And I’ve dreamed all the dreams that a wayward girl dreams
In a thousand places gone...
	--- “Woman of the Phoenix”, words & music by Vince Bell

She awoke to screams echoing in her ears. Nothing unusual there, except that they were her own. Her sooty hair tumbled in soft clouds to her shoulders as she sat up, pulling the satin sheet tight across her breasts. She struggled to leave behind the memory of her dream. It must be nearly noon, she thought. A good thing she slept far away from the others. It would never do to give even the slightest hint of weakness. Her security was assured only as long as none discovered the means to sever themselves from their mistress’ control, just as Joneleth had helped her do a few years ago. Shyressa still thought her former vassal had been destroyed by that stupid beholder who laired underneath the Temple District.

Bodhi smiled, needle-sharp fangs glinting in the pale corpselight. Her one-time mistress’ plan had been clever, but she was cleverer still. Shyressa had planned to manipulate the Shadow Thieves for the Twisted Rune’s benefit by controlling Aran Linvail. Bodhi had realized quickly that there was no hope of subverting the Shadowmaster, but it was entirely possible to force the thieves into a position where they would be willing to cut a deal. At first she had merely intended to demand a percentage of the rich pickings of the City of Coin, perhaps a position of importance for herself. Then she had encountered Firkraag, with his even more attractive offer, one that would at last allow her to find him.

Bodhi sighed, rubbing her violet eyes. There it was again. Memory was proving treacherous today. She always sought to lose herself in the moment, to forget the relentless ache that secretly drove all her plans, but some bad days it would not be quelled. The face that had haunted her dream rose up unbidden, hanging like a mask in the darkness. She yearned for it with the consuming desire that had led her to corrupt her brother and betray her city.

“Eladred,” she whispered. In the cold blue light of the faerie fire her tears became black rain falling on the white satin. She could trace every line and curve of the beloved face, recall the way every single lock of hair fell on his neck, not to mention the way his body had locked with hers in the moonlight of those long-ago nights.

She had passed centuries in the shrine of Hanali Celanil before he arrived. She had taken many lovers, each time hoping for eternal bliss, but none had stirred her blood for more than a few moons. Her family’s elders had begun to wax impatient with her intrigues, saying that after five hundred years it was time to consider the future. She’d laughed at them. What more was there for any elf than beauty? She had seen no male yet who met her standards for conception, who would give her the perfect child, and why settle for less than perfection?

Yet in the secret meditations of her heart she feared their concern might be justified. There had certainly been something wrong with each of her former lovers. After a short time, each had failed to give her the deference she felt was her due as a worldly representative of the goddess. They began to make demands, and protested when she refused. Foolishness, of course. You cannot master beauty, she told them all. True elves are controlled by it, not the other way round. Only dwarves think that beauty can be acquired by force!

Then Eladred had come to Suldanessellar. She had seen him first at her brother’s, stumbling his way through his first cantrips. A slender youth, tall for one of their people, with lean, ascetic features and hair sleek and shiny as a cap of beaten gold. She had come to visit Joneleth, but could not keep her eyes off the stranger. Eladred seemed unaware of her presence, and that in itself was reason enough for her to call again a few days later and to interrogate Joneleth.

A mere child, her brother had said, scarce fifty but showing some skill in alteration magic. Joneleth had accepted him as a favor to Queen Ellesime’s aunt, though he did not like being forced to halt certain of his own experiments in order to spend time tutoring a raw novice. Slowly Bodhi had set about befriending the lad, subtly maneuvering him into the postion she wanted. With skill born of centuries, she had stalked the new object of her affections, all the while making her prey believe he was the pursuer. Eladred’s youth had made her job all the easier. Within a month he was her willing slave, though she had noted with annoyance that he tended to view her more as a mother than an object of desire.

By degrees she had begun to realize that her feelings for Eladred transcended anything she had known before. Always a firm believer in love at first sight, all her other relationships had begun in a blaze of passion, but now she found herself deliberately postponing the moment of consummation, afraid of losing him. To her amazement, Eladred showed no signs of discontent. What was this? Could he possibly not desire her? Impossible! It must simply be youthful reticence. Promptly she abandoned her reluctance, and took pleasure in training him to respond perfectly to her every nocturnal whim.

Joneleth had been as oblivious as ever to everything outside his own work and Ellesime. Bodhi had taken care to be discreet, and it was a blissful year before anyone discovered their relationship. The ensuing firestorm was intense. The Queen’s outraged aunt had demanded that Eladred return to his home in the north. Bodhi was incensed; how dare anyone call their love depravity? So what if Eladred was barely beyond childhood? He knew enough to have carnal desires.

Her lover himself had stood steadfast, refusing to abandon her in spite of his family’s disapproval. Ellesime had declined to intervene, saying that Eladred’s mother had deemed him old enough to send him out on his own and his current path was his choice to make. Bodhi had been grateful to the younger woman, knowing the Queen was under pressure to separate them. For two years matters continued as before, though Bodhi knew whispers passed wherever they went in the city. She had been almost ready to believe in forever, to allow her lover’s seed to ripen within her and bring forth what she hoped would be a perfect legacy, her greatest tribute to Hanali, when it had all crashed around her.

She clenched a fistful of sheet to her mouth to stifle her sobs as she recalled the black day when Eladred himself awoke to the passing rumors. With the rashness of youth he had stormed into her chambers, vowing that he would show them all. She’d listened in growing terror as he said he’d prove himself worthy of her by winning renown. Her protests fell on deaf ears; he would listen to none of her pleas. She fled to seek Joneleth’s aid, only to find her brother helping her lover pack. She had cried, she had stormed, she had had hysterics, but nothing would shake Eladred’s resolution. He had persisted in his folly, and Joneleth and Ellesime agreed with it all, saying it was time for him to apply his studies to the world outside Suldanessellar.

Desperation had driven her to offer to accompany him, but Eladred would not hear of it. He would be gone but a few months, he had said, and a servant of Hanali should not be degraded by contact with the barbaric peoples he was bound to encounter, or forced to endure rugged conditions on the road. Bitterly she had regretted teaching him so well; she had used such excuses for years to avoid any arduous task, and now they were being turned in all innocence against her. Ellesime had ended the discussion by forbidding Bodhi to abandon her duties at the shrine until a suitable successor could be named, a process the Queen well knew took months.

Bodhi tried to remember the details of Eladred’s last day in Suldanessellar, but the memory was no clearer than it had been the thousands of times before. The events were all dimmed and hazed by the depth of her shock. The one moment that she seemed to recall with vividness was her last glimpse of Eladred. His face had been alight with boyish excitement as he stepped through the gate to Joneleth’s small lair in faraway Athkatla, from whence he planned to set sail for points north. He had looked back halfway through and, with the pitiful optimism of youth, called, “I’ll be back soon.”

She had held fast to those words as the weeks turned into months, and months into one year, then two. At first Eladred had sent regular messages to Joneleth via other wizards on the Sword Coast, never forgetting to add a few words of affection for her. His last message said he was about to make a brief journey to his homeland, after which he was coming home... to her.

The vampire closed her eyes and tried to raise the ghost of the excited joy she had felt, knowing that she had triumphed in spite of the opposition of family and friends. She would give him no chance to escape again, she would bind him to her forever the moment he returned. He would never dare to abandon his child. She had spent hours planning the exact details of their reunion, the wines, the candles, the incense and scented oils....

Her reverie was snapped by Salia’s entrance. “Mistress?”

“What?” Bodhi snarled, torn between relief and regret at the interruption of such poignant recollections.

Her vassal vampire licked her lips nervously. “Your pardon for disturbing your rest, but Valen has returned. She has found your honored brother.”

Bodhi rubbed her hands with glee. “That news is enough to buy your continued existence. Bring the heifer at once. I shall determine her reward after I hear her tale.”

At last! With Joneleth freed, she could make progress. The auguries had not wavered in centuries. Eladred was not dead, nor was he among the undead; therefore he must be alive somewhere, though the most powerful divinations had been unable to pin down a location. She would find him yet, return him to his proper place at her feet. She rose from her bier and stalked into her audience chamber, not bothering to clothe her nakedness. She made herself comfortable upon the golden couch she used in lieu of a throne and gestured to a slave to place a black velvet throw over her to keep off the omnipresent draft.

Valen approached. Bodhi valued this servant; she carried out her orders swiftly and without argument. Though she had no tie stronger than pay to hold her to service, she and her father Rielev had been faithful hounds to Joneleth for years. The vampire frowned slightly. Something niggled at her memory, but she forgot the faint uneasiness as the half-elf bowed.

“The geased one and I have found the master,” Valen said. “The Cowled Ones have not been to overmuch trouble to disguise Spellhold’s whereabouts; they count upon a lack of interest on the part of the citizens of Amn and the asylum’s internal defenses. The prison is located just outside the town of Brynnlaw, mistress. Without the master’s magic, I know of no way to reach Spellhold without traveling across water. It is a tenday’s sail.”

Bodhi hissed. “Such risk!” She combed her fingers through her hair while she pondered. Should she contact their allies, demand passage on one of the Roenall or Farrahd ships? No, Constance wouldn’t ask questions, but she would set about investigating the request. Bodhi frowned at the multiple problems transportation posed. Ten days was too long to go without a meal, and it would be foolhardy to try to feed on the crew; also there was the problem of moving the coffins.... There had to be another way. It was time to call in a marker with Firkraag.

“Take your ease until the next dawn,” she said, chafing at the delay but knowing a short respite would be a suitable reward for Valen’s diligence. “Disport yourself with that Kara-Turan fool, if you so wish. Then bring him here, and I shall have a message for you both to carry to Lord Jierdan in the Windspear Hills.”

Bodhi rolled over onto her back as Valen left. She raised her marble-white arms and placed them behind her head. “Tell Tanova to have my bath prepared,” she ordered the slave. “And I’d best not catch the scent of kobold in it this time. Human blood only!” She smiled exultantly to herself as the attendant scampered off. A lovely warm soak in scarlet was just the thing to relax her, she reflected. Soon Joneleth would be free, and then he could set the plan into motion once more. Such a simple recipe, Bodhi thought drowsily, two souls, one tree, and then eternal bliss with Eladred....