Kalinka (Delryn) Stories: An Introduction

Hi!

I thought I would consolidate all my Kalinka stories within one thread, just to be organized. When I have accumulated enough of my works, I hope to update this post and write a chronological Table of Contents here.

I may stick a thread inside this thread for the Kalinka AU stories--and there are a bunch of them--that don't fit into what I consider her "real" story.

As always, feel free to let me know if there's something not quite to your liking: I am only a PiM away.

Take care, and I hope you enjoy these tales.

Howdy! This is your humble host.

I've got to admit that I'm a big fan of AUs, of the what-ifs. ::shrugs:: Was like that even as a kid, and boy would I drive my parents, teachers, etc., crazy because of it!

Needless to say, it's only natural that I truck my "what if" obsession along with me into BG fanfiction, right? I've written a number of AU (Bhaalspawn) Kalinka fics in order to meet the Quiz requirements, but I do not consider these AUs to be part of Kalinka's "real" story. Therefore I've created this nook to store them in, all separate-like so as not to be confusing.

I hope you enjoy!

Hi! This story was contributed back for Quiz 85, "Mercy."

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After the din of combat, their panting resounded loudly within the ruins. Kalinka replaced her short bow on her back, unsheathed her long sword, and crept past Semaj's splattered remains towards the arrow-ridden body. Ajantis had already reached their foe's fallen form and was squatting over it. The paladin pursed his lips and rose with a grunt. "He's still breathing," Ajantis reported softly.


"Huh?" Imoen unexpectedly emerged from the shadows to pose the question.


Kalinka peeped in surprise, then berated herself. She knew that Immy had improved her sneaking skills since Candlekeep (even though Immy was a little out of practice since initiating her magical studies with Xan), but the elven swashbuckler still could not accustom herself to her friend's sudden, unannounced appearances.


"Hah! Gotcha!" Imoen crowed.


"Immy!" Kalinka warned. She returned her attention to the jowly paladin. "So he's still alive." It wasn't even a question.


Ajantis nodded. "Yes. His pulse is very weak, but ... this miscreant lives yet."


"So what do we do with him now?” Imoen wanted to know.


Kalinka sighed: the thousand gold piece question. The gods knew Sarevok had earned his death, and few would fault her for avenging her father and slaying Sarevok. She wished he had fallen in combat, for his demise would have settled all the loose ends quite neatly indeed.


She felt Ajantis' eye upon her. Ever since that Letter, the paladin seemed to evaluate her every action for the slightest taint of evil. Unlike Imoen Kalinka felt no outrage, just weariness, at her companion's newfound caution. Despite Ajantis' scrutiny, however, the swashbuckler's resolve did not falter.


“He must be brought to justice for his crimes,” Kalinka returned stonily. Was it her imagination, or did Immy's eyes suddenly gleam very brightly? “Ajantis, do you still have that cording?”


“Yes, my lady.” The paladin frowned concernedly as he pulled the wirelike rope from his rucksack.


“Alright then. Let's get all his effects off him and tie him up. Would you mind helping me? I'm sure the Order has some sophisticated knots for prisoners.” Kivan, she knew, had a knot for every occasion, but she didn't wish to disturb him just now.


Ajantis' face untensed. "Very well, my lady."


So he approved, then ... or at least did not actively disapprove. Somehow that reassured the young lady.


Kalinka jerked the two-handed sword from the unconscious warrior's surprisingly strong grasp, then let it fall with a clatter. Thankfully the vanquished Bhaalspawn did not awaken. “I'm sorry,” she apologized to the Helmite while she absently kneaded her hand. “That blade … there's something strange about it.” She shook her head. She would not be keeping that sword … and judging from Ajantis' repelled expression, neither would he. Still, its sale would bring some gold, all of which they could tithe to a worthy temple.


Quickly enough they'd removed all of Sarevok's belongings -- including his barbed armor -- and trussed him up. “Excellent! He shouldn't be able to wriggle out of this.” She caught Ajantis' eye. "Thank you."


The squire-paladin granted her a grudging smile. "You're welcome."


Kalinka heard a choking noise behind her and whirled around. Imoen stared accusingly at her. “You're letting him live? He killed Gorion…and you're letting him get away with it?!”


“He's not getting away with anything,” the swashbuckler demurred patiently. “We're bringing him to the authorities, where he'll stand trial for all his crimes, including Gorion's murder. I doubt the Grand Dukes will be inclined to show mercy.” Especially not since they were the principal targets.


“Yeah, yeah; I know,” Imoen muttered. “But Gorion--”


Her heart clenched just a bit at her daddy's loss: but her own feelings were beside the point, weren't they? Avenging Gorion and pleasing him were not the same. “Gorion's not Sarevok's only victim. The entire city,” the elf spread her arms out, “could have been slaughtered because of this…this monster's machinations. I think the citizens are entitled to the spectacle of a nice public hanging.”


Kalinka thought the conversation had ended. The auburn-tressed pickpocket had grown silent and stooped to peruse Sarevok's fallen sword, but she suddenly straightened up and glared at her friend. “You can't do this!” she pled. “He'll just escape -- the bad guys always do! And what if he gets loose when we're carrying him, huh? We're all hurt pretty bad as it is, and--”


“Look at him, Im: he's out cold. There's no way he can hurt anyone in his condition. And even if he does wake up, he's bound, unprotected, and unarmed. I'd guess one stroke from your dagger would be enough to finish him off.” The swashbuckler looked questioningly at Ajantis, and he confirmed her appraisal with a slight flex of his lips.


“Don't say that I wouldn't like to,” the diminutive girl groused. Her eyes flashed menacingly in the gloom.


Imoen's reaction, her bloodlust, unsettled Kalinka. She exchanged a puzzled glance with Ajantis. “Fine,” Kalinka finally responded. “If at any time you think he poses an immediate threat, you have my express permission to kill him.” The apprentice mage's countenance brightened eerily. Kalinka shook away her misgivings.


They left as soon as they could tear Kivan away from Tazok's remains ("This bastard's staying dead!" the elven archer had muttered while spearing the half-orc into tiny gobs of gore) and reached the Thieves Guild without incident, where they were greeted with tumultuous acclaim. After the adventurers bought out Black Lily's supply of healing draughts (which they hurriedly quaffed), an impromptu roguish honor guard insisted on escorting them as far as the Flaming Fist headquarters, much to Ajantis' chagrin. Once the cutpurses disappeared into the twilight, Kalinka swung open the massive door, only to encounter a familiar face.


"Officer Vai!"


"Ah, Kalinka." The woman smiled sadly. "I would say that I'm glad to see you, but ..." The lady soldier spread her hands regretfully. "Nothing personal. I just wish the past couple tendays had never happened."


"Agreed," the swashbuckler replied.


Ajantis cleared his throat, which drew the officer's attention. She suddenly stiffened. "Is that--!"


"Uh-huh," Kalinka answered. "We thought we'd deliver this criminal into your custody."


Naked hatred flashed across the normally-placid officer's face. "Damn your soul to the Abyss!" she hissed. Then more loudly she called, "Caedmon!"


Scar's erstwhile aide appeared on the run. His eyes widened as he saw the party...and was that a tiny grin? "Yes, ma'am?"


"Kindly place this offal into our most secure cell."


Wrath glinted in the aid's eyes. "Yes, ma'am. At once, ma'am!"


Kalinka watched Ajantis help the soldier drag Sarevok to a cell containing a gnome. Once there, Caedmon enthusiastically flung the unconscious Sarevok onto the stone floor and slammed the cell door shut. "Anything else, ma'am?"


"Oh, yes. Please assign a crew to check on the gallows' status. I suspect we might find use of it by sunset tomorrow."


"Yes, ma'am!" The soldier turned on his heal and marched further within the fortress.


Vai gestured towards the stairs. "Let's go to the office. I'd like to hear your report ... in private." The officer's gaze lingered on the soldiers within listening range.


Kalinka consented with a quick nod. She had no wish for garbled versions of her story to circulate. Still the elf wondered at Vai's nonchalant appropriation of her superior's office.


Kalinka and her companions wearily tramped up the steps. "This way, ple-, oh, you've been here before, I see," Vai noted. "Please make yourselves comfortable. I'll be back in a moment." The elf gaped when the officer disappeared into Duke Eltan's private apartment. When the cat's away ...


The party members plumped into some unyielding furniture and sat in silence. Because of the day's travails, no one had the strength or inclination to make conversation ... not even Yeslick. They did not wait long. Very shortly Vai returned with another person.


"Your grace!" Kalinka sprang to her feet. Duke Eltan, clad today in some sparkling chain mail in lieu of his customary plate, still appeared pale and weak. His legs trembled at the effort of each step. The determination manifest in his expression, however, imbued the man with just enough vigor to reach his desk.


The duke dabbed at his brow while settling into his chair. He waited for a few moments as though to catch his breath before proceeding with the interview.


"Once again our fair city stands in your debt," the duke proclaimed feebly. "I hear you've captured Sarevok?"


"Yes, sir," Kalinka confirmed.


"Capital! Too bad you didn't apprehend that traitor Angelo," Duke Eltan's face darkened. "But Sarevok! We hadn't anticipated such good fortune." He looked towards Officer Vai. "Have you seen to the gallows?"


"Yes, sir!" Vai affirmed. "I sent Caedmon with a detail."


A mirthless snicker degenerated into a tearing cough. "Good, very good. He has special motivation for extra thoroughness!"


"As do we all, sir," Vai murmured pensively while tugging absently at her ring.


"True." Now the Flaming Fist commander focused on the adventurers. "I would like to hear about your activities since you teleported after that fiend Sarevok. Oh yes," he raised his still-emaciated hand to forestall Kalinka's question. "I've already spoken with Belt and Liia and was shown the evidence, so I'm familiar with everything up to then."


Kalinka rubbed at her forehead -- would this day never end?! -- and related her tale. Duke Eltan, as always, proved the attentive listener. He interrupted her several times to request clarification of some minor points. When she described their encounter with Winski Perorate, Eltan immediately broke off her narrative in order to have Vai send a patrol to recover the dying mage. When Xan pointed out the rogues' possible reluctance to allow 'Fisters within their compound, the duke settled on releasing an incarcerated thief as an emissary: the thief would relay a request for Perorate's body -- dead or alive, preferably the latter -- within twenty-four hours. If the 'Fist did not receive the fugitive by the deadline, then the adventurers would reveal the location of the Guildhouse to the 'Fist, and the soldiers would force entry into the edifice.


"Another body for the gallows," Duke Eltan muttered under his breath as the released rogue sped away.


Kalinka could not quibble with Sarevok and Perorate's fate -- she'd suspected they'd hang -- but she still felt curious. "I thought they'd have a trial," she asked.


"They have," Eltan said more forcefully. "Belt, Liia, and I reviewed the evidence and tried Sarevok and his conspirators in absentia. We found them guilty, of course."


"Of course," Kalinka repeated.


"Now please continue with your report," Eltan commanded.


Kalinka finished her tale sans further interruption. Afterwards no one spoke for a moment. Duke Eltan finally inquired, "The other conspirators can't be resurrected, can they?"


"No, sir." She herself had asked Yeslick and Ajantis precisely this question. Ajantis had taken copious notes while the dwarven healer described precisely why each corpse could not be raised. Kalinka smiled to herself. Ever since they'd met, Yeslick had been only too glad to help round out the paladin's education in first aid, and their closeness eventually translated into a devoted friendship. If only Ajantis and Xan could get along just half as well.


"You don't have to call me 'sir,' unless you're considering enlisting. You aren't, are you?" The duke sighed at Kalinka's negative reply. "Losses have been massive at the middle level --Angelo weeding out my supporters," he explained, "and we could use some recruits of your caliber. All of you would start out as Officers." A spark of hope danced in his countenance as he gazed at each adventurer.


"I'm sorry, but no thank you. If you have need of us in the future for independent projects, though, we'd be glad to help out," the elven lass volunteered.


"For the right price, eh?" Eltan rejoined wryly. "Thank you for your offer; I'm certain I'll be taking you up on it before the tenday's out."


The noble fell into another coughing fit. Vai walked to the sideboard and poured the stricken man a glass of water, which he refused. Eventually Eltan managed to speak. "Thank you again for your timely assistance. You truly are heroes of the highest caliber. You're free to go now."


Kalinka knew a dismissal when she heard it.


"But, your grace, what about Sarevok?" Imoen asked.


The Duke displayed as much astonishment as the rest of the party at the apprentice-mage's unusual assertiveness, but he rapidly regained his poise. "He is scheduled to hang tomorrow at midday ... if he survives the night, that is." Kalinka nodded; Yeslick was shocked the madman had survived the trip back from the Undercity. "I assume you wish to attend." Another nod. The noble thought for a moment. "If I recall, you've been staying at the Blade and Stars, correct?" Kalinka grunted an affirmative. "Good. I'll send a messenger if plans change."


Kalinka voiced her gratitude and led her group back to the inn. Instead of celebrating, they all proceeded to their rooms at once. She and Imoen didn't even bother to light a taper in their room. Indeed, Kalinka had scarcely locked the door behind her before Imoen began snoring. The swashbuckler rolled her eyes; no one would believe that such a petite girl could produce so much noise. For once this clamor did not impede Kalinka's rest. She only just wrapped herself in the coverlet before sleep rushed forward to claim her.


****


Bam-bam. "Miss Kalinka!"


The swashbuckler uttered an imprecation under her breath.


"Miss! You have to get up!"


Imoen whimpered in her sleep. Kalinka cursed louder.


Whoever the caller was, he was persistent. Between the pounding on her door and her name being called, there was no way on Toril that she could fall asleep again. Picking up her weaponry from the floor where she'd discarded it (thankfully she'd not the energy to remove her armor last night), she scuffed over to the door and cautiously opened it.


A frantic-looking Caedmon stared back at her. "Praise the gods that you're alright! Listen, you all have to go back to headquarters. His Grace wants to see you at once. It's urgent."


Kalinka yawned. "What could be so important to wake us up first thing in the morning?" She blearily glanced out the window and realized with a start that the sun had already progressed to its midday position.


"Please, milady, I'm not allowed to tell. I'm only supposed to get you to come." Anxiety warped the soldier's lineaments.


"Oh, alright," she stifled another yawn. "Just give us some time to get ready."


Thirty minutes later Kalinka and her companions stood once more in Duke Eltan's office. "What do you mean, he escaped?!" Kalinka screamed.


"Toldja," Imoen whispered.


"Immy!" Kalinka's hands settled on her hips.


"Well excuse me, Miss Know-it-all!"


The swashbuckler ignored her friend. "Explain," she demanded of the Duke.


Eltan appeared nearly as livid as Kalinka. "I don't know if I can. One minute he was in his cell. When the guard checked ten minutes later, he was gone along with his cellmate, who's dangerous enough in his own right. I sent out our best battle squads to track them down and recapture them. It looks like they've escaped to the south."


Kalinka managed not to slam any objects or swear at the duke. That nut-job Sarevok was on the loose once more! She might never sleep soundly again.


Her silence seemingly unsettled Eltan. He cleared his throat. "You're welcome to join in the search. The reward for his body -- dead or alive -- is 20,000 gold."


She shrugged and gave a harsh laugh. "I don't see that we have a choice."


They hastily redeployed just to the south of the Gate and met up with the five battle squads that were following Sarevok. Kivan moved forward where he joined several leather-clad scouts in searching the ground for signs of Sarevok's passing. "Here,” Kivan motioned towards a depression in the grass. His 'Fist counterparts conferred for a moment before they agreed with the archer's judgment. The hunt was on!


The trail continued steadily after that. Much to Kalinka's relief, Sarevok did not meander closer to the coast. She'd feared that he'd try taking to the seas and thereby evade their attempts at recapture.


For several hours they followed Sarevok's path until it suddenly stopped. All the scouts were perplexed: in this clearing they noticed a large stomped-down area where a lot of grass had been trampled. Here and there they detected some blood and a viscous fluid which might have been the blood of an exotic creature. They failed to discern any other tracks leading out of this area however…and certainly nothing that would explain the many depressions in the grass.


The scouts ranged ahead in case Sarevok's trail re-emerged further on. Each scout took on a specific region and scoured it. After several hours of searching, however, no one -- not even Kivan -- found any traces of Sarevok.


Kalinka angrily kicked a tree. "Damn you, Sarevok. You have to resurface sometime, and I'm going to be there when you do! Justice shall prevail!"


****


Sarevok tried to drive the foggy feeling from his mind, but to no avail. Damn it, he was the next Lord of Murder! He shouldn't be affected by something as mundane as memory loss!


He tried to review the most recent occurrences. He remembered waking up in that jail cell with that ridiculous gnome. Fine. He could recall breaking out of jail with his cellmate and fleeing the Gate. Good. The gnome's tales had entertained him. When he Ascended, that Neb would hold an exalted place in his church. Sarevok grinned.


They had made excellent progress through the countryside, Sarevok remembered. The patrols had no chance of catching up with them before the fishing village, and once the outlaws could commandeer a boat, the scouts would never find them. Hahaha!


But then … then he couldn't remember so well: the flash of a blade, the squirt of blood, the pain (oh yes, the pain; it never seemed to cease). He must've been ambushed! But no one was powerful enough to overcome him in battle! (What about your sister, a traitorous corner of his mind gibed. She had help from my allies; Semaj or Angelo must have betrayed him in battle! No, there was no way she could have beaten him in a fair contest. ) He still saw no means by which his sister could have been waiting ahead of him, though … oh, how his head throbbed! He unconsciously let out a groan.


An icy voice intruded upon his ruminations. "The Bhaalspawn is awake. Time for more experiments."


_________________

Howdy! True Sight is going here. It's not finished...yet.

Btw this introduction is courtesy of Sandalwood's Quiz 117 "Blurb This."

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Lady Kalinka Delryn leads a life of quiet distinction as Faerun's foremost living heroine. That all changes, however, when an enemy from her past throws her life in turmoil. Soon she's a fugitive from justice, on the run from the very man who swore to love and honor her. Can she reclaim her former life? Or will she even want to?

True Sight: a post ToB fanfic

Howdy! This appeared in Quiz 139: No Happy Endings. Does it fit? You be the judge.



True Sight, Pt. 1


"Heya, sweetcakes, how's about you an' me gettin' horizontal at the Crumpet?" A lecherous snicker. "I'll even sport 'cha the cost of a room."

An incredulous expression crossed Lady Kalinka Delryn's face at the lewd utterance. Such suggestive "invitations" had been woefully commonplace when she and her beloved first moved back to Athkatla -- what was it about men anyway?! Anomen's priestly ministrations with Crom Faeyr, as well as her own flamboyant demonstrations of swordmanship, had eventually convinced the city's male populace to ogle elsewhere.

Until now.

This was the third man this morning who dared accost her with prurient intentions! By Helm, she was no common courtesan! While it turned her stomach to duel some foolhardy commoner over a few hateful words, she saw no other choice: it was a matter of honor. She'd been lenient enough today, and if she allowed this man to get away with such sordid insinuations, then … then she could expect more of the same from others. Even now some of the male passersby were smirking at her.

"What are you implying?" she retorted. "I demand satisfaction!" She drew only one longsword, the Answerer, and prudently left her Blade of Roses sheathed.

"I'm sure ya do," he chuckled enigmatically.

She couldn't quite puzzle out the meaning of his words. "Explain yourself!" she commanded.

"Oh, putcher sword away. I'm not gonna fight you. An' if you want me to 'pologize, fine, I 'pologize."

Stunned once again, she watched the man melt into the crowd before she sheathed her sword and walked away. She shook her head and headed for the Government District ... and home, but at the last minute she veered away from the Delryn estate and directed her steps towards the Firecam mansion instead. The morning's encounters left the elven swashbuckler uneasy, and she felt the need to talk.

She rapped diffidently at the front door, which a serving girl opened at once. "Good morning, Peony. I was wondering if --"

"Kalinka!" The sable-robed Lady Maria swooped into the entryway and warmly embraced the petite adventurer. "It's such a pleasure to see you, dear. Anomen's still in the field?" The elf nodded. "Peony, please prepare another place for tea."

"Yes, ma'am." The servant bobbed a curtsey and departed.

The dowager led her guest into the parlor. "Let's sit by the fireplace and chat," Lady Maria suggested. "It's so cozy here, and we'll be out of the servants' way."

The elf nodded once and plumped down on the sofa next to the noblewoman. The glow within her had more to do with sharing Lady Maria's company than her proximity to the fire. Ever since she and Anomen had set up residence in town, the Firecams had treated them like family. Keldorn had already been like a father to both of them, of course, and while Lady Maria had been cordial before, the noblewoman now took Kalinka firmly in hand. The elf suspected the woman had needed *someone* to fuss over, since both daughters had married and moved away. Kalinka had never been mothered before and to her surprise she found she rather liked it, and a genuine friendship quickly established itself between the women. It was largely through Lady Firecam's efforts that Kalinka had made the transition from an adventurer to an aristocrat's wife, though sometimes Kalinka wished she hadn’t been quite so successful.

Kalinka articulated the source of her discomfort, while her friend nodded. "No, I can't say there's a difference in you, dear. I can only imagine those ... men ... were refugees from the war. Everyone in town respects you and Anomen too highly to take such liberties."

"Maybe," Kalinka responded, only slightly mollified.

"I can see this is really getting to you. You're just so much like your Anomen!" Lady Firecam beamed at her. "What do you say that, after tea, we go out. It'll do you a spot of good, and I could use some time away from this empty house."

"Sure," Kalinka allowed a smile to creep across her face. "Except I've got to get back to the Chapterhouse by midafternoon. I've got a class --"

"-- My word! For an honorary member, you put in more work than most full members. Very well then, we'll return in time; you have my word."

They took tea in the kitchen, and Lady Maria kept trying to ply her guest with more food. ("It looks like you're losing weight, and how can you produce an heir if you're too thin?") After Kalinka ate considerably more than she intended, and considerably less than Lady Maria wanted, they donned their wraps and set out on their excursion.

"I thought we'd take in the latest art exhibit at the Copper Crumpet," Lady Maria commented.

Kalinka barely refrained from rolling her eyes. The Copper Crumpet, formerly the Copper Coronet, had been another one of Nalia deArnise's quixotic social experiments. The flighty archmage had thought that if she exposed the indigent to the same cultural amenities enjoyed by the elites, the poor would learn how to comport themselves in "higher" circles, which would enable them to secure better paying jobs, which in turn would lift them out of poverty. In an excess of zeal, Nalia had bought the Copper Coronet from Hendak, changed the name ("If you change the name, you change their outlook," Nalia said on more than one occasion), and spent a small fortune refurbishing the building. The place was cleansed of all vermin and rodents, painted a cheery yellow, and renovated with brand new, color-coordinated furnishings. Nalia's pride and joy, though, had been the conversion of the backrooms into an all-purpose cultural area consisting of a stage and a gallery. She would subsidize all sorts of performances and exhibits for her patrons' edification. Six months later, the inn looked as grubby and run-down as ever -- except for the pristine-looking cultural area, where very few visited. Her experiment in tatters, a very disappointed (and considerably poorer) Nalia had delegated the inn’s management to one of her aides under the condition that cultural offerings, preferably less expensive ones, continue to be available to the clientele. This translated into monthly art exhibitions.

Lady Firecam tsked. "That poor girl! I don't know what she's thinking. She would fare much better if she opened a gallery in our neighborhood. A café-gallery, perhaps. That would be quite ... romantic." Lady Maria's eyes shone bright for a moment, and then she whisked a plain black handkerchief up to her face and dabbed her eyes.

The silence stretched uncomfortably. She was thinking of him, Kalinka realized. "Um, you know Nalia," Kalinka bantered half-heartedly in an attempt to distract her friend.

The dowager sniffed. "I do indeed! Stubborn and without a practical bone in her body. She used to drive poor Keldorn into fits." A peal of brittle laughter issued from her lips. "I suppose we'll have to continue hiking to the back of beyond to see these exhibits, then. Such a pity."

"Uh-huh." Kalinka didn't take Lady Maria's complaint seriously: the Tormish woman had an insatiable mania for artwork and would likely walk anywhere -- anywhere! -- for a new exhibit. And Helm help them if there was a genuine Prism in the collection! She would spend hours upon hours scrutinizing just one of Prism's pieces from all angles. One evening over dinner, Kalinka had mentioned her meeting with the artist, and Lady Maria had become quite giddy. By the time the elf left for home, she must have described the encounter at least nine times.

They had finally reached the outside entrance to the Crumpet’s gallery. Kalinka deferentially reached forward to open the door, but it wouldn’t move. “Hmm, it’s either locked or broken,” Kalinka mumbled to herself. She examined the doorframe and determined, “Broken.”

“We’ll just have to walk through the tavern, then,” Lady Maria resolved.

“I don’t know,” Kalinka hedged. “It can get pretty rowdy there.”

“Oh, pshaw! I’m the widow of a venerated paladin, and you’re a heroine in your own right. No one would dare raise their hand against us.”

“That’s not what I mean, milady,” the elf answered. She had wished to spare Lady Maria any shocks from the less-than-savory atmosphere. Despite Lady Maria’s superior years, her privileged upbringing and sheltered married life had screened her from the seamier aspects of humanity.

“Kalinka, I am a grown woman!” The faintest hint of indignation infused her tone. “I have been to inns before.”

“Like the Mithrest and the Thunderburp’s,” Kalinka elaborated for the aristocrat. Lady Maria gave her a pained glare. “I’m not trying to insult you or say that you don’t know how to handle yourself. It’s just … well … folks here, they …. Oh, never mind.” The elf gave up. She led the matriarch to the next closest door, held it open, and steered the aristocrat towards the inside entrance of the gallery.

The swashbuckler noted that the customers did not seem quite as boisterous as normal, perhaps because it was still morning and the worst troublemakers were either abed or painfully hung-over. Before she could express her observations, however, Lady Maria verbalized hers.

“Torm’s mercy! The people here are quite the earthy lot.” She had been staring disapprovingly at a couple groping one another in the corner. She daintily pat her forehead with a dark piece of cloth. “I can scarcely imagine my Keldorn or your Anomen, much less you, dear, in such a … a …”

“Cesspool of corruption?” Kalinka quipped.

“Exactly!” the noble-born woman fervently affirmed.

Lady Maria Firecam’s outburst had garnered them the unwanted scrutiny of some nearby tables. This section of the inn grew silent as the customers boldly gawked at the two gentlewomen. Kalinka heard a few chuckles at their expense, and she flushed slightly.

By now they reached the partition, where a bored-looking barmaid stood in case anyone sought admittance. The wench looked up, and Kalinka could almost swear she detected a glint of recognition in the barmaid’s expression The girl grabbed Lady Firecam’s coin payment without comment but refused to accept Kalinka’s gold piece. “Nah, girl; ‘s cool.”

Kalinka tried to press the coin into the employee’s hand. “I insist!” Nalia needed every copper, as the swashbuckler well knew.

“Nah, can’t take your money; it’s the artist’s orders.” Amusement sparkled in the girl’s eyes. “He said you’re his inspiration.”

“Oooh, so you have an admirer,” Lady Maria cooed.

“I already have all the admirers I want,” Kalinka groused.

“Spoilsport! This is every maid’s dream, isn’t it? Kindling a great artist’s creative energies, inspiring timeless masterpieces …” The patrician heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Alas, that no man has deigned immortalize me in art … although Keldorn did used to write such darling sonnets. I believe he once compared me with … with a distant sunrise.” A gentle smile flickered upon her lips.

Kalinka idly wondered how often the paladin referenced Torm in his romantic poetry. She suspected he must have used the rhymes "beauty" and "duty" at least once. “A bard I knew once wrote me a limerick,” the elf deadpanned.

“Oh, you!” sniggered Lady Maria. She pat the younger woman affectionately on the shoulder. “Come. We’ve loitered here long enough.”

Both women stepped across the threshold. For once, other patrons inhabited this area: approximately ten people, most of whom wore rags, stared raptly at the exhibits. "I say," remarked Lady Maria, "perhaps young Nalia has the right of it. I should like to see with my eyes what artwork has awakened such interest among the commons."

Kalinka nodded. From her vantage, she could see charcoal sketches on the walls and miniature sculptures on the gallery's assorted shelves and stands. Hmm, nearly all of these artworks displayed naked women -- nudes, she corrected herself. She tried to hide her instinctive distaste. Lady Maria had lectured her for hours at a time on how pictures and sculptures of naked people were supposedly "high art," but Kalinka just didn't buy it. Naked was naked, call it what you want, and decent folks just didn't render likenesses of naked people. And as for the models of such "art"... The elf shuddered. They must be either depraved or desperate for gold. Or both.

Kalinka approached a statue from behind and averted her eyes from all-too-realistic buttocks. This sculpture, for instance ... what kind of trollop would strut in front of an artist like this? Bad enough to model naked, but to pose in such a lewd stance? The swashbuckler circled around front, carefully swerving around one spellbound pervert. Men! She avoided looking at the figure's decidedly feminine torso and stared instead at the woman's face, the strangely familiar elven features warped with sensual rapture. "Helm!" she swore and reached for her swords.

Kalinka heard someone besides her start to cough. Apparently Lady Maria had accompanied her here. “Oh … dear,” the noblewoman murmured as she hurriedly directed her gaze onto the floor.

"Hey! 's that really you?" the previously-entranced lecher leered over at Kalinka.

Kalinka felt the tips of her ears burn. No matter where she turned, she encountered more extremely detailed images of her unclad form in all sorts of obscene poses. She could feel the other patrons’ eyes appraising and branding her. Humiliation and rage bubbled together. “I want to know who’s responsible,” she hissed. "I will run him through, Raise him, and kill him again."

"Hush, dear." The older woman grabbed Kalinka's left hand with surprising strength. "Let's get you home now before you do anything ... rash."

"But -- but -- these figures --" the elf protested. If she had a Potion of Fiery Burning on her, she'd have activated it here and seared away the offensive depictions ... after herding the perverts outdoors, of course. (Of course!) Although … truth be known, she'd prefer that the witnesses of that filth perish as well. She felt uncomfortable, soiled, at total strangers' familiarity with her physique.

"We'll contact Miss Nalia. I'm certain she can be prevailed upon," Lady Maria soothed.

They hurried back to the Firecam estate. "Peony, we are not to be disturbed," the matriarch ordered before she marched her companion into the parlor. The two ladies sat in silence.

"Well! That was certainly ... unanticipated," Lady Maria finally said.

Kalinka stared numbly at her.

"I had not imagined your enthusiasm for the arts would run towards ... modeling," Lady Firecam probed delicately. "The adventuring lifestyle is said to ... encourage ... a more liberated mentality, but never would I have expected ..."

"I did not pose for those!" Kalinka protested vehemently. She clenched and unclenched her fists. “I haven’t the foggiest how images of me … you-know. You know me! Do you think I’m the sort of hussy who’d … who’d …” The elf rose and began to pace around the room. “But it doesn’t matter, does it?” she inquired in a much softer voice. “Soon the whole city will think of me as some lurid tramp.”

The older woman rose and draped her arm about the swashbuckler. “Not so. Hush.” She stroked the younger woman’s back comfortingly. Kalinka sniffed. “That’s alright, dear. Let it out. It’s alright to cry.”

And cry Kalinka did. Every time she thought she’d cried herself out, a new round of sobs wracked her frame. Lady Firecam demonstrated considerable patience throughout, crooning to her, rocking her slowly in her arms. Finally Kalinka composed herself enough to continue.

“Let us examine the facts calmly and without prejudice so that we can determine how this situation came about, shall we?” Lady Maria asked gently. Kalinka assented.

“Are the renderings … accurate?”

Kalinka glumly nodded.

"The artist must have seen you then.” The noblewoman hesitated before she asked, “Have you taken any lovers besides Anomen?" the woman asked. "Artists are renowned for their skills at seduction --"

"No!" Kalinka denied. "I've never made love with anyone but Anomen!” How could Lady Maria think otherwise?

“Even though he leaves you alone often?” Lady Maria commented with obvious reluctance. Pain flickered within the older woman’s eyes. “You’re still a young woman with needs.”

“No. I -- I miss him a lot, but I’d never, no, not voluntarily --” Lady Maria’s eyebrow twitched upwards. An unwanted remembrance flickered at the periphery of Kalinka’s memory. She gulped. "Before I met Anomen, once I … I came under the power of an archmage, Ir-Irenicus.” Lady Maria nodded in recognition of his name. “He ... he did bad things to Imoen. She could remember what he d-did." Her eyes concentrated far off. "I don't remember anything, when ... he could have ... I don't know … I don’t want to remember. Don't make me ... remember," she looked up into Lady Maria's sad eyes.

"No, dear." She squeezed the smaller woman’s shoulders. "It's not important: he and his cohorts are dead anyway. Well! Onto other matters, then."

Kalinka drafted an urgent request for Nalia to curtail this month’s art offering and sent a messenger to deliver it at once. Then Lady Maria sat her down and forced her to eat even more food. After some half-hearted nibbles, the elf rose from the table with the excuse that she needed to ready herself for her afternoon tutorial. The aristocrat demurred.

“You don’t look well, dear. Maybe you should consider canceling your class today. You can’t afford to be distracted when you’re teaching youngsters their swordstrokes.”

“True.” Helm forfend that one of her charges should be injured or killed just because she had allowed her attention to wander! Too many deaths already lay upon her conscience.

The older woman kissed her on the forehead. “I’m glad you’re being so sensible about this. You relax here, put your feet up, and I’ll send Peony on her way.”

Lady Maria’s offer tempted her. Goodness knew that she did not wish to suffer more public scrutiny just now … but no, if she chose to cancel class, she owed it to the Order to justify her decision in person. After she reassured her friend, Kalinka crept back to her home, changed into her Shadow Dragon Armor and Boots of Stealth, exchanged her Blade of Roses for the Equalizer, and then snuck over to the Temple District. Few noticed her prowling within the shadows, and when she reached her destination and strode towards the Chapterhouse entryway, the Order’s honor sentries flinched.

“Milady! I didn’t see you there!” Lady Janra puffed in surprise.

“I’m sorry. Sometimes I fall back into bad habits,” Kalinka apologized. Normally she would have chatted with the Tyrran paladin, but today the elf just couldn't fake normalcy. “Is the Prelate back yet?”

The lady knight shook her head. “No, I’m afraid Sir William’s still in the field, but Sir Eric is filling in for him.”

Kalinka thanked her and made for the doors. She didn’t know whether she felt relieved or mortified that she would have to explain her problem to a friend. She strode through the stables (which two squires were busy mucking out) into the Radiant Heart reception area, and -- there he was! She immediately espied Sir Eric van Strattten conversing quietly with Sir Ryan Trawl. Kalinka made sure to scuff noisily en route to the two paladins in order to avoid surprising them.

“Lady Kalinka, welcome,” Sir Ryan smiled. “It is a pleasure to see you.”

“The pleasure is mine, Sir Ryan,” Kalinka replied, and normally this was true. Today, though…

“Kalinka, are you alright?” Sir Eric inquired mildly.

Kalinka nearly winced: trust the astute paladin to perceive her distress! She meant to reassure both men, but when she prepared to respond, a whimper escaped her lips. Both men eyed her with greater concern. She drew an additional breath to steady her voice. It didn’t work. “I’ve got to speak with you…in private.”

Van Stratten and Trawl exchanged glances. “The prelate’s office?” Eric suggested. The elf nodded; she dared not speak again, lest her poise desert her completely.

The three of them walked silently to Sir William Reirrac’s office. Eric fumbled with the knob a moment before he pulled open the door. He allowed Kalinka and Sir Ryan to enter first, trailed after them, then reluctantly lowered himself into the Prelate’s chair.

“Milady, you do not … look well,” Sir Ryan proclaimed. “Is there aught I can get you? Some fortified wine, perhaps?” The older paladin addressed his associate. “Sir William keeps a decanter in the bottom drawer -- strictly for medicinal purposes, of course.”

“Of course,” Eric repeated tonelessly. He pulled the compartment ajar, grabbed the crystal carafe, and slopped a generous dosage into a matching goblet.

“I could fetch Sir Donalus.” A rational fragment of her mind marked Sir Ryan’s pronounced verbosity and Sir Eric's exaggerated taciturnity: were they really that worried for her? Well, whatever regard they had for her would vanish soon enough.

Kalinka ignored the liquor placed in front of her. “N-no, I am well …” She closed her eyes in an effort to calm herself. “I’ve just had a shock.”

"All the more reason for a bracing drink," Sir Ryan urged. "Why don't you down it in one draught? It should steady your nerves."

The elf never really cared for wine -- a fancy word for spoiled grape juice, in Kalinka's opinion -- but this once, only this once, maybe it would help. She looked towards van Stratten, who nodded curtly. Alright then. She tried to lift the glass to her lips, but her hands quaked too much, and she accidentally shook most of the liquid onto herself. Damn, that would soak in! Unlike metal armors, her shadow dragon armor was just porous enough to absorb minute amounts of fluid. This meant that her armor would retain the stench of alcohol for awhile, no matter how often she cleansed and polished it. On the other hand, at least her armor wouldn’t rust, she consoled herself.

Sir Ryan pried the glass loose, held it out for a refill, and then raised the newly-brimming goblet to Kalinka’s lips. About midway through, Kalinka sought to disengage herself from the beverage, but Sir Ryan placed his left hand at the base of her head and prevented her from pulling away. She had no choice but to quaff all the wine. She meant to chide Sir Ryan Trawl, but the liquor burning down her throat distracted her.

"There! Don’t you feel better now?" the older paladin unsuccessfully feigned a smile.

Kalinka hacked weakly.

"Or perhaps not," Sir Eric indulged his wry sense of humor, much to Kalinka's delight. The elf flashed him an appreciative grin, and he managed to wink back without altering his nonexpressive mien.

Both men stared at her with anticipation. This was it, she realized; she could not procrastinate further. "I--I don't think I can teach class today ... or for awhile," she added on impulse. "Something's happened, I've become aware of something, and --" She stopped. By the gods, how was she supposed to reveal this to her friend and her dead mother-in-law's friend?

Later on, she could never recall what words she used, but through much hesitation, stuttering, and blushing, Kalinka finally articulated what she'd viewed in the Copper Crumpet. To her humiliation, she'd been forced to explain to Sir Ryan that the figures were more explicit than mere nudes. She'd kept her eyes downcast during her narrative. She couldn't bear to see the cynical contempt that surely must have surfaced in their faces. She bit her lip and tried not to cry while she awaited their response.

A stunned silence.

Then...

"You have no idea how --?" Sir Eric asked in a strained, horrified, voice.

Kalinka shook her head. A couple of tears leaked out.

"Damned wizards, is what I say!" Sir Ryan roared. "A little hocus-pocus, and they capture private happenings for public consumption. I wouldn't put it past them. A bunch of freakish perverts, the lot of them!--"

Trust Sir Ryan to find a way, any way, to lay the blame upon mages in general, and former Cowled Wizards in particular! A lifetime as an Inquisitor had clearly left its mark. Still, the elderly paladin's hypothesis did not lack merit. When she destroyed the Cowled Wizards' various enclaves, she assuredly had won the gratitude of most of Amn's wizards, but some aspiring Cowlies had held grudges, she was sure. But as to whose grudge was larger -- the Cowlies' or Immy's -- Kalinka could not say. Last she heard, Imoen was off hunting the remnants of some ex-Cowlie clique.

"--Arrogant bastards, aren't they? That's what comes of giving mere mortals vast magical powers without divine guidance," Trawl finished.

"I'm not saying you're wrong," Sir Eric temporized, "but right now we have other issues to concern us. Kalinka?" He called her name in the gentlest of voices.

She could not avoid looking up. To her surprise, sympathy and concern rippled across van Stratten's lineaments. Why, he -- he'd accepted her explanation! A quick glance at Trawl showed that he'd also believed her. She ought to feel relieved, right? So why did this revelation cause her to break down into sobs?

Sir Ryan handed her a linen handkerchief, of which she gratefully availed herself. When the tears finally slowed, she looked up at the Acting Prelate.

"We don't know," he locked eyes with Sir Ryan, "for certain how this happened," and Sir Ryan nodded his concession, "but your safety must be our highest priority. In the worst case, some obsessed, powerful degenerate has been watching your every action." His glance held a mute apology. "It might be best if you didn't return home. If you could sequester yourself at your sister's--"

"Imoen's out of town," Kalinka supplied, "but Lady Firecam has invited me over."

"Well, that is something," hedged van Stratten, although this solution clearly did not enthuse the paladin. "I wish--" He fell silent.

One option that neither paladin suggested was Anomen's room in the Chapterhouse. Certainly no evil wizard would dare trespass in this holy building! She clearly divined the source of their reticence: even though the two men here seemed to believe her protestations of innocence, the other members of the Order might not ... or would not, Sir William Reirrac especially. She played devil's advocate. Even if the other knights did think her innocent, the bawdy Athkatlans wouldn't; she shuddered to speculate what imagined scandals involving herself and a Chapterhouse of men would be bruited about as truth. Needless to say, the Order's political enemies would make grist of any opportunities to undermine them. No, the Order's reputation must remain unsullied in order for it to continue its good works in such a corrupt land. Which meant ...

Kalinka read the plea in van Stratten’s eye and apprehended her next action. She coaxed her fingers to unfurl, reach up, and unclasp the pendant around her neck. Her eyes lingered on the sparkling device with the "H" embossed at its center. Honorary Member, Order of the Most Radiant Heart. Honorary Member. Except now her membership would bring not honor, only derision, to the Order.

She shut her eyes. She vividly recalled the day they knighted her: Anomen’s secretive smile as he lured her to the Chapterhouse, her mingled joy and befuddlement at her former comrades’ presence inside. When Keldorn, Anomen, and Sir Ryan had escorted her before the Three Thrones, she had feared a rebuke. Instead, Prelate Reirrac asked her several questions in succession before he requested that she kneel. She obeyed, of course; she'd had no real reason not to. The Great Hall had grown absolutely silent, and then she'd felt it: an awesome yet tender caress upon her mind which her consciousness shuddered back from. It was as though -- how to describe the sensation? -- all her life's thoughts and experiences were being sifted, refracted through multiple prisms at once. At the end her mind tingled with a benediction. Finally Sir William proclaimed her Lady Kalinka, Honorary Member of the Order of the Most Radiant Heart, and secured this gilded emblem about her neck.

Kalinka opened her eyes. "Until I can prove my innocence, it would probably be best if … if I withdrew from the Order." She stared directly into Sir Eric’s eyes. "I did nothing to create this situation," she asserted; please Helm, may they continue to believe her, "but I don’t want the Order to suffer because … because of …" She could not finish. The swashbuckler extended her arm towards the Acting Prelate and looked quickly away. She didn’t want to witness him take her pendant; it was almost as though not watching would make the indignity less real.

She waited ... and then she felt the warmth of another's touch against her own hand. Kalinka’s head shot up, and she saw that Sir Eric van Stratten had squeezed her hand closed upon the emblem. He retained her hand in his with a reassuring pressure. "Keep it, milady. You will wear this again with pride -- soon, I pray -- and the villain responsible will … suffer …" The knight's eyes glittered vindictively.

Kalinka Delryn jerked her head slightly.

Van Stratten leaned forward, her delicate hand still entrapped within his meaty palm. "I'm here if you ever need someone to talk to." He peered earnestly into her eyes. "I'm honored to call you my friend, and nothing will alter this, definitely not current circumstances."

"Thank you." Tears pricked the corner of her eyes.

Sir Ryan coughed once. "He's right, you know. Everyone who knows you will stand behind you." Sir Eric nodded his agreement. "Say, have you given any thought to how you'll break the news to Anomen?"

Trawl's words shattered the composure she'd scraped together. Helm's beard, what would she tell Anomen? He was possessive enough on the best of days, a trait she'd considered alternately endearing and irritating, but how would he react to this?! Her breathing quickened, rattled in her throat, even while her mind sank into a fevered giddiness.

She heard the tink of Eric's steel-shod boot clanking into Sir Ryan's armored shin. "Erm, right then. I’ll escort the lady home, if you have no objections.”

Kalinka wanted to protest that she was no shrinking violet, but before she could formulate a response, Sir Eric had nodded his assent. “Stay well, Lady Kalinka,” the younger paladin bade her.

She puzzled at the Acting Prelate's unusually solemn emphasis of her title...of her honorary title... Ah yes; after resigning her membership, her formal title ought to have been Lady Delryn. In just one word he asserted his belief in her innocence. What a stalwart friend! She nearly cried again.

Sir Ryan helped her to her feet -- her head reeled from either that glass of wine or her pent-up emotions -- lent her his arm, and solemnly ushered her from the building

Lady Kalinka Delryn and Sir Ryan Trawl walked as swiftly as possible towards the Firecam estate. The Inquisitor had meant well in accompanying her, she concluded, but his intentions had not altered the result: since she could not sink into the shadows, she remained all too visible to the burghers. Although her notoriety had not spread that widely yet, she received enough snickers and knowing looks to make her blush constantly. Of course, the goblet of wine probably hadn't helped with her coloration either.

"Courage, lass," Sir Ryan murmurred after a particularly lewd comment.

They had nearly left the Temple District when Kalinka called out to her companion. "Wait! I'd like to stop here ... um, that is, if you don't mind," she softened her request.

Sir Ryan chuckled. "Lass, I'd be a poor excuse for a paladin if I minded going to church."

They nodded courteously to the Watchknight outside the door and plunged into the relative twilight within the Helmite cathedral. Kalinka lingered upon the threshold for an instant to savor the temple's ambiance. As her eyes adjusted to the dim interior, the bronze statuary twinkled at her from the periphery. A solemn choir of baritone and bass chanted hymns to Helm while a priest dispensed His teachings unto individual worshippers. She inhaled deeply. Each temple had its own distinctive aroma, and the elf could easily identify this church from its blend of incense, polish fumes (but without the uniquely Tormish tang of armor tint), metal, and musky males. Anomen always carried the scent of this site upon him, an added reason why she felt so safe and warm within these walls.

Kalinka tended to believe she would have wound up among Helm’s faithful even without Ajantis’ or Anomen’s guidance. Something about the Great Guard’s philosophy resonated within her: to watch over others, especially the innocent and the weak, seemed a worthy goal indeed! She had been raised in the Oghmite faith, and while she still revered wisdom, she viewed it more as a means to an end rather than an end of itself. What good is an entire library of knowledge, if you do not use it to help others? As for the Lathanderites, she supposed they meant well, but their world perspective struck her as a trifle naïve (not to mention erratic), and despite their persistent attempts to convert her, she much preferred Helm’s unswerving beneficience.

Kalinka and Sir Ryan strode towards the altar and genuflected. She glanced questioningly towards Sir Ryan. “Go ahead,” he encouraged her. “I’ll offer my devotions from here.”

She nodded and slowly headed towards the back. En route several burly men automatically stepped aside to allow her passage. She smiled her appreciation but otherwise did not disturb their worship. Over the years, Kalinka had observed the congregation’s attitude towards her shift from amused tolerance of an abnormality into respectful acceptance of a peer.

She stopped outside the High Watcher’s quarters and rapped.

“Enter,” a gravely baritone bade her.

Kalinka shouldered open the massive stone door. The ancient but still formidable Oisig bent his head over clasped palms and muttered his prayers for the lost and the dead. He concluded with his customary mention of the fallen watchmage Blauge-of-Blauge, then looked up at her with steely gray eyes.

“Lady Kalinka! Be safe, and be welcome! What brings you to this House of Helm?”

Kalinka squirmed slightly but could not turn away from his unblinking gaze. She quickly reiterated her situation and noticed, to her surprise, how easily the words tumbled out.

Oisig nodded stiffly and intoned, "You did well to seek the Unsleeping One's guidance in this." The veteran priest stared thoughtfully at the far wall. "The culprit's means or motives are unknown and, for now, irrelevant, but the results are all too clear. By shaming you, the wrongdoer has brought dishonor upon your husband and the Church he serves."

Trust Oisig to air his concerns in the bluntest manner possible. Perhaps he read the mortification in Kalinka's features, for he added more softly, "Not that you are blamed for consequences not of your making, but neither can a blind eye be turned. Your honor -- and, by extention, Anomen's -- will be called into question by others even though you bear every sign of innocence in this affair."

At least he believed her; one small consolation.

"You must be shielded, of course -- your reputation as well as your person," he explained when she'd begun to protest. "Anomen will be recalled to Athkatla at once," Oisig continued. "Bringing glory to Helm upon the battlefield is commendable, but his duties here must take precedence."

Anomen, coming home? The ecstacy at her beloved's prospective return collided with her terror at apprising him of their...problem. He would be so angry!

"Quarters will be prepared in the temple for both you and Anomen upon his return." When she questioned the High Watcher about this, he stared penetratingly at her. "Your house is not safe for either one of you right now -- Sir Eric van Stratten said as much, did he not?" He grunted his satisfaction when she nodded. "The culprit's actions have escalated steadily. It is one thing to watch people's intimate actions. It is another to immortalize them as 'art,' and yet another to put such blatant trespasses on public display. If I were you, I'd be very cautious about the 'artist's' future plans."

Kalinka's eyes dilated in sudden comprehension, and she bobbed her head. Sure, she didn't know what the pervert would do next, but she almost wished the fool would try something; few people in the Realms could withstand the swashbuckler's nimble onslaught, and virtually all of those people were her former companions.

The priest cleared his throat. "You are staying with Lady Firecam, correct?"

She'd already admitted as much during her narration. She nodded again.

"What would she say to remaining here with you for a couple of days until your husband can join you?"

"Well..." Likely her mentor would accede to the request out of genuine affection. On the other hand... "I don't know if she could bear it," Kalinka posited. "She's still in deepest mourning for Keldorn."

The priest scowled. "Very well. I want you to maintain the utmost vigilence while at the Firecam estate," he ordered. "Danger may come from any quarter, from the sculptor and his minions, or an 'admirerer'. Never let down your guard."

"Yes, High Watcher."

Oisig scrutinzed her once more and allowed the merest suggestion of a smile to touch his face. "I look forward to your stay with us. Perhaps some of the acolytes can assist you with your mace technique." Kalinka frowned; Anomen must have shared the anecdote of how a mace had squibbed out of her hand during combat. Stupid mace! Good thing they'd only faced some petty bandits; her mate had laughed so hard that he couldn't fight, and she had ended up cutting down the rest of the brigands with a dagger.

"This sequestration also will provide Anomen with the opportunity to take on a greater role within the Church."

Kalinka blinked. Anomen was more or less Acting Guardian since Trelwyn's death, but his frequent absences on Order business had prevented him from assuming Trelwyn's responsibilities full-time. Was she mistaken, or was the High Watcher hinting at a possible promotion?

Oisig crackled as he rose. Kalinka took the cue and likewise stood. "I will pray that the Great Guard give light to all wrongs against you. May Helm watch over you and guard you from danger."

She curtseyed slightly. "Thank you, High Watcher."

Kalinka and the cleric walked together to the front of the temple, where Sir Ryan awaited her. The paladin instantly discarded his slightly bored frown and donned a deferential smile. "High Watcher," the Inquisitor greeted the holy man.

"Sir Ryan," Oisig responded. The priest did not linger for more repartee but instead marched resolutely through the entranceway, then veered left.

Kalinka and Sir Ryan looked questioningly at one another, when her eyes widened. From the direction of his path, there was only place he could be going. The elf surmised that Oisig was bound for the Chapterhouse to arrange Anomen's immediate return and sabbatical ... or, more precisely, Oisig planned to browbeat Sir Eric into authorizing said arrangments. After she told the paladin her suspicions, he shook his head and mumbled, "Poor Eric."

"Amen!" Prelate Reirrac could just about hold his own against Oisig. Assistant Prelate van Stratten, on the other hand, hadn't a prayer; and Ryan and Kalinka both knew it.

The two left the church and completed the trek to the Firecam estate. Lady Maria was waiting for her in the front garden. When the armored pair approached, the noble sprang from the marble bench and strode forward. “What took you so long?” she demanded breathlessly. Upon noticing Kalinka’s escort, the widow flashed a strained smile and greeted, "Good day, Sir Ryan."

"Lady Maria," Trawl responded placidly.

"Please pardon my waspishness," Lady Firecam apologized to her elven friend. "I felt concerned when you didn't return at once." Before Kalinka could answer, the older woman sniffed daintily in front of her. "I smell spirits. Have you been drinking, dear?" Such innocuous words, spoken casually enough, but the swashbuckler sensed some underlying tension behind them.

Sir Ryan intervened before Kalinka could utter a single word. “The poor lass was so shaken that we thought it best to brace her nerves.”

"'We'?"

"Sir Eric and myself, milady."

The noblelady skewered him with an uncharacteristic glare. "We shall speak of this later ... after I show Kalinka to her room -- you must be absolutely fagged! -- unless you're feeling a little peckish, that is." Her gaze turned hopeful once more.

The elf nearly groaned as she shook her head. If she ate just one more morsel…!

"Very well. If you're hungry later, Peony can always put together a cold platter. Sir Ryan, if you could see yourself into the parlor?"

"It would be an honor, m'lady," the knight assented.

Lady Maria guided Kalinka inside, then down the main hallway into Leona’s former quarters. The younger woman smiled. The feminine bedroom with its ubiquitous rose motif never failed to cheer her: the airy boudoir with a canopied bed, gossamer drapes, and dainty wallpaper ... what a far cry from the cramped, windowless room she and Gorion shared, with its humble trundle bed and rough tan bedclothes. Her eyes watered. If she'd had a mother, what kind of bedroom might she have decorated for her? --No, she would not think about this ...

The swordswoman began to unbuckle her armor, but to her surprise, Lady Maria rushed to assist. "Oh, don't look at me like that!" the noble commented. "It's not as though I haven't undone Keldorn's armor in my day."

The older woman's ministrations, Kalinka admitted, did help greatly. The elf felt surprisingly drained even though it was only just past midday, and she was only too glad to slip her armor and weapons onto the floor.

The dowager sniffed once more. "Surely you shan't sleep in that !"

The quilted clothing the swashbuckler wore beneath her armor tended to reek of dragonhide, polish, and sweat. Granted, this outfit did not stink quite as badly as Anomen's since she wore dragon armor instead of metal plate, but refined individuals would still deem it pungent.

"Raise your arms," Lady Maria ordered, and Kalinka bemusedly obeyed. Off came the quilted top, exposing her corset. From the commanding stare she received from the noble, Kalinka reluctantly removed the quilted bottoms as well and stood in her underwear. Although she trusted Lady Firecam, although the noblewoman had likely seen her grown daughters in such a semiclad state, Kalinka still misgave about exposing herself.

"Just one more moment, dear," Lady Maria called.

Kalinka shivered from a sudden draft.

In the meantime, the elderly woman rummaged through the closet, then produced a rosebud pink sleeping gown, modest but darling. A motion from the noblewoman's hand, and Kalinka lifted her arms again. The elf almost moaned in pleasure as the soft, crisp fabric draped her form.

"Turn around," Lady Maria ordered. Once again, Kalinka complied. "Absolutely exquisite! It fits you like a glove! I don't think Anomen could resist you in this."

Kalinka doubted that; Anomen seemed quite immune to her charms now. Certainly he'd visit home from the field more often, if ... She shook her head. She loved him and he loved her; she knew that! How could she question his steadfast devotion to her, just because he had some unavoidable obligations for the Order? She glanced at the matron and received an understanding smile in return.

Lady Maria pulled back the coverlet. "Why don't you put your feet up and relax for a bit?" The guest complied. "That's a good girl!" She affectionately mussed Kalinka's bangs, much to the elf's surprised delight. "I’ll be in the parlor, should you need me. Or ring Peony.” The older woman gestured towards a dainty silver handbell on the bedstead.

Kalinka luxuriated atop the feather mattress. While her muscles untensed, her mind drifted into a calm, dark softness. One corner of her consciousness remained open to the sounds about her and occasionally caught snippets of Lady Maria’s tete-a-tete with Sir Ryan.

"You gave her WINE?!" the dowager thundered. "Of anyone in the Order, I thought at least you and Eric had sense! ..." Lady Maria's voice suddenly dipped too low for Kalinka's hearing.

Sir Ryan Trawl sounded sincerely contrite. "I beg your pardon, milady! I didn't know..." More smudged words.

"Men!" A melodramatic sigh. "You meant well, I suppose."

The couple's conversation blurred in Kalinka's mind as she descended into slumber ...

... And woke up an indeterminate time later, oddly unrested. The sun had fled from the sky, and only drapery-filtered moonlight illuminated the guest chamber. She ought to have slept through the night, because she certainly felt tired enough, but some worry had pried her from her slumber.

What will you tell Anomen?

That some perverted nut-job (she didn't know who) had been spying on their lovemaking (she didn't know how), had produced obscene renderings of her anatomy and put them on display for all of Athkatla (she didn't know why)? This had been her original plan, but one recitation convinced her that this would not suffice. Perhaps if she obtained additional information ... or why not resolve the entire situation on her own? By the gods, was she a famous heroine, or was she just some sniveling waif?! She had two feet, and she knew how to stand on them, too!

A momentary qualm assailed her: Lady Maria and Sir Eric expected her to stay put. Her resolve wavered only an instant, however. They were concerned for her, but if she fixed the problem, then they could cease their worrying.

The elf quietly donned her gear and crept from her room. She avoided all the creaky sections of sagging floorboards and smoothly sidled to the front entrance. She coaxed the massive wooden door ajar and squeezed out through the narrow opening, and -- Darn! The front light must have captured her silhouette. Not for long! Only a moment later she submerged herself in the shadows and headed for the Copper Crumpet.

Kalinka arrived outside the inn without incident. She neared the door and prepared to wait: if she darted in while someone left, no one should notice her entrance; whereas if she opened the door herself, somebody would see her -- doors opening by themselves tend to provoke curiosity. Just before she could settle in, a beggar shambled over to her. "Alms for the poor?" he crooned hopefully. She must be losing her touch, she concluded. In her adventuring days, or even when she was scouting for the Order, nobody could see her when she skulked; nobody! She groped in her money pouch for a golden danter, shrugged, grabbed two, and gave them to the grateful pauper. "Ilmater's blessings on y' milady!" he declared in a voice much too loud for her liking. He continued to mutter benedictions as he scuffed towards an alleyway strewn with rags and other debris.

As she waited her doubts mounted, and soon she reconsidered the whole expedition. Just when she nearly talked herself into leaving, however, an inebriated halfling careened through the door. This was her opportunity!

No one marked Kalinka's silent entry into the Inn. Then again, nobody noticed her at all within the Copper Crumpet, from the rowdy common room (thank Torm Lady Maria hadn’t witnessed this depravity earlier!), to the brilliant white-walled gallery (the two dozen spectators gawked unblinkingly at "her" statues, completely oblivious to the original in their midst). She glided over to the southeastern corner of the gallery, where the inn manager maintained his business office. She picked the pathetic lock on the office door with ease; stole over to the desk and handily untrapped and unlocked the top drawer; and leafed through the business diary (hmm, the Crumpet ran a higher profit than Nalia ever indicated, Kalinka observed; perhaps the noble ought to audit the books or change managers!) until she found the information she wanted.

The artist was called … Nerok DeHotl’? That name struck her as vaguely Maztican, although she couldn’t recall ever having met anyone from there … unless the artist had invented an assumed name, in which case -- You’re wasting time , she chided herself. She jotted down the relevant information on a scrap of parchment and left as soundlessly as she had arrived.

Nerok DeHotl’, I’m coming for you , she whispered in her mind.

She recognized the location of so-called artist’s abode at once: Baron Ployer’s ex-residence. But he was dead, wasn’t he? With a resigned sigh, she tramped to the eastern fringe of the slums and sought out a particularly decrepit hovel. Its front entrance was trapped and locked, so Kalinka had to lug out her tools once more to deactivate these protections. After she finished, she cautiously swung open the door and slunk inside.

Her eyes raked the dim interior. Her infravision detected no lifesigns, but that meant nothing; wily mages had perfected many methods to counteract elven infravision. She would just have to explore the building. The sod flooring would produce less noise than wooden planks as long as she avoided the rushes, she realized, but traps and wards could be written less conspicuously into dirt than upon wood. Cautiously, oh so cautiously, she stepped forward. And again. And yet again. And --

"There you are, my love. I knew you'd be coming,” a light tenor voice mocked her.

She knew that voice! Kalinka spun about and scrutinized the man's predatory black eyes, oily black hair with sprigs of kinky silver, and scraggly facial hair. No; it couldn't be...could it be? “Eldoth?”

"You recognize me! How charming." Eldoth Kron looked her up and down with a knowing smirk which made the swashbuckler blush. The bard's eyebrow rose at her reaction. "Come, now. We both know you're not as innocent as that."

"What are you doing here?" she spluttered defensively.

"You're alluding to my...difficulties with the Fist, I presume. The ones you precipitated ? Very well; I shall indulge your curiosity. After my arrest , the dullards at Fist headquarters acted upon an outstanding warrant from Amn," he spread his hands, "over a trifling misunderstanding, I might add. I was extradited and imprisoned at Spellhold." He shook his head. "Have you any idea how tedious those Cowled Wizards can be?" Eldoth Kron clucked his tongue. "They absolutely insisted that I apply my vast talents and superior intellect to the manual arts: drawing and mucking around with clay. I naturally excelled." A sly wink.

"So you--you're the one responsible for--"

"Indubitably, m'lady." A sardonic smirk lit his features. "Who else but yours truly is gifted enough to capture your magnificent body in action? You must admit that my renderings are quite lifelike. I'm certain your precious Anomen would agree."

She ignored this taunt. "You've been scrying in on us." It wasn't even a question.

"A most acute observation, for one of your ilk. Yes. I learned to scry during my sojourn at Spellhold. One of your acquaintances, Jon Irenicus by name, demonstrated the technique, interestingly enough on your very person." He smirked. "What a worthwhile skill scrying is! It has provided much…diversion on lonely nights." He leered at her again, provoking another blush.

How smug he was! "I ought to kill you on the spot!" she growled.

The bard sniffed his amusement. "I daresay you'd accrue some enjoyment from effecting my demise, but that would hardly be practical, would it? If you kill me now, you will never find proof of my wrongdoing...or your so-called innocence. I may die, but my masterpieces will live on…and how will you explain them to your beloved Anomen?"

Darn him for being right! She crossed her arms with a clink. “What is it you want?” she gritted.

“From you? Nothing. Nothing beyond revenge, that is, and you have performed quite ably in that regard.”

Her stomach twisted. “This is a set-up, isn’t it?”

At precisely that moment, a mob crashed through the front entryway: a magistrate and two patrolmen, followed by Lady Maria, Sir Eric, and...and Anomen? Her heart glowed within her. She didn't know how he'd arrived so fast, she had no idea how he'd located her in the slums, but now that her beloved was here, together they could reveal Eldoth's treachery and restore her good name. She beamed at her husband, but the Helmite glared venomously at her. N-n-no... What was going on? Sir Eric, she noticed, was watching Anomen with barely-concealed anxiety. Uh-oh.

"Ah, my love, I see we have company. Friends of yours?" Eldoth crooned.

"How dare you! I'm not your love! And I've never loved you!" Kalinka asserted vociferously.

"Women," he chuckled affably. "She's still angry about the exhibition, I'm afraid. I probably should have told her about it beforehand," he confided to the magistrate, "but...I just wanted to share my love of this beautiful woman with all of Athkatla." He grinned familiarly at her. "But Klink never holds grudges for long; she'll forgive me as soon as I get her into the sack." Anomen's nose flared in anger.

"We're not lovers!" Kalinka shouted.

"Whatever you say, my sweet," Eldoth responded in a blandly agreeable tone

"Can't someone make him stop lying?" Kalinka implored them. Oh, if only Imoen were here! She would know of a spell to compel truth...or at least the pink-tressed archmage would know someone who possessed such arcane knowledge.

The magistrate stepped forward. "Sir, are you the artist known as Nerok DeHotl'?"

Eldoth smiled. "That I am. What can I do for you fine gentlemen?"

"I'm a city magistrate, and I need you to answer some questions for an investigation of mine."

The bard shrugged casually. "Go ahead. We have nothing to hide, right love?"

"I'm not your love!" the elf gritted.

The magistrate ignored her interruption. "Thank you for your cooperation, sir. Your first question..." The official looked slightly embarrassed. "Have you had intercourse with this woman?"

One of Eldoth's eyebrows shot upwards. "You're very direct in Amn, aren't you. Hmm. 'Intercourse' makes it sound so dull. I've had the hottest, horniest sex that any red-blooded male could ever wish for. Isn't that right, dearest?"

"No, it isn't! And I'm not your dearest." Kalinka began to weep. "He's just making up lies about me -- about us, and --"

"Hush, dear; I know," Lady Maria soothed her. "Everything will turn out ducky, I promise. Right, Eric?"

The agitated Tyrran didn't reply.

"Did you know that this woman is married to this man?" The magistrate pointed at the irate Watcher.

"Nooo...I'm afraid I didn't...although it doesn't surprise me, now that you mention it. Yes, it explains a lot. All those times when she couldn't get away, and," here Eldoth guffawed slightly, "she never was one who could get enough, if you know what I mean."

"Hmm." The official paused for a moment while he scribbled in his folio. "Did you know that adultery is illegal in Amn and is punishable by death?"

"No, I didn't; I hail from Maztica, you see." Eldoth twisted in Anomen's direction. "You have my sincerest apologies, my lord. I'm afraid I was as much in the dark as you were, and had I known...well, I never would have cuckolded another man, no matter how beautiful the woman." He feigned a regretful look at the fuming swashbuckler. "I suppose I am guilty of the crime, though, despite my intentions, so I'll just have to hang. The law must prevail."

"An admirable attitude," the magistrate commended him, "although it may not come to that. And you, Lady Delryn; what do you have to say for yourself?"

"He--he's been scrying on me--on us!" Kalinka protested. "I've never been unfaithful to the man I love." She looked towards Anomen's eyes, but he turned away. She bit her lip. "His name isn't even Nerok DeHotl', and he's not from Maztica. He's a bard from Waterdeep named Eldoth Kron, and he's trying to get revenge against me for having him arrested in Baldur's Gate for attempted kidnapping. You can contact Grand Duke Vai with the Flaming Fist, or Skie Silvershield of Baldur's Gate...or Imoen, or--"

Eldoth laughed. "You were always glib with your excuses, love, and I'm flattered, really, that you're going to such an effort to save my life. Still, I think we ought to come clean, wouldn't you say? Your husband deserves that much."

"It is the truth!" She felt herself hyperventilating. How could that infuriating bard lie so convincingly? She turned towards Lady Maria, Sir Eric, and Anomen. "You believe me, right?"

"Of course we do, dear," Lady Maria consoled her. Sir Eric vigorously nodded his assent. Sir Anomen, however...

Kron's eyes narrowed. "And even if the fine soldiery were to search our lovenest, darling, they would find no musical or magical implements, much less scrying glasses. I'm an artist, not a magician."

The magistrate asked the man, "Mind if we search your apartment?"

Kron shrugged amiably. "Go right ahead."

The magistrate motioned to his two soldiers, and they began their search.

Sir Eric crossed his arms. "We're supposed to believe the unsupported word of a stranger, an artist , over that of a decorated heroine? I think not! I've known Lady Kalinka for a dozen years, and she is as upright and moral as any paladin in the Order!"

"Oh, it's more than my word against hers, I imagine," Kron continued. "She's been here for quite a while, hasn't she, madame?"

Lady Maria spluttered, "You dare address me? How would you--I--but--true she'd been missing and at first I didn't realize where she went, which is why I sent for Sir Eric, but I realize now she must have been tracking you down, you bas--"

"--And when she first arrived, we had ourselves some drinks; can't you smell the liquor on her?--"

"That's from the CHAPTERHOUSE! She was upset and accidentally spilled some wine on herself," Sir Eric explained with no little vehemence. "It's all very innocent. Ask Sir Ryan!"

"--Drinks at the Chapterhouse, eh? What a convenient...explanation. I see I'm not the only one who's fallen for milady's charms." He winked at Sir Eric, but before the Acting Prelate could respond, the bard resumed his tale. "After we finished our beverages, we had sex; I wasn't really in the mood, but she insisted." Now he winked at Anomen. "Funny how our entire relationship boils down to sex, sex, and more sex, huh? I can even describe her underwear to you as proof, if you'd like. She was wearing..."

Kalinka listened in horror as he described her intimate garments in humiliating detail. Kalinka and Lady Maria blanched; Sir Anomen's face flared even hotter, if possible. "He must've been scrying on me this afternoon! My gods, is there ever a time when he isn't watching?"

The soldiers reported back to the magistrate. "It's as he says, sir. No arcane paraphernalia."

The magistrate nodded. "Very well. So on one hand we have a foreign-born man who admits to an affair and is willing to accept the ultimate penalty, even though he was unaware of his partner's--"

" Alleged partner!" Sir Eric interjected sharply.

"--his alleged partner's marital status," the magistrate corrected. "The man's story appears corroborated by his detailed artworks featuring the alleged partner's naked body, familiarity with his alleged partner's undergarments this evening, and the alleged partner's very presence in this room.

"On the other hand, we have a woman who claims there was no affair. She claims the man is lying because of some event long ago that she hasn't proved even occurred. She writes off his intimate knowledge of her person and apparel as deriving from magical divination of some sort, although no magical artifacts were found on the premises. What I find most incriminating is that she never even addressed what she was doing here at this ungodly hour -- or indeed how she knew of the gentleman's whereabouts."

"I broke into the Copper Crumpet's office," Kalinka admitted reluctantly. "I wanted to find out who was s-sculpting me and--and have th-them brought to justice."

"In the middle of the night? It is...interesting...that this so-called paragon of virtue would sneak off without telling anyone of her plans, not even her friend--"

"Ooh, you're a horrible man! You're twisting everything!" Lady Maria raged. "I'm certain if Kalinka says--"

The magistrate admonished her, "Lady, enough!" Then the official affixed the priest with a solemn stare. "My lord, the case seems black-and-white to me. If you wish to press charges, I would comply with your request. I would only recommend that the man," the magistrate looked down at his folio, "Mr. DeHotl' be fined instead of executed, as his intent to commit adultery has not been firmly established."

The Watcher nodded grimly.

"Anomen--" Kalinka began, but once again he looked resolutely away. She began to sob.

"Anomen Delryn!" Lady Maria scolded. "You are not seriously considering such foolishness! This is your wife! She has stuck by you in good times and bad, and she would never throw away your love for a tawdry affair with some two-copper gigolo!"

"Madame, I must protest--!" Eldoth exclaimed.

"Milady, please pardon me for esteeming your words lightly," Anomen responded with a rare note of sarcasm, "but I recollect your plight all too well."

Lady Maria choked. "I--I deserve that, I suppose, but we're not talking about my failings; we're talking about Kalinka, and she wouldn't...she just wouldn't, especially now--" The elderly woman suddenly clutched at her upper torso and began to wheeze.

"Lady Maria!" Kalinka cried and stomped towards the noblelady.

"No, dear; I'm perfectly well," Lady Maria maintained in a thin voice.

"Sir Anomen." The two knights regarded each other with equal earnestness. "Much has been alleged, but by Tyr, there is no definitive proof yet. There is no need to make a decision at this moment," Sir Eric asserted persuasively. "You’ve had a fatiguing journey. Let us sleep on this tonight and gather evidence tomorrow. In the unlikely event that this stranger's assertions are confirmed, you'll still have the option to--"

"Nay, milord," Anomen Delryn responded in gelid tones. "Why need I wait? Proof of the strumpet's guilt abounds." He addressed the magistrate. "Take her away."

"You heard him," the magistrate told the guards.

This couldn't be happening. She had slept overlong at the Firecams, she must be dreaming, but this felt horrifyingly real. "Anomen...no...you couldn't believe that...b-but I--I love you," she murmured. "Anomen, why...?"

Anomen glared at his wife while the summoned guards placed restraints on her wrists and ankles. "May Helm have mercy on your soul," he hissed and turned his back to her pleas.

Lady Maria let out a keen of deepest anguish and collapsed.

"I hope you know what you've just done," van Stratten growled.

Howdy! This was written in response to (but alas, not in time for) Quiz 187 a/k/a “Intermission.” That quiz challenged its participants to write about what transpired off-camera between the end of BG-SoA and the beginning of BG-ToB. For some reason, inspiration struck (and hopefully not stunk).

Reader Warning: Raunchiness implied. Immoral behavior alluded to, including child abuse (although child abuse is absolutely not depicted). Non-positive depiction of pointy-eared demihumans ahead.


 

Not Quite Paradise


The elven swashbuckler flung open the door, crossed the threshold into their private apartment, threw the door shut again, then stomped towards the bedrooms. “Where’d everyone go?” she asked, absently tugging the hem of her short green-striped dress downwards.

The pink-haired girl looked up from her grimoire. “You know, Klink most normal folks like to say, ‘Hi,' when they come into a room.”

Kalinka sighed, tugged once more at her dress and peeked into a bed chamber, “Hi, Immy,” she said, distracted. She continued to look around. They had to be here somewhere.

“Gee, that sounded like you meant it,” Imoen retorted with no little sarcasm.

The elf kicked the ground as she peeked into the second bedroom. When her dress flounced upwards from the motion, the elf frowned and pulled downwards at the hem once more. “You'll have to forgive me if I’m not paying attention to the social graces here,” she gritted out, “but we’ve got an emergency on our hands!”

The expression of irritation on the petite mage’s face evaporated, replaced with resolve; as Kalinka was distracted, however, she did not notice. “Well, why didn’tcha say so?”

“I--oh; whatever!” The swashbuckler gave up and shut her mouth. She continued to check the next bedroom, no luck, and proceed towards the fourth bedroom. “We have to find the others and leave town immediately; we don't have time for these games."

"Fine," Imoen sniped, clearly miffed. She stood and began to chant a spell.

The elf looked back at her sister, irritated as well. Kalinka was serious--they needed to get everyone together and leave, now!— but instead of doing something useful, like assembling their friends, Imoen was likely wasting time they didn’t have on some prank-related cantrip. "Could you stop fooling around a moment and help me get--" The mage completed her spell before the swashbuckler completed her complaint, though. Magic surged through the chamber, distorting the light into waves, until four bodies were suddenly cast into previously empty space.

Once Kalinka recognized the shapes as their friends, the elf promptly and sheepishly apologized to Imoen, "Oh, sorry." Imoen merely stuck her tongue out in response. “This is better than running around looking for everyone,” Kalinka admitted.

“No duh,” the mage said.

Kalinka didn’t want to say this next bit, but fair was fair. "Forgive me?"

The mage nodded, much to the swashbuckler’s relief. “Don’t I always?”

That really wasn't an answer, but Kalinka wasn't about to push it. She was on shaky ground and knew it. Instead she looked over towards their other adventuring companions.

Although the spell did have its benefits, comfort for the unwittingly traveler or travelers apparently was not one of them. Kalinka felt sorry for Keldorn, Anomen, Mazzy, and Aerie as they tumbled into a heap upon landing. Mazzy suffered the worst of the four, having wound up at the bottom of the pile. It had to hurt, having two bulky, armored men fall on top of you if you were a tiny halfling, even if you were dressed in your own suit of full plate. Oh well; at least it was Mazzy underneath and not Aerie. The avariel had landed on top, which meant they wouldn't have to listen to Aerie milking her injuries. Although...although Aerie was removing herself from on top of Anomen a little too slowly for Kalinka's taste! She glowered at the malingering hussy, who yelped and sprung to her feet.

The three warriors managed, with much metallic clanking, to detangle their armor and stand. Next, minor healing prayers were been exchanged, a process which took maybe two minutes in total. Then and only then did Mazzy take Kalinka and Imoen to task. "Really, Imoen! I hardly find this funny. And Kalinka, I'm surprised at you for allowing her to abuse her powers that way..."

They didn't have the time for a general dressing down, though. Before the halfling could speak any further, Kalinka cautiously interjected, "Um, actually Immy did exactly what I asked her to..." Four incredulous faces stared back at Kalinka, and even Imoen stiffened with momentary surprise. "Maybe she was a little creative in interpreting what I said," Kalinka admitted, “but--”

"--Hey, I thought it was a nifty piece of spellwork myself," Imoen answered saucily, first blowing across her fingertips, then buffing them on the front of her mage's robes, "and it got the job done; right?"

"Yeah," Kalinka admitted. “It was brilliant.” The more the elf considered what Imoen had done through magic, the more she realized her "little sis" had fully come into her own. She was almost afraid to see what the mage would come up with next, especially if it were to involve pranks.

“Thanks,” Immy grinned, their earlier spat fully set aside. “You see, I took the spell Bodhi used on Anomen and played with it until I got it just right. I figured everyone wanted to stay in their clothes, and so that extra power could be funneled into multiple teleportations, and—”

Anomen’s face flamed a deep red. Kalinka didn’t blame him, either. When Bodhi kidnapped Anomen in the cemetery, all of his gear--all of it, down to his smallclothes--had been removed as a byproduct of the perverted teleportation spell. The priest absolutely hated being reminded of this humiliation. Kalinka felt bad for her beloved. If something similar had happened to her, she wouldn't have wanted the matter bruited about so casually either.

Keldorn intervened before either Anomen or Kalinka could say something, which was probably just as well; no use antagonizing Imoen. The aging inquisitor observed, “Fascinating though this may be, perhaps you two might want tell us what was so important that you summoned us here with magic.” Their mentor rotated his shoulders in their sockets; loud creaks and snaps ensued. “These old bones can’t take being whisked about with no warning.”

Immy winked at Kalinka. “Your turn, sis; I just got ‘em here for ya!”

The elf shrugged her acquiescence. “Fair enough.” And it was; Imoen had helped beyond her wildest imagining. Now that she had to divulge what had happened though, Kalinka felt ill at ease. The event humiliated her to think, much less speak, about; but more painfully, her own errors and missteps had created the entire situation, and then led to the sharp deterioration of circumstances. Perhaps it would not have been so bad if only she were to suffer, but everyone in these apartments would be affected as well, albeit to varying degrees.

She looked at her companions and received an encouraging smile from Anomen. She could not help but smile back, this time with resolve. Although Immy had bought them some time with her spell, nothing would be gained by frittering away these minutes through obfuscation, so she blurted out the truth. "I hate to have to say this, but it looks like we're going to have to leave town."

The swashbuckler expected some sort of outcry. The six of them had had a rough half year of almost constant battle and danger—"adventure," more naive folk would call it—and these past tendays in Suldanesselar had been their only break from the grind.

And yet the only person among them making any noises of complaint was Aerie, and even these sounded half-hearted at best. For some reason Anomen’s expression seemed to waver between glee and worry, while Mazzy’s brow creased with speculation. Keldorn appeared completely unaffected by the declaration, however. She could imagine. The tough old knight had seen a lot in his day.

“It was only to be expected that your destiny would catch up with us,” the venerable paladin mused. "We were fortunate to have enjoyed this long a respite."

“That is one way of looking at it,” Mazzy remarked pensively. Aerie nodded as well, but from the frown twisting the avariel’s lips, Kalinka could tell that her elven comrade did not agree wholeheartedly.

Anomen’s reaction, however, surprised her. "We are well rid of this place," he muttered in a dark undertone. Kalinka had thought her beloved enjoyed it here. He had never indicated to her any displeasure at remaining in Suldanesselar. Apparently Keldorn had been aware of something, though, for the inquisitor laid a comforting hand on his fellow knight’s shoulder. Anomen relaxed slightly.

Keldorn rumbled, “So what menace awaits us outside these walls, hmm? Monsters besieging Amn? Bhaalspawn armies on the march?”

Kalinka winced. Although the two situations he mentioned were technically true—the royal advisers, at Queen Ellesime’s request, briefed Kalinka daily on the troubles afoot in Faerûn—and they sounded plausible, she did not feel right in using these ready-made excuses. She considered it an unpardonable betrayal of trust for the nominal leader of a troupe to lie to her fellows. She explained, “Actually, it’s more a matter of the menace awaiting us inside these walls, and we have to get going—immediately.”

If the old paladin looked thunderstruck at this revelation, he was the least affected of the lot, save Imoen. “A battle, here?” Keldorn wanted to know.

“Not exactly,” Kalinka hedged.

Aerie shook her head. “Oh, Kalinka; what have you done now?” she scolded while nervously twirling a lock of hair around her finger.

The swashbuckler felt annoyed by this accusation, perhaps because in her mind she knew it was partly true. “Can’t we talk about it when we get out of the city? I said we don’t have time for this now,” she protested.

“Young lady, you had better make the time,” Keldorn gravely advised her. “You are asking us to pack up and leave on a moment’s notice. The least consideration we deserve is the reason why we must leave. Now explain what you mean.”

When the aged Tormtar took that tone with her, Kalinka was eerily reminded of Gorion. She meekly answered, “Yes, sir.” She thought a moment. “I actually didn’t do anything wrong. It was all just a big misunderstanding.”

“I’ll bet,” Imoen commented under her breath.

“It was!” Kalinka protested. She ran her hand through her hair. The truth of her contention ultimately did not matter, though; what did matter was that if she wasted too much time belaboring her innocence, they would not have time to escape. She began, “It all started in ‘elf class.’”

“Elf class” was the euphemism Imoen had assigned to the torturous elven cultural lessons that Queen Ellesime had inflicted on Kalinka. To the Queen’s way of thinking, this was supposed to serve as part of her reward for having saved Suldanesselar. During the victory banquet, Ellesime had been appalled to learn that Kalinka, a full-blooded elf, had virtually no knowledge of elven ways due to the swashbuckler’s upbringing in Candlekeep. The Queen had gotten all teary-eyed and, much to Kalinka’s dismay, pledged to undo the terrible wrong wrought upon her by this denial of her of her elven heritage. That was how “elf class” came about.

These past few tendays, Ellesime’s personal friend, the High Priestess Demin, had delegated many of her official duties to underlings so that she might personally oversee Kalinka’s tutelage. By the heroine's own reckoning, she was no scholar, but she thought she had managed well enough anyway. Kalinka reminded herself every now and again that she had endured actual torture at Irenicus’ hands, so she could certainly endure this.

By and large, though, the lessons weren’t all that bad. The High Priestess had reviewed the basics that Xan and Kivan had tried so hard, and so unsuccessfully, to show Kalinka back during their adventures together, some boring stuff like connecting with nature and also some more useful skills like how to rest in an elven reverie. She also learned the fundamentals of elven history, language, and religion. Kalinka did not appreciate the emphasis that Demin placed on the elven pantheon—she was happy enough with Helm, thank you very much.

Today, however, Demin had been called away to help Ellesime out with something or other; no one at the Temple had seen fit to say what. Before Kalinka could escape for some unscheduled but welcome downtime with her beloved, though, one of the subordinate priestesses generously volunteered to continue Kalinka’s lessons. The pushy elf wouldn’t accept “no” for an answer, and Kalinka didn’t want to antagonize anyone, so she didn’t protest too much. That had been a mistake, the first of many today.

“Elf class?” Imoen asked. “Let me guess: Demin ticked you off again by dissing Helm, and you challenged her to a duel.”

“No.” It had not happened, but under different circumstances it could have. After one particularly trying session with Demin about a tenday ago, Kalinka had gotten to the point where she was considering doing precisely what Imoen had just proposed. Kalinka vented her frustration on Anomen and Keldorn in an angry rant. Once she finished, they talked with her, and eventually her mentor and her beloved together prevailed upon her to not confront the elven priestess regarding the repeated, and in Kalinka’s opinion offensive, attempts to convert her to worship the Seldarine. Nothing would be gained from the encounter, and much would be lost, including the goodwill of this town. What was important was that Allseeing Helm knew she revered Him, so what some chauvinistic elf thought was really beside the point.

At Kalinka’s declaration, Keldorn and Anomen relaxed minutely, much to her chagrin. She had promised not to deck or shout at Demin; why couldn't they have taken her at her word? Instead of voicing her outrage, though, the elf returned to the matter at hand. “Demin wasn’t there today; I was with some other self-righteous old biddy.”

“Kalinka!” an aghast Mazzy gasped.

Imoen stood up for her. “C’mon Mazzy; cut her some slack here.” the mage interposed “Even you’ve gotta admit the elves here seem very…happy with themselves, ya know?”

The halfling sighed. “Point well taken.” She returned her attention to Kalinka. “I apologize, my friend.”

“Um, sure,” Kalinka shrugged. She pulled at the hem of her dress. “Anyway, today we covered the comparative ages of elves versus humans.”

“Ah yes,” Keldorn said. “I remember how we had more than one lecture on this during my own squiring. You elves are supposed to age considerably more slowly than humans. Even the other demihumans have shorter lifespans.” The other companions nodded their heads in agreement.

Kalinka merely gaped at them. “Then you all know this already?” she asked once she regained her composure.

“What do you think?” Imoen asked.

Kalinka blinked, suddenly defensive. “Well, it was news to me!” She had not known this was general knowledge and felt embarrassed that others knew more than she did about her supposed race.

“C’mon, Gorion told us all about that, remember?” Imoen was saying. “It was right after Puffguts introduced us to his old friend, the one with the super clean ars--” she flickered her glance towards Keldorn and blushed, “I mean, butt, you know the one I’m talking about.”

“Right.” Kalinka frowned, then groaned as the full memory returned to her. “I remember I pretty much tuned Gorion out, because it didn’t sound like he knew what he was talking about. You and I were around the same age and pretty much equal, so--”

“So you thought he was off his nut, huh?” Imoen reassured her. “Aw, I can see where you’re coming from. I mean, I didn’t believe him either. I thought he read one too many of Ulraunt’s ‘special’ books, ya know, ya know?” She winked at Kalinka. “If we’d known back then that you had Bhaal taint in you, maybe we’d’ve understood why you were always so different from the other kids."

Kalinka didn't say anything to this. Immy might have been right, but Kalinka supposed she would have been more of a mess as a child if she had known of her origins.

Aerie apologized, “I—I’m sorry, Kalinka. I thought you knew. I’d have told you before if--”

Kalinka waved her off. “That’s alright. I know you would have.” Aerie did mean well, for the most part. The avariel had grown on her over these past few months, and the swashbuckler believed she would have genuinely liked her fellow elf if the priestess hadn’t continued to show such an avid interest in Anomen.

Imoen began to tap on her chin. “I wonder…if the Taint ages you faster than a normal elf, you think it would do the same thing for other creatures, like dragons?”

Kalinka protested, “Hey! I’m not a creature!” Then the elf blinked. Dragons? They could be facing Bhaalspawn …dragons? Abyss! Didn’t things get better and better?

Imoen pretended not to notice this protest. With a smirk, she proposed, “And what about beings that have shorter lives; would they live longer, or shorter lives? You know, things like…oh…rabbits or chinchillas or something?”

Kalinka shook her head. “I don’t want to hear this,” she moaned. The thought of Bhaalspawn dragons had captured her attention, and she didn't have the room to consider any of these other, disturbing possibilities. A god with a rabbit was plain out wrong!

“Moving along,” Keldorn smoothly interposed, his slightly green countenance clashing horribly with his orange tinted armor, “I would be interested in hearing how the age differential of elves impacts on the situation at hand.”

Self-consciously, Kalinka tugged at her dress hem again, but this time she did not let go. She continued her narrative, although she could not meet the eyes of her friends. “The teacher said something insulting about elves my age, I answered back and, um, I-accidentally-revealed-my-true-age. ” She rushed through that last phrase.

Comprehension dawned upon Keldorn’s face. To the elf’s amazement and gratitude he did not upbraid her, but rather gestured for her to continue her account.

“I blew it,” Kalinka admitted flatly. “I take it that Ellesime had told the general citizenry I was at least 100. So you can imagine the priestess’ reaction when I insisted I was all of eighteen years old. I should have just kept my mouth shut.” That was the tactic she typically employed when dealing with annoying folks. Why, oh why, had she abandoned her winning strategy today?

Her hand twisted in the green-striped fabric. “The teacher escorted me to the crèche. I thought it was a field trip to see elf children, but before I knew it she had four or five of the crèche matrons holding me down and putting me into this outfit.” She ducked her head and felt tears slide down her face. To them, they had been dressing a toddler; but to her, it had been a humiliation. It reminded her of when Irenicus…no, she wouldn’t think about Irenicus.

Somehow Anomen’s arm was suddenly draped around her shoulder. She looked up into his blue eyes and saw understanding there, but lit with a tinge of fire. Helm help any of the matrons who had laid a finger on her! His huge fingers gently rubbed the tear tracks from her face. “Go on,” he encouraged her.

She swallowed and nodded. “The matrons called in some members of the royal privy council. They gave me something strange to drink and asked some…questions.” She had said much more than she had wanted during this interview. She hated not being in control of herself! Somehow the topic of her Taint had not arisen, but other unfortunate, damaging, topics had.

Anomen’s nostrils flared. He hissed, “A truth potion? Know they no bounds of decency?”

Imoen gave a bitter laugh. “Don’tcha know; they’re elves so they can do whatever they feel like.”

Aerie sniffed. “Hey! That’s not f-fair!” The elf stared beseechingly towards Mazzy.

Aerie’s staunchest friend did not speak up for her this time, though. “I’m sorry, Aerie; I’m afraid I’m with Anomen and Imoen on this one.” The halfling rested her hands on her hips. “I find it utterly reprehensible what they’ve done to poor Kalinka here. If they thought she was a child, they had no right to subject her to a powerful potion like that.”

“Yeah,” the pink-haired mage agreed. “Those elves should make up their minds. On the one hand it’s alright to send her to save their bacon against Jon-Jon or to dose her with truth potion when it’s for the greater good, their greater good; but on the other hand they treat her like a little girl and shove her into a crèche.” She flipped her pink hair back. "I'd like to see how the Queen Bee would like it--"

"Imoen!" Mazzy cautioned her.

"--if someone held her down and put kiddie clothes on her." The mage stopped. "Heh, then again that would help explain some of Jon-Jon's obsessions, though."

Kalinka wanted to wrap up this conversation as quickly as possible, so she continued. “I overheard the priestesses all talking during nap time--”

“Nap time?” Imoen tittered.

“Nap time,” Kalinka confirmed grimly, “and they were saying they were going to bring charges against Ellesime, Demin, and Ehlan for child endangerment.”

Keldorn drummed his fingers on this sword hilt. His grey eyebrows hovered high upon his forehead. He conceded, “That is…unanticipated. I had thought they would have held us solely accountable.”

Kalinka grimaced. “They were the most upset about their leaders’ wrongdoing: no queen or general or high priestess should throw an impressionable crècheling into harm’s way just for their own benefit.”

“That makes sense,” Keldorn remarked. Anomen and Mazzy, Kalinka noted, made sounds of concurrence. Aerie belatedly and tentatively signaled her own agreement.

“Yet somehow those priestesses saw no problem with their own actions,” was Imoen’s snide opinion. She shook her head. “Elves!”

“Imoen!” Aerie’s protest was full of pain.

Said mage raised her hands in apology. “I don’t mean you, Aerie. You and Klink here are different. You don’t treat us like sub-humans just because we don’t have pointy ears.”

The avariel ducked her head. “Oh.”

Kalinka warned her friends, “But we’re not off scot-free, though.” She made a sweeping movement towards them. “They want to arrest you all for child endangerment as well.” This decision infuriated her to the extent where she wanted to hurt someone. How dared those self-righteous elves even consider punishing her colleagues for having helped her, at Kalinka’s own request, when she had no one else to turn to? It wasn’t as though any elves had come forward to help Kalinka rescue Immy from the Cowlies, or to confront Irenicus—and Irenicus had been their fault.

Keldorn stoically noted, “I expected as much.”

“They want to take me into protective custody and make me a ward of the city!” Her voice shook as she spoke. She absolutely did not want that to happen. If she allowed the apparently well-meaning crèche matrons to have their way with her, she would only escape their clutches once she reached whatever unholy age they deemed “adulthood,” by which time all the people who mattered most to her would be dead.

“Hush, my love,” Anomen reassured her. “None of us would allow that to pass.” The others murmured their assent.

“And you…they want to kill you!” They could not kill Anomen; she would not let them! Someone gasped, but Kalinka couldn’t decide whether it was Imoen or Aerie. “They think of me as a toddler, so…” Now that she said it, would Anomen still want to be with her? She felt him tense beside her, but he did not remove his arm.

“Well, they are mistaken,” Keldorn said when no one else spoke. “We know otherwise. It is not exactly their fault; they are working with incomplete information.” The Queen and her two friends had agreed not to divulge Kalinka’s Bhaalspawn status to anyone else in Suldanesselar so that the populace would not turn on their saviors, which was just as well to Kalinka; she hated being known as The Bhaalspawn. As though in anticipation of this line of thought, Keldorn apologetically told her, “I suspect the circumstances of your birth are about to become public knowledge.”

Kalinka nodded. She could see that the self-interested Ellesime and pals would readily sacrifice the secret in order to save their rank and reputation within elven society. The upside of this would be that her companions would not be considered criminals, at least not in theory, which was well worth the sacrifice of Kalinka being considered a monstrosity. She did not think highly of elves herself, so their poor opinion would not matter too much to her.

“Nevertheless, nothing is to be gained by remaining here. Let us pack our things and leave.”

Even though the public generally regarded Kalinka as the group’s leader, Keldorn actually served in that capacity, regardless of whether he or anyone else admitted to it. Therefore once the aging paladin made this pronouncement, everyone headed towards his or her assigned sleeping room without argument.

Kalinka went into the room she shared with Anomen, and the first thing she did was divest herself of her hateful crèche apparel. She vengefully shoved those articles under the mattress, rapidly donned a set of spare underthings and her usual protective garments, then set to work on donning her suit of shadow armor. Anomen came to her side and wordlessly began to help her with her lacings like he always did. She tried to shoo him away. “It’s more important that you get us packed, if you wouldn’t mind.” She really, really, wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

“I am finished.” When she sent him a quizzical look, he softly confided, “We never did unpack fully, my love.”

“Oh.” She did not know what to say to that, so she remained silent and allowed him to kiss her neck, then continue assisting her. Afterwards, she put her pack and martial accoutrement into their accustomed places. She let her Anomen rest his arm against her back once more and lead her into the main parlor.

Surprisingly, at least to Kalinka, all of their comrades were already waiting for them, decked out in their adventuring gear and with packs at the ready. The elf blinked. Generally Imoen and Aerie would finish their packing after everyone else and would delay them by a quarter-hour at the least. “How…” The elf shook her head and this time asked, “Didn’t anybody unpack?”

Imoen shrugged. “Well, you know the life of an adventurer: you never know what’s gonna happen. It’s best to stay packed, just in case.”

The other heads bobbed in consensus. Kalinka’s eyes narrowed. From Ajantis onwards, their assorted party members had all given Imoen precisely this same bit of advice at one time or another, but Kalinka’s sister had never heeded it before, so why would she all of a sudden do so now? The swashbuckler felt like she was missing something. Then the danter dropped. “Wait. None of you wanted to unpack, did you?” Her comrades shuffled in place, but nobody denied this assertion. “Don’t tell me you all hated it here too.” Murmurs erupted, but no one would address her. She tried once more, “Is there anyone who actually enjoyed their time in Suldanesselar?”

Imoen groused, “It sucked. Let’s leave it at that.”

“Keldorn?"

The usually genial paladin's lips thinned. "It was my duty and honor to save this city and its innocents from that mage run amok--I would still do no other, had I the opportunity to change my actions. My service to Torm requires as much. Nonetheless I would have hoped that the citizenry would not regard or treat those of us who put lives at stake as lower life forms."

That was forthright if diplomatically stated. "Anomen?"

"I defer to Sir Keldorn in this matter," Anomen responded in a subdued tone. Or in other words, he agreed with the inquisitor, Kalinka surmised.

"Mazzy?"

Mazzy answered, "I must agree with Keldorn. Not to impugn the hospitality of our hosts, for they have been most generous in granting us a refuge here. Still, while most humans may have difficulty accepting me as a fellow warrior," here she shot a look at an abashed Anomen, "for the most part I do not have to prove that I am a fellow person, at least." The halfling shook her head. "I have long empathized with elves as fellow demihumans who have received unequal treatment by humans. I find that perhaps this empathy has been misplaced."

"Aerie?” Of anyone there, Kalinka thought that at least Aerie would have appreciated being among elves again. She had seemed to take all Immy’s earlier gibes to heart.

The avariel hung her head. “Oh, Kalinka! They were nice to me at first and were sorry about my w-w-wings, but...but they all looked down on me when I told them I serve Baervan Wildwanderer." Aerie straightened her shoulders, and an unaccustomed glint entered her eyes. “I m-miss living with elves, but Baervan was with me when I needed him most. I won't give up what Uncle Quayle taught me, just to fit in.”

That was that, then. The swashbuckler felt guilty for not having noticed her companions’ distress earlier. She demanded, "Well, why didn't any of you tell me? It wasn't as though I was having a good time either."

The other five shared glances, which made the elf suspect they had discussed this previously among themselves. Keldorn finally spoke up, "We believed you should have an opportunity to get acquainted with your elven heritage. You are not merely a Bhaalspawn, you know."

The swashbuckler glared at him. "Have you ever thought I might not want to? I was raised by my human foster-father in a human settlement consecrated to a god from the human pantheon. My sister is human , the love of my life is human , most of my friends are human ." She smiled at Mazzy and Aerie. “There are exceptions,” she admitted, and her two other friends beamed back at her. "I worship a human god." She raised her arms. "But all that's not just by chance, either. I'm happy this way, or I'd be happy this way without the Taint," she amended. "So what would make any of you think that I'd want to reject all that to turn into an elf?"

"We're not saying that," Imoen disagreed. "What we're saying is that you had a super-dooper, once-in-a-lifetime chance to learn more about how other elves live. You’d never get a chance like that again. Why waste it?" She shrugged. "If you decided later on it wasn’t for you, fine, but at least you'd be making an informed choice.”

That reasoning sounded more like Mazzy or even Aerie, but Immy had evidently taken it to heart. “Thanks, Imoen, guys,” Kalinka said. This gesture touched her. She was no facile bard, though. She could not give a glib impromptu speech of gratitude even if she wanted to, and she didn’t want to. “Maybe we can discuss this as we travel,” she proposed. “I want to get out of here—fast.”

“Fair enough,” Keldorn stated. “How much time should we have?”

“I’m not sure,” Kalinka said. “After I heard what those matrons had to say, I decided to make tracks. I waited until milk and cookies--”

“Milk and cookies?” Imoen looked vaguely jealous. “Aw, I would’ve stayed for cookies.”

“When the matrons were distracted, I took back my spare simulacrum scroll and invisibility potion.” Even without her usual lockpicks--she had thought it best not to carry them about inside Suldanesselar, just in case questions came up--she had found it pathetically simple to disengage the lock on the desk where they had stowed her things. Although Kalinka generally did not like to use magic herself, these two items had proven dead useful in other circumstances, so she made it a point to bring them along on even the most casual assignment. Always be prepared. Today was the payoff.

“I asked to go to the privy--”

“I’m surprised they let you go alone,” Imoen observed with a smirk.

“Immy!” Kalinka protested and began to blush. Why did her sister have to mention it? “Yes, it was a very near thing, thank you. After all, toddlers aren’t supposed to be potty trained, are we?” The swashbuckler huffed and balled her fists. “They walked me into the privy and left me unattended. You can probably guess what happened next.”

“You climbed out through the privy?”

Kalinka was about to hiss her annoyance at her sister, but then she stopped and thought, and she believed she understood an important home truth: Immy wasn’t trying to provoke her, as much as distract her from her distress. Her sis did mean well. This bantering had worked, too; Kalinka definitely was not obsessing over the humiliation she had endured. On a whim she made up an answer for her sister, "Nah, I leave sewers for group-bonding purposes.”

Imoen grinned. “I always knew you had a special reason for it,” she chirped. “Ya know, you probably know the sewer systems of at least a half-dozen places by now.”

Keldorn coughed. “Unless you would like for us to undergo another ‘group bonding experience,’” the elderly man began, humor evident in the wrinkles around his eyes, “perhaps we should leave now.”

They all agreed promptly. Kalinka fidgeted for a moment. In the grand scheme of things, this was not important, but she still felt the need to address it now. "Um, you guys won't mention to anyone the real reason why we left Suldanesselar, will you?"

Both Anomen and Keldorn froze. Her beloved frowned. "My love," he began hesitantly, his eyes clearly troubled, "you do know that we must report back to Church and Order both..."

Kalinka's gaze grew hard. It wasn't as though she were asking him to lie or to compromise his vows to Helm. She just didn't think it was anyone else's business how she had been humiliated here.

Keldorn rested his hand upon the priest's shoulder. "There is a technique to handling matters such as this," he told his junior associate. "We would not lie, of course, but in my experience a little vagueness on an insignificant matter or two would not be questioned." He clouted the Helmite on the shoulder. "This old paladin has a few lessons left for you, my boy."

Anomen smiled tightly. "Thank you--teacher." Kalinka could tell he was trying to catch her eye, but the elf intentionally kept her gaze averted. His smile faded.

Mazzy added, "You can rely on our discretion, my friend." Aerie nodded her agreement.

Immy pledged, "My lips are mum. You're my sis; you come first."

"Thanks, Immy. That means a lot to me." She could not help the hint of a accusation that escaped in her tone.

Delryn winced, but Imoen looked gleeful. "No prob. It's not like I've got anyone to report back to, either." If possible, the Helmite grew even redder than before. "And hey, if worse comes to worst, there's nothing saying I can't come up with a good story or two to throw folks off the track."

"But the elves--"

The mage blew a raspberry. "You think they wanna admit any of this to non-people? Nah, I think we could pretty much say anything that doesn't put them in too bad a light, and they'll play along."

Kalinka shrugged. She doubted the elves would put too much effort into hunting them down after they left town, especially once Ellesime were to share Kalinka's true heritage with her subjects. The elves had enough trouble on their hands between healing their holy tree and fixing their looted city. She doubted they'd care enough about mere humans' opinions to spread news on the "truth" of what had transpired here.

"You know, I could probably come up with some wild story, and folks would believe it, just because it's about you."

"Thanks." Kalinka privately conceded her sis was likely true. Strange rumors had been afloat, some without the most rudimentary relationship with reality.

"How's this sound: the stone statues in the queen's rock garden spoke to you and told you to move on." She stared expectantly at the elf.

Kalinka felt bad for ruining her sister's fun, but she had to call them the way she saw them. "No way." There was absolutely no way anyone, even the gullible Volo, would buy that.

"Wanna bet?" Immy rubbed her hands together. "Say, this could be a lot of fun." She began to excitedly mutter more words under her breath, including--strangely enough--the words "chinchilla" and "kobold."

When the mischievous mage got into one of her moods, it was usually best to just humor her. "Whatever." The swashbuckler knew in her heart of hearts, though, that there was no way on Toril that anyone would believe this tale or any other ones Immy was spinning at this moment. But that did not matter. What mattered was that Kalinka and the people who mattered most to her were leaving Suldanesselar, at long, long, last; and Helm help anyone that got in their way!