Anomen looked up at Patricia’s cloaked form. Oh, no, he thought. What is it now? He reluctantly capped his traveling inkwell and removed his precious letter from the makeshift desk of his shield, blowing first on the ink to dry it.

“Yes? Have you a task for me?” he said.

“Only a request,” she said quietly. “Will you please come with me to Captain Arat’s tent? I would value your opinion on our course of action. I am not as familiar as I might be with the design of strongholds in this part of the world, and I may not ask the right questions.”

Stiffly, he nodded agreement. He would prevail; not by word or look would he let her know that she had managed to wound him. He would force his control to match hers. His pride demanded it; it would not honor Helm to show such weakness.

When they entered the tent it was empty. “I asked Captain Arat to join us in ten minutes,” announced Patricia. “I need to speak with you alone first.”

Anomen looked at her in dismay. What, did she mean to insult him again?

She began as if reciting a lesson. “I regret sincerely that Nalia’s ill-timed interruption did not allow me to reply fully to your question, and it disturbs me to think that you may be under a misapprehension. I do not dispute the good intentions of the Order to which you have dedicated your life. I believe it to be a fine institution, filled with men and women of pure heart. But it is precisely this purity which could be lost if the Radiant Heart were to become more active in politics.”

“You must understand, Anomen, that my own Order is in a similar situation. We too seek the advancement of good. Yet our Masters are at pains to show us our limitations. The history of Faerun shows that time and time again, an organization such as yours or mine that makes the decision to become a political force inevitably becomes corrupt within two or three generations. It becomes too attractive to those who would seek power for its own sake.”

“Our teachers had a saying: bureaucracy breeds bribery. I would not see the radiance of your Heart, or my Hand, or any other order, dimmed by such acts. The various Orders serve as great a purpose by acting as a check upon those in power, for they know then that there is someone watching them who will act if injustice grows great.”

Patricia had said all this staring straight ahead, but now she turned her head towards him, and he saw with a shock the tightly controlled pain on her face. The force of that repressed agony slashed at him like a dagger. “Truly, Anomen, I did not wish to cause you any hurt. I do not like to be at odds with anyone, and for it to be the result of my own stupidity is worse than all. Can you at least respect my full answer, now that you have heard it, even if you are unwilling to admit the truth of it?”

At that moment he would have given anything to stop having to witness that dumb misery. He replied honestly, “Milady, you have given me much to think on. I remember such cautions sometimes being given during my first days in the Order, but I must admit that I often found those lectures on ethics boring. Yet to hear your impassioned plea for reason makes me wonder how I could ever have failed to see the trap within my thoughts for myself.”

Hastily, he added, “I think perhaps I have much yet to learn of the world. Beyond military tactics, history has never been a favorite subject of mine, but now I can see why so many wise men study it. It is that sense of perspective that you monks of Candlekeep seek, yes?” By Helm, would Patricia never stop looking as if she were being flayed alive?

Her whole body visibly relaxed, and for a moment she smiled gratefully at him before the inevitable curtain descended again. “Well, the perspective I am seeking now is yours. That knowledge of military matters is exactly what I need. You must help me extract the appropriate information about the keep from Captain Arat.”

They were disturbed at that moment by the entrance of the man himself, a grizzled fellow of medium height and build. He nodded to them, and they settled down to a council of war that lasted for about half an hour. By that time, Patricia and Anomen had learned as much as possible about the layout and defenses of the fortress that loomed outside the stockade.

“So,” Patricia summed it up, “what we’ve got is a large number of trolls, yuan-ti, and some third kind of creature running loose inside the keep. The last people to escape were yourselves, once it became obvious that you could not hold the building. No one has seen Lord de’Arnise or his sister since the war began, and the creatures don’t seem to show much desire to leave the keep. Nalia knows how to use the secret passage, so we’ve got a way in, but the state of affairs inside is anyone’s guess.”

She looked at Captain Arat. “You’ll help create a diversion if we can get the portcullis up and the drawbridge lowered, which may buy us a little more time to look for survivors. Nalia has to go with us, not just because we need her familiarity with the territory, but because she won’t stay put here if we leave her behind.”

The Guardsman nodded reluctantly. “I cannot order the Lady Nalia to do anything, and she is somewhat headstrong. I truly hope that the Lord is alive, for she’ll not take kindly to the consequences if he has passed on.” He looked at Patricia. “I thank you for your offer of assistance, milady. Few others would have taken so many pains for such little prospect of reward. I know such deeds are meat and drink to those who follow the path of the Order,” with a nod to Anomen, “but I thank you heartily for your protection of the good name of the daughter of the House. Come what may, her reputation has been shielded by your kindness.” Patricia inclined her head, then reached across the table to shake Arat’s hand.

“We’ll move out of here an hour before dawn. I think it wisest to give Nalia as much rest as possible, since she is unused to this life. Also, only Jan can see in the dark. Anomen, you must raise our plea to the Guardian. I shall make my own petition to Ilmater for mercy upon any left within shortly.”

Their companions were already asleep when they returned to the bonfire, now reduced to a bed of glowing coals. Since Patricia’s apology, Anomen had found his wonted joy at the expectation of battle returning. Sleep might be well-nigh impossible for him, but he could well spend the time at prayer. A sudden thought occurred to him, and he asked it of his companion before he had time to consider the question himself.

“Why did Captain Arat thank you for protecting Nalia’s reputation? Surely there could be nothing wrong in her search for defenders?”

Patricia halted in mid-step, her jaw actually dropping. He couldn’t be that dense, could he? Or that innocent? The man was twenty-five, for Torm’s sake, and sounded as naďve as Nalia or Minsc! Not that she had that much experience of her own, but Immy had had enough for both of them, judging by her sister’s occasional failure to come in at night at Candlekeep. She cast about for some way to explain the situation without embarrassing the man. Or herself, for that matter.

“Ummm, Lord Anomen, you must remember that not everyone is as pure of heart as yourself. The main reason I agreed to allow Nalia to accompany us is that I did not wish to see her trust abused. You and I were given certain training that she has never had, and her upbringing was too sheltered to give her even the ordinary caution known to your average tradesman’s daughter. If I’d thought she’d’ve stayed in Athkatla, I would’ve taken her to whatever relatives I could find, and left her under their care. But Nalia’s a bit too much like Imoen; she’d have followed us anyway. And she would most likely have come to grief on her own. The Lady Nalia is young and attractive, and the Copper Coronet was not the safest place for her to stay. Hendak himself is a decent man, and even Madam Nin only uses … volunteers. But there are others with no such scruples. Have I said enough, or must I be more blunt?”

Anomen was vastly relieved that the night cloaked the rich blush overspreading his face. He’d arrived at the answer himself two seconds after asking the question, and wanted to sink straight through the earth. Not just for asking a lady that question, but for having seen nothing more in the quest than a chance to earn glory in battle. Protecting the honor of a lady hadn’t even occurred to him, probably because Nalia seemed almost too young to need it. What a pitiful excuse for a knight he must seem to be. But somehow Patricia seemed to do that to him… draw him out before he was even aware that he was speaking, then change his view of the situation by her response. It was almost--- almost like talking to Moira, or to his own conscience.

“I, ah, er,” he stumbled. “Yes, quite enough. And I, I am sorry for having brought the subject up. You are most kind to listen on to my ramblings, and I thank you. Your patience reminds me of my own sister, Moira.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a sister, Anomen,” said Patricia, welcoming the change of subject. “Is she older or younger?”

“Two years younger--- the same difference as you and Imoen. I wish that I could see her more often, for now she alone must cope with our father.”

“And you write to her most evenings, don’t you,” Patricia stated rather than asked. “I wind up talking to mine the same way, through my journal. It is difficult to find yourself unwillingly separated from those you love, especially when you fear for their physical or emotional security.”

Anomen felt a sudden kinship with her. Perhaps, after all, Patricia might understand something of the ache in his heart. “Yes, and although our father loves Moira, she still must put up with his drunken rages.” He saw Patricia’s concerned look and added, “Oh, he never touches a hair on her head, or even yells at her much. He saved his hateful words for me. But he does have a tendency to break crockery while he rails against the vagaries of fortune. I sleep very lightly, because I can remember awaking often as a small boy to the sounds of glass breaking within my father’s room next door.”

To his utter surprise, this elicited a smile. “You and I both, then. Anything that stirs wakes me, because I remember that the sound of breaking glass always presaged a major tavern brawl. They didn’t happen often, because Daddy Winthrop was always very strict, but when they did, Imoen and I would always sit up on our windowsill and look out to see how many people got thrown out of the window before the noise stopped. I think the record was six. But luckily for me, I didn’t have to fear it; we knew we were safe in our locked room in the attic, and Delaine would be along as soon as it was over to check on us. Did you fear that your father would come after you when he was drunk?”

Anomen frowned. “I’m not sure. I knew he sometimes didn’t like me, even when I was small, and later he began to hate me. Perhaps that thought was in the back of my mind; perhaps not. But I don’t care to speak of it further.” The rage was rising, the fury at his inability to protect his sister from his father’s unreasonable demands, and he wanted to choke it off before it grew too strong.

“As you wish,” said Patricia calmly. “I’ll attend to my prayers and meditation now, then. It will be time to leave in another two hours.”

He nodded curtly, returning to his equipment and seeking his own deity. For the remainder of the time, they both silently raised their pleas to the heavens, and if they had read one another’s thoughts, they would have found much common ground.