“You’re fortunate indeed to have such brave employees,” Patricia commented to Nalia after Merton’s departure. “I can see that your father is able to inspire loyalty.”

Nalia’s face lit up. “Oh, yes, he’s well-loved by all the servants.”

Anomen was bit startled by the scholar’s comment. Patricia thought that servant was courageous? The valet had not come out to defend his lord’s keep; he’d hidden upstairs with a bunch of women. He’d never understood exactly why some men--- his own father included--- were content to be but cogs in the wheel of life, rather than eager for glory. He’d believed them to be… well, not exactly cowards, but certainly lacking in higher ideals. What did such men find to live for or fight for? He felt compelled to question Patricia. Once again, he found himself speaking to her before he had a chance to carefully consider his words.

“Milady, what do you find to admire in that man?”

Patricia looked at him in some surprise. Before she could answer, Minsc’s booming voice rang out. “Why do you mock him? He was not large as Minsc, true, but not many people are! But his soul was that of a great warrior! Did he not dare much to keep evil from his door?”

“Yeah, Ano,” said Jan. “Do you have to be six feet tall and carry a mace to do something good?”

Patricia looked at Anomen. “I’m afraid they’ve about summed it up, Lord Anomen.” He felt a tinge of unease. She’d never addressed him by the formal title before. He felt like a pupil who’d just failed a test standing before a disappointed teacher. She continued, “You know perfectly well not everyone is suited to taking up arms and training for combat. Wise men know their limitations, and some just don’t have the strength or endurance. Other people have a strong calling to some other profession. Isn’t it better for all if a man decides to be a good armorer instead of a bad soldier? Or wasn’t it wiser of Lady Nalia to study magic, where her talent lies, than try to learn to use a two-handed sword?”

“I admire Merton’s ability to rise above the situation in which he found himself. With no formal training, nothing previous in his life to prepare him for such a moment, he had the presence of mind to keep all those women out of the way of the real fighters. Then he had the wits to devise a plan to get them all out of the keep, and the leadership to persuade them to take a somewhat risky route to safety. Lastly, he had the courage to try to save Edith when he perceived her to be in grave danger, and when he was injured, he had the sheer force of will to keep trying to escape himself.”

“It doesn’t matter that he wasn’t worrying about how to fight his way back into the keep to make some last-ditch stand. He knew he had people to protect, and he did it without making a big fuss. Heroes don’t have to swoop in at the head of the cavalry charge; they simply do what has to be done.” Her voice dropped to a whisper that only he could hear. “My biggest heroes died protecting me, and there are no monuments to their names.”

Anomen was glad that he could busy himself with gathering his gear. He’d not meant to sound like a prig; he felt and mourned again his inability to clothe his thoughts in more graceful words. Now he was the one who felt the need to apologize. He wouldn’t have minded so much if the others hadn’t overheard him and registered their disdain for him. But right now he had to ignore his own shame and ready himself for battle. Fine. He could use a good fight to work off some of his irritation with himself. Would he never achieve the nobility of spirit and the graces of chivalry he struggled so hard to attain?

Patricia sighed. That poor man just would say the first thing that popped into his head, without ever stopping to reflect. She’d have tried to be a bit more gentle with him, but the others had heard him this time, and their blunt analysis was dead accurate. She’d been forced to back them up, even though she’d much rather have worked to guide his thoughts towards the correct conclusion, instead of shoving them into position. Between the duet of singers, a touchy squire, and an ingenue, this day was probably going to get filed in about the twentieth spot on her personal list of rotten moments. She just prayed very hard to Deneir that someday she’d be able to read it and laugh.

Their ten minutes were expired, and it was time to enter the courtyard. This time Patricia signaled Anomen and Minsc to go first. They plunged through the servants’ hall door and almost ran full force into a tentacled otyugh.

“Oh, no,” cried Nalia, “the trolls must have let it out of the sump pit!”

“Really, Nalia,” Jan grunted while raising his Flasher Master Bruiser, “why couldn’t your father just use pigs to clean up the slops, like normal nobles?”

“Get out of there, Anomen!” Patricia yelled. “You can’t hit those things with ordinary weapons. You and Jan go on up the stairs, try to reach the wheel that opens the portcullis. Nalia, you stay here and give Minsc and me some cover.”

Balked but obedient, Anomen pulled back and changed his course, charging as fast as he could up the wooden treads, followed by the gnome. Patricia thanked Helm silently for the priest’s strict training, even as she sliced at one of the otyugh’s tentacles. The end of it flicked over her, stinging like the bite of a hundred fire ants, but she had gained enough power to hold her concentration, and its attempt to slow her failed. Minsc had circled round the monster and was swinging at it from behind, a sweeping horizontal stroke that opened a wide swath across its back. The wound poured ichor as the monster keened in agony.

Nalia had wisely held her fire after her first shot had been ineffective. She didn’t waste spells against the creature; she knew it was partly resistant to magic. Even as she noted Nalia’s behavior, Patricia’s mind was analyzing, probing for any opening in the creature’s defenses. Ah, there--- she danced closer to the otyugh’s body, and stabbed straight into its globular center. It shrilled again, and collapsed. She felt a bit bad about having to destroy it, but it was clearly not going to let them pass by without a fight.

The monk ignored the pain in her right shoulder--- at least it wasn’t her sword arm--- and pelted off in pursuit of the others. Speed was going to be everything in this situation. As she reached the top of the staircase, she saw Minsc pounding up behind her. Nalia was calming the dogs in their pens on the far side of the courtyard, trying to stop their baying. Ahead of her, Anomen and Jan were holding off a troll at the end of the wooden catwalk that connected to the front battlements. She called to Jan, telling him to move out of the way, and plowed past him, sheathing her sword as she went. Praying that the troll wouldn’t move the wrong way, she pumped her legs even faster and jumped from the edge of the catwalk over to a position on the main battlement, behind the monster.

“Minsc is on his way in!” she warned Anomen, who instantly started edging as far left as possible. He wasn’t about to get caught that way twice. The troll had been startled by her sudden jump, and while it tried to adjust itself to the fact that it now had two opponents within close range, Patricia started to pummel it mercilessly. Left hand, right hand (ouch, that was the arm the otyugh got), a roundhouse kick with the right leg…. Anomen was impressed with what little he could see of the attack from his own perspective, but he didn’t have time to analyze the finer points of her unarmed technique. He was too busy raising his shield to block the troll’s swipe and looking for a place to aim his own next blow. Even so, he was a fraction slow, and took a numbing hit to his shield arm.

Minsc arrived on the scene at that moment, along with a bolt from Jan that missed the troll and nearly gave Patricia a permanent part on her scalp. A second later a well-aimed shot from Nalia, still far below, thudded into the troll’s side, setting it ablaze. No one was ever quite sure afterward who killed it, as the troll went down under a hail of blows, nor did it really matter to them.

Nalia crossed to the gate while the others moved along the battlements overhead. They could see Captain Arat’s small band of Guardsmen approaching; they’d be at the gate in another two or three minutes. Anomen turned instinctively to stare at the higher parapets on the main part of the keep. Trouble!

“Patricia, we’ve been spotted!” She whirled to gaze upward herself. She saw more trolls and some yuan-ti loping across the upper battlements towards an interior staircase that opened out onto the catwalk they’d just crossed.

“Quick! You and I can stall them,” she ordered, ignoring the injuries they’d both taken. “Minsc, you and Jan open the gate, then come help us. If you’re fast enough, they may not make it down before you get back.” She turned to lean over the edge of the parapet. “Nalia, get under cover and use whatever ranged spells you’ve got left on the yuan-ti!”

Anomen began praying as they ran, shortening his breath even further, but Patricia fully approved. He was drawing on the power of Helm, and Patricia began to reach deep into herself to summon the weapon she liked least. It was time to pull out all the stops. Her own chant scrolled away behind her like a banner borne on the wind:

By my birth I have the power;
I call upon it in this hour.
May it serve only good,
For the sake of others’ blood.
Bless me now, all the Five,
Help me save others’ lives.

The words had come to her some months ago as she meditated long on her infamous heritage. She’d no wish to claim any part of Bhaal’s power, but this ability had been thrust upon her. As always, she’d taken the problem before the Five, and after two days of fasting and prayer these words had scrolled themselves in the smoke of her small fire. Scented with juniper and sacred cedar, they could bear no evil within them, and she found her dilemma resolved by the graciousness of Deneir. She understood the message clearly: so long as she asked for their favor beforehand and used it only to help others, her invocation of this ability would be approved and guarded by the Five; no harm would come to her soul as a result.

As she gasped out the last line, she felt her breathing ease, and a surge of energy ran through her body. For a few precious minutes she would be stronger and faster than ever; it was up to her to put the time to best use. She saw that Anomen’s plea had also succeeded, and they were filled with such exaltation that they smiled at one another as they came to face their enemies. Minsc and Jan had managed to lower the drawbridge, and the Guards were spilling into the courtyard as the pair of them hurtled into the back of the small pack of monsters. Captain Arat himself was an axeman, and he was earnestly attempting to whittle the yuan-ti down to size, although the snakelike creature had all the advantage of standing above him on the stairs. This was the biggest of the species either Anomen or Patricia had ever seen, and by tacit consent they concentrated their efforts on it. They wouldn’t be able to get past it anyway, since the stairs were so narrow. Together their weapons flashed, gleaming silver in the mid-morning sun. Again Anomen aimed for his victim’s head, using all his augmented strength in a downward blow that shattered the skull like an eggshell, while Patricia lunged straight forward, thrusting her long sword deep into its back. The yuan-ti toppled forward from the combined impact, and the Captain had to jump aside quickly to avoid being flattened beneath the corpse.

The two spell-strengthened companions were already in pursuit of their next foe, a luckless troll. The Guard archers were laying down a heavy barrage of acid arrows, and it took only a few more blows to dispatch the green monster. Minsc, Jan, and Nalia had joined them by then, and the scene became completely chaotic. The five had made amazing progress as a cohesive unit in the past two days; no one needed to be told to head back into the keep when the last of the foes in the courtyard had been dispatched. The remnants of the Guard followed them. Only three or four were left relatively uninjured; the rest had either paid with their lives, were being dragged back to the stockade for treatment, or were doing the dragging.

Inside the main door they encountered another of the large green trolls. The last Guards flung themselves at it, and when the smoke from the fire arrows cleared, only two were left standing. Patricia thanked them heartily, and sent them back to help man the stockade.

Jan set about inspecting the large chests placed within the entry hall. He whistled as he found a trap on one. “Hey, Nally, is this where the butler keeps the silver, or is there some other reason why this chest is rigged to stab you in the belly if you try to open it without the key?”

Nalia wanted to wring his neck for using that nickname, but she forbore because she wanted to trade spellbooks with him later. She could really use that Melf’s Minute Meteors…. “No, the silver’s in the pantry. Let me think.” After a minute her brow cleared. “Good call, Jan. I’m pretty sure one of the flail heads is in there. Can you bypass the trap? I’ve never tried to get around that one.”

Jan snorted. “Of course I can. Don’t you see I’m wearing my Techno-gloves?” Ten seconds later he was pulling the second cylindrical head out of a secret panel in the chest’s bottom. “There you go, one magic flail head. Now who gets to go fix it up?”

Patricia looked at him, sighing as she held her wounded shoulder, which had begun to throb abominably as soon as the adrenaline rush subsided. “Since you and Nalia didn’t get anything worse than scratches, you get the detail, Jan. Let Anomen fix up Minsc’s leg where the last troll got him behind the knee, and the three of you can set off. It’s going to take a bit more work to put me and Anomen here back into fighting trim. Come right on back here when you’re done, and no singing, okay?”

Jan mock-saluted. “Yes, Your Stiffness! Of course, I’d much rather wander around this troll-infested den alone, but since you insist…” he said drily.

As soon as the three of them disappeared around the corner, Patricia walked over to Anomen and started examining him with professional aloofness. The cleric was startled when she lifted his injured arm and twisted it gently. “AAHK,” he gasped, trying to muffle the agony. “You didn’t have to pull it so hard, milady.”

She stared levelly back at him. “I barely touched it, but yes, I did have to make the experiment. I sent the others away because I thought you were a hider. This arm’s fractured, and I could tell exactly what you were thinking. You were going to try to use your biggest spell on me, then use whatever you had left to try and keep your own pain down. Nothing doing, good sir. I need you healthy, so you’re going to sit here and heal yourself while I watch you, but I’m going first.”

She sat down cross-legged on the floor, humming lightly, and closed her eyes, holding her injured shoulder. The hum resolved itself into an unrhymed, yet rhythmic invocation of the Five.

Come to the aid of the supplicant
Pour your power into my hands
Let the healing light flow from them
I believe in the power of good
My faith is strong as light itself
I hold no strength of my own
I am but the vessel that contains your gift
Let righteousness flow from my hands
Grant me a small portion of your power
That I may serve you now and forever
Come to the aid of the supplicant…

By the second repetition Anomen found himself compelled to join her. He could feel the power vibrating around her, sense it flowing both into and out of her body. He knew that he was witnessing a drawing upon the mercy of the gods that was both akin and yet alien to his own training. This was much the same ritual that his own knight used, a laying on of hands. At the end of the second round, Patricia’s hands became faintly outlined in white light, and the aura grew brighter and brighter until it disappeared with a flash at the end of the third repetition. Patricia’s shoulder was whole again; even the torn cloth of her tunic had been restored. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Thank you, Anomen. It always helps to have someone to harmonize with, and I’ve missed having my sister to help me do that.” She sprang lightly up, and approached him. “Shall I accompany you now?”

“If you could help hold my arm in the proper position…” he began hesitantly.

“Of course,” she nodded. “First let me help you get that shoulder off. It’ll be agony for you to try to bend your upper arm enough to reach it yourself.” Deftly she removed the section of armor. “There you go, now I’ll try to position it as gently as I can.” Her touch was light, but still he gasped. “Ready when you are, Lord Anomen,” she said cheerfully.

Gratefully he plunged into the prayer for serious wounds, supported by the extra weight of her voice as well as her steady grip on his arm. In a minute or so, it was as if the pain had never been, and he was swinging his arm in circles to work out any remaining stiffness. “Thank you for your assistance, milady. I, too, find it pleasant to have someone with whom I can share my faith with no fear of ridicule.” He smiled a bit ruefully. “Although I have noticed that few hesitate to take advantage of my help when they are in pain.”

Anomen waited a moment before continuing, listening for any sound of the others’ return. Once he was sure all was silent, he said, “I apologize for my poor choice of words about Merton. I meant no insult to the man. It is… it is only that I often wonder why more people do not choose the path of the Order. Why does anyone start down the path of evil? Or why don’t more people choose to actively fight it? For myself, I have never wanted anything more than to ride into battle under the Order’s banner, to smite evil wherever it may be found. Why do so many find that wish foolish?”

Patricia looked at him for a long moment, and he could not tell what she was thinking. Suddenly she cocked her head. “Anomen, I would like to discuss this with you, but I hear the others returning, and I am afraid we must return to hunting trolls. I won’t forget, though. We’ll find a better time soon.”

“Well!” she exclaimed, as the trio rejoined them, “I see that your father’s flail is nearly fully restored to its former glory, Nalia. We shall have to press on to return it to him, so he can wield it himself against these unwanted guests.”