Pulchra tibi facies		Beautiful is your face,
oculorum acies,			the gleam of your eye,
capillorum series,		your braided hair,
o quam clara species!		what a glorious creature!

Rosa rubicundior,		Redder than the rose,
lilio candidior			whiter than the lily,
omnibus formosior,		lovelier than all others,
semper in te glorior!		I shall always glory in you!
	---“Veni, Veni, Venias”, Carmina Burana

Patricia had known something was horribly wrong as soon as she caught sight of Anomen’s face. It hurt her to see it, and he took careful steps to make sure that she could never get close enough to have a chance to feel what was eating at him. It had to be about Cadril, she thought for the thousandth time as she tried hard to concentrate on the paperwork Alleyn had left for her. Anomen was walking around the keep with Cernick; she’d asked him to do that before they left Athkatla, and she’d seen the pair of them passing by the narrow window earlier. They must be baking out there in the sun, it had grown beastly hot this afternoon.

Thanks be that they’d also already agreed to meet on the rooftop at three hours before midnight… it was one place they were reasonably certain to remain unobserved, and there were several ways to get there. She did not fear being outdoors way out here in the country; a bat could not fly so far in a single night, and any strange activity such as missing livestock or people would quickly be noticed in this tight-knit community. Surely Anomen would come, wouldn’t he? If nothing else, he would want to rail at her, wouldn’t he? She wouldn’t mind being yelled at if it would get him close enough to her that she could try to explain.

She sighed. Back to the papers again. Yes, that expenditure seemed reasonable, so was this…. Her attention was distracted once more, this time by a rap at the door of her new suite. The last time they had been here, Nalia had insisted that she take Lord de’Arnise’s old room for her own, something she’d been loath to do. Finally, they’d reached a compromise that the servants had carried out while they were gone to the Windspear Hills. The furniture from the upstairs family dining room had been moved into Nalia’s father’s bedroom, his bed and furnishings shuffled into one of the spare rooms, and that room’s furniture now occupied the erstwhile family room. Patricia now had her own private bath/dressing/meditation room, which she had to admit was a distinct luxury, but it had been ridiculous to have a dining room that was only accessible via a concealed door! Besides, now she had space for a desk of her own, so she didn’t always have to borrow Alleyn’s office or leave all her research papers in plain sight in the library.

“Come in,” she called. The face of one of the younger housemaids peeped around the door as it swung open.

“Excuse me, your ladyship, but may I place fresh towels in the bathroom?”

“Yes, of course,” she assented. She still didn’t know all of the help by name yet. “I don’t think we’ve met. You are?”

“Oh!” the girl gasped, bobbing a curtsy, “I’m Chanelle, your ladyship.”

“All right then, Chanelle, I would appreciate it.”

Patricia wondered a bit why the girl stared at her so before moving off to take care of her duties, as if sizing her up. Maybe just the usual curiosity about a new employer, though when she’d helped Delaine train new maids, one of the first lessons each girl learned was to take everything in stride, no matter how strange-looking the guest or awkward the situation one had stumbled into. Surely the girl wasn’t afraid of her? She couldn’t imagine any reason why the maid would be. Oh, well. She shrugged it off and resumed her inspection of the last month’s expenditures.

Those had unfortunately but necessarily been rather large, as a lot of rebuilding was still taking place. Death benefits had been paid to each lost guard’s and servant’s next of kin, new recruits added to the payroll, repairs to walls and catapults… and still it had not been enough. She had been forced to add a sum of her own to cover the hiring of a trustworthy mercenary company to scour the southern reaches of de’Arnise territory.

After all her experiences in the Cloakwood, the monk was certain that the bandit raids that had begun harassing travelers in the last tenday or so had to be halted at once. It was possible that the raids were merely opportunities seized by locals during a chaotic transition period, but there was always the more disquieting chance that the raids were the first salvo in a guerilla war by the Roenalls. The fact that Isaea had reappeared in Athkatla at about the same time as the mercenaries arrived to supplement Cernick’s men might be pure coincidence, or it might not. Either way, it was vitally important for the local farmers that commerce continue in a normal fashion. Five hundred gold had merely been her Regent’s pay for the past tenday, and she was glad to roll the sum back into the upkeep of the lands. Her responsibility was clear: when she returned the estate to Nalia’s control in a little over two years, it should be in as good or better condition as when she accepted the Regency. No one should ever be able to claim that she had run the place into the ground. A little capital reinvestment now should pay off handsomely later; her masters in the Order had drummed such basic economic lessons thoroughly into her head.

She didn’t go down to dinner, but ate in her room, after which she filled in the hours with some long-overdue meditation and exercise. She would need to mark off an entire day soon for solitary reflection and trancing, her mind was getting cottony. Of course, being in love doesn’t help either, she reflected ironically on her way up the stairs.

Uh-oh. It had grown cloudy while she was meditating, and a hot wind was kicking up. It looked like a storm line was about to move through. So much for a chance of stargazing together; they’d be lucky if they didn’t get chased back inside by lightning. Is even the weather trying to get in on the act? Like that scene in Macbeth?

Still she stood there, poised near the edge of a parapet, exhilarated by the approaching storm. It was one of her secret pleasures; she’d always tried to get out on one of the many roofs of Candlekeep to enjoy the wild feel of the air, the indescribable yet distinct scent that signaled coming rain, the birds and leaves blowing past, the spreading darkness. Thunderstorms called to some deep reservoir of wildness within her, the small corner of her soul that was as restless and wandering as the wind itself. Some part of her being wanted to lift her arms out, catch the next gust and fly on forever, sailing just ahead of the crashing thunderheads that would follow in her wake….

Patricia was jerked from her reverie by the sound of a cry on the rising wind. Evidently Anomen was out here looking for her. Her heart leapt; he couldn’t be too angry with her if he’d kept their rendezvous. “Here!” she shouted back. “On the northwest side!” His wind-whipped figure appeared around the central tower a moment later, and he was next to her in another few strides. He wrapped an arm around her waist and spoke in her ear to avoid shouting.

“My lady, we must get indoors, or we’ll be drowned when the cloud bursts.” Her heart danced at “my lady”, and she gladly placed her arm around him in turn.

“My lord,” she said, accepting and reaffirming the bond of affection with her own words, “whither shall we go now?”

“What’s in the central tower?” he asked, gesturing towards the highest point of the keep, in which a small door could be seen.

“I don’t know for sure,” Patricia replied, “but I think Nalia said her grandfather used it for an observatory. The key should be here somewhere on my ring.” She tugged on a huge chatelaine dangling from her waist, showing him an amazing jumble of keys of every description. “Let’s try it, anyway.”

It was several minutes before she found the right key, and the first fat raindrops were splatting on the stones of the roof by the time the door was opened. Once inside they could see nothing, and stood still for a few minutes trying to adjust their eyes to the dense gloom. It was dry, anyhow, and the floor didn’t seem to have any gaping holes. She felt gingerly at the wall on her right, and found a lamp set into the wall. She determined by feel that the wick was still in place, but before she could light it, Anomen said a phrase or two, and a gentle blue glow surrounded the whole lamp.

“Clever,” she said approvingly. The faerie fire would let them see well enough to keep from tripping, now that they were somewhat acclimatized, but shouldn’t show up much through the windows, if there were any. She took the lamp from its bracket and passed it to the knight. By the pale glow they picked their way to the far side of the room, where a desk sat next to a daybed. They placed the lamp on the desk and settled onto the latter. Patricia pulled her feet up and spun until she was sitting cross-legged, facing Anomen.

“Grandfather de’Arnise had a rather nice eyrie up here,” the Watcher observed. A sudden heavy pattering above indicated that the full fury of the storm was now being unleashed.

“Yes,” Patricia agreed, “and we got here just in time. There’s going to be an impressive natural light show tonight, I think.”

He chuckled. “As long as the thunder doesn’t keep me from hearing your voice, I don’t mind. I rather enjoy watching storms from inside.”

“So do I,” Patricia replied. The first flash of lightning lit a long, narrow window on an adjoining wall, followed a few seconds later by a roll of thunder.

“Well, aren’t you going to fuss at me after all?” Patricia inquired after the rumble had passed. “It’s been quite obvious to me that you’re angry, and it can only be about Cadril.”

He reached out and grasped her hand tightly. “Patricia--- I was irate, yes, but you did tell me this morning you needed to explain something. I--- I am trying not to be so hasty. Helm… is helping me to see more clearly, I think.” He shifted position, turning towards her. “Do you know, I felt touched by something beyond myself during the Judgment, as if something reached in and unlocked part of myself I never knew existed. Does that sound foolish to you, my lady?” His voice was slow with hesitation, and she hastened to reassure him.

“No, Anomen, of course not. I would be more worried if you had not felt a transformation, or some sense of Helm manifesting himself to and in you. Had you not found favor with him during your Test, no such alteration would have occurred. I saw the change for myself last night at dinner; it was plain to be read in your face. I had never seen you so happy and content.”

She leaned back against the bolster and unfolded her legs, stretching them out across his lap. He reached over and patted her knee with a long sigh of contentment. “As always, I bow to your wisdom, dear lady. But tell me now, why did you do anything so rash as to invite Cadril anywhere? And what has this to do with Sir Ryan?” There was still a faint edge of fear in his voice.

“Don’t jerk, I’m too comfortable, but I invited Cadril to lunch because he kept Isaea Roenall from abducting me in broad daylight,” Patricia said.

In spite of her admonition, Anomen did jerk, knocking her legs off his lap. His voice grew as thunderous as the raging storm outdoors. “Where? When?”

“I went hunting for a box for Ashideena after I left you yesterday morning. I found that old medical kit at AdventureMart, and then I went to check on Delon, and then I went to the fountain outside the Promenade to wait on Lady Delcia’s carriage, like a good little girl,” she observed drily. “While I was sitting there, Isaea came up with five of his guards and started a somewhat lopsided conversation. I managed to keep him confused for a few minutes, but I confess I wasn’t too excited about my chances of being able to escape. He was planning to try to whisk me away on some pretext, I’m sure of it; it was written all over his stance.”

Anomen growled, and she hastily went on, “Just when I was sure I was going to have to bolt, I saw a group of knights walking by, and recognized Cadril. I seized my chance, and called out a greeting to him, and lucky for me, he came right over. I sort of… well, just froze Isaea out of the conversation, still pretending that I didn’t notice anything unusual. Isaea didn’t dare do anything while that bunch of your fellows were watching; they’d have come to defend Cadril, if nothing else. When the carriage finally came, I invited him to ride along and come to lunch as insurance against any more Roenall tricks. Cadril told me that they were going to meet you for lunch at the Mithrest, and I knew how much you’d hate that. You would have, wouldn’t you?”

He reached out and drew her across the bed to him, tilting her face so he could give her a stern look. “I admit I was glad to hear from Irlana that he’d changed his mind, my lady, but I would far rather have suffered his presence myself than allowed him to pester you with unwelcome attentions.” With just a touch of unease he added, “They were unwelcome, weren’t they?”

“Anomen!” she said indignantly. “How could I ever care for such a silly popinjay as that? I can’t even decipher his supposed compliments half the time! And he’s a lousy fighter, really, he wouldn’t last two minutes in a real battle. All style and no substance, just the opposite of everything I value…” her voice slowed, and she said quietly, “just the opposite of all I have found in you.”

She snuggled her head into the crook of his neck by instinct, reassuring herself with the physical contact as she made herself say all the things she found so hard to bring from her heart to her lips. “I have never told you how important you are to me,” she said awkwardly. “I… I need you, Anomen, and it frightens me to find myself dependent on anyone. But when you found me there in the Coronet… I meant it, nothing has ever been so bad since then, and it’s all because of you. When I needed a steady sword arm, you were there with your mace, when I needed tactical advice you were there… you even began to laugh with me, and I needed that most of all. Then I was terrified when I realized what you meant to me, because I was sure we would be separated by the Test, and then you would be gone. Torn from me like Imoen, like Papa. Yesterday morning I was so happy for you when you made your vows, but at the same time my heart was breaking---”

He hushed her with kisses, and for some minutes they let caresses do all the communicating. They were both breathless when they broke apart, and instinctively she reached up to check on her hair. Anomen’s hand followed hers up, however, and began to loosen the pins holding her braids. She shoved his hand away violently.

“Stop.” Patricia deliberately made her voice icily calm, with a plain undercurrent of menace.

He obeyed at once. “I am sorry, my lady, I only wished to tease you a bit to lighten your mood,” Anomen said soberly.

She relaxed. “I forgot you wouldn’t be aware, it seems we’ve known each other all our lives. I don’t mind you teasing me a little, in fact I rather like it. But you must never try to unpin my hair, Anomen, it’s one of the few strict rules of my Order that carry over from novice to journeyman. You’re neither female nor a relation. Only Papa and Daddy have seen my hair down since I was twelve. If I didn’t wear it like this, I’d have to crop it off as short as Irlana’s.” She resumed her position backed up to the bolster with her legs across the Watcher’s lap.

Another lightning flash illuminated Anomen’s grimacing face. “I’d rather you didn’t. It looks good on her, but I cannot imagine you the same way, Tisha.” He added suddenly, “What would you do if Cadril tried it?”

“Break his arm,” she said without hesitation. “He wouldn’t deserve a warning, I wouldn’t have given him any excuse to make the presumption of getting that close in the first place.” She pondered her own words. “Thank you, dear. You’ve just resolved my dilemma.”

“You mean whatever it is Sir Ryan has asked you to do?”

She nodded, forgetting that they’d sat so long the faerie fire had faded and there was no light except from the raging storm. “Yes. I won’t do it, I just can’t. I think it’s intrinsically wrong. Sir Ryan believes that the Fallen Paladins are using Cadril to obtain information about the Order’s plans. I wouldn’t doubt it, the man’s stupid enough to be their catspaw. The night before last he came to see me--- oh, did he tell you he’s an old friend of my parents? Seems they met somewhere years ago--- and he had the nerve to ask me to try to get to Anarg by making up to Cadril.”

“Sir Ryan did that?” Anomen cried, starting up again.

“Please, Anomen, do try to be still,” she begged. “You keep knocking my feet off when you do that, and I’m tired enough already.”

“I’m sorry, but---” the Watcher floundered.

“But yes, he really did ask me to do that. Oh, he couched it in much more pleasant and vague language, but that was what it boiled down to; he wanted me to use Cadril. Well, I couldn’t refuse outright; it might have made him suspicious. If I didn’t care for you, I might even have been willing to let the man take me out for dinner or some such, I’m not sure. But I couldn’t stomach the idea then, and I can’t stomach it now.”

“But, my lady, if it was so distasteful, why not simply decline at once?” Her knight’s voice was puzzled.

“My dear, your Test was to come the next day. I could not tell him then that I would never dream of doing such a thing because I was,” she stopped, hunting for words. There had to be some other way to phrase it. “Because I felt---” she tried again.

“My lady,” Anomen said gently in her ear, as he took her into his arms, “you normally are not the one who’s tongue-tied. Perhaps this will help.” He took flint and tinder from his waist pouch, but she used her single cantrip to light the lamp first, casting their faces into comparatively sharp relief. “Now watch carefully,” he said, eyes fixed on her with more tenderness than she had ever seen, even on that awful night in the temple. “I love you, Patricia.” His voice shook with emotion, and her own eyes filled with tears.

“I love you, too, Anomen,” she replied tremulously, and sobbed with relief. “And I can’t hide it any more, I won’t. Let Sir Ryan get someone else to do his dirty work. I refuse to live a lie, to play with anyone’s feelings, even Cadril’s.”

“You will have to tell Sir Ryan that yourself, you know,” Anomen said with a smile and a gentle squeeze. “If you really wish to acknowledge me as your chosen champion, that is.”

“Gladly!” she said. “But for your sake, I’ll try to restrain my comments. But you do forgive me for asking Cadril to lunch, don’t you? I felt obligated to since he’d helped me out of that sticky situation, and it was only to Aunt Delcia’s. I think she may be plotting again, by the way. Nalia had better look out. In fact, that’s something I wouldn’t mind suggesting to Sir Ryan as an alternative, just so long as Nalia doesn’t object. She may not dislike Cadril, in which case I don’t think letting him buy her dinner would be unethical. The more we can muddle things for Isaea to boot, the better. I’d take silly Sir Cadril any day over that pismire and his bullies!”

“I would forgive you if there were anything to forgive, Tisha, but you could do no less. And I do appreciate your holding your tongue with Sir Ryan. But come, love, the Umar Hills await us, and we shall have plenty of leisure tomorrow to discuss this and many other things, such as how very much I adore you.”

“But I don’t want to get soaked,” Patricia protested, “and it’s still pouring.”

“My lady,” Anomen said firmly, “you will not stay up here alone. Either you leave with me now and take a wetting, or we both remain all night. There is naught but this small bed to lie upon, and you have already forbidden me to sleep by your door ever again.” He stood, pulling her up with him. “It should be clear enough, my love. You have accepted me as your knight; you are my chosen lady, to guard and cherish, and I want you somewhere safe. Such as your quarters below.”

She smiled, heart lighter far now than when she’d arrived at the keep this afternoon. She reached up and scratched his beard, which made him close his eyes and purr theatrically. Laughing, she said, “Tyrannical already, are you? But you’re right, of course, dear. You may lead me meekly away now, and maybe Talos will miss us when he throws the next lightning bolt. But I’ll say goodnight here, if you don’t mind, Sir Anomen.”

She stopped scratching and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “I love you,” she whispered. “Sweet dreams.”

He gently disentangled himself, moving backward as he brought her right hand to his mouth. “And I love you, but there is only so much I can stand, heart’s lady. Come.” They hung the lamp back on the wall and blew it out, locking the door behind them as they plunged into the waiting storm.