Anomen paused as he sealed the letter. He had done his best to provide a clear account; he’d gone through innumerable scrap sheets of cheap paper before finally producing a draft he felt was properly worded. Nalia had actually helped him out quite a lot, checking his spelling before he transferred his final draft to expensive parchment. Where had Patricia gone? Bernard said she had left the Copper Coronet very early that morning. He knew where the others were, more or less. Keldorn had said last evening that he expected his interview with the Prelate would take some hours, and so he planned to sleep in his own small cubicle there at Headquarters. Nalia had decided not to spend the night at Delcia’s, and also took a room at the Coronet. She was sitting at the same table now, intently studying some document Jan had left for her. The gnome had slept at his mother’s, taking Minsc and Boo with him as he had some days earlier.

He despised periods of waiting. Well, perhaps it would do him good to deliver his report in person, and take advantage of the chance to get a good workout on the pells or even possibly a sparring match against another squire. The building would be filling up with strangers who were arriving for the upcoming tournament, and he would have a good chance of passing unnoticed by Cadril and some of the others who did not particularly enjoy his company. Now was certainly not the time to let any old wounds reopen; he felt that his chances of achieving knighthood were slim enough already. He shuddered as he briefly contemplated his probable fate if Boo had not intervened in the Hills. Sir Keldorn had been in service so long that his only punishment would probably have been his removal from the field into a bureaucratic position, but for himself there might well have been no such leniency. The Prelate might have chosen to make an example of him to the others.

“Someone walk over your grave?” Nalia asked idly, glancing up from her studies. “You’re shaking the table, you know.”

He was glad she had broken in on his unprofitable train of thought. “My apologies. I think I will go and deliver this letter myself. I need the fresh air. I shall return in the early afternoon, I expect.”

Nalia looked startled and oddly uneasy. “Are you sure, Anomen? I mean, er--- didn’t Patricia say we should all meet here again at midday?”

“I do not recall any such arrangement,” he replied.

“Are you positive? Shouldn’t you stay here, just in case?” Nalia asked with a hint of desperation.

“But why? She didn’t see fit to inform us of her plans; I see no need to wait to tell her mine.” Oh, no. Did that really sound as priggish as he thought? He did resent Patricia leaving him hanging like that, but he hadn’t meant to sound so irritable. Especially to Nalia, who wasn’t responsible.

“Come on, Anomen, please stay with me. It can’t take that much longer,” Nalia pled. “I’ll even treat you to lunch afterward.”

Alarm bells suddenly began to ring in Anomen’s head. Something was very wrong here. Had Nalia--- he turned cold as a frightening possibility crossed his mind. Lady Caan had certainly been very insistent that he escort Nalia back to the cemetery the other day. But Nalia had never shown the slightest bit of interest in his company before; why should she begin now? He frantically tried to recall every conversation he’d had with her, to determine if he’d said anything that might possibly be misconstrued as romantic interest. He could think of nothing. There was only one thing to do, so he did it.

“Thanks-but-no-thanks-milady, I just remembered something urgent that I need to ask Sir Keldorn!” he exclaimed, and fled the building, clutching his report.

He walked hastily away from the dilapidated front of the tavern, then decided to turn into the stable for a moment to check on Cedar and calm himself. He nodded to the stableboy and strode to the stallion’s stall. Anomen opened the door and stroked Cedar’s mane as he checked to make sure the stall had been mucked out and the horse had been fed. He looked in on Chicory and the others while he was about it, and left satisfied that their mounts were being given adequate treatment.

He had passed the temple of Helm and was only a block away from the Order building when he spotted Patricia heading in his direction. The sight of her filled him with a pained pleasure. The last two days had been difficult for him. He’d found himself driven to spend as much time as possible in her presence, afraid that those hours would be the last he could fully enjoy with a clean conscience. He knew that once she received that damning letter, he would be unable to bear his own misery. Anomen had never wanted to be the ladykiller so many of his fellows aspired to become. He knew he was woefully lacking in gallantry. But it seemed a cruel irony of fate that just when he had found a woman that did not seem to value pretty phrases over plain speech, a woman with natural delicacy of feeling but no absurd insistence on precise manners, he found that another had already claimed her heart. Yet until the blow officially fell, he chose to place himself at her feet.

“Anomen?” Her voice carried surprise, but also a glad note that clutched at his heart. “What are you doing here? Have you been summoned?”

“No, milady. I am delivering my report to the Historian. And what of you? How come you to be wandering in this quarter of the city?”

“I have been to see Minna, who told me where to find a good dressmaker. I need more cotton outfits to cope with the coming summer heat. I’ve spent two hours this morning being measured, picking out fabrics, and insisting to Madame Allinie that I positively cannot stand orange, I don’t care what shade of it is in vogue this summer, and ruffles are completely useless when one is only rarely near an iron! I am nearly worn to a shadow from having to stand my ground about wanting tunics and trousers, not dresses. I’m sure men’s tailors can’t be nearly so difficult to deal with. The one good thing is that she has promised to have the things ready by tomorrow afternoon, for a suitable added premium, of course.” Patricia took a deep breath. “Sorry for running on, but it was quite frustrating. Would you like to go get some lunch? I’m starving.”

“I should be pleased to do so, milady, but there are no restaurants in this district. If you are willing to wait while I deliver this, we can go to the Five Flagons, which as you have heard, has excellent food.”

He saw a faint flicker in her eyes. “Oh, that’s a good idea, but do you think we could possibly go on there first? I’m sorry, but I am very hungry. I forgot to eat any breakfast.”

Well, the report did not have to be delivered at once; he supposed it would do no harm to delay an hour or two. He was about to agree when a shrill voice suddenly rose in the back of his mind. Wait a moment! What madness is this? Surely she can wait five minutes more; all you need do is walk in and hand it to the Historian’s scribe. Duty before pleasure, is that not the creed you have pledged to uphold? Patricia will understand.

“Milady, please, it will take no more than a moment for me to leave the report, and it will save me having to return later.”

She thought for a few seconds, before replying. “Well, then, can you just not leave it with one of the guards? I… I’m sorry, Anomen, but… but I’m not dressed well enough to go in there! I’d be embarrassed!” The last words came out with a sort of hurried, desperate triumph.

The Watcher was completely puzzled now. Had all women chosen to drive men mad this day? He thought he remembered that the outfit she was wearing now was the same one she’d had on when she had visited the Order before. Why wasn’t it good enough now? Unless… oh, no. Unless she’d received some private intelligence, say from Sir Waleis, that Ajantis would be coming to the tourney, and didn’t want to accidentally run into him before she was ready. It didn’t sound like something Patricia would do, but she certainly was acting in a peculiar manner. He supposed the safest course was to pretend he hadn’t noticed.

“Aye, I suppose I may,” he reluctantly agreed, “though I confess I cannot understand your concern.”

“Oh, thank you, Anomen, you don’t know how relieved I am.”

“Any sacrifice to see such a lovely lady smile.” The words slipped from his brain to his tongue before he even knew he’d opened his mouth, and then he wanted to sew his lips shut. But stay; was she--- she was! She was blushing! But her next words completely flabbergasted him.

“Don’t--- don’t say such things, please. I--- I’m not accustomed to the light flutterings of such chivalrous games, and they discomfit me.” Her face was lobster red, and she could not or would not look him in the face.

“I didn’t mean it lightly, Lady Patricia. You are my friend, and of course I am gladdened when you are happy,” he replied soberly. “Yet I will remember in future.”

He began to move. “There may be a servant near the west door that can take charge of this for me.”

Patricia fell in beside him, and they were fortunate enough to find the Historian’s scribe just returning from an errand to the temple of Oghma, so Anomen entrusted his report to his care.

“I am told that the Five Flagons kitchen makes an excellent chicken pie, milady. Would that meet with your approval?” he inquired as they moved on again, preparing to turn east along the south side of the Order compound before exiting the walled district through the southeast gate.

“Cold pie with just meat, or hot chicken pot pie with vegetables and gravy?” Patricia was asking, when Anomen’s mind registered who was standing watch on the Order’s south entrance. Oh, no. Not him. Quickly he turned his face towards Patricia, hoping that the other might not yet have recognized him. The last thing he wanted was prying or jeering from that officious Cadril.

“Both, I believe, milady,” he replied quietly. “I am also informed that their wine list is even more extensive than the Mithrest’s, if you would care to share a bottle with me over our repast.” Good! They were past now, and Cadril either had not noticed them or had chosen not to accost him. He’d been too preoccupied with avoiding his old nemesis’ attention to determine who was standing watch with him.

He relaxed, and decided that it would be nice if he and Patricia could actually have a pleasant meal alone, especially as this might be his last chance. The last time they’d tried it--- even though it had only been a sausage roll--- there had been a tragic interruption. He sincerely hoped nothing so melodramatic was in store for them at the Five Flagons.

Patricia was relieved that she’d been able to convince Anomen to accompany her rather than enter the Order precincts. Keldorn had discreetly drawn her, Jan, and Minsc & Boo aside last evening, stating that the Prelate wished very much to speak with them privately during the course of the following day. Patricia had asked to come at mid-morning, since she’d already planned to use this stray moment of leisure to take care of her garment difficulties. Keldorn had then added that Anomen had been given a task that should occupy him for much of the morning, but on no account should he be allowed to visit the Order building before mid-afternoon. Patricia had sensed that Anomen’s Test must be drawing very near.

She’d gone to Nalia’s room late in the evening and explained only that the Watcher needed to be kept within the inn next morning, though she was sure that the girl would puzzle it out for herself. She gave the mage the thankless task, explaining that she already had an appointment that would occupy her most of the forenoon. After consulting with Minna, she’d found herself standing in front of a triple mirror while being poked, prodded, and told to “Turn this way. No, a little to the left. Too far….” She hated seeing so many copies of herself. Imoen, now--- Imoen would have been having a grand time, chattering away about hemlines and pushing every hair so it fell just right. That “casual” look of hers was so elaborately staged it wasn’t even funny. Aaargh! What wouldn’t she give to have her sitting with them right now, sipping at a glass of this decent Turmish wine?

Patricia was rather shocked to find that in all honesty, she didn’t want Imoen there. Happy, healthy, and free, yes, but not right here, right now. The monk found herself enjoying the Watcher’s solitary company. It had been painful for her to go to the Prelate’s meeting this morning, as she was sure that if Anomen was knighted, he would be assigned to some other mission. Unlike her own Order, where as a Journeywoman she had free choice of where to travel, the Radiant Heart would expect to put his talents to good use for their own ends. Not that there was anything wrong with that, of course… but she was going to miss him. He’d earned her trust again and again, and… she might as well face it. She was supposed to be a scholar, and truth was paramount. She was afraid she….

No. Be completely honest. The mildest phrase you can truthfully use is that you have a serious crush on this man. First strong one you’ve had since you were fourteen, and you don’t even think he’s cute. Not bad-looking--- a lot handsomer than Ajantis, really, even though I bet that beard is scratchy--- but not what Immy would call cute. His hands, though--- those are nice. One thing about monastic training, it certainly makes you notice hands. His are nicely shaped. Long fingers, not thick sausages, and he keeps his nails neat. Gentle-looking for such a powerful man, but then they’re protected by gauntlets most of the time. Better stop drinking or you’ll get all maudlin. Nicest thing you can do for him is hide your feelings.

She pushed her glass away, and when the waitress came near again, requested a pot of tea. Anomen looked at her quizzically.

“Was the vintage not up to your standards?”

“No, it’s perfectly palatable, but I must admit to being somewhat out of training. I have spent so long on the road, drinking only tea and water, that two glasses are the most I can handle with a meal, and yet fully keep my wits about me.”

“I’m glad you liked my selection, at least,” he replied.

“Yes, I’m not much for dry wines. Indeed, this was a lovely idea, Anomen, and I thank you for suggesting it. I needed a bit of peace to reflect on some things.” Like my interview with the Prelate.

She hoped that had gone well. Sir Ryan, Keldorn, and High Watcher Oisig had also been at the meeting. They had asked her more about Anomen’s behavior than the deeds he had performed, which wasn’t exactly what she had expected. How could she tell them everything she knew about the man? His courage did sometimes approach foolhardiness, though never so much as Minsc. His pride was strong, but what else but pride had there been to sustain his spirits, to keep him from breaking under the strain his torn loyalties had placed on him? He flashed out in anger, yes, but she knew that every time he had done so he’d been goaded to it. If she had not met his father, seen his reaction to his sister’s murder, perhaps she would have written him off as a hopeless cause after the first outburst or two. She knew his struggles and sufferings as no stranger should, as no half-a-month’s acquaintance could justify. Anomen had not revealed these things to her voluntarily, so she couldn’t just say outright “You fools, this man has given more to follow his dream, has suffered more injury without breaking, than anyone I have known except my father. Stop hounding him!”

In the end she had finally said, “He speaks hastily sometimes, but he is willing to think about his own actions. It is easy for Anomen to seek refuge in regulations, in laws, but I have seen evidence that he is trying to understand things more fully, to examine the entire problem, and not just write things off as ‘legal’ or ‘not legal’. His desire to pursue good is sincere. In my own training, we are taught never to despise those who walk the road on crutches, but to admire their courage for attempting the journey at all.” She’d almost left it there, but some odd impulse had made her add, “If you welcome Anomen into your ranks, I think you will find that you haven’t simply healed his lameness. You will give him wings.”

Patricia realized that she had just finished her pot pie without knowing it. Now that was a pity, because it had been exceptionally good, and she had wanted to analyze the seasonings used. She’d have to return some day when she wasn’t so preoccupied. She became aware that Anomen was toying abstractedly with his glass, and she had to force herself to look away from those hypnotic hands. She definitely should not have had that second glass of wine.

He spoke so abruptly that she jumped slightly in her seat. “My lady, I have been pondering your situation for some time...this matter of your peculiar heritage...and I find myself filled with admiration and wonder for you, truly. The essence of foulness is inextricably attached to your own soul...and yet you are an honorable woman. You have done many great things and have earned respect.”

Anomen looked up with an anguished glance. “How is it that you are able to do these things, my lady? Is there no internal struggle against urges you cannot control? Do you not feel awash in a sea of evil impulses?”

She had a joyous realization. She couldn’t feel a thing! Alcohol must damper her ability! Thank Ilmater for that small mercy. She answered off-the-cuff, “I have nasty dreams sometimes, Anomen. Dreams where you-know-who is trying to get me to accept powers that I really don’t want. But is the darkness I struggle against any more than that which you or anyone else faces? I don’t know.”

He mused on that a moment. “Yes...always a struggle. And yet you always manage to come out on top, do you not? It must be so easy for you, my lady...you are a force for good and this evil spirit seems to have no powerful influence over you. You struggle? Bah! In spite of Foldran, you never seem to have a moment when you are overwhelmed!”

His face darkened. “If I had such evil locked in me, I would be writhing on the ground! I...I could not do what you do! Why must I constantly endure this?! I stand on the precipice of a test that will decide whether my dream dies, and you are not helping! Let us go. I cannot bear to speak of this any more.” He laid some coins on the table.

She added her own, and handed him half the money back. “Don’t presume that you can yell at me and then buy my silence. I know your dream’s of paramount importance to you. Why ask me about that subject,” she hissed, “and then complain about my answer? And if you don’t think I get angry, let me tell you that I’d like nothing more than to belt you one right now!” She had an inspiration. They both needed to work off the irritation and alcohol, and it was afternoon now…. She sighed. “Tell you what, why don’t we go work this off at the Order gymnasium? I promise to only hit the pell, not you.”

His expression went from thunderous, to surprised, and then a bit sheepish. “Aye, milady. I think it would be the best way to vent my spleen, and I am getting out practice. May I have your forgiveness?”

“I’m not sure yet, Anomen. To be honest, I don’t know which of us to blame. Maybe we’re both a bit tarred with the same brush. Plus, I’m getting tired of people making all kinds of assumptions about what it’s like to be a Bhaalspawn. Sarevok and I had very little in common, so far as I can see. We’ve all got bits of Bhaal, but otherwise we Children are apples and oranges.” She shook her head ruefully. “Come on, I feel the need to bludgeon a piece of wood into submission.”