Patricia woke with a start from a dreamless sleep. Ow! What--- oh. Now she knew. Mazzy was hurting. Oh, my. This had never happened before. Why was her ability to share mental anguish growing sharper every day? Would she eventually wind up having to become a hermit just to keep from going insane?

They’d decided that with the single entrance to the room well trapped and warded, there was no need for more than one person to stand guard at a time. Since she was more rested, Mazzy had offered to take one of the middle watches. The halfling was sitting between the rest of the group and the door, her cloak bundled under her to keep the chill of the stone floor from seeping into her bones. Tisha couldn’t see her face from this angle, but she was pretty sure there would be tracks of tears on it.

She sighed. There was nothing to do but get up and try to help a little bit; she’d never be able to get back to sleep if Mazzy didn’t improve. Selfish, perhaps, but she was too tired to try to be noble about it right now. Even if Mazzy didn’t want her to, she had no choice but to meddle. Besides, she had questions of her own she wanted to ask the other woman, and this was as private a moment as they were apt to get for who knows how long.

The monk glanced apprehensively over to the other corner where the men were stretched out, but they all seemed to be fast asleep. Cautiously she sat up in her bedroll, keeping her eyes on them, but none of them stirred. Nalia, she knew, could sleep through just about anything.

Patricia picked up her own cloak and slipped silently across the room on her bare feet. She folded the garment up to form her own cushion and settled down cross-legged next to the halfling. The monk neither looked at her nor spoke; she waited for Mazzy to open the discussion. She felt the longing for the woman’s lost lover, the humiliation of being the only survivor, the anger that ran like a jagged red streak across the halfling’s mind and soul, the--- oh, no. Of all possible fears, that was one she hadn’t foreseen. She didn’t have the slightest idea how to deal with that.

After some time Mazzy said, “Sizing me up, eh?” There was a touch of humor among the bitterness, however, that was all to the good.

Patricia shrugged. “Well, you did wake me up, after all.”

Mazzy was startled. “I woke you? But I made no sound, I am sure of it.”

“You didn’t have to,” Patricia told her. “I have my own problem, and it’s getting worse. If people around me are miserable, I know about it. I feel it.” The halfling was giving her a look that screamed help-either-she’s-crazy-or-I-don’t-want-to-know-any-more, and Patricia felt something snap inside her.

“I’m not mad,” she said quietly but fiercely. “I can sense it, I tell you. You’re ashamed that your lover’s dead and you aren’t, and you’re afraid you’ll lose your nerve against the Shade Lord.”

“Yes,” Mazzy agreed. “Who wouldn’t be? But that’s no proof.”

“No,” Patricia admitted. “Those are logical things for you to feel. But Mazzy, even if you have skipped a month, is now the right time to make such a lasting decision? Would it not make more sense to wait? If we live through tomorrow, then you can find out for sure whether you be with child, and then will be time enough to decide if you wish to bring a half-orphan into the world.”

The halfling turned pale underneath her bronzy-brown skin. “You couldn’t know that! I told no one, not even Patrick!”

“And the guilt over the omission is tearing you up twice as much as anything else,” Patricia finished. “I’m sorry for knowing about it, Mazzy. You must believe that I don’t wish to intrude on anyone this way; it just happens, and there is nothing I can do to stop it.” Except get drunk, she added to herself, but we haven’t got any alcohol, a mistake I won’t repeat. I should have learned from that episode at Keldorn’s. I’m not going anywhere without a hip flask of the strongest liquor I can find, no matter how odd it looks!

They were silent again for a while longer. Finally Mazzy’s shoulders began to shake as she wept. Patricia reached out to squeeze her hand, forgetting until the contact was made that touch would intensify her reception. The monk struggled hard to master the misery, finally managing to shield herself from the worst of it. As she had done days ago with Anomen, she concentrated on projecting a soothing calmness towards the halfling while letting her cry it out.

“Mazzy, do you believe that the gods do sometimes push us in certain directions? That we’re led to be in certain places at certain times?” she finally asked hesitantly when the other woman had calmed somewhat.

The halfing pulled her damp face out of her hands to look over at Patricia. “Yes, I do,” she replied. “I have often felt the hand of Arvoreen on my shoulder, guiding me to pursue one course over another. Why do you ask?”

“A peculiar coincidence,” Patricia told her. “My father was generally called Gorion or Gorion Greenmantle, so very few people knew that I was named after him. His forename was Patrick, Mazzy, and he fell in battle just over a year ago.”

Mazzy stared in amazement, stunned skepticism turning to fascinated horror as Patricia told her all she knew of her own past: her father’s death at the hand of Sarevok, how she came to be here in Amn, and, perhaps most relevantly, her mother Delspeth’s ordeal.

“I don’t know what it is to be in your shoes, Mazzy,” she finished, “but I can imagine better than almost anyone else could. Your decisions are your own to make, but I will help you in any way possible. Try to get some sleep now; it must almost be time for Anomen’s watch, and I’ll cover the last few minutes. But tell me--- you haven’t noticed any of the other signs, have you?”

The halfling sighed as she stood and stretched. “No, Patricia, no queasiness or undue fatigue. I don’t know if I will be pleased or sorry if my fears are unfounded. You would not speak of it to anyone else?” she inquired anxiously.

“No, of course not,” Patricia assured her. “Though we may have to afterwards, if all goes well. First let’s get past that Shadow Dragon.”

Mazzy nodded, reassured, and slowly made her way to her own nest of blankets.

Patricia wrapped her arms around her knees and sat gazing vacantly through the doorway at the lava pool in the next room. She had wanted to ask Mazzy so many things, but all of them would have seemed either trivial or downright insulting after her realization of the full extent of the halfling’s troubles. In one small way she envied Mazzy; her predicament was evidence that the other woman had not faced the barriers she did. Yet Mazzy’s situation had resurrected all her own worst fears, despite the naga’s lesson of two nights ago.

It wasn’t fair to let Anomen go on making assumptions, though. She knew that the moment of truth was now. Patiently she waited for him to stir, relieved that Mazzy’s breathing had quickly slowed into the long, faint sighs of sleep. Finally she heard her knight rouse and pick up his boots. He strode across the floor to her, laying a hand on her shoulder.

“My lady? Why are you awake? Have you slept ill?” he asked worriedly.

“No,” she answered in an equally soft tone. “It’s all right, Anomen. Mazzy accidentally woke me, and we talked for a while. I said I’d finish her watch, because I must speak to you.” She felt the flush rising on her face, and scolded herself for failing to remain detached.

Anomen raised an eyebrow, but sat down next to her and proceeded to put on his boots. “How does the lady fare?” he asked.

“Under the circumstances, remarkably well,” Patricia replied. “She has a strong spirit.”

“And much pride to stiffen her spine,” Anomen added. He smiled. “What’s the adage? It takes one to know one? I know the signs well--- for her, failure is not an option. Even a few days ago, I would have disliked her for it, seen her pride as a threat to my own self-esteem, but somehow I no longer have such a great need for the admiration of all and sundry.” His hand reached out to clasp hers. “So long as I have your regard, I care not for the rest of the world.”

She pressed his hand to her cheek, then dropped it. “You do, love, but….” She’d been searching for a diplomatic way to introduce the subject for two days now, and found none. He was freed of a squire’s restrictions, and she knew the tenets of Helm didn’t forbid it, so long as it was freely given….

“But?” he prompted, a shadow falling across his face.

“I---,” she stopped again. In desperation she turned her face away. That was better; as long as she couldn’t see him it was easier. “You never asked me what the vows of a Hand are,” she said abruptly. “I heard you make yours; you have a right to know mine. The form is not like that of any other monastic or knightly Order I have ever heard of in the Realms. I always wondered why, but it mattered little at the time. Now, of course, I see the hand of Boo in it. Only a dragon would have settled things so.”

She gulped. “Anomen--- a Hand takes the charity vow of Deneir, you’ve seen me write letters for free in taverns; there is the vow of scholarship, to strive to increase knowledge; the vow of assistance, to aid those in need; and,” she turned scarlet, but forced her voice to remain level, “there is the vow of loyalty.”

“But your Order does not take service as guards or fighters,” Anomen said in puzzlement. “Why loyalty? Or does it just mean dedication to the goals of the Hands?”

“No, we don’t sell our fighting skills, except in rare instances as teachers,” she agreed, “but it is not that sort of loyalty. Dragons mate for life, Anomen. I… am forbidden from doing anything less, do you understand? No matter how much my wishes rebel against it, I am bound to the oath I gave.”

She heard the knight’s sharp intake of breath. “I should have told you earlier,” she whispered in unhappy embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“Tisha,” he said with exasperation, turning her back to face him, “you did right to tell me, but you cannot think this changes things between us? I want that, yes, but not at a price you cannot pay. I love you in truth, I would never make that demand. You are the one who kept me on the path of honor, my love; how could I bear to cause you to stray?” He clasped her hands tightly. “I will guard myself, Tisha. If you are uncomfortable, you have but to say the word and I shall stop. This I swear to you on my knighthood.”

Patricia went limp with relief. She knew this was no resolution, but at least it hadn’t been an ending, either. Seeing Mazzy’s misery and understanding the full extent of the halfling’s plight had left her with even more questions and uncertainty than she’d had before. According to the naga, true love was giving someone what they needed, but she still wasn’t sure how to interpret that in Anomen’s case. What did he need? Was it really possible that he needed to take the risk of loving her? Were either of them ready to face the consequences? They had known each other so short a time, and neither of them had been in love before; her vow only added to the complications. Even if he were willing to bind himself to her, could she agree in good conscience?

She pushed the matter firmly out of her mind for the moment. Tomorrow they might die, and if the Shadows caught either of them there would be no future to worry about. Patricia looked into Anomen’s grave eyes and leaned over to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “I should have known I could rely upon your honor, my love. Forgive me for being so hesitant. There is one other thing I should tell you, though.”

He looked apprehensive. “Now what?” he asked unhappily.

“You know that those who fall to the power of Shadow can never be restored,” she said, “but I must tell you that I probably can’t be brought back no matter what the cause of my demise. Sarevok’s body,” she swallowed hard, “turned to ash and blew away in front of my eyes, Anomen. If the taint of Bhaal caused that--- well, there is no hope of raising anyone without the corpse. You… you must not feel that you have failed if that happens. Every day is a risk for the Children, love. What keeps me awake at night is knowing that if I die, evil wins; my piece of Bhaal’s soul goes back to the Abyss. But if I ever let that fact influence my judgment to think that my life is more important than someone else’s, then evil also wins; the taint will gain a foothold within me. I don’t want you treat me as if I’m anything but normal,” she added, “but you have the right to know these things. So long as you wish to be my knight, you may serve me best by watching out for any signs of creeping indifference to what is good and right. If you truly love me, don’t let me start down that path.”

He drew her close, hugging her tight, and said, “I cannot imagine such a time, dear Tisha, but I will be your Watcher in this as in all else.” She sighed, content for the first time since she’d woken, and let herself enjoy these brief moments alone with Anomen, taking strength for tomorrow from his warm presence. After a while she reluctantly crept back to her bedroll. She’d been up so long the blankets had grown cold again, and she shivered until she fell asleep.