The host, he says that all is well
And the fire-wood glow is bright;
The food has a warm and tempting smell,---
But on the window licks the night.

Pile on the logs…. Give me your hands,
Friends! No,--- it is not fright….
But hold me… somewhere I heard demands….
And on the window licks the night.
	---“Fear”, Hart Crane

Patricia stared at her stew bowl. It wasn’t tomato-based, at least. No! Don’t get even that close to what you know. Think of nothingness, nothingness… clear your mind. I can’t. Then turn your thoughts down some other channel. Like what? Oh, say, the fact that the only thing keeping you sane back there was… Anomen? Oh yes, let’s just pile on the misery. I need him. This is a disaster. Complete, utter, total disaster.

She heard chairs scraping. The others were rising from the table. She felt her hand snaking out once more across the table to retrieve the bulb of garlic that was now her touchstone, her talisman against the fear that stalked the night. Lomela patted her on the shoulder. “Now, why don’t you help me scrape the bowls? Do you think you can manage that?” Dumbly she nodded. Yes; doing anything was better than sitting there waiting for doom. There were no windows here in the kitchen, either. It was as safe as anywhere short of the altar itself.

She found herself dully wondering why she had so thoroughly forgotten all the details of her captivity. Before, she could only recall a bit of the pain from all the spells that Irenicus had cast against her. That was odd…. Another scrap of memory floated to the surface. When Imoen saw… Khalid… the first time… the transferred agony of both had overwhelmed her. She recalled a desperate plea to the Five that had been answered with blessed oblivion.

She hastily put down the wooden bowl she was drying with a dishtowel and leaned heavily against the counter. Why had Irenicus tortured them so? He took no pleasure out of it, that was plain, nor did he ever explain his purpose. He had just hurt them in every way possible save one…. Her curiosity was aroused then. He had never attempted to force Immy or herself--- or Jaheira either, she was pretty sure--- to have any physical contact with him. Irenicus had never gotten close enough to even touch her at all, always staying within that nimbus of glaring light. She was thankful to have that one small shred of innocence left.

Irenicus had used such different methods on her and Imoen… why? And why had he gone after them in particular? Had he confined his efforts to her, she would have assumed it was because of her status as one of the Children, but then why single out Imoen for special torture as well?

She started as Lomela spoke to her. “Lady Patricia, why don’t you go lie down? Here, Vottnar has left a sleeping draught for you. You need fear no nightmares tonight. Take refuge in sleep; memory will look less black in the morning light.”

Patricia shivered. If only she dared to sleep! But there was a window in that room, and evil crept on silent wings through such openings… tri-colored evil, all black and white and red. Blood red, the crimson and burgundy of the richest roses…roses… garlic was “the stinking rose”…. Her eyes fell on a rope of braided garlic hanging from a hook on the ceiling. “Please, milady, I will try… but may I take that wreath of garlic with me? I would feel… much safer.”

Once in her room, she used the curtain rod to drape the braided bulbs into a series of long vertical loops over the window, leaving as little space as possible. She placed the small mirror so that it was directly across from the window, and pushed the single bed underneath it. The potion vial sat untouched on the small bedside table as she collapsed onto the bed. Still the fear racked her. She lay immobile, fighting for her sanity with every hour, too afraid of the window to allow herself to take refuge in the drug. Finally her exhausted mind remembered the altar. Surely she would be safe there in the sanctuary? No evil was permitted to raise its head within a temple of the Vigilant One. She recalled the relief she had felt once she entered the temple’s doors. Yes, she must go back there, or else risk madness. She grabbed her pillow and a blanket and crept cat-footed to the door.

Silently she lifted the bar, opened the door into the hall, stepped forward, and promptly fell. She rolled instinctively, heart pounding, seeking this unknown attacker in the dark… only to realize that she had tripped over an armor-clad form stretched across her threshold. It was bending over her now, and as she prepared to let fly with a kick she recognized the outline of the Watcher’s helm.

“Anomen?” Only he would do something so silly….

“Aye, milady. What ails thee? Vottnar said the potion should keep you asleep for twelve hours at least, and it is scarce midnight.”

So early still? She shivered. There were so many hours left until dawn…. Belatedly she realized that the priest was waiting for an answer. “I couldn’t, Anomen. I… I was too scared to sleep. There’s a window in that room--- if I took the draught then I wouldn’t know if--- if they came back for me. I couldn’t bear to go back!” Her voice broke. “I thought that perhaps I would feel safe enough in the sanctuary. I’d no idea you were out here.” She tried hard to sound brave. “You shouldn’t be here anyway. Go get some sleep. It’s my fault you got stuck here for the night. I’ll be better in the morning.” If morning ever comes….

His voice sounded thick. “Do you expect me to leave you to suffer alone, Patricia? To abandon you as you have never abandoned me? I cannot do that, my--- milady. Ask of me what else you will, but leave you I will not.”

“Oh, must you be so stubborn?” she cried in a whisper, fear and caution both forgotten in the new anguish these words occasioned. “Stop spouting such lovely lies! We both know you cannot stay; the Order will take you from me soon enough. Don’t offer me what you can’t give!”

She heard a sharp intake of breath. Oh, no, I’ve done it now. There’s only one way out of it--- try to cover my slip as fast as possible…. “OW!” she said. “You’re on my foot.” It was true, though barely; the edge of one of his hands had been resting on her boot.

He wordlessly shifted his hand. “Tisha---,” he pressed. Uh-oh, he’s never called me Tisha… except this afternoon. “Tisha, please tell me the truth. If--- if I were Ajantis, would you refuse to let me keep you company?”

“No,” she admitted. From somewhere a mad sense of mirth overcame her. “But I wouldn’t let Jan stay because I might kill him along about the fourth story!”

She felt a stinging on her face. “Stop it!” he demanded in a hoarse whisper.

“I wasn’t hysterical, Anomen,” she informed him coldly. “I was serious. Oh, what’s the use? You’re a blind fool, Anomen Delryn. Destroy yourself if you want. What difference does it make?”

Her eyes had gradually adjusted to the gloom, and she caught the hint of shock in his eyes. A moment later, she felt the pain. She couldn’t just let him hurt like that… involuntarily she reached for his arm, and the words came tumbling out. “Anomen, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, oh, please stop hurting, I didn’t want you to stay with me because I think I need someone to hold onto and I don’t want to put you at any risk and I know you could get in trouble just for holding my hands like you did before….”

She felt him move, and a hand came up to stifle her flow of speech. Out of the dark came the most blessed words she thought she had ever heard. “The Guardian ordered me to comfort you as I might have Moira, but we should go into the lit sanctuary. An acolyte tends the candles once an hour.”

“Thank Helm!” she breathed, and let him pull her to her feet. She leaned against him gratefully, feeling the fear that had lurked just beneath the surface of her mind throughout the exchange recede next to his comforting bulk. Who cared if he was encased in metal? If the phrasing of his words made his offer sound like a mere duty? He was there against all her expectations, and that was what mattered; here and now she had his arm around her shoulders to give her support.

He led her up to the very front pew, and she saw he had even retrieved the pillow and blanket. He deposited her on the bench, then gravely handed them to her. “Lie down if you can,” he said, and settled to the floor. She obeyed, spreading out the blanket as a makeshift bedroll and propping her head with the pillow. Already she felt safer, knowing that it was unlikely that vampires, at least, would enter this place. She glanced to her right, where she found that she was now at eye level with the Watcher. She quickly looked away again. She was bound to make a fool out of herself one way or another tonight, she thought hazily; the only question was, would it be by allowing him to see her wishes, or her fears?

Anomen surprised her by speaking first. “They were undead, weren’t they--- your abductors?”

She closed her eyes and nodded. “They slipped into our rooms somehow. I heard the wings beating against the window, but I was drugged and could not move. I remember nothing but some screams, which must have been… Dynaheir… and then a lot of being tossed around like a sack of potatoes. Nothing more, until,” she swallowed convulsively, “until Irenicus came.”

She felt his weight settle onto the end of the bench and his hands slip soothingly over her own, long fingers caressing her skin. “Can you speak of him at all, milady?”

“He is clever, and evil in a way I did not expect. When he hurt me, he didn’t enjoy it. I can’t explain it better than that. He seemed completely removed from all emotions; he observed with complete detachment, except for impatience when he didn’t achieve the desired result. Whatever he wanted from me he never got. Only once did he seem to get what he wanted, and that was early on.” Patricia couldn’t bear to think of Imoen behind darkened lids, so she opened her eyes. Anomen was staring at her with an expression that would have brought the blood to her face, if she hadn’t been so disgusted by the memory she was about to relate.

“It was Immy that set me off. I think he must usually have shuttled back and forth between us, while he ordered his minions to patch us up between bouts of abuse.” She saw the look of rage that leapt into the Watcher’s eyes. “No, not like that… we were spared in so much, at least. He actually seemed to dislike having anything or anyone touch him; I recall now that he backhanded a mephit across the room for brushing its wings against him.”

With a deep breath to steady her, she continued, “Immy must have been close by, for all at once I caught the most ghastly sense of fear and hate and loathing from her, and like an echo I could feel horror and shame emanating from Khalid.” She couldn’t help it; the tears poured down her face now. “I am so glad Jaheira never knew, that I didn’t remember when she was here. He made Immy watch; had the vampires force her eyes open and make her watch as they slowly, ever so slowly, drained Khalid dry. A few drops at a time they sucked, each taking turns as if eating the most delicate dessert imaginable….” She couldn’t go on, but it wouldn’t have mattered, for Anomen had lifted her in one smooth motion, clutching her tightly to him. She fought back her rising bile and took refuge in the proffered comfort, letting him rock her like a frightened child.

They sat on the pew like that for what seemed to be ages, her body twisted sideways across his lap while her head rested against its by-now-familiar metal support. Finally she forced herself to stir, looking upwards at the fierce mask of Anomen’s face, which softened instantly when he met her gaze. “I was furious, and the red curtain came down. I really didn’t even notice what kind of spell Irenicus was putting me through that time, I was so intent on stopping the madness. I don’t even think I said anything, just flew at him. I was within a yard before he realized what was happening and had his golems stop me. It was the only time I saw him pleased. ‘So your anger awakens at last!’, he said. ‘Feed your rage, Child of Bhaal, achieve your potential! Show me the source of your divinity!’”

She shuddered again, but pushed herself away when he would have drawn her head back against his breastplate. “No, let me finish. After the golems threw me into an iron cage--- and I don’t remember where I was before, when I attacked him, only that I did it--- I could still feel my friends’ suffering. Khalid lasted for hours, Anomen, hours. And… and when Irenicus came to check on them, he t-t-t-took some of the blood in a bowl and f-f-f-forced Immy to-to drink it! He held her nose and she held her breath until she started to pass out, I could feel her mind going black, and then he pulled her jaws open and poured it down her throat! I passed out myself then from the shock, and when I came to I prayed for oblivion. I know there were more experiments after that, but the next thing I remember clearly is Imoen standing outside my cage. We found Minsc and Jaheira and ran for our lives, and then Irenicus tried to take us back, but the Cowled Ones took him and Imoen away. And then,” she took another cleansing breath and looked Anomen full in the face. “Then you found us, and nothing has seemed so bad since. I had almost succeeded in forgetting even my own pain until those creatures passed overhead.”

She looked down at her hands, suddenly shy and tired at the same time. “I… I think I would like to try to sleep now, Anomen. It was a very long day. Thank you… for everything. I won’t forget it.” She dared to glance up at him once more. “But please… don’t sleep outside my door again. People will talk.”

He burst into gales of hearty laughter then, a thing she’d never thought to see, and enveloped her in a giant hug for some few precious moments. Perhaps it was only reaction to the terror, a whistling in the dark, but she found herself laughing too, and in the midst of it he framed her face gently with his hands, leaned forward, and planted one single soft kiss on her forehead. He drew back at once and said in a curious voice, “That is how my mother always used to set me back to sleep when I woke in the night. Now go to your rest, milady, I have prayers to make.”

As Patricia settled herself as best she could on the pew, she reflected that she would not have believed that such terror could be succeeded by such drowsy contentment. She was drained, yes, and still uneasy at the edges of her mind, but the numbing fright was gone. She drifted off, borne along on the current of Anomen’s sonorous chant to a place where darkness became a refuge instead of a curse.