No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes

No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through

When my fist clenches, crack it open
Before I use it and lose my cool
When I smile, tell me some bad news
Before I laugh and act like a fool
	---“Behind Blue Eyes”, The Who

Anomen ate his eggs and bacon in silence. Patricia was talking to Nalia, whose mood had improved dramatically once the monk had agreed to go to the Umar Hills. Minsc was also concentrating on shoveling in food, while Jan--- what was Jan doing? The priest snapped to attention as he noticed the gnome making surreptitious motions with his hands. Looked like a spell of some sort…. A sudden shriek from Nalia caused all heads in the place to turn to their table.

“Eeeeek! Getitoff, getitoff, getitoff!” she cried, batting frantically at her chest with her napkin.

“Get what off, Nalia?” Patricia asked blankly. “There’s nothing on your dress.”

“But--- but--- can’t you see the spider? Right there!” Nalia said, pointing with a shaking finger. “A great big fuzzy… brown… one.” Her speech slowed as she realized she’d been tricked. “Jan!” she hissed through clenched teeth. “I am going to get you for this! Just you wait, Jan Jansen, just you wait!”

Patricia gave Anomen an imploring look, and irritated as he still was with both himself and her, he gave in. “Come on then, Jan. You too, Minsc,” he said gruffly. “We had best leave the ladies to themselves.” Hopefully Tisha would be able to worm the story out of Nalia if they were left alone. “May we expect to see you at the Coronet by noon, miladies?” he inquired stiffly.

“Yes, Anomen,” said Patricia, with unexpected meekness. “We’ll be there. Or I will, at least. I think Nalia might profit from a visit to her great-aunt.” She gave the other woman a meaning look. “We shall call at Caan House as soon as we have finished our breakfasts.”

As the three men trudged back towards the slums, Anomen felt that the first thing he wanted to do when he returned was wash his face, and that the second thing was to lie down and try to rest until noon. He was rather proud of how well he’d managed to restrain himself this morning. Only yesterday he undoubtedly would have exploded at once at his love, driven her farther from him just when he wanted to pull her closer. But after the events of the afternoon and evening, he understood her as never before. What a fool he had been, trying to lay everything at the door of duty! The very fact that she had deigned to accept solace at his hands meant that she was, in some measure, willing to let him into her heart. She had extended more trust to him than anyone else ever had in his life, believed in him as no one else had but Moira and his mother, and he had almost thrown it away. What had he been thinking? The very precepts of Helm Himself should have guided him to a better response: Never betray trust.

He sighed as he climbed the inn stairs and made his way to his room. Philosophy and theology never came easily to him at the best of times, much less when he was somewhat tired and disturbed in spirit. Yet even as he threw himself onto the bed, he could not help pondering what lay behind her words last night when they had collided in the hall. 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! He was almost asleep when the flash of insight came, leaving him stricken with a strange compound of horror and delight. Helm! He hadn’t even considered that possibility! What if he were assigned to, say, the expedition to eliminate Firkraag, a task he once would have considered with relish? There would be no Patricia on his left hand! Was his dream even worth pursuing if it took him away from her? She must feel something for him, or she would not have been so distressed by the possibility, but the horrid plausibility of her fear gnawed at him.

Anomen jumped up from his bed. If Patricia had returned, he must speak with her. He clattered downstairs once more, seeking for her face in the taproom. Then he asked Bernard, who said she’d come in alone a few minutes ago. He forced himself to return up the stairs at a slower pace, though his soul was afire with impatience as he paced along the corridor to her door. He rapped, and entered with her permission. He began talking as soon as he entered the room.

“Patricia, I have been thinking on something you said last night, and I find myself filled with uncertainty. I have studied to join the Order as long as I can remember, and suddenly I am unsure if I should even want to. What if I am accepted into the Order and I find I have no true place in it? And what if I am refused, and I discover the future has no place for me? I know, deep down inside, that I have maintained good faith. But perhaps I am wrong; perhaps I will only discover too late where my heart truly lies. What if,” he stopped for breath. “What if I find that another dream also has its place in my heart, and the two may be irreconcilable?”

For the first time he saw her. She had her back to him, and was staring intently out the small, heavily barred window at the renewed rain. Something in the way she sat told him how rigidly she was holding herself in.

“Wait and see,” was all she said.

“Wait and see?” he repeated. “That is all the advice you can give?”

“Anomen, don’t ask me to do this. It isn’t fair to either of us. I could give you a list a mile long of reasons for and against--- whatever it is. But in the end, none of them matter until you know if there is even a decision to be made. And that lies outside both our hands. I do know this--- your devotion to Helm and what he stands for lies at the core of who you are. Without faith, you would be a different person. Turn to your faith, as I have turned to mine. All we can do is wait with whatever patience we can muster.”

He stood near the doorway in silence for some moments. Wisdom was on her side, as always. He did not like feeling helpless, but as she pointed out, unless he wanted to throw one of his dreams away outright, it was time to wait. He wondered how Ajantis had managed the feat for so long, but then, he had not had to see the face of the woman he loved every day. Finally he said with resignation, “I hope that you are right, milady. I have depended on your counsel up until this point, and it has always been good. Still, I am troubled within.”

“As am I, milord. As am I. Perhaps the gods will have mercy on us soon. I would like to rest now. I shall see you at noon.” She still remained immobile, refusing to show him her face. He took the hint, and softly closed the door. Though he remained outside for a few minutes, he heard no sounds at all. Finally he returned to his own room and tried to sleep.

He rose a little before noon and washed again. He felt less foggy, though not much more cheerful. Every time he thought his path had been cleared, it seemed a new obstacle was set before him. Ah, well, there was naught to do but endure. At least he could enjoy her company while it lasted.

He was shocked by the sight that met his eyes as he reached the top of the stairs. Patricia was standing near the bar, enveloped in a man’s arms. As he watched, she submitted joyfully to being kissed on both cheeks, even kissing back! His incredulity rapidly gave way to fury, but before he could choose an action, she glanced up and saw him. With a look of sheer joy, she broke away from the embrace and practically flew up the stairs to him.

“Anomen! Anomen! It’s Daddy and Mama! They’ve come from Candlekeep!” He sighed with exquisite relief, then found himself hopelessly lost in the expression on her face. All barriers were down, and he was nearly overwhelmed by her starry eyes, the light of her spirit that leapt undimmed across her pretty features.

“I did not know you expected them,” was all he could find to say, as he fought the urge to sweep her into his arms himself.

“I didn’t! They just came! Come on, I want you to meet them.” She took his arm, practically dragging him down the steps. “Minsc and Jan are down already.”

Oh. How lovely. The gentle giant and the incessant mouth. He tried to assess the couple waiting below. The man was about three inches shorter than he was, but extremely broad in the chest; a slightly slimmer and taller version of Sir Ryan, though his grey hair had receded into a sort of tonsure around the back of his head. The man’s blue-green eyes watched him thoughtfully. His wife nearly matched him in height, with a willowy figure and curly dark brown hair worn pulled back from her face. She, too, was looking at him with evident interest in her amber eyes. Anomen suddenly wondered what, if anything, their daughter had told them about himself. Luckily he’d decided to leave off his armor.

“Mother, Father, this is Lord Anomen Delryn,” Patricia said formally. “Anomen, these are my parents, Winthrop and Delaine Delacroix.” He bowed stiffly.

“We are pleased to meet you, Lord Anomen,” Delaine said. “I knew your mother many years ago; we were a few years apart, but had dancing lessons with the same master. I am sorry to hear of her passing, and of your more recent sorrow.” The Watcher realized that the older woman’s voice was even lovelier than Irlana’s. It was also evident where Patricia had acquired much of her poise.

“Aye,” added Winthrop, “I understand that you and Lady Nalia have been giving our daughter here something of a crash course in Amnish customs, since she unexpectedly found herself here in Athkatla.”

“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here, Daddy,” Patricia broke in. “Whatever possessed you to come so far--- besides Imoen, I mean? It takes days even to sail to Athkatla, much less ride.”

“Not if you arrive in the way we did, dear,” Delaine said meaningly. “Uncle Beauregard came to visit us, and you know what a pace he sets. It’s just like flying.”

“Oh,” Patricia said in a small voice that reflected Anomen’s own feelings. “I never thought of that.”

“Well, Beauregard just took that nice Minsc and his friend--- Jan, is it?--- off to meet someone for lunch. I’m feeling just a bit stiff from traveling, so I think I’d like to just get a nice hot bath and lie down for a bit,” Patricia’s mother continued. “What about you, Win?”

“I have more of a powerful thirst, dear, and I believe Bernard and I have some catching up to do. Patricia, you and Lord Anomen here come and have a pint and a bite with me,” Winthrop said.

“I wish I could, Daddy,” the monk replied, “but I’m supposed to be picking up clothes from the dressmaker’s in an hour, and it’s a good three miles away. Will Anomen do for company until I get back?” she asked, much to the Watcher’s dismay. He felt that he was being thrown to the wolves already.

“I’m afraid I need to see an armorer myself,” he said, blessing the fact that he’d neglected to get that broken piece of leather properly repaired. “You remember that leg strap I damaged? I still need to take it to the Order Headquarters and have it completely replaced. I doubt there will be anyone in the Umar Hills with the requisite skill.”

Patricia frowned. “Oh, dear. I’m sorry, Daddy, but it does look as if you two will be on your own for a while. I’ll be back in a couple of hours, though.” She turned to Anomen. “We’ll be going the same way as far as across the Bridge; I’ll wait for you to go get your armor bag, if you like.”

“Yes,” he said with relief, “I’ll be happy to escort you that far.”

He was back within a very few minutes, and they set off, Anomen conscious of Winthrop’s scrutiny all the while. He sighed once they were well away from the inn. “Just where is Madame Allinie’s shop, milady?” he asked.

“Oh, a few blocks away from Minna’s,” she replied distractedly, then put her hand over her mouth. “Oops,” she said.

His brain suddenly turned up a fact that had been niggling at him since yesterday. There were no stores within the Temple District! And if Allinie’s place lay closer to the Bridge than the Temple District--- “Then why had you wandered so far afield when I met you yesterday?” he asked.

Patricia gave him one of her shuttered looks. “Ask me no questions, and I’ll tell you no lies,” she said.

Even as he was processing what her words might mean, he saw the figure of Sir Ryan Trawl approaching out of the gloom that had shrouded the city since the morning’s rain. He wondered what errand could bring him to this part of town, but prepared to stop and greet him anyway. Sir Ryan had evidently seen them as well; he was angling towards them. There was something stiff in his manner as he approached, and Anomen began to worry that Vottnar’s order might not be enough to shield him from some words of displeasure about last night. His fears were only intensified when Sir Ryan gave merely a slight bow to Patricia.

“Squire Anomen, a word if you please,” Sir Ryan said.

“How may I be of assistance?” he replied with obedient formality.

“I am Sir Ryan Trawl, a Paladin of the Order of the Most Radiant Heart. In Torm’s name I greet thee.”

Anomen found himself in shock. There was only one possible reason for his own knight to use this prescribed formula… somehow he managed to choke out the ritual response. “I greet thee also. The time has come?”

“Indeed it has. In the name of the Prelate, the council requests your return to the High Hall,” Sir Ryan informed him.

“I shall return and stand in Helm’s light to be judged for my deeds and strength of arms,” he agreed dazedly.

“So shall it be,” Sir Ryan intoned. “In Torm’s name I bless thee, Anomen.”

“And also thee,” the Watcher replied.

The older knight’s face relaxed just a bit. “I shall see you at the High Hall, Anomen. Good luck!”

“My thanks, Sir Ryan. I---I look forward to our next meeting.”

And within a minute the paladin’s armor had melted into the gloom once more. He was still standing there numb when a hand slipped into his elbow.

“It looks,” said Patricia softly, “as if the gods have shown mercy after all. At least we shall soon be free of this wretched suspense. Will you need to sit a vigil tonight?”

Her practical question snapped him out of his stunned state. “Aye… aye, I will, milady. A solitary watch is customary on the night before the Judgment.”

She nodded. “And of course you’ll still need to get the strap repaired; it wouldn’t do to have a broken one on Judgment Day. I suppose you’ll go to Vottnar’s afterward? You told me he was a mentor.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “That would be the most logical place.”

“Then I won’t expect to see you again until tomorrow. But… may the rest of us attend the ceremony, or is it barred to outsiders?”

“I would be most honored if my companions appeared to support me on the occasion,” he said. “Especially you, Patricia.”

She smiled tremulously at him. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.” She glanced away and cleared her throat. “Give my regards to the front pew, and my thanks to Vottnar and Lomela. I should go now, but first I have to fulfill a promise.” She was staring at her shoes now, and his heart was in his throat as he waited for her to say something, anything.

“I told you that I would tell you why I ran away when you received your summons,” she said after a long moment. “I ran because if I had stayed, I would have said too much, and I hate making a fool of myself.” She raised her eyes to look at him once more. “And that’s also why I’m leaving now. We shall meet you at the temple an hour after dawn, unless you send word otherwise, and walk with you to Judgment.” And with that she was gone, slipping away like a shadow herself, leaving only the promise of tomorrow to sustain his hopes and fears.