They crept up the staircase, anxiously anticipating the ambush they were sure lurked at the top. To their surprise, nothing awaited them but an empty room. Patricia, Jan, and Nalia quickly swept it for traps, but found none. Nalia assured them that her father would not have hidden the last flail head there, so they exited into the main corridor. More trolls came after them, but by this time they had their technique so perfected that they were barely even scratched before the monsters were charred masses on the floor.

According to Nalia, the next door on the left led into her father’s bedchamber, but the door was locked. The copper-haired mage frowned. “There are two master keys to all the doors on this floor. My father had one, and my aunt kept the other in a secret drawer in the library desk. Unless you want to batter down every door, Patricia, we’ll have to try to find one or the other.” She gulped a little, trying to stifle the thought that they might find a key on a body.

Patricia nodded. “All right, then. Which way to the library?”

“Go back through the last room, out the south door, and around the corridor.”

“Fine. You come up here with me for a bit; you should recognize anything different that might be a trap.”

The two unarmored women slipped ahead of the others, moving in near silence. Patricia smiled encouragingly at Nalia. “You’re doing fine,” she whispered. “It’s much easier to do this without those clanking hulks behind you. When we get to the library door, stop and we’ll listen for a bit before we signal the boys.” Nalia was pleased that she’d been chosen for this task, and Patricia was glad to give the others a chance to see a man about a dog if they needed to. Their last break hadn’t afforded much opportunity, and she’d noticed Minsc starting to eye her with a pleading look she recognized. She chuckled inwardly, reflecting that not so long ago such realities of party life were new to her too. She’d try to stall Nalia enough to give them a good ten minutes.

All such mundane thoughts were driven out of her head once she put her ear to the stout, heavily-carved door of the library. There were distinct sounds of movement within, and she didn’t think they were being made by humans. She was pretty sure by the scaly rustling that there was at least one yuan-ti in the room. Quickly she signaled Nalia to take her place. “See if you can figure out how many creatures are in there,” she hissed in the other woman’s ear. “I’ll go get the others.”

Patricia made certain to make a little noise just before she turned the corner of the corridor that led into the room at the head of the stairwell. Minsc instantly let out his challenge in a low rumble: “Who wants some?”

She gave the reply Imoen had invented so long ago. “Not me, I’m on a low-iron diet, Minsc.” She heard the chuckle the response never failed to elicit from the huge man, though the joke had grown stale for everyone else after a few days.

“So, Tisha, Boo wants to know what trouble we face, that you come back alone.”

“We’ve been beaten to the library. Maybe Nalia will have been able to determine how many by the time we get back to her. Do your best not to clank, all right?”

Minsc looked as indignant as a man with a small rodent peeking out of a pouch round his neck could look. “I do not clank! Minsc is good at being silent!” He paused for a second, then said, “Well, okay. Boo says that I do make noise sometimes, but that it is better for me to be like the armadillo than the opossum. I do not know why one mar-, mar-su-pi-al,” he stumbled through the word, “should be better than the other, but Boo is good and wise, and I trust Boo.”

Jan looked impressed. “An armadillo is basically a possum with armored plates instead of fur, Minsc. They both make pretty good stew with a few carrots and lots of turnips. Ah, I remember Granny’s possum stew…. Did I ever tell you the story about my Uncle Jed’s nephew Jethro going possum hunting with my cousin Ellie Mae’s blue tick hound through the streets of Athkatla?”

Minsc shook his head.

“Weeel, doggie…” began Jan, but was promptly cut off by Anomen and Patricia, both eager to avoid another dose of Jan’s longwindedness at this inopportune moment.

“Let’s go,” said Anomen, and at the same time Patricia cried, “Later, Jan!” The scholar and priest looked at each other and turned as one to walk away, leaving Minsc and Jan trailing behind. Silently they came up behind Nalia, still intently listening at the door.

“Psssst,” hissed Patricia. “Any luck on guessing how many?”

The mage turned, holding up four fingers. “One snake-man, and two or three trolls, I think. The other things sound like they’re big and bipedal, anyway.”

The group had all reassembled now, and Patricia and Anomen whispered together for some moments, trying to plan their attack. Then they gestured the others into a huddle around them. “Okay, here’s the formation. Minsc, I need you to come in first with me,” said Patricia. “We’re going to head straight for the yuan-ti. Nalia, I want you loaded up with acid arrows; you’re going to come in last and hang back here in the doorway.” She turned to Jan. “I’m counting on you and Anomen this time. I want you to polymorph yourself into an ogre now, before we attack. I want you to concentrate on trolls. Anomen is going to be asking for Helm’s intervention to smite them all, and I need your help to make sure he doesn’t lose his concentration. Same for you, Nalia. Keep the trolls busy trying to avoid acid burns, so they can’t get at Anomen. Once he’s finished his prayer, use your judgement as to whether or not to cast your own spells or keep shooting.” Everyone nodded their understanding, and as soon as Jan had transformed himself, they slammed through the library door.

Wow, thought Jan, so this is how the rest of them normally see a fight. It’s a lot different from up here. No wonder ogres forget about how vulnerable their knees are, when they’re looking down at the tops of heads all the time. I wonder if this is how Burt felt when he rode wyverns…. He battered the nearest troll with his morningstars, still fascinated by the new experience of being close enough to see the feral gleam in the monster’s eyes. The gnome ceased to marvel once he took a good rake to the side of his now-bald head, and bellowed in rage at the pain. Instinctively, he flailed his arms like a drummer, and one blow broke the troll’s left leg.

Meantime, Minsc was doing his best to create yuan-ti mincemeat while Patricia took advantage of her second’s extra grace to target her next blow precisely at the proper spot to stun the creature. There, on the back of the neck… the monster had begun casting a spell when it was rudely interrupted by having its spinal cord compressed in such a way that it had trouble breathing, let alone moving. Paralyzed, the snake-man found himself staring helplessly at the huge blade bearing down on him. Only by pure luck did he avoid being cleft in twain, as Minsc’s foot slipped on a book that had fallen off a shelf. The misstep threw the Rashemite off-balance, and Patricia lost her next attack in trying to dodge his flailing arms.

Nalia was peppering another troll heavily, but even with her new Tuigan-style bow, she couldn’t fire fast enough to completely shield Anomen. This second troll recognized what the priest was attempting, and head-butted him in the stomach like a large green battering ram. Unluckily for the troll, Anomen had just finished the last phrase of the spell when contact was made. Unluckily for Anomen, the blow still hurt just as much, and as he fell to the floor winded for the second time that day, he was certain that he’d be killed. Then the pain hit, and all was black.

The sudden onslaught of small hailstones of light saved the party. The trolls writhed under them as if they had been made of fire, and the yuan-ti mage couldn’t even try to duck them in its paralyzed state. Patricia drew her sword and flew from behind at the troll that had set upon Jan, hewing a large chunk out of its left shoulder, while Minsc completed the job on the yuan-ti. Nalia fired steadily at the troll that had rammed Anomen.

Just when they thought the battle was over, Anomen’s attacker split into two smaller trolls. The unconscious cleric couldn’t even crawl out of the way. With a furious bellow, Minsc charged the two new foes. In the midst of her own attack, Patricia managed to think, Oh, no, no, Minsc, don’t lose it on me now. We’re so close… don’t go berserk, don’t lose control, I don’t know if I can stop you later….

The giant was roaring now. “All will fall before the might of Minsc and Boo! Evil all about! No one hurts Helm man or hamster! All will ... RRRAAAGHHHGHG!!!”

At the last wordless cry, Patricia gasped at Jan, “Quick, drag Anomen out of the room while you’ve still got ogre strength. Take Nalia with you and lock the door! Don’t open it again until I tell you! Minsc doesn’t know what he’s doing, he might hurt you too.”

Puzzled, the gnome tried to obey, but he only got the cleric partway to the door before his spell fizzled. Patricia made her decision and broke off her attack on the second troll. She pelted toward her friends, swooping down to grab Anomen’s feet. “Grab his shoulders, Jan! Run!”

She slammed the door behind them, bracing against it, though she knew she didn’t weigh enough to stop a charging Minsc. Anomen was badly injured, she could tell. He didn’t even seem to be conscious. This was not good. Minsc always hurt himself while in the berserk state, and their healing was getting low. There’d be no choice but to use potions soon. Behind the door, Minsc was still raging. Those trolls would be smears on the floor by the time he was through.

Patricia eased the cleric’s legs onto the floor while Jan lowered his head. “Jan,” she asked, “do you know any healcraft? How to assess injuries?”

The gnome shook his head. “I don’t know anything beyond how to wash a wound and put on a bandage.”

She frowned. “Then don’t tell Anomen that I was the one that had to do this once he wakes up. He’s the type to be embarrassed.” Swiftly she began removing the man’s breastplate, noting the severe damage. The troll had actually made a wide concave impression across the metal. There could be pretty severe internal injuries, and moving him wouldn’t have helped. She had no choice but to use her own abilities to at least stabilize him, so he could wake up enough to swallow a potion or heal himself. She laid her hands over his tunic; she could already see his abdomen bloating underneath the cloth. Swiftly she reached downwards in her mind, seeking the small core of power that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her medulla oblongata. That bit of Bhaal was going to have to pay its rent today, though she’d rather give it an eviction notice.

Ah, there it was, the slippery eel-like thing. Mentally she picked it up by the throat. You share this skull, you better help me survive. We need this one healthy, capiche? He dies, we may all kick the bucket today, and then it’s back to the Abyss for you. Your Selfishness got that? She sensed reluctant agreement. Power up, then. It felt disgustingly like a wet eel sliding down the inside of her skin, out from the spine and down her arms. Twice it pulsed, then she was free of its taint. The swelling underneath her hands had disappeared.

Nalia watched the process with astonishment. She knew that monks had some odd abilities, but she’d never seen anything like this. Patricia’s whole arms had seemed to writhe, tongues of fire licking down them and pouring into Anomen’s midsection. Even stranger was Patricia’s reaction afterwards. Without even looking again at the squire, she stood up, walked around the corner, and was audibly sick.

Anomen’s breathing had eased, and his eyes fluttered open. Nalia noticed for the first time that they weren’t the black she’d thought, but dark blue. He tried to raise himself, but slipped back. “Trolls?” he asked.

“Stuck in there with Minsc, can’t you hear him?” replied Jan. In fact, the Rashemite’s roars hadn’t ceased for more than five seconds since they’d left.

Patricia coolly returned, her face impassive as ever. “You’re awake. We weren’t sure how long it would take. Much longer and we’d have had to try to force a healing potion down you. Can you heal yourself now? Do you have enough resources left?”

Anomen nodded slowly. “I think so, milady. At least mostly. But why did you leave Minsc alone in there?”

“He was very upset to see a companion fall. Rashemani warriors often go into a berserk state in such cases, striking friend and foe alike until the madness runs its course. Our only choice was to move you out of harm’s way and wait it out. I will try to talk him down now, but the rest of you should stay away,” Patricia replied. “He always hurts himself during these rages, and it may not be over yet.”

She slipped through the door before any of them could protest. She forced the memory of that violation of her body away. It had saved another’s life, but it never got easier to use. She would be more frightened if it did. She knew if she’d ever willingly accepted its offers of increased power, she would be controlled by The Thing by now. Hopefully the others would remember not to tell Anomen what she’d done. He would know that it wasn’t an ordinary part of her calling. Let him think that he had just been knocked out for a while, not at death’s door.

She concentrated on soothing Minsc. He was standing in the center of the room now, the Sword of Chaos whirling around his head. Only Minsc was strong enough to make that look easy, even with long, jagged wounds weeping blood along his limbs. From her post by the door she called softly to him. One mistake and she could be diced as thoroughly as the green chunks on the floor.

“Minsc, it’s Tisha. You must listen to my words. Boo is safe now. Anomen will live. Your enemies lie dead at your feet. There is no more evil in this room to fight. Calm down, you will frighten Boo. I can see his whiskers twitching from here.”

He gave a long, shuddering sigh and seemed to sink in on himself. “Tish… Tisha? Where is the troll that hurt my friend? Why do I feel such pain? What happened?”

The woman crossed over and looked up into her friend’s face. She was only a hundred and fifty pounds to his two hundred and ninety plus armor, and she stood a good foot shorter, but she compelled him to look into her eyes. “You lost control again. You promised me that you would work harder to stay calm, and until now you did. Anomen was hurt badly and you were frightened, but we all had to leave so you would not hurt us. You were hurt because you were so mad you could not feel the blows of your enemies. Drink this potion, and you will feel better.” Patricia handed him one of the precious vials that held the extra-powerful pale blue potion commonly used for wounds here in Amn.

After he’d swallowed the whole in one long draught, she called the rest in. Anomen was nearly back to normal, but his breastplate was shot. It would be useless until it had had major repairs, and he wasn’t sure it would be salvageable at all. Patricia thought for a long moment. Finally she raised her head and said, “Wasn’t there some armor back in the Guards barracks? It might not be as good, and I know it won’t be a custom fit, but you could at least look at it.”

Nalia looked over. “Ah-ha-hem! Aren’t you forgetting something, Tisha?” She felt bold, using the woman’s nickname for the first time.

“What, Nalia?” asked the monk patiently.

“The forge doesn’t just fix flails. It fixes anything metal.”

Anomen’s eyes glinted with new hope. “Would you be so kind, then, Lady Nalia?” he asked with a new respect in his voice.

“Of course,” said the mage graciously, hiding her glee at proving her worth.

“Off with you two, then,” said Patricia. “Jan and I will look for the key while Minsc stands guard. Maybe I can even browse a bit. A few minutes with a good book is exactly what I need to restore my poor nerves.”