stopped. "Valac. The way I need to treat you—"

"I know. I understand."

He sighed. "That almost makes it worse."

But I smiled, because he felt guilty about it. Because he cared enough to feel guilty for having to pretend. Because it would have been so much easier for him to have thrown me over the balcony the other night, and so much easier to let Fiona kill me. Because he had heeded my plea to evacuate the townsfolk.

The barren fields of his heart were growing softer.

#

The way everyone sneered at me didn't matter. The little smirks, the whispered word.

Reyne cared enough about me to let me escape. They could sneer all they wanted when Reyne ordered me to go do chores while he socialized; he did it to keep me away from the scrutiny of his peers. And I didn't actually mind simple labor.

I was up to my elbows in dirty dishwater when an acolyte came in to collect me. She smirked and said, "Your master sent me to collect you, devilspawn."

I picked up the towel next to me to dry off my hands. I kept my head bowed. "I'll be right there, ma'am."

She liked being addressed that way, and marched right off. The key to avoiding scrutiny was to give people what they wanted and be unremarkable. For my appearance, that was no easy feat, but quietly doing what I was told meant that I wasn't particularly memorable either.

The regular kitchen workers had enjoyed foisting chores off onto me, and sighed to have me gone. I wound around through the kitchen, across the hall, and found Reyne in the feasthall. He wasn't at the officer's high table, but leaning against one of the smaller tables and having a laugh with some of the lower-ranked men.

He knew them all by name.

I knew it was the mark of a good officer and it made practical sense too. Mostly, it made them like him more, which accounted for a lot in the heat of battle and their morale. The thing about Reyne was that if he wanted you to like him, you almost couldn't help it. But if he wanted you to dislike him, you did that too. He was manipulative, but I wondered how much of it was his nature versus learned. And I wondered if he could ever use that ability for something good.

I stayed a respectful distance back, my head down. Reyne, once he saw me, seemed to find some natural end to the conversation and pushed off from the table. Fiona met us at the door. She glared at me and I took a step back instinctively. Reyne made no move to step between us.

She said, "You give him too much freedom too soon."

Shackles. A bloody knife. Tears.

Her intentions were hostile, and she wanted me back in that dungeon. She was angry about me walking into her private quarters, and she wanted that transgression peeled from my skin. She was looking for an excuse to wrest me back from Reyne. Any tiny flaw she found in his conduct, she would leverage.

Reyne sighed. "Valac. Reiterate our understanding."

My eyes flicked toward him. I flinched. "I am a gift to you from Bane." It helped that a part of me wasn't so sure that wasn't true.

He glared at me. "You kneel when you speak, slave." He was remarkably good at this. Tyranny, I reminded myself. I dropped immediately to both knees, my head bowed. Reyne looked at Fiona sidelong. "You see?"

"He is far too obedient too soon."

Reyne smirked. "If you'd spoken to him, he has about two decades of experience at being obedient." To emphasize his point, he lifted one boot, resting it casually on my back. I grimaced, but stayed still. "Did you have any trouble with him once you apprehended him?"

She made a face, looking back at me. "A gift from Bane?"

My devilish eyes flicked up. I said nothing, but in the light, when there was no danger around us, maybe she saw what I did; my coloring. And everything else. I looked back down. Reyne's weight eased off of my back and his boot back to the floor. He tended to stand at a parade rest, with a military straight back.

She was quiet a moment, trying to see past my act. She wouldn't find a flaw in it. It wasn't hard for me to fall back into the habits of my old life. She made a face, then at last moved aside. "Maybe you did tame the tiefling."

Reyne's smile was cunning. "I appreciate you noticing." A brief pause. "I've explained to him that if he ever displeases me, he'll be gift wrapped and sent back to Thay." He tilted his head, staring down at me. "In the meantime, an oracle has its uses. Even a weak one."

Laying the seeds for when he sent me back to Loudwater later.

Fiona nodded. "Then it seems I still have much to learn." She breezed past. She smelled like ash.

Reyne said, "Get up." His tone was the harsh crack of a whip and I stood quickly, lest it fall again. I got the door for him. He smirked as he stepped past and I fell in behind him. A runner delivered him a note and hurried away. He read it briefly, sighed. Someone passed us on the way out the door.

Reyne glanced at me. "Tiefling. My horse is in the stable. I expect you to groom her. Once you finish, attend her saddle and barding."

His horse had a telepathic link with him. He was sending me there so he could keep an eye on me—and know I was safe.

There were people around. I bowed low. "Yes, master."

"When you finish, wait for me outside the tower door."

Which meant he expected to be a while, so I should take my time on the chore. I bowed again and he turned from me. The stablehands were delighted to have someone else deal with Reyne's horse. She pushed me against the side of her box once, tried to bite another time. All in all, fairly docile by her standards.

I buffed and waxed the black saddle. I ran my thumbnail along the decorative stitching, the Zhentarim symbol on it. They had destroyed Reyne's life to a point that his entire life and personality revolved around this. He had wanted to be a painter, had wanted a world in vibrant color, and they had taken it away from him and put him in black.

Some part of my heart broke for who he had been, who he had wanted to be.

I did the rest of the tack too, changed out the horse's bedding. She bit my arm, but not as hard as she could have. I sighed and turned my hand to scratch her neck, which she tolerated with an arrogant toss of her head. A stableboy watched in awe. "Captain Andrews's horse actually let you touch her?"

I looked back. "Don't you have to?"

"It takes two of us—and you got to lead her into a smaller stall so she doesn't have room to mow you down." He gaped. "And she just let you pet her."

A strong choice of words. Her ears laid back. I shrugged one shoulder, but I thought it best not to reply. I didn't want to risk saying the wrong thing. I knew how servants would gossip. I think that her attitude toward me was a reflection of Reyne's attitude toward me. Compared to how he treated other people, he was affectionate to me.

I drank from the well, when there was no one around it, and made my way back to the tower, taking care to steer well clear of people. I leaned against the side of the tower, and thought about how I would enjoy a cigarette about now. They were in Reyne's room. He was the one who had introduced me to smoking—something I really should not thank him for. It was a disgusting habit, but it suppressed the appetite and was a fantastic way to waste a few minutes. Or an excellent excuse to loiter that no one questioned.

I waited a while, and who should I see but Fiona walking along the path. Probably headed to the back door of her own tower. She slowed when she saw me. "Waiting for your master?"

She was mocking me. What she wanted was to shame me and see me cowed. If I gave her what she wanted, I reasoned that she would leave. I had nothing to gain by rebuttal and I refused to let her goad me. Beyond that, I felt sorry for her. Like Reyne, they had beaten out anything but darkness from her.

I said, head bowed, "Yes, ma'am."

"You're lucky you're useful to him."

She wanted to kill me. To torture me for daring try to break into her personal quarters. I understood. It was a personal violation, one she did not see as settled.

"Yes, ma'am."

Like most bullies, she grew bored, and moved on.

Reyne came by not half an hour later, looking tired. I bowed when I saw him, and stayed down until he stopped to open the door. He inclined his head and I followed him inside. I shut and locked the door and he started to the stairs. The opposite door opened. "Captain."

The priest.

Reyne turned around. He gave a slight nod. "The recruitment. I haven't forgotten, but we do have other pressing concerns."

"Yes, but the newest recruit needs more direct training under an experienced paladin. As you are presently without, he does show quite a bit of promise, so I would prefer he train directly under you, Captain." He had a thin, seedy voice and his skin was stretched tight over his skull. His hair was thinning.

Reyne's expression was blank, which was to say that if I did not know him, I would assume he had no opinion one way or the other, but his back was rigid and there was a faint tension around his eyes. "Were the circumstances different, I would see to it personally, if you yourself even vouch for the Watchful, Vigilant Talon." He sighed, as if regretful. "Alas, we have a war on our doorstep and I cannot afford the distraction. I want him placed with a Deadly Adept, for now. See to it."

The man bowed.

I wonder if it galled the priest at all to be taking orders from someone so much younger than he. If it were at all frustrating to devote your life wholly to something, only to have the god favor someone like Reyne instead.

The Vigilant Talon turned, shutting the door. Reyne pivoted back to the stair. At the top of the stairs, he opened the door with another key. Once we were inside and the lock twisted, he grasped my shoulders. I looked up. He looked angry, but not, I realized, at me. His teeth gritted. "Explain to me why I feel guilty treating you like that." His grip was hard enough to bruise, and I didn't bruise easily.

I smiled through the pain in my shoulders. My fingers wrapped around both his forearms and I whispered, "You like me."

The sex, for him, was a fit of frustration and anger, something more akin to hate sex. It was a struggle for him as I did not make it easy, but he eventually pushed me on the side of the bed. I tilted. My tail slipped around his waist, slid against his back while one of his hands kept me pinned, the other gripping hard on my hip. A ruthless, rhythmic pounding. I screamed and gasped into the pillow to muffle the sounds.

When we were finished, he leaned over me, his weight on my back. He buried his face against the side of my neck, and muttered, "It's not that I don't like seeing you kneel when I tell you to. It's that it turned purely into sexual gratification instead of the respect I'm owed."

Someone else would have called him an asshole and been done with it, but I knew what he was trying to say. He meant that he saw me differently and he didn't have the vocabulary or emotional availability to express it. I chuckled. His beard tickled against my skin. "I like you too, Reyne."

He made a face, shifting. Something was bothering him and when he glanced at the shackles in the corner, I had an idea as to what. I said, "I like it when you pin me down, Reyne. I thought you could tell." I tilted my head. "I've always liked being restrained. Believe me, I didn't 'learn' to like it because Jivan forced me to. I lasted this long with him exactly because I was enthusiastic." I snorted and looked up, smiled at Reyne. "And I've had many lovers. And I think you're one of my favorites."

That made him smirk, the apprehension gone. "That does at least allay my concerns." He gave me a friendly kind of scowl. "You deserve better."

I was not sure if he meant my past, or himself. I thought it better not to press for an answer. He might mean both; Reyne was under no delusions that he was good for me.

He washed off, redressed in more casual attire, and said he would be in the chapel for a while, and for me to stay in his room. When I pressed my ear to the floorboards, I swear I could hear the chanting from the services below. Reyne returned well past midnight and said, "Valac, you don't have to sleep on the floor."

I didn't want to sleep on the bed, but he insisted the floor would get colder since the midnight service ended. When I insisted, and he at last relented, I found he was right. It was unpleasantly cold, even by my new standards of it. I sat up, shivering, then I turned and crawled onto the bed.

One of his eyes opened. The aasimar had a funny way of absorbing all the ambient light in the room, practically glowing in dark places. His lineage was meant to be a light. His choices brought darkness.

I was meant by blood to sow destruction, and I tried to be a force for good.

Maybe we could meet in the middle.

I slept outside the blankets, warmer for his presence.

#

I had not noticed it before, because we had always been traveling or recovering from a large battle, but Reyne was not, in any way, a morning person. I had always attributed it to circumstances. He looked half-dead, and was still entirely unconscious at full dawn.

There were so many little pieces and hints of the kind of person he might have been if his dreams had not been taken from him.

I tried to picture the way he might have been. A painter, in some tiny studio. His family would have cut him off for pursuing his passions instead of what they wanted for him, but he would have been happier to have nothing at all to do with them. Probably poor, spending more money on paint than food. Staying up until the wee hours with some muse posing for him. Sleeping until past noon. He would have been happy.

It seemed so unspeakably cruel, so very like his god, to make him this instead.

I watched him for a while, then reached out to touch one of his loose curls. Sunlight leaked around the nearest window and a ray of light slashed toward his eyes. He rolled, burying his face in the pillow. I smiled. "Reyne. You'll miss breakfast."

He groaned, moved his head to one side. One eye peeled open with effort. "If you're hungry, go. Tell them I said you can have whatever. I don't care."

My smile was born of a growing fondness. "You want coffee?"

"Yes." He rolled, hiding his face back in the pillow. The movement made the light fall across his bare back. I got up and dressed, looked back at him from the door. Some part of his heritage and the thin trickle of sunlight, out of the corner of my eye, created an optical illusion of illusory wings.

The way I was always seeing the angel in him, just out of sight, people saw the devil in me. The way I felt buoyant when I saw him, people sank when they saw me.

I went into the kitchens. This, I had done many times before in Thay, and I had no trouble giving an order for breakfast to the cook. They weren't happy about it, but when I said who it was for, they changed their mind. A scullery maid said, "The Captain isn't coming down?" She sounded disappointed.

Another giggled. "You know he'd never even look at you." She smiled knowingly. "Not really his type."

"That's not what I meant," the first snapped. "I meant everyone likes him. And it does them a world of good to see him." She glanced at me. "You tell him so, right?"

My tail fell a little. "He won't listen to me," I insisted. I quickly changed the subject, "Do you know how he likes his coffee? He really needs it in the morning."

"Black, two sugars. He'll need two cups but I'll give you the whole pot," the cook said as she loaded a tray. "Can you carry all this, foulspawn?"

I stared at it. "Probably." It was heavy, but because she had thrown together what was going to be mine too, in a clay bowl and handed that to me separately. For the sake of my sanity, once I was out of sight, I resituated the tray to fit the bowl too. I walked carefully, and even managed to avoid Fiona when I saw her on the main path by ducking around a corner and going around. I fumbled with the doors, finagled the stairs.

Reyne had not moved.

I set up the tray on the small table, plopped into the chair to eat a meal of eggs and bacon. I said, "Get up, before I drink your coffee."

He groaned. "I will make you go back and get me another."

I smiled.

He got up, didn't seem to see anything except the tall silver pot. He poured it, dropped in two sugars from the small bowl, then glared at me until I got up from the chair. He slunk down.

Some things would never change about him. He considered our relationship to be hierarchical. It was all he knew.

It was all I knew.

I finished eating before he was halfway done with his coffee, and had yet to even lift the lid on the plate. He stared. "You could have asked for more."

I set the bowl aside. "I just eat quickly." My gaze flicked away. "We only had so long for meals, and the longer it took for me to eat, the less time I had to sleep or anything else."

"Not unlike my training then, at least in that respect."

I slunk down to the floor and leaned my head against his thigh. I looked up at Reyne. "Do you have any happy memories of it?"

His free hand touched the side of my face. "Joy is something you have to take where you can find it. I was happy when I succeeded at a task. Or excelled at one skill or another. Bested someone." He frowned. "But I don't think that's what you meant."
I shook my head against his thigh. "No." A pause. "I don't really have any happy memories either."

He looked down. It wasn't pity. I'm not sure Reyne was capable of it anymore. I am more than certain that was drilled right out of him. It couldn't be empathy either, but some distant relation of either of them.

Reyne had a meeting in the afternoon. I spent it refilling the water basin, trying to familiarize myself with the fort, and in the kitchen and the stable, and found him again in his tower room. His nose wrinkled. "You smell like horse."

I rolled my eyes. "You want me to drag a bath up here?"

"No, I'd go to the bathhouse in town at that rate." He made a face, then looked up. "We have a bit of a problem."

When he told me what it was, he had vastly understated the scope of the problem.