That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
	--- Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

It had been a long, hard day on the road, but Anomen scarcely felt any stiffness at all. He ran a proud eye over Cedar as he curried him, taking pleasure in the task. It was good to have his own horse. Patricia didn’t realize just how munificent her gift had been, letting him have the stallion out of the pair. If he could only keep him healthy for some years longer, Cedar could become the proud father of an entire lineage of such well-mannered creatures. Although he rather wished Patricia hadn’t insisted on having Minsc use that spell to talk to the horses, he hadn’t dared protest, since the memory of Minsc’s “portentous one” crack was still green. Still, he was fortunate indeed to have a horse at all, and who cared if Keldorn’s heavy mount had an exalted name like Ragefire? The older knight had been staring longingly at smooth-gliding Cedar all day as he was jostled along on the massive warhorse. He wondered for an instant what Ragefire’s real name was. Who knew? It could be Buttercup, or Blue-tail Fly, or something equally ridiculous. Cedar was at least a tough, durable tree. Look at the mare; she’d turned out to be called Chicory. A weed!

That didn’t seem to bother Patricia in the least, though. She was just finishing up with Chicory, leading her to the nearby stream to drink before staking her out on her picket rope for the evening. They had found a pleasant clearing near the road that bore obvious signs of frequent use by travelers. He wondered why Patricia hadn’t chosen to spend the night at the de’Arnise Keep, although the day was less than half spent when they had arrived. While the others were eating and the grooms were moving their packs from the de’Arnise horses to their own, Patricia had disappeared with Cernick and Alleyn. She had seemed preoccupied all day, riding silently at the rear of the group, behind the pack pony. She’d politely rebuffed everyone’s attempts at conversation, and had spent the afternoon poring over a sheaf of papers she’d received from the steward.

Anomen noticed that Keldorn had now approached Patricia at the bank, saying something to her as he allowed Ragefire to drink his fill. She shook her head in mute response, then silently led Chicory back to a place next to Cedar. As she neared him, he saw that her face was once more covered by a disciplined blandness. It dawned on him that over the past days, she had slowly been relaxing in their company, but something had now driven her back deep within herself. He started slightly as she addressed him.

“Would you please put Chicory out on her picket for me? I would like to begin preparing dinner.” It was said politely but distantly, as if from one stranger to another. By Helm’s eyes, what was wrong with Patricia? Yesterday she had practically demanded his friendship, and today she was treating him as if they’d just met! This behavior wasn’t what he’d come to expect from her; there was no logic, no sense that he could see in it.

“Of course,” he answered automatically, as he put away the currycomb.

“Can you take Blackie then, too, Anomen?” Nalia piped up from his other side. “I’ll go and help Minsc set up the tents.”

He accepted the third bridle reluctantly. So much for any half-formed plans of getting a moment by themselves to ask Patricia what was wrong.

The two women moved off towards the stone fire ring that would become the center of their camp, and he walked across the clearing towards the stream, leading the three horses. He worried the problem over again like a dog with a bone. Could she somehow have divined last evening that he was beginning to have to battle feelings that went beyond friendship? Had she discerned that from some incautious word or look on his part, and was now taking these steps to discourage him? It was possible, he supposed, though he didn’t think he’d said anything to betray himself. But in that case, why did she not simply seek him out and plainly tell him that she loved another? No, he realized at once, Patricia would not do that if she could help it. She would try to spare his feelings by a gentle aloofness.

He had Blackie’s stake pounded into the ground and was just tethering Cedar when Keldorn and Ragefire arrived. The paladin staked his warhorse and then held Chicory’s picket rope while Anomen drove the last stake home.

“Anomen, have you spoken much to Patricia today?”

“No,” he said, afraid that Keldorn would accuse him of being responsible for the monk’s aloofness.

“Do not be offended by her retreat into silence,” the paladin counseled. “I did not realize until just now that she was waiting for me to talk to you.”

Anomen’s heart sank. Patricia must have decided to confide in Keldorn at least enough to appoint him her spokesperson. He waited to hear the words that would cut him off from even the faintest hope of ever winning her regard.

“I think that she is afraid of what you will think,” Keldorn observed unexpectedly. “She likes you, you know.” He smiled at the start Anomen could not help giving. “Lad, I have been married these twenty years and more, and I tell you this, if a woman is afraid of making a bad impression on you when she tells you a truth, yet she confesses it anyway, she truly values your friendship. If she does not care what you think of her, she will tell you about herself at once; if she dislikes you, she will just keep the secret. Her degree of hesitation in between is a measure of her regard.”

Anomen found it hard to swallow the lump in his throat. “What do you mean?”

“You and Nalia were not there yesterday morning when Patricia explained the full nature of her heritage.”

“Does this have anything to do with something she said yesterday?” Anomen asked. “She mentioned something that sounded like ‘bawls-pawn’, and I could make nothing of it.” Not to mention the fact that he’d still been too shocked by the preceding events to pay close attention.

Keldorn looked grave. “Aye, lad, it does. Did you not recognize the term?”

The squire shook his head. “No, it carries no meaning to me.”

“It is a new word some of the more angry sages have coined for the Children.”

Anomen was shocked. “You mean… those Children?” he queried, making a sign against the evil eye. “Bhaal’s offspring?”

Keldorn nodded soberly. “Even the same. Your Patricia is counted among their number.”

“WHAT? You cannot mean it! The lady is far too fair in body and soul to bear any such blood!” He was sickened with horror. By Helm, no spirit so bright could be tainted by such evil!

“It is not so bad as you may fear, Anomen. You see that I have no qualms about traveling in her company, though under other circumstances I should be far more wary of her. Listen and I will explain the tale as she told it to us.”

Anomen listened intently to Keldorn’s words, even though he still felt dazed by the sudden revelation. He simply could not believe that Patricia was the scion of purest evil. As Keldorn’s explanation continued, divulging the details of the monk’s past, he found himself relieved. So, the contamination was minor… and at least Bhaal had had no part in her conception. Suddenly he recalled her words to him after telling him the story of Foldran: You’re just human, Anomen. And so am I. All we can do is keep trying to develop ourselves into better people. Was she really just that, as human as himself, or was she truly something more? Or less? He thanked Keldorn when the paladin’s explanation drew to a close. “I admit that I am so stunned that I do not rightly know what to think, Sir Keldorn. Lady Patricia seems to bear no stigmata marking her heritage. I shall meditate long on what you have told me.”

“As will I, Squire Anomen. As will I. So far, I see no reason to condemn the woman; she has behaved with the utmost delicacy and honor. If what her mother said is true, Lady Patricia is as free to decide her own fate as any other being. To turn away from her because of an unfortunate incident that happened while she was yet in the womb seems a grave injustice.”

“Aye, there is that,” Anomen agreed. He wrestled with his pride a moment. “And Sir Keldorn--- I thank you for your explanation. I am glad the lady did not have to hear my outburst. I am afraid that I must admit to having been rude to her on at least two other occasions, so any fears she may have had on that head were perfectly justified.”

Keldorn gave him an odd look. “Squire Anomen, to know one’s self is the first step towards altering one’s own outlook. Methinks you are learning more than you realize during your wanderings.”

Anomen was standing the midnight watch. Patricia had asked to take the watch immediately after supper, saying she wished to retire early, and no one had objected. Minsc had offered to take the dawn watch, and Keldorn and Anomen had decided to take the others in order to be sure Nalia and Jan were able to study their scrolls. This was a fairly well-traveled road, though this particular stretch was sparsely inhabited, and they thought that a single guard would suffice for tonight. That let them have four short watches, instead of three longer ones.

It would have been a dull night if he had not had so many thoughts racing in circles inside his head. Over and over he heard Keldorn’s voice reciting Patricia’s true history. For the first time he really began to wonder about the time the monk and her sister had spent in Irenicus’ clutches. Two of their companions at least had died at his hands, or those of his minions, yet Patricia had refused point-blank to speak of it when Nalia had asked her a few days ago. Even Minsc would say no more about it than words of mourning for his witch companion, and Boo gave him what he could only call a dirty look every time he tried to ask the Rashemite about the subject.

His mind cycled back and forth between prayers and musings as he made his next round of the perimeter. Jan had set non-lethal traps around the camp bounds and near the mounts, and every twenty minutes or so he checked them. It also helped keep him alert. The moon was fading, but the stars were bright in the clear night sky. It had cooled just enough up here in the hills for him to appreciate his light cloak when he left the fire to pace his round. In another ten or fifteen days at most, the evening cool would give way to a lingering humid soup, with no relief apparent until near dawn. One had to go high into the hills to find real relief then, or else shelter within the cool trapped by thick stone walls. Many nobles fled the City of Coin in the summer for shaded country estates, though his father had not done so since his mother died.

Why had he not gone to his father last night? By rights, he should have gone to him with the news that Moira’s murderers were dead or in custody, yet he had not done so. Why had he left the task to the Guards? He considered the question long. It was not solely injured pride, he concluded, though he did feel something of that. It was that he was afraid that if he went, his father would once again demand his return to the merchant fold, and he had determined once and for all not to do that. He might well fail his Test, but until that moment he would be part of the Order, of something larger and grander than himself. Horses might run in his blood, but he would have nothing to do with the baser call of fury. Not even if he were rejected by the Order.

He frowned, then shook his head ruefully. No, that call somehow kept mastering him. Look at what had happened only yesterday, when he had been tempted to strike Patricia for taking Moira’s ring, even though she had just performed an invaluable service. He sat down again by the fire, which was about half coals, and automatically began polishing his weapons. It was now about two hours past midnight.

Anomen paused in his task as he heard a whimper from the east side of the camp. Patricia’s and Jan’s tents were set to create an opening towards the horses, and he had been extra cautious passing them, since Patricia had said she was a light sleeper. Jan, on the other hand, was apparently a log, albeit at least a silent log. He heard another faint noise from the same direction, and quietly moved closer to that side. Almost at once there was a third whimper, then a fourth and fifth. By now he was positive that they were emanating from Patricia’s tent.

He had a dilemma. It was obvious that she was having a bad dream, but what should he do? He didn’t want to go in there, but he couldn’t just leave her like that. He remembered how sometimes he’d heard Moira crying softly in the night, and slipped down the hall to her bedroom to find her sitting up in bed clutching her teddy bear, terrified that some monster that had chased her in her sleep still lurked within the room. There was no way he could just let Patricia stay trapped in a nightmare. Yet if he made enough noise from outside to wake her up, he might wake Jan too, and he dreaded the smart remarks the gnome would make if he found him lurking outside the monk’s tent.

His cogitations were interrupted by the welcome sound of an “Oh!”, followed by a noise that could only be Patricia sitting up in her bedroll. Now he dared a hoarse whisper. “Are you all right, milady?”

“I… I think so,” came an uncertain voice. “I… will be, anyway.”

Satisfied, he whispered, “It’s time for me to make my rounds again. If you hear anything crashing through the underbrush, it’s only me.”

“Thanks a lot for the warning, milord Tin Man,” Patricia whispered back with some amusement in her voice. Good! She sounded much more herself already. He left in much higher spirits, relieved that she’d woken on her own.

Yet when he returned to camp, he found her sitting enshrouded in a cape next to the fire. She had a tin mug in her hand and the kettle suspended over the coals.

“I daren’t go back to sleep for a little while,” she said apologetically. “If I do, the same nightmare will have me in its clutches again. Don’t let me interrupt your chores.” She gestured at his polishing rag and spare weapon.

Anomen was torn between contentment and embarrassment. It felt comfortable and right to be sitting across from her, but he hadn’t yet fully digested the information Keldorn had given him. He finally decided to opt for silence and let her open the conversation, if she wished to talk.

He found his resolution lasted all of five minutes. Seemingly of its own volition, his mouth opened and he said, “Milady, Keldorn has given me to understand something of your past. I… I just wanted to thank you for yesterday.”

She stared at him. “You wish to thank me for being abominably rude to you when you’d just avenged yourself on your sister’s murderers?”

It suddenly dawned on him that Keldorn was right. Patricia must indeed care about his opinion of her! He went on hurriedly, afraid to examine that idea too closely. “No, no, you can claim no more share of blame for that incident than I. My thanks are for the pains you took to release me from your service before you allowed me to learn of your past.”

He was watching carefully, and he saw the quick tensing of her muscles.

“I certainly could not blame you for choosing to remove yourself from my potential contamination,” she said softly. “I’ve no wish to place your dream in jeopardy, Anomen. If you think you may fail your Test because of me, I beg you to leave. You have worked too long and hard to fail because the Order perceives a conflict.”

“Patricia!” He called her name in a whispered yell. “I thank you for the pains because I can assure you that I stay because I wish to, not by obligation. Will you then renege upon your offer of equality?”

Her shoulders straightened, and her facial control lapsed completely for one brilliant moment, as her eyes lit like a thousand candles. “No, partner,” she said with delight. “I would like nothing better than for you to stay. I’d miss you.” As near as he could tell, she colored in the firelight. “Just like I miss Ajantis,” she added hurriedly. “I’ve gotten used to having you Order members around.”

Anomen sighed in his turn. He would not be surprised if Ajantis joined them soon. The man must be trying to wrangle permission from his superiors to return to his intended’s side to aid her in the quest for Imoen. At least, that is what he himself would be doing in Sir Ajantis’ place.

“I think I’ll try to rest a while longer, Anomen,” Patricia said. “Somehow I don’t believe the nightmares will return tonight. Besides, you’re overdue for your next round. I can’t be causing a Watcher to be derelict in his duties, now can I?”

He was appalled. She was right; he was late! “You are correct as always, milady.” They walked together towards her tent. “Pleasant dreams,” he whispered as she passed under the flap.

“I hope so,” she whispered back. “You, too.”

He was quite sure they would be, if he could sleep at all.