Black Magic

I wonder if it's possible to die of boredom, Imoen thought.

Sighing gustily, the young thief-magess rolled over on her small cot to lie on her back and crossed her leg over her knee, bouncing her foot idly as she tried to think of something -- anything -- to do to kill time, until Renai came to rescue her. Whenever that would be.

On the impenetrable stone walls of her small cell, carved laboriously into the stone with the sharpened end of a spoon handle, were hatchmarks noting how long she had been in this cell. Not just a few, but hundreds of jagged marks on every wall. Admittedly, Imoen knew, it hadn't been that long since the Cowled Wizards had sent her to this place, this Spellhold. But after her fear had worn away (and Imoen had found early on that terror made the days pass at the pace of a snail) Imoen needed something to fill her days, even if it was mindless busywork like counting the hours and days this way. At least, she thought, maybe Renai'll feel bad when she sees 'em, for leaving me in this place so long. Not that I want her to feel that bad, but a little guilt is always a good thing.

For the thousandth time, Imoen wished futily that she had a book to read or a spell to study. Any book. Any spell. Even that stupid spell that would let you know if a person was good or evil or just plain weird. As if you couldn't tell that by the way they acted. She supposed she could get up and stare out the window again, as she did every afternoon from noon to dusk, but the view outside her tiny barred window showed nothing except more stone walls. Even the weather never seemed to change at this place. It was always damp and overcast outside, threatening to rain but none ever fell.

There weren't even any other inmates held nearby that she could talk to. Not that they were really chatty anyway. On the few occasions her jailers had allowed her to leave her cell and go into the small recreation area, always in the company of one of the bizarro Cowled mages, Imoen had tried very hard to make alliances with the others inmates. She had been so certain that they were poor victims of circumstance, just like she was. Those bullies in Athkatla, they were the crazy ones, thinking magic was a bad thing. That was bull. Only some magic was bad. The rest was wonderful.

But these guys who shared her prison -- they really were insane. Nutty as a druid cake. One arrow short of a quiver. The first day, Imoen thought she had found a friend in one little girl, who looked too innocent and sweet to be here. She reminded Imoen of the dolly Gorion had given her when she was a child, a castoff of Renai's, who spent more time in the catacombs under Candlekeep practicing her bow than she did playing with toys. But when the girl started caressing Imoen's hair, telling her how pretty she was and that as soon as she could she'd take Imoen's face next, Imoen had hastily backed away. The other inmates were even worse. Talking with them was like picking at a festering sore, so even when Imoen could leave her cell, she didn't.

That, and if she stayed in her cell, she wouldn't see Him.

Imoen shuddered at the thought of the man who had spent the better part of the summer torturing her and her friends. Sometimes in her dreams she would find herself in her in His dungeon again, and she would see Dynaheir die again and again. She would watch Him take Khalid apart. In those dreams tinged in blackness, she would see the Shattered One, and she would feel real fear.

If there was one good thing about Spellhold, it was that she didn't have to worry about Him any more. This place was safe.

Imoen sat up and scrubbed her hands through her hair. Without the weekly charm to keep it bright shocking pink, her hair had long since faded back to its natural strawberry blonde. The minute Renai got her out of here, the first thing she was going to do was head for the spell shop. Maybe I'll go drow blonde, she thought, and grinned a little. Or maybe I'll shave it all off and tattoo my head with purple thingys like Min-

An explosion tore through the building, cutting off her thoughts. Imoen sprang to her feet and ran to the barred door just as the screams began. She could see nothing through the bars except smoke and flickering light advancing down the hallway. Finally! What took you so long, you buffleheaded bull cow? Imoen bounced her fists against the barred door. Honestly, why does Renai have to make a big production about everything?

A shadow was cutting through the smoke, and Imoen almost started dancing with impatience. In a moment she would be free again, and then she could get on with her life. Back to Candlekeep so she could show ol' Puffguts that she wasn't a lazy good-fer-nuthin. Back to the stacks of books she had taken for granted most of her life, and this time she would soak up their knowledge like the rags she had used to clean the floors in the inn. The shadow was closer, but still she couldn't tell who it was. Too big to be Renai's scrawny frame, but it could be Minsc. Imoen didn't doubt for a second that Renai had gone back to get the big lug. Hey, maybe I can be Minsc's witch. It's the least I can do, because I owe Dynaheir so much for helping me learn magic. Maybe Minsc'd like to come back to Candlekeep with me ...

The smoke cleared, giving Imoen a clear view of her visitor.

"No!" Imoen screamed before she could stop herself. It was Him. Whimpering in terror, she shrank away from the door, fleeing to the cell's farthest corner. She had no spells to protect herself, no weapons. And even if she had all the spells she had ever known ready to be cast, He would strip her defenses and destroy her. If she hadn't feared Him so much, she would have revered Him for His great ability, do what she could to know what He knew. But He was evil incarnate, and the gibbering fear that had been her constant companion in his dungeon returned in force, paralyzing her.

No! Something deep within her ordered. You don't go down so easy. You don't let Him take you twice. What would Renai do? No, nuts to what Renai would do! Don't forget, you rescued her last time! In the cot, between the mattress and the frame, was the sharpened spoon she had used to carve the marks in the wall. Imoen darted to the cot and thrust her hand under the mattress, just managing to get the spoon and hide it up her sleeve before the mad wizard appeared at her door.

"So godchild," He said, a touch of amusement in his voice. His dead eyes took her in from boot to head, lingering, she thought, on her arm.

"Don't call me that," she squeaked. Chastising herself for her cowardice, Imoen cleared her throat and repeated, "Don't call me that. That's Renai, not me. I'm nobody's child."

"Really." Irenicus reached up and gestured, muttered something Imoen couldn't quite hear, and the cell door sprang open. Almost casually, He swung the door open and stood in the threshold, still watching her. "There is much you do not know."

"I know enough." Every muscle in Imoen's body was tense, every nerve aflame, as she waited for Him to get near enough for her to spring. If He got close enough, she could surprise Him maybe, and cut His throat with the spoon handle. Or stab Him in the back. One of Minsc's crazy lines floated through her head, Fear this spoon, with which I can cut out your heart! Its dullness will make the pain that much greater! But Irenicus still stood in the doorway and made no move toward her.

"You should know more," he said, and it was then that Imoen realized that He held a book in His hand. A big fat tome filled with ratty parchment, a black ribbon snaking through its pages. A spellbook. For a moment, Imoen actually hungered for that book, for the knowledge within it. When a smile crept across Irenicus' lips, Imoen made her face blank and burned with shame. But she still wanted the book. When He tossed the book at her, Imoen moved forward and brought her arms up to catch it. From her sleeve, the spoon flew out and fell clattering to the floor and landed at Irenicus' feet. She caught the book and held it before her like a shield.

Irenicus made no move to pick up the pitiful weapon. "You should know much more," He repeated. "That, perhaps, will keep you entertained for a time." He stepped out of the doorway, back into the hall, where the smoke and dust had cleared. The screams, Imoen realized, had stopped, too. "You're free to go where you like within the walls of this hold, but you may not leave. And what spells you learn, you still may not cast. I am sorry, my dear godchild, but I cannot allow you that."

"Don't call me that!"

"But whyever not? It is what you are. Study your lessons, sweet Imoen, and you will discover much about who you are and your place in your world." He smiled, a cruel expression that sent shivers up Imoen's spine. "You needn't look so frightened. I haven't the time to give you the attention you deserve. I must trust that you will continue with your education alone while I am administering to my plans in this place."

Imoen took a tighter grip on the book, still terrified, but it was tempered now by curiosity. He wasn't going to hurt her. Today, anyway. "I won't do anything to help you," she said.

"You have no choice. Remember that before you attempt any foolishness, such as an attempt to escape. I assure you, there is no place for you to run where I cannot find you."

In her short life, Imoen had heard many lies and told many lies, and she knew a boast when she heard one. This was nothing other than the gods-given truth. Taking up the shredded remains of her courage, she drew herself up and said, "It doesn't matter what you do. Renai will come. And she'll find you and beat you. She will."

Irenicus laughed again, a sound like bones grinding beneath the rocks of hell. It was a thousand times worse than his threats. It drove Imoen back, pressing her shoulders into the wall, and if she could have, she would have thrown her hands to her ears to protect them from that vile noise. But she would not let go of the book. "You needn't concern yourself with the archer, my Innocent One," he said. "She's quite occupied elsewhere. I imagine it will be several more days -- if not several weeks -- before she finds her way to you."

"No," Imoen whispered. "You're lying. You're just trying to scare me."

"Your precious Renai has acquired the management of one of the Shadow Thieves' many guilds," Irenicus said. "In addition to that, she also has many offers of work to consider. Oh, and I have been told that she has a suitor." He shook his head and tsked several times. "So many distractions. How will she ever find the time to save her poor sweet friend?"

Imoen shook her head so hard her hair whipped about her face. "No, you're lying to me!" she cried. "Renai's coming for me, she is!"

"Yes, she has been so steadfast and faithful in the past, hasn't she?" Irenicus mocked. "You meant to join the Shadow Thieves in Baldur's Gate, and not only did she take you from the city the day you were to join, she's now taken an entire guild for her own. And her not even a true thief. And wouldn't a true friend tell you about the loves in her life, the ranger you met in the woods near High Hedge, the burglar in Baldur's Gate?" Imoen cringed as His words brought back old hurts and resentments. She had always told Renai everything, about her brief affairs Dreppin and Jondalar in Candlekeep, about the crush she'd had on Xan, the elf mage they'd picked up in the Nashkel mines. But she hadn't even known Renai and Kivan had had a relationship until Kivan had left. She wasn't even sure what Renai had felt about Taran in Baldur's Gate. Imoen had always told herself that they were as close as sisters, that Renai was just shy about the men she picked. But maybe she was wrong. Maybe Renai just didn't want to share with her

Irenicus continued, "And if not for her, Gorion would have rained his love upon you. Yes. You've felt that all your life. Haven't you. So many betrayals for such a short life."

The words burned, for they were the truth, and Imoen didn't realize that tears were falling down her face until Irenicus had wiped one away with the edge of His hand. She hadn't even seen Him come into the cell. "Dear Imoen. So many things she's taken from you. So many wounds she's given you. Never has she taken notice because she considers you so far beneath her. I know what that's like. And I can help you."

Slowly, Imoen raised her eyes to him and saw pity in his. No, not pity. He understood her, more than Renai ever had. And even though the terror remained, she did not feel the need to run. He tapped the book with his finger and whispered, "Study, godchild. Take this opportunity to learn about who you are and what you may become. When you meet the Daughter of Darkness and Light again, you need no longer be the Innocent One. Be something more instead."

Irenicus stepped away, then turned and left the cell without a backward glance. It took several moments for Imoen to stop staring at the space where he had been. I'd like to be something more, a part of her whispered. I'd like to be something other than Renai's afterthought. Someone who can take from her instead. She stood there, waiting for the brighter part of her heart to reply, but it didn't. It couldn't because everything he said was true.

Imoen looked down at the book in her hands and thumbed it open to the passage marked with the black ribbon. Written in clear script was scribed a spell of flensing, a vile spell used to strip the flesh from another creature's body. On the opposite page was a spell called Shadow Spray, like the color spray spell except with darkness instead of light. She flipped through the pages and saw that most of the spells were darker, more powerful than any she had studied before.

I don't want to know this stuff. Dynaheir said you had to be careful playing with magic, because evil magic can corrupt even the best person. But then, Imoen looked toward the door, sometimes you have to know evil to fight against it. And I need to know everything.

She returned to the bed and lay across it on her stomach, opening the book to its first page. The first chapter was a discourse on the Shadow Weave. Dry reading at first, but soon Imoen was absorbed by it. It was no trick to learn any of this. Yep, she thought as she turned the page, I'll know enough to be ready when the time comes. Ready for when it's time for us to meet again. She did not know whether she meant Irenicus or Renai, and honestly, she didn't care.