Disclaimer: "Forgotten Realms: Baldur's Gate" belongs to Bioware, TSR, and Black Isle Studios. Lilliana is mine and situations that you don't recognize from the game are mine, all other material and inspiration for my material is under copyright by the above named. Additional Forgotten Realms material included in this story but not in the game belongs to Wizards of the Coast. Almaestaddamir Auldcastle, Storm Silverhand, Bran Skorslun, Lady Alustriel Silverhand, and Elminster Aumar are characters of Ed Greenwood, the father of the Forgotten Realms.

Words From the Author: You know that moment of sheer ecstasy you feel when you bite into your favorite food in the whole world? Yeah, that’s how I felt when I edited the last paragraph of the last page of this chapter. I even let out a big ‘YAHOOOO!“ I have had so much trouble with this (I blame the romance) that it has taken an inexcusable amount of time to finish and I do admit that there were times my interest waned to other projects because of the difficulty I was having. But here we are, finished product! *Does the happy dance*

As you can tell in the disclaimer, I’m using some more canon FR characters. Lilliana is really my only original-original character, though there are some mentions of sideline characters that exist only in this story. Mostly I prefer to use characters that already exist in the literature or games, and in the case of the games I like expanding on them a great deal so they feel even more like canon. So you’ll see that, I think, more and more as we go forward.

I’m not sure how the time line changes work here, switching back and forth, but I think I separated them well enough. This is definitely a more character heavy chapter, as opposed to action, so I hope that works for you. This is obviously not the last chapter, so some conversations that you might expect out of events herein are actually in the following chapter which IS an action oriented chapter and a heck of a lot easier to write.

One thing I learned about writing this, is that I like my protagonist more because of how irritating her prissy attitude can be at times. She feels more like a real person to me. That person at the office that is nice to everyone and always brings in doughnuts, but if you ever say ‘crap’ in front of them they’ll look all appalled and you want to smack them. So if at any time any of the ‘good guys’ get on your nerves and you are thinking ‘gee, this is a nice person but man do they bug me sometimes!’ Well, that’s the idea. ;)

A huge thank you goes to my friend Brooke-Lynn, a lovely Scottish lass, who helped me greatly with the romantic sections here as we discussed them in long boring phone calls. So if you are reading this Brooke, I did not decide to put in any heavy make out scenes, sorry to disappoint. :p If there are any readers left out there after the months of waiting for an update, I hope you enjoy this chapter and it is most certainly dedicated to all of you, as well as those writers whose stories I have not been reading or reviewing as of late. I promised myself that I’d finish this chapter before I indulged too much in other reading. So I’ll be catching up on that as well.

Enough inane babbling from me, you came here to read and be entertained and you’ve certainly earned it. So without further ado, I present you with Chapter Twelve.

As always, thank you dear readers, for joining Lilliana on her journey!

Chapter Twelve:

Deepening Heart

With a sigh, you turn away.

With a deepening heart.

No more words to say.

You will find that the world has changed, forever.

~ Howard Shore / Liv Tyler

Year: 1348, 20’th of Ches.

In the woodlands that shared space with the fabled Myth Drannor there was the smaller settlement of Ashabenford. It was a quiet place and home to many half elves, a people that rarely found a land to call their own. One of their number was a half-high elf mage, Alianna Avalon and her sage husband, Gorion. Though the blonde man was fully human he was welcomed by his wife’s kin-folk openly. When he was home that was.

Gorion and Alianna had always been active Harpers, but with her pregnancy in its late stages the half-elf had to stay home while Gorion continued on. He said that his excursions were what they always had been, for the good of the great balance, but Alianna knew that her husband was in it more for saving the goodly folk of Toril instead of any balance. Now though, she doubted it was even for such reasoning that he left. He’d been frantic about the baby coming, though he tried to hide it. Leaving for this excuse or that when Alianna was sure he was looking for seers and prophets, and priests. Anyone that could tell him anything about the ‘Children‘, like the one growing in Alianna’s womb. Letting the worries of other Harpers get to him, what nights were spent at home he had a nose stuck into books of knowledge, or worse the overly wordy contemplations of Alaundo. Though it had long been discussed and the difficult task of putting it behind them begun, Gorion had also started to question Alianna again over what she remembered from the events that led to her conceiving.

Nothing had changed. She still recalled only bits and pieces, like the hazy memories of a dreamscape. Except in her case it had been a nightmare. Feeling that heavy weight upon her, whispered words from a stranger that appeared to be a high-elf. Words of how she was a special female and should feel ‘honored’ to carry one of the Children, though honor was not something Alianna associated with rape. Then later, the horror at realizing that she was indeed pregnant. When the nightmares that felt more like visions first started, she began to suspect the identity and nature of the babe’s father and since then had tried to come to terms with her situation.

Both Gorion and Alianna had reached an understanding that it was not Alianna’s fault, what had happened. Though that hadn’t meant they weren’t still worried. Lately however, Alianna had started to lose some of her worry. Gorion had not.

As the fetus grew Alianna began to feel a connection to her baby that midwives often spoke of, and though she expected the offspring of such a siring to be as frightening as the father, it was not. Instead as she felt the babe move about within her growing belly, there came the sense of wonderment, calmness and even love. As her husband and her fellow Harpers began to get more worried with what the child would bring about, Alianna began to feel . . . hope. She’d feared that a child of a dark seed would be just a copy of the sire, and that the ‘mother’ would only play the part of a birthing vessel. Now that she could sense the child within her, it became clear that it was not that way. This baby was part of her as well, and Alianna intended to keep it.

Her associates at Twilight Hall cautioned against it, stating as they had from the beginning that once born the child should stay at one of the Harper’s headquarters. Secreted away while it was studied to prevent it from adding to the chaos its other sibling would create. Now Alianna looked back in shame at her early readiness to go along with that plan, when she’d thought of her child as just some evil spawn. As she glanced outside the window and the dirt roads beyond she placed a hand over her belly and rubbed it, looking down to smile at its roundness. Her own form was silhouetted by the falling sun. Short but slender of frame now with a large stomach all full of baby in the front. Rich auburn hair caught the light, looking brilliant in contrast to an ivory face and violet eyes.

A vase of sunflowers sat near the sill and the half-elf ran delicate fingers over the edges of the golden yellow petals. Still a sense of fate was around them, though Alianna couldn’t explain why. She’d never been overly superstitious, her muted faith in Mystra carrying her through the early years of a mage’s training. Gorion was a follower of Oghma but he didn’t actively pay lip service at temples any more than his wife did. Yet when Alianna had walked past a caravan of traveling merchants, she’d spotted the flowers and the nearly supernatural urge to buy them washed over her. There had been pots of what the florist called ‘mini-suns’ at the edge of the wagon, mixed in with other flowers not native to the Mistledale woodlands or the Elven Court. Though Alianna had seen sun flowers before she’d never been so drawn to them as she had that morning. She knew they were blooms holding some popularity with Lathanite clerics who preceded over births. The flowers served as a conduit from babe to god, as Lathander greatly loved new life. Perhaps her inexplicable desire to purchase them had been a sign from the Pantheon that this child would not have a doomed life . . . or maybe they’d just smelled nice.

Now as Lady Avalon sat perched by the windowsill, the darkening light of sunset peering through the trees, she contemplated what she might tell her husband. If she told Gorion that she’d bought the flowers because she had the feeling that the powers that be wanted her to, he’d say she was being superstitious. Honestly, if it had been Gorion that had bought them for such a reason and told her about it, she’d think the same thing. As if the gods thought she’d been sitting in contemplation too long, she heard boots on the cobbles of the walk way and soon Gorion’s blonde head appeared from the open door.

“There is my lady.” Lord Avalon smiled in greeting, coming over to her and bending low to kiss her soundly on the mouth. When he drew back he noticed the flowers on the sill, commenting on them as he went to hang his cloak up on a wooden rack meant for such a purpose. “Bright flowers you have there. I don’t recognize them from around here. Traveling merchants in town today, dearest?”

“Mmm hmm. Several in fact, mostly from Trademeet. One of them had a flower cart. These just . . . well the bright yellow caught my attention and they smell nice don’t they?” She asked. Gorion nodded, taking his boots off as Alianna slowly stood, using her hands on the arms of the chair to push herself up, struggling for a moment to gain her balance. Gorion came over to help her but she shooed him away. “I don’t know how many times I have to remind you of this, husband mine, but I’m pregnant not crippled. I can still get about, even if I look like a bloated cow.”

“Bloated cow? Listen to yourself! Why I doubt there is a maid in the Mistledale or beyond that glows as radiantly.” From another man such words would have seemed overly flowery and likely disingenuous, from Gorion however, they were quite pleasing in the honest way he relayed them. He had an almost naïve honesty about him at times, though certainly he’d learned much about necessary deception from the Harpers.

“I thank thee. Were you visiting with Sartonis Alieradon again?” Alianna inquired, not so subtely inferring her suspicions. Both of them knew he’d been out with the Harpers, making plans, doing research.

“Yes, quite.” Gorion paused from where he’d been placing his staff in holders above the hearth. He pressed weary palms against the smooth stone of the mantle, embers lighting his face, finding the nooks and crannies of the early signs of human aging. He sighed, shoulders and mind feeling heavy with the action and turned to his wife. “We were talking about the . . . baby. Where it should be born.” He finished, leaving the words hanging in the air like the ill omen he thought them to be.

Taking a measured breath, Alianna almost felt tempted to sit back down, but she remained steady. “Her, not ‘it’.” She corrected and watched her husband for his reaction.

“Her?” His gray eyes seemed unfathomable.

“Yes, her. I’ve felt it for some time, and the midwife confirmed that I am carrying the babe like a girl.” She ran a stray hand across her abdomen.

Allowing his furrowed brow line to relax, Gorion went to his wife, steady gaze wandering across her swollen belly. “A girl.” There was a brief look on his face that Alianna couldn’t process and then it went back to his common mask of concentration. “Why did you not tell me this ere now? You refused to let the druids or the priests within the Harpers tend to you, if they had we would have known this already.”

“Because it didn’t matter to you whether it was a girl or a boy, sadly for some time it didn’t matter to me either. We treated the coming of this child as a dark portent, another mission that the Harpers had to undertake for the greater balance.” Alianna continued, her violet eyes bright with her emotions.

“You speak in past tense.” Gorion stated simply, though his current feelings were far from simple. He knew well of what his wife spoke. For though this child would be considered his own for all public purposes, it was not he that had sired the babe. It was a being of the utmost evil and malcontent. Though such a fact was kept a secret with the couple and their fellows in the order of Harpers to which they both belonged. Those others that Harped were understandably leery of what this child might bring with such tainted blood in its veins. At first Alianna had agreed that the utmost caution was required. Apparently she’d changed her mind.

“Indeed I am, because I have reached a decision. This is my daughter and I’m going to raise her. I want you with me so we can raise her ourselves. Away from tests and experiments; just take care of her like a normal child.” Alianna couldn’t keep the beggary from her voice.

“She isn’t a normal child!” Gorion bellowed in aggravation, feeling like a lout when his wife winced at his tone. “I . . . I am sorry, it is just that . . . We cannot take care of this babe ourselves. Too much could happen; things we couldn’t control on our own.” He tried to give her one of his winning Avalon smiles but she wasn’t having any of it.

“Yes, yes we can! Her coming is not to be feared. She‘s just an innocent child, we can raise her to be better than anyone imagines. If she has my love and your love . . . Gorion, darling don‘t you see? If she is loved, if she is taught to find the goodness in life, her darker heritage won‘t matter.“ She searched his face for a reaction but there was only a resigned sadness there.

“Don’t you think that Bh . . .” The sage paused, not wanting to say the name aloud in case the god was listening. “Her sire will have a say and I fear His say has more power than ours.”

“Alaundo’s prophecy states He is going to die.” Alianna nodded, telling herself that that part of the divination was true.

“Then we must accept that the rest of what Alaundo was shown is truth as well. Even if it is not, dead gods do not stay dead for very long. You know that as well as anyone. Remind me how many times Mystra has been re-born?“ He asked a little snidely and his wife glared at him, eliciting a sigh from the weary sage. “Why are we talking about this again? Alianna, my love, we have a loyalty to the Harpers . . .”

“And I have love for my child! That outweighs any loyalty I may have. She comes first!” The half-elf shouted, the babe wiggling within her as if feeling and sharing her agitation.

“Heart of my heart, listen to what you are saying. It is Him isn’t it? He’s gotten into your head. Storm has a feeling that is how He talks to people, sneaks into their minds and pretends to be a soothing presence in a dream. You might even think it is your own subconscious talking to you, or that you are going insane, but you aren’t. Then He wins you over and you start to change inside.” Gorion frowned.

“Oh to the Hells with Storm! This isn’t her baby! My words are my own! Look, if we . . . Ahh!” Alianna was stopped mid sentence by a sharp pain in her abdomen that sent her reeling backwards.

Gorion took her hands in his own, shocked to find them cold to the touch. She looked very dizzy. “Alianna? What’s wrong? What is it?!”

The half high-elf wobbled for a moment as if she were a buoy in the water, then she screamed. “It’s the baby!“ The floor came up to meet her in a rush and she faintly heard Gorion yelling for help.

Year: 1368, 16'th of Kythorn (present)

“Heh, Lil . . . Calm down!” Imoen instructed, trying to be serious but finding it hard between her fits of giggles.

Her sister was buzzing around the room in a tizzy, digging through her sparse luggage and the few basic dresses she’d purchased for herself since they‘d left Nashkel. Their temporary home had been in the closet of the room, but now they were lain across Lilliana’s bedspread. The half elf’s hair was all over the place from her fussing with it, a haphazard pin sticking out from a tangle of black at the back of her head.

“I have nothing! It’s all trash, rubbish! Attire barely fit for mucking out a barn!” The cleric pouted, flouncing down onto the bed with a very audible sigh, sounding like nothing if not a spoiled princess having a tantrum. “Oh what timing!”

Thoughts of the beautiful gowns, and pretty, simple dresses she had at Candlekeep passed through her mind, and she sighed again. She’d brought a few of them when she’d left with her father, but thatbag had been taken at the bandit camp. Lilliana ran a hand over the light cream traveling dress spread across her mattress, the plainness of it very obvious and her frame would make it even more so.

“What about the dress you bought for the dance at the fair?“ Imoen inquired, trying to help.

“No, no, that would not work. I mean, it was fine for a dance but I think it would be a tad fancy for breakfast . . . and it doesn’t fit me anymore.“ Lilliana responded, looking up at Imoen, embarrassed.

“Doesn’t fit ya?! Good grief, you haven’t gotten that much bigger since we left Candlekeep.“ The red head cast a critical eye on her sister, studying her to see if she really had grown. Maybe . . . a little.

Lilliana nodded solemnly. “Yes I have, not much, but I am taller. I noticed when my leggings wouldn’t tuck down as far into my boots as normal. That dress was a smidgen long before and now it is too short. A lady mustn’t ever show more of her ankles than is appropriate.“ The cleric added, sounding utterly serious.

Imoen was well aware that Lilliana held the rules of court to heart. The thief took it in stride but she knew that some of their other companions got annoyed with the cleric’s aristocratic mind set. Imoen couldn’t say she blamed them either, it could be irritating sometimes. Like when they were camped out in the wilderness and Lilliana would tut at one of them for making a mess while they ate, or the near constant reminders on protocol, often begun with ‘my father always used to say . . .’ Nevertheless it amused Imoen. “Just wear your night-gown again. Heh! If Jaheira knew what you had on . . .” She wiggled her red-blonde brows at Lilliana, suggestively.

“Hardly! I would never dress inappropriately of my own intention. You know that. It was a full night robe, nothing lewd.” Lilliana defended, nose held nearly as high as her head.

“Oh-ho! Excuse me, Miss High ‘n’ Mighty. ‘Sides, I know. Ya dress like a grandma.” Imoen laughed, even harder when Lilliana threw a pillow at her.

“Imoen!” The half-high elf shouted, throwing the square pillow with more force then she’d intended, knocking her sister off the bed with the unexpected toss. She sounded worried until she heard Imoen’s chirp of laughter. “I didn’t mean to . . . Oomph!” Lilliana began to apologize but before she could finish, the cleric had a face full of pillow.

The red headed human was snickering, waiting for her sibling to return the throw. When she didn’t, Imoen started to feel guilty. “Lil, I wasn’t tryin’ ta make fun of ya.” She stood from her bed to go over to Lilliana’s. The cleric had turned about on the mattress and was facing the window. Imoen put a hand on her shoulder.

“Ah, sister mine. Your apology has been taken note of, but I’m afraid it is just not good enough.” Lilliana commented and she felt her the other girl’s shock. As she was turned away from the red head, she made it impossible for Imoen to see the playful grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“What?! Ya can’t really be that angry with me!” Imoen squawked but instead of responding, Lilliana hit her square in the face with two pillows. When the young thief recovered her sister was all giggles and Imoen smiled at her deviously, ready to fling them back.

The pillow fight had begun.

Jaheira was anxious to have breakfast done and out of the way so they could move on with their search for the bandits. Getting out from under the eyes of the suspicious townsfolk, overzealous Flaming Fist and desperate Order would be a much added bonus. She went to knock on the girls’ door, but was halted by loud giggling and the sound of multiple objects beating against each other. Cautiously, she turned the handle to find it unlocked. The druid Harper opened the door to a room full of feathers. Lilliana was still clad in just her chemise while Imoen was dressed for the day, as they hopped back and forth on their beds, knocking each other silly with pillows. At least two were already ripped and losing down.

“What in Toril is going on here?!” Jaheira yelled loud enough to get over the girls’ high pitched merriment. They both stopped, short of breath and faces flushed from their game.

“Jaheira?” Lilliana and Imoen asked at the same time. Imoen laughed and sent up a splutter of feathers that had been stuck near her mouth. “We were just, havin’ fun Miss J.”

The abrupt description from Imoen brought a snort of amusement from Lilliana, though the half high-elf tried to cover her mouth against a laugh, in light of being caught. Imoen sent her a playful smirk as the two sisters awkwardly clambered down from where they’d been standing, on the lumpy mattresses.

“That much I can see with my own eyes. Foolish girls!” Jaheira scolded, but was fighting against a smile as she shook a finger at them. “Just be sure you have this mess cleaned up and are ready for breakfast soon. I won’t have the day wasted. Not with the townsfolk breathing down our necks. And sew up those pillows, we‘ve barely money enough between us, let alone any to pay for reparations.” She went to leave but a feather-decorated Lilliana stopped her short, pulling her into the room and looking bashful as the druid had not seen her in some time.

“Mistress Kostas? Ah, Jaheira, I’m sorry I know you aren’t fond of titles. I am expecting some new company at breakfast. I’m sure the gentleman’s presence will not keep us overlong this morning and I hope it is alright with the group?” The question was posed genuinely, as if Lilliana might change her plans if it wasn’t alright.

Jaheira could almost see Gorion standing there before her, offering a question as courtesy. Lilliana was a lot like her adopted father in many ways, but different enough that Jaheira suspected Gorion recognized his own flaws and wanted to eliminate them in his daughter. He hadn’t entirely succeeded, as Lilliana‘s strong sense of propriety hadn‘t stopped her from engaging in a childish pillow fight. Jaheira sighed, but didn’t know of a good reason to tell the girl she couldn‘t have someone along. “I’m sure it will be fine, as long as we aren’t kept late into the afternoon.”

Lilliana smiled widely and tutted the inference away. “Oh no no. Of course not. Certainly not that late.”

“Yeah, after all, the Order has their own business to get on with, don’t they?” Imoen giggled as if sharing a private joke.

“The Order?” The druid asked and Imoen seemed more than happy to further inform her, ignoring her sister’s pleading gaze to keep quiet.

“Yup, Lil’s sweetheart is in the Order. Squire anyway. To think, they haven’t seen each other for so long, and so much distance ‘tween em too. Ain’t that romantic Miss J?” Imoen fluttered her hand against her forehead, feigning a swoon.

“He is not my ‘sweetheart‘. Just a childhood friend of which I find myself reunited with. That is all, and yes, he is a squire in the Order of the Radiant Heart.” Lilliana defended to Jaheira, the druid arching a brow at her. There was perhaps more enunciation in her words than was required.

“I see.” Jaheira merely nodded her head. “Well, I’ll meet you down in the main room. Don’t take too long getting ready.” With that the Harper walked away, towards the stairs. She stifled a laugh when she heard Lilliana’s voice going shrill at her sister from behind the now closed door.

“Imoen! Tell her everything why don’t you . . . and he’s not my sweetheart!” The girl shrieked and Jaheira could no longer contain her bark of laughter as she stepped down onto the landing.

Year: 1348, 21’st of Ches.

Alianna’s labor had gone on for a long time and into the wee hours of the next day. The half high-elf had bled out far more than she should have. Many times Elaine, the midwife, wanted to call the father in but knew it wasn’t customary. It turned out to be a losing battle in any case.

“She’s dying!” Mary, one of the assistants, cried out. She was fretting over Lady Avalon as the other girl, Syranel, was tending to the newborn.

“Not dying, but dead.” The midwife wore a deep frown of sadness, reaching forward to close the woman’s eyes. Turning away, Elaine glanced across the room where Syranel was looking after the little girl. Outside, rain pelted against the home as if crying in mourning. Elaine felt like doing the same as she stroked the mother’s arm. “You did good, my lady. Rest you well, knowing the babe is healthy.” The midwife whispered. She stood up and wiped the blood off her arms with a rag, using the clean end to dab at her stinging eyes. When she’d composed herself, she addressed her assistants. “One of you get the lady cleaned up as best you can.“ Weary eyes traveled to the door that led to the main room, where the father was waiting. She admired his patience but wasn’t looking forward to going out there and giving him the bad news. “I must go speak with his lordship.”

Gorion Avalon was seated on a stool in front of a low fire. He looked up as the midwife entered the small den, flinching at the sight of her blood covered apron. On Lord Avalon’s face it was painted clearly that he anticipated bad news. “The child has died hasn’t it?” With a low voice, it was as if the sage expected little else. When the woman didn’t answer he stared at her openly.

“No. The child is as healthy a baby girl as you’ll find.“ With a heavy sigh she went ahead. “My lord, I regret to inform you that Lady Avalon did not survive the birth. We would have called you in sooner but . . .”

She was cut off as the sage rose from the stool in a flash, to grasp her shoulders and shake her. “What?! What? I . . . NO! Why didn’t you tell me?! I could’ve healed her! I’ll go to her now!” The man would’ve entered the birthing room but the midwife placed an arm in front of him, using her whole body to block his way as he tried to push past her.

“No! Let my ladies clean her up. You don’t want to see her as she is!” The midwife put a hand on Lord Avalon’s shoulder in sympathy. “I myself am talented with the healing arts. There is nothing that I could do, and nothing to be done now. Kelemvor has claimed her. You should take peace in the fact that she gave you a hale and hearty daughter.”

Gorion’s face was set hard with sharp anger. “I don’t care about the child! I want to see my wife!” His voice came out in a hiss and as Elaine kept herself as a blockade in front of him, the tone became beseeching. “Please . . . “

The midwife relented, opening the door enough to tell her women to cover the mother with a sheet. Once Elaine was convinced it was alright for Lord Avalon to enter, she moved out of his way, wincing as she heard his sharp intake of breath. Walking into the room behind him she saw that the maids did a good job of making Alianna Avalon look decent, in the short time that they had. Mary was missing from the room and the midwife raised a questioning brow as Syranel came up to her.

“Wasn’t right, having the little lamb in here with her mother being . . . Well, it just didn’t seem healthy. I had Mary take the wee one into the nursery that was already made up.“ The girl whispered, nodding in the direction of a door that led to a small hallway. Then her young eyes lingered on Lord Avalon who was on his knees beside the birthing table, grasping his wife’s hand as he wept openly, without a care for who was watching. “Should I go fetch the babe? Does her father want to see her?”

Elaine shook her head. “No, he does not. Let us go check on Mary and the baby. His lordship needs time alone.” Together the two gathered their few belongings and left the birthing room. Behind them, they heard Lord Avalon tell his dead wife that he loved her.

Streaks of sunlight touched the main road of Ashabenford as the funeral procession made its way through town. Alianna had befriended many and those that grieved for her were high in number. At the front was her husband, Gorion, walking like a man that was lost to his misery.

Two days had passed since the child was born, and Gorion could scarcely believe it had happened. His wife was gone. Gone. That word echoed into his mind, brittle and sharp, it stole his breath and left him in ruins. Gone. All that time he was worried that the infant would be born demonic, that Alianna would risk losing her mind and soul to the spawn’s sire. Never once had he thought that his lady would die in childbirth . . . but he should have. He should have and he didn’t and the woman he had loved with all his heart was dead.

He’d sent a letter to Suldanesselar, to Alianna’s mother, but he didn’t even know if the high elfess still lived. Alianna had a falling out with Lady Liriadel Shellaris soon after her human father, Lord Makarios Shellaris, died in battle. Since then, the two hadn’t spoken.

For the first few days of the infant’s life, Gorion had not looked at her, had not even named her. He relegated her care to a young maiden in town who worked with the midwife, but soon he’d be leaving Ashabenford to make for Berdusk and he’d have to take the child with him. The High Harpers had been informed of the babe’s birth and Alianna’s death and had summoned him to Twilight Hall. Lady Avalon had not wanted her daughter to be brought up with tests and watched with a wary eye, but Lord Avalon could not dismiss the infant’s parentage so easily. Her siring might not seem influential so early but someday that tainted blood would rear its ugly head.

The walk back home was solitary and as he went inside there was no one to greet him. Gorion felt his heart clench painfully, remembering a bright smile, a flash of red hair and violet eyes. Alianna had always been happy to see him, no matter what their lives were like. Her smile lived only in memory now.

A black cloak was hung on a small rack near the hearth and the Waterhavian made heavy steps toward the back of the home. He entered the small room that Alianna had made up as a nursery before the babe was born. There the feeling of grief and loss was so strong that the sage had to brace himself against the door frame.

Inside the maid sat, a pretty, young half-wood elf with pale blonde hair and large violet eyes. Syranel by name. She looked up at the sage, offering an insincere smile. It was clear she did not approve of his dismissal of the child, a babe that she had no reason to suspect was not his. Gorion did not care about her approval, in fact he found that he could care for very little.

“She does not sleep well. I put her down but a few hours ago. She drank a healthy portion of Master Auldcastle’s formula, and I thought it being warm would relax her, but she keeps tossing in there.” Syranel remarked, setting aside a book she’d been reading to peer into a wicker basinet. Almaes Auldcastle, the town alchemist, had readily provided the powdered goat’s milk. It could be mixed with heated water to produce a formula that he claimed had a reasonable amount of vitamins and minerals in it. He’d sent over three cases of the stuff with four milk bladders to put it in. It wasn’t as good as a mother’s milk but, since Gorion had refused a nurse maid that would be able to breast-feed the child, it would have to do.

Syranel smiled down into the cradle at the sleeping baby within. Her appearance wasn’t normal for a half-elf, and though not an extraordinarily beautiful infant, the girl was still precious to look upon. “I think she is having nightmares.” The maiden remarked, noting that the child’s father had yet to say anything.

When he did speak, his voice sounded abnormally loud in the whispery stillness of the nursery. “Babies that young do not have nightmares.” Gorion’s words seemed faraway and alien, even to himself and he cringed.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Pausing for another glance at the infant, Syranel turned about. “Are you going to be needing my services for the rest of the day milord? I must let my mistress know, if that is the case.”

Gorion shook his blonde head, raking a hand through his cropped hair. “No.” He sighed and leaned against the door jamb. “The child and I will not be here ere long and I’ll be taking care of her myself, while we travel.”

“You are going to travel? Taking a baby this young? With all due respect, milord, that is most unwise.” Syranel frowned as she put her bag up over one shoulder.

“There is little choice in the matter.” Gorion dismissed the girl with a wave of one hand. “Thank you for your services, I have left your payment with the midwife.”

With a nod and a brief curtsey, Syranel was off, giving one quick glance into the nursery and shaking her head ruefully. Her footsteps faded away as the sound of the front door closing echoed into the small home.

Gorion settled down on the stool next to the crib, not wanting to see the infant. He had half feared she’d look like some demon, similar to her true sire, but of course that was ridiculous. All of her siblings, that Lord Avalon knew about, had been born reasonably normal in appearance. Then he wondered if she’d be the spitting image of her mother, if every time he stared at the baby he would be reminded of his dead wife. He steeled himself and leaned forward to look into the cradle. What he saw gave him pause. Alianna had said she felt connected to the child, even though she’d never seen her, but in that moment Gorion could almost understand. The idea of a person new to the world, innocent.

She was so tiny and fragile, laying there, small fist curled under one ivory cheek. The sage reached down but then drew back, not wanting to hurt the child, but once more the urge struck him and he carefully extended a finger. Stroking the infant’s face he marveled at the skin’s softness. His palm ran lightly over her head, the girl’s downy black hair tickling his hand.

The baby fidgeted and whimpered, turning onto her left side with a sharp cry. Syranel was right. Gorion did not have to wonder what kind of dreams they might have been. She made a mewling noise and tossed about again, tiny legs kicking at her blanket.

With a start, her eyes opened and she looked at Gorion, not recognizing the face that peered at her. In her few days of life the only person familiar to her was the maid. She fussed and whined, afraid and wide-eyed. The sage looked down at her sympathetically. Staring back at him were not twin irises of the common newborn blue, or even the violet of half elves, but a surprising emerald green. She looked nothing like Alianna, in fact she didn’t even look like a half elf. Tiny points of ears were visible through the fine curls of hair on her head and two small hands went up by those ears, stretching and writhing in the cradle.

Without stopping to think about it, the Harper lowered his own much larger hands into the bassinet to pick her up, keeping her swaddled with the blanket. The girl’s young cries were fairly high pitched and the sage tried to quiet her. “Shhh, there, there now.” Gorion found himself wishing he’d had some experience with children, but he had none. His only sibling was an older brother, and everything he and Alianna knew from preparation for this child came from tomes. She was so small that she was easily cradled against his shoulder, her warm and wet breath tickling the crook of his neck. “Alright, come now little flower, settle down.”

That stunned Gorion, that a pet name had fallen so easily from his lips. It was not but a moment before that he had not wanted to see the child at all, and here he was being affectionate with her. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he was shocked to realize the baby had stopped crying. One of her small fists had found the chain of his Harper’s medallion and she seemed fascinated by the necklace, cooing as she looked at the pendant curiously. A silver harp held by a crescent moon.

“You like that? Shiny isn’t it?” He asked quietly, finding a smile beginning to curl on his lips. Her face was so expressive for one so young, and Gorion was amazed by that. “Your mother was a curious one too, it’s how I met her. She’d gone exploring farther in a cave then we were told, the both of us early initiates into the Harpers, and I was sent to go get her.” He didn’t even know why he’d said that. The baby wouldn’t understand. Maybe he had said it for himself alone, but unknowingly he had also soothed the infant; his rich timbre making her relax on his shoulder as she played with the sage’s chain.

“You need a name, I think.” Lord Avalon remarked. It came to him far quicker than the sage imagined it would. Blending the name of his own mother, Lillith, and the name of the babe’s mother would make for a lovely moniker. She was watching him and twining the silver chain in her fingers while he was deep in contemplation. Gorion thought briefly of giving her Alianna’s maiden name, but that wouldn’t do, not if the sage was going to raise the girl as his own, and he knew then that he would. It was what his lady would have wanted and she had earned that.

“I haven’t any idea of what we are going to do next, you and I. One can only hope that our Harper friends will give us aid in figuring out how to best deal with your heritage, Lilliana Avalon.” His smile went wider when she cooed at him, as if in approval of her name. That morning he had been thinking of how he cared for nothing at all. Suddenly that wasn’t true anymore and against his better judgment, Gorion could feel the first stirrings in his heart for the child.

Year: 1368, 16'th of Kythorn (present)

Ajantis fidgeted with his tunic, finding the material a bit tight. Of course he hadn’t gone through all his clothing before packing, those many months ago at the Order headquarters in Waterdeep. It never occurred to him that he might have wanted to make sure he’d gotten rid of some of his older clothes. His neck now possessing more muscle mass than it had, shortly before he‘d been sent out to investigate the bandit troubles of the Sword Coast. It was quite a change from his wiry youth. A sidelong glance to the tall Rashemite beside him drew a sigh. What had that one been like as a youngster? Ajantis could scarcely believe the tattooed berserker had ever been ‘wiry‘. Perhaps possessing such a large build from birth. Though the young Lord Ilvastarr thankfully knew little of the particulars of child delivery, he knew enough to sympathize with the woman that had born the giant seated next to him now.

It was quiet in the main room of the Jovial Juggler that morning. The locals wouldn’t populate the tavern of the inn until their work day was over and most of the Flaming Fist and Order of the Radiant Heart members were out for daily scouting missions. Ajantis wondered silently how many of them wouldn’t return and the thought made him scowl. He shared consideration with his Order brothers, but now he found himself on the outside looking in. Ajantis could not help the thought of wonderment at their perseverance in the face of continual failure. Not to mention the anger that boiled in the Waterhavian’s veins at the thought of bandits besting a platoon of knights. Likely the Fist were suffering the same dejected feeling and yet they were determined.

Dynaheir had arrived late to breakfast, taking pains to apply cosmetics before joining the others. She hardly needed them, as she was already strikingly beautiful , but Ajantis wasn’t about to get in between a woman and her makeup. Lord Ilvastarr’s brown eyes roamed across the lobby now as Jaheira stepped into the main parlor. Her face had a rare tinge of mirth about it, but whatever had made her smile was forgotten as she surveyed the room, violet eyes going nearly hawk-like as she took everything in. Putting one to mind of a mother bear surveying her den. The knight thought, but knew it best to keep such an observation to himself.

“G-Good morning, darling.” Khalid smiled with open love, waving his wife over with his left hand as he took a sip of tea with his right. He winced at the overly strong herbs and set the mug down. How he missed the coffee beans of Maztica! They were frequently sent in on shipments to Calimport, capital and port city of the desert lands of Calimshan, and the place of the Harper warrior’s birth. As a boy he’d had easy access to the beans and the liquid made from them. Coffee being amongst the sundries his merchant father worked with. Master Albin Kostas wasn’t much of a paternal figure but he had been one heck of a merchant. Khalid tried to picture his sire’s face, but it had been some time since he’d seen the human Calimshite. The man would be long dead now. It was better to think about the coffee but the rich brew didn’t seem to be easy to get a hold of up north. He sighed and took another sip of the bitter tea. Jaheira pulled up a seat next to him, leaning over to give him a peck on the cheek before taking a seat, rubbing at a sore spot on the back of her neck.

“Are neither Miss Lily or Miss Imoen to join us as we break fast?” Dynaheir questioned, Minsc’s eyes asking the same thing though his tongue was silent.

“In a bit. Lilliana’s having someone else along as well, so we’ll be waiting until that person arrives.” Jaheira informed the Wychlaran, never looking up from where she was stirring the tea her husband had ordered for her.

“What? Who? I didn’t think she knew anyone in town, besides the mayor of course.” Ajantis glanced about him as if the would-be guest might materialize right then and there. There was Sir Armand, who had spoken to the group yesterday but Ajantis had already seen the elder knight depart from the inn that morning. A scowl crossed his face as he worried it might indeed be Keldath Ormlyr, Beregost‘s mayor, the high priest at the local temple of Lathander, and Lilliana‘s superior. He hoped it wasn’t. The group may have owed the man Lilliana’s life, but the pompous priest was more than the knight could handle that morning.

“Some childhood friend. Why don‘t you just wait and find out for yourself?” Jaheira chided, going back to half mindedly stirring the tea. Her head jerked up at an exclamation from Ajantis.

“As I live and breathe! Anomen Delryn!” The smile on the blonde’s face was entirely friendly.

Jaheira followed his gaze to the young human man that approached them. He was a bit shorter than Ajantis but broader in the shoulders. A shock of short and wavy dark brown hair, matched by what looked to be a new goatee on an obviously Amnian face. Jaheira was from the south and she could easily recognize the rigid but handsome features of those folk, even if the Juggler hadn’t been populated with them. A pair of stunning sapphire eyes widened when the young man seemed to recognize Ajantis. Though the Amnian was dressed in a simple light blue tunic, shirt and breeches, it was easy to imagine him in a full battle kit, his stance radiating the stiff propriety of the Order and its knights. Jaheira sniffed in distaste, watching as the others took in this new arrival.

“Squire Ilvastarr is it? I am beginning to wonder how many long lost friends Helm wishes me to reacquaint myself with before the end of the week.” The young man placed a hand out for a shake, but was embraced in a hearty hug instead.

Ajantis’ face was beaming with pride as he announced himself, leaving Anomen’s comment on long lost friends momentarily forgotten. “Ah but I am knight now. Though I travel with independent citizens currently, but it is a fair company to be sure.” Ajantis grinned, waving a hand over the rest of the group and proceeded to make introductions. He knew that he’d been having some doubts as to the collected honor of some of his companions, but now was neither the time or the place to state such concerns. When he introduced the Harpers, he noted the none-too-appraising look that Jaheira sent Anomen. Does she always have to be so off putting? He wondered. With distinction from Jaheira’s coolness, there was Dynaheir, who smiled gracefully and raised a delicate hand. Anomen dutifully kissed it, earning a long glare from Minsc before the berserker calmed.

The Amnian turned back to Ajantis, a fleeting tenseness on his face before he replaced it with a taut smile. “A knight? Good. I have . . . yet to take my test. I am certain it should be soon though.” He added, the sincerity a bit lacking in his voice.

“Ah, of course, of course. You know . . .” Ajantis then spoke at the group, still wearing a wide grin. “Lord Delryn and I met at the Order in Waterdeep. Though he is just a might younger than myself, we both trained one summer under the same tutor. He possesses a great deal of talent.”

Jaheira nodded, finally forcing a smile to her face. Surely this couldn’t be Lilliana’s friend. He seemed far too stilted for the girl. The cleric’s affection for the knightly persuasion wasn’t lost on the druid. However, neither did she think she’d be overly fond of someone as hard faced as the young man before them. Though if Jaheira had to hazard a guess, he was about the right age to be under Imoen‘s consideration as a child hood sweetheart of her sister.

“This is not all of our company, our youngest ladies have yet to arrive. They are indeed very young, but I’ve come to see that there is strength there. Why our fair Lady Avalon lost her father not long ago and still she manages to smile for us, and her sister, the lovely Mistress Imoen is ever the source of cheerfulness. The bright spot of our company, even on a dreary day.” Ajantis continued, Dynaheir smiling up at him. Jaheira rolled her eyes at words she thought to be overly dramatic.

“Lost her . . . Sir Avalon is dead?!” Anomen asked in shock, the same stare of disbelief echoed back at him from Ajantis.

“You knew him? You are Lilliana’s breakfast guest!” It suddenly dawned on the blonde knight and he nearly blushed in embarrassment. Carrying on and introducing everyone when it had likely been Lilliana’s intention to do so when she arrived.

“Indeed, though it has been some time since I last saw her ladyship, her father or her sister. You are right to say they are young. It doesn’t seem they should be out on the road but if Sir Avalon is gone, as you say, then it makes more sense as to why they aren’t at Candlekeep. I am pained to hear of his passing and I don’t wonder why Lady Avalon did not tell me last evening, it must have been a hurtful time.” He thought of his mother and her death, after a long illness. Something he had failed to speak of the previous night, and he understood Lilliana’s silence on the matter, perhaps more than anyone else would have.

“Yes and she is better served that we don’t speak of it when she isn’t present.” Jaheira interceded, Khalid sharing a look with her though he was more cordial.

“P-Please, sit down so that we m-might order until the girls g-get here.” He smiled as the young man took a seat.

“He’s already here!” Lilliana whispered frightfully as all the blood drained from her face. She turned about quickly. “I should rethink my attire, I’m not sure that . . . “

“Oh no ya don’t! We’d be up there all day, and I’m hungry.” Imoen grabbed her sister’s arm and pushed her forward until they were both standing in the main room.

“I should have invited him formally to breakfast! Instead I just assumed . . . Oh dear! Now he is going to think me rude and wonder why he was forced into joining us without being bidden!“ The cleric whimpered, her sister raising a brow at her in amusement.

“You’re bein’ a little melodramatic, don’t ya think?“ The red head asked but the half elf acted like she didn’t hear her.

Lilliana looked horribly pale, as if she might faint dead away, her gaze horror stricken on the table where her companions were seated. “It was all so different last night, so comfortable and nice . . . But now . . . I can’t do this!”

“Bah, sure ya can. Ain’t nobody to impress anyway, other than your sweetheart.” The young thief teased, unable to resist the temptation at ribbing her sister.

“He isn’t my sweetheart!” Lilliana hissed at Imoen‘s smirking face. The idea wasn’t repulsive in the least, but it was entirely untoward; picking up suitors without a proper courtship. It just wasn’t done and the cleric was working herself up to a right temper thinking about it.

“Alright, then prove it.” The red head motioned across the way to where the group sat, still unaware of their presence.

The cleric gathered her simple skirt, moaning once more that she hadn’t been able to afford more than a few traveling dresses, and gave an audible huff. “Fine. I will.” Her self-satisfied bluster carried her forward until she got close enough to her companions that she could hear their conversation. Then Lilliana found she could barely speak, a sudden panic assailing her. All thoughts of proving her morality fled like a flock of frightened birds from a hunter’s field.

“Ah and here they are now!” Ajantis boomed, standing to motion at the two sisters. Anomen stood soon after. Imoen was all full of smiles and hugged Anomen fiercely enough that the young Amnian was near blushing.

“How have ya been, ya lil ramjake? Though you ain’t so little anymore. You got tall.” She grinned, sizing him up in comparison to herself.

“I am well Mistress Voltaire. You have grown into a lovely young woman.” Compliments on a lady’s good looks weren’t as hard to give as they used to be, though more often than not there was little meaning behind them. However, in Imoen’s case she was genuinely a beauty. A cherubic and attractive lass to be sure and her warm and impish smile was easily remembered.

He turned to regard Lilliana and found her staring at the floor, and looking awfully ashen. “Lady Avalon, are you alright?”

“What? Oh . . . I . . . I’m fine. I am glad you made it.” She stammered, looking at her friend only briefly enough to smile shyly at him. “Thank you for coming to breakfast Lord Delryn.”

“It was my pleasure.“ The squire leaned forward, intending to kiss her hand but she sat down in such a hurry that he could not. Perplexed he stood for a moment but finally took a seat, shrugging his shoulders, as the others were now all seated again. Looking at her he found Lilliana’s eyes nearly attached to the table, as she sent him only a few quick glances. It gave him the opportunity to study her features in the sunlit room of the Jovial Juggler.

Last evening he’d been overwhelmed with happiness, a rare feeling these days and Lilliana had seemed to exude a delicate beauty that only increased his joy. Now he found that perhaps his excitement at seeing his long lost friend again had tinged what his eyes had truly seen. For this morning the ethereal beauty he’d thought she had was gone. While the half high-elf was taller then she had been as a youngster, and more matured of face, it wasn’t by much. Even Anomen’s little sister Moira, at fifteen years upon her, looked more grown up than Lilliana. The Amnian shifted in his seat, feeling a bit uncomfortable at how attractive she’d seemed the previous night. He ought to have remembered that she was a half-elf, a race that aged slower than their human parentage. Lilliana had taken obvious pains to make herself look nice but it did nothing to give the impression of maturity. Such an appearance only furthered Anomen’s thoughts that neither Lady Avalon or her sister should be out on the road. It was no place for young ladies of Candlekeep to be when they belonged back home.

The young cleric discovered through conversation that Ajantis had already spoken about her father. Though the details had not been given. It was difficult for Lilliana to say, but she managed to relay the tale, even if it was told in short order. Again the loss of Sir Avalon explained much to Anomen, though the squire wasn’t sure why their care was not given to one of the other readers. He said as much and at his question Lilliana looked up at him for only a second before a faint smile graced her face, following a glance to the two half elves that sat across from her.

“The keep must maintain its rules, and I can understand that. For us, that means that without my father’s presence, Imoen and I would have had to produce a tome of great value. Alas, we did not have an appropriate tome and do not have one now, nor the means to attain such a volume. Being as well that there were persons of ill intent after my father and I, it could have endangered everyone else at Candlekeep had I insisted upon returning there. Forgoing that, it was my father’s wish that we meet up with Master and Mistress Kostas and in the event of his . . .” The cleric paused and swallowed, composing herself. “If it so happened that he would no longer be able to take care of me, I was to accompany his friends. I would see that Imoen is with me for as long as she can be, though I left the decision up to her, but we’ve both decided to stay with the Harpers for the time being.“ There was brief twinkle of affection in her gaze, long enough to draw a smile from Khalid and look of surprise from Jaheira. Then Lilliana was staring at the table again.

A tavern maid came to deliver some breakfast and took Imoen and Lilliana’s orders. The red-headed thief sank back into her chair as if she might relax. After one big sigh she leaned forward with her elbows on the edge of the table and began a series of rapid fire questions, aimed at the young Amnish squire.

“So, whatcha been up to? Gosh, your hair is so smooth lookin’, isn’t it? Wait, ya prolly don’t pay attention to that. Silly me. How’s the Order been treating ya? Your sis is how old now? She have a boyfriend? I bet she has a boyfriend. Lilliana hasn’t had one yet, but I’ve had a few. Some of ‘em weren’t really boyfriends though . . . More like flings. Is it flings? I don’t know. What about you? Not gettin’ married or nothin’ are ya? Married . . . . Yikes! That’s a scary word.” Imoen just grinned, barely pausing to take a breath through all her questions and comments.

Anomen sat across from her, blinking as he attempted to take all of it in. A slow smile spread on his face. “Ah, well the Order is a good company of men, whose propriety and treatment of their fellow knights and squires is as suitable as it should be. Most of the time.” Thoughts of some of Lord Delryn’s least favorite members passed across his mind, but he managed to control any facial reaction to that. As he gave answer to a question about his sister, the smile reached his eyes and it was clear he thought much of the young Lady Delryn. “As for my dear Moira, she is fifteen now and she is doing well, though I do wish she’d spend less time cooped up at the manor and more time with her friends. But she is a wise lass to be sure, which is why she doesn’t have a boyfriend. My sister is smart enough to realize she is too young for that.” He sent a knowing and almost accusatory look Imoen’s way, to which the red-head merely raised one brow at him, her grin persistent.

Then the really uncomfortable question came to the fore, that of Anomen’s own married or un-married state. He looked over to see if Lilliana was still staring at the table, but she wasn’t. She was looking at him steadily for the first time that morning, her over-bright eyes giving the squire a sense of being glimpsed into and he felt an involuntary shiver go up his spine. “There were ladies who tried to catch my eye, and there is at least one young woman of whom I’m sure would have liked to be the next ‘Lady Delryn’ but the Order is my first love. I have no intentions of focusing my priorities to that of matrimony, at least not at this time in my life.”

Lilliana let out a long sigh, as if she’d been holding her breath and Anomen would have glanced at her then if Imoen’s voice hadn’t distracted him. The red-headed human appeared considerably confused. “So . . . . is that a yes or a no?” She queried, wondering why Anomen’s love of lengthy wording hadn’t lessened over the years. At least she could see another attribute her sister was drawn to, since the cleric herself was prone to rather long speeches.

The Amnian smirked, amused. “That would be a no, I’m not married and have not promised myself to anyone.”

“Yeah, me and Lil haven’t neither. I’m not ever gonna get hitched though, that isn’t for me, I’m a free spirit.” Imoen announced proudly, even patting herself on the chest as if giving a winning oration. She winked at her sister. “Lil might be someday ,though I imagine it’ll take a while. What is it ya told me, sis?”

“Anything worth doing is worth taking the time to do properly.” Lilliana supplied, surprised that she was able to get the sentence out without choking over it; still looking nervous. After her long-winded explanation of her circumstances, the girl had felt like all her composure was spent on just that.

“A wise bit of advice, Lilliana.” Kivan’s first words that morning were warm, and it earned him a fine smile. His hazel green eyes were discerning and as he stood from the table he extended a hand for the cleric to take. “I think I will go to the bar and get us all some more to drink, otherwise we might find ourselves waiting out the day for our disobliging server to return. Perhaps you would like to go and see if they have anymore chamomile?” The question was aimed at Lilliana and she nodded, relieved that Kivan had noticed her discomfort and was kind enough to give her a discreet reason for a break.

“Yes!” She exclaimed, sounding suspiciously as grateful as she felt and the others at the table gave her odd looks. “I . . . I mean, yes, that would be agreeable.” But before she could take Kivan’s hand, Anomen had stood.

“I will go with Lady Avalon. After all, I’m the guest this morning and I’d hate for any of you to attend me anymore than you did by letting me join you.” He couldn’t see the alarmed look on Lilliana’s face as she was turned away from him.

Kivan raised a brow and Lilliana sent him sorrowful eyes but she nodded at him as simply as she could and the elf ranger sat back down. “Very well then.”

Anomen offered Lilliana his arm and her manners gave her little choice but to take it and try to smile at her friend. And he IS your friend, so what is wrong with you? She asked herself, but she already had an inkling of the problem.

Despite her nerves she was thoroughly impressed when Lord Delryn had remembered what everyone had been drinking and ordered accordingly. “And milady wishes to inquire if you might have some chamomile?”

The woman behind the bar nodded tersely. Anomen was surprised that the tavern maid was so compliant, though he did note the contemptuous glare she gave him. Since they’d been in town, the locals, even those that worked at the Juggler, weren’t overly friendly. That time though the woman had little choice but to do as she was asked, as the pair was standing right in front of her.

“I could have asked about the tea myself.” Lilliana was stunned that she felt a bit put off by that, but she was and there was no use in pretending otherwise. Though perhaps she could have made her words sound a little less harsh. A fact she observed when Anomen gave her a sharp and flabbergasted look.

“But why should you have done so when I am right here to do it for you? Propriety would have the gentlemen infer the lady’s questions so she is not bothered by such minor details as ordering a drink.” He intoned, not so gently.

A jolt went into Lilliana’s mind as she realized she really had been away from court too long. Though Candlekeep wasn’t a true court, it had many of the same trappings and the monks that ran it were entirely proper with the tourists. Lilliana felt incredibly embarrassed that she’d forgotten some of the unwritten rules of her station. Being on the road and traveling with those that, save Ajantis, weren’t overly noble surely had something to do with that. Though she couldn’t blame it all on her companions, nor would she wish to. The cleric had been lax in her etiquette and that was her own doing. “Ah, yes of course.” Lilliana nodded, shying from the inspecting gaze of her friend.

“Being that I just spoke of decorum, I’m not certain I should ask you this . . . but it is eating away at me.” Those sapphire eyes of his were dazzling and Lilliana felt a tickling sensation deep in her belly when he stared at her. “Lady Avalon, do I make you nervous?”

Lilliana couldn’t look him in the face, as she thought over her answer. She did not wish to lie to him, but the truth sounded bad. She decided on nodding. Better to get it all out in the open. This constant nervousness was too much. “Yes, but this, all of this, my life now . . . It is not what it used to be and . . . “ Lilliana sighed. “Last night I was so happy to see you again. Then this morning I wanted so badly to impress you but I . . . I am no good with such things, I never have been. Now I realize that you could look at the changes in my life and think that I’m too . . . rough.” She glanced up at him through her lashes.

Anomen wanted to say that Lilliana could never, in a million years, look rough. If there was one person that epitomized softness, it was her. She seemed nervous enough already, so he didn’t say that, but he was brave enough to take her hand and he was delighted when she didn’t pull it away. “My dearest Lilliana . . . Say what you will, I am your friend and you are mine. Just to see you again after so long exceeded all of my expectations, and so I have none left for you to worry about. I am more pleased than you know to find you again. You need only talk with me, share the life you’ve had for a few moments so that I might know what you were doing all this time. As your sister asked of me.” He grinned in good humor and it drew an answering grin from Lilliana. “It would pain me to have you distressed at all over my being here.”

“Then I shall endeavor to be more talkative.“ She gave him a wide smile, her cheeks warming in response to the one she received in return. Then feeling embarrassed, she ducked her head as her voice quieted. “Also I must apologize for not inviting you to breakfast in a more official manner. I fear last evening I was not in full possession of my senses, such as they are.” The half high-elf blushed to the tips of her ears when her comment earned her a kiss on her hand. She hadn’t forgotten the first one he’d given her when they were children.

“I thank you my lady, but there is no need for an apology.“ The tavern-maid returned and Anomen thought he should take the tray from her. Otherwise she might surrender to the desire he saw in maid’s eyes, to spill the drinks all over him. He let go of Lilliana’s hand to grasp the tray himself and the two made their way back to the table, with the cleric more at ease then when she had left.

Returned to the group, Lilliana asked her own questions of her friend, forcing herself to relax. It was no easy task, but Anomen had made his wishes plain and out of respect for him she managed to get past her own nervousness. She was quite saddened to hear of the death of his mother, Lady Moirala. The illness of the lungs that she’d traveled north to ease, those many years ago, had finally claimed her life. Anomen said it had been three years since she had died and he seemed well enough over her passing, but Lilliana knew better. The cleric was familiar with what that kind of loss was like. It had its good days, where you could almost forget you were sad and it had its bad days; those moments where the pain felt so fresh and sharp that all the time that had passed seemed not to have done so. She smiled gently at Anomen, feeling a bit brave in her sympathy, and put a hand over his to give it a brief squeeze.

“You and I share some similarities, would you not agree?“ Lilliana asked and Anomen nodded.

“Yes, it would seem that way.” What the appropriate response after that might be was unclear. Then someone cleared their throat and they both looked away. Lilliana slid her hand from his and hid it on her lap.

When Ajantis engaged his Order brother in talk of battle, the Amnian seemed more than willing to go on at great length about the subject. Anomen was no end of discussion about his proficiency in combat, and a few of his anecdotes even Ajantis wasn’t sure he believed. Lilliana still had her hands folded neatly in her lap but her eyes went wide as she listened to her friend. Ajantis stared at the girl, but the cleric was lost to anything but Anomen just then. The knight could not help but think that Lilliana was quite obviously smitten. Anomen, for his part, appeared to be basking in her wonderment, which seemed a sharp aside from her earlier debilitating shyness.

“In fact my company and I have just returned from a campaign . . . “ Anomen began, but was interrupted by Ajantis.

“Your company?“ The blonde spoke up. He liked Anomen well enough but he didn’t seem to recall the boy ever being so prone to boasting as the young man seated with them now. Then there was a young lady that was being so admiring of Anomen, seated just beside him, and Ajantis realized why the squire might want to seem more impressive.

“Well, the men with whom I serve.” Anomen corrected, feeling a bit put out. The Amnian’s gaze slid from where it had been directed at Ajantis, to swing about and find the half high-elf’s soft face. He could well ignore the whole table if his friend kept looking at him like she was. They weren’t seated in the direct sunlight coming through the windows, but Anomen felt warmed all the same.

“I heard about the bar last eve something relating to The Order besting terrible giants that were assaulting villagers near Hills Edge. I’d listened to so many rumors flying around here that I barely caught that one. Were you involved in that battle? Oh you simply must tell us about it!” The cleric had her hands on his arm in excitement but she realized her proximity and pulled away, self conscious, a blush tinting her cheeks.

Anomen smiled, sitting a little straighter in his chair. It felt like the lord and lady were talking to themselves alone. Then the squire glanced up at the rest of them and that sensation dissipated. He relayed the tale, skipping over some less remarkable aspects but when he got to his besting of the chieftain he found that for once he wasn’t as worried about his uncontrollable rage, as he was proud of himself. With Lilliana’s open esteem it was difficult not to have a tinge of pride, and it was a good feeling.

“Ya cut off his head? Yuck! Gross.” Imoen wrinkled her nose, imagining the scene in her mind. She looked over at her sister, expecting Lilliana’s delicate stomach to agree with how disgusting that sounded, but she didn’t seem disgusted. Instead she appeared to be all full of wistful sighs. Imoen had a feeling something like that was going to happen. As much as she might deny it, her sister was a sucker for a knight in shining armor . . . or squire . . . or whatever. Imoen smirked. “Well, ya sound real strong to be able to do that. I’m sure your superiors musta been proud, huh?”

“Yes, did they give you accolades?” Lilliana asked , keen on the answer.

“Well . . .” Anomen felt sheepish now, knowing that Sir Trawl had seemed to hint that he‘d done well enough to receive accolades, but no one had officially given him anything. “Not as yet, my lady.”

“They should. Such bravery, and all to save your fellows and the innocent citizens of Hills Edge!” The cleric put a hand over her heart. “I wish we could all be so selfless.”

Khalid looked at his wife, noting the displeased set to her mouth. Jaheira leaned closer to her husband, Lilliana and Anomen across the table too caught up with one another to pay much mind. Her with listening and him with trying to keep things appealing. “Does she also wish we were all such braggarts?” The druid whispered snidely and Khalid simply smiled.

“I have heard that the companions your ladyship has are quite the heroes as well. Sir Armand spared nary a detail.” Anomen tilted his head in the direction of the main doors. “He has left already, but I know he wanted to speak with you about offering the Order’s assistance with your endeavors to catch these awful bandits.”

“We only have a cursory idea of where to look, truly, but I think we would be glad for some help.” Ajantis responded, Jaheira sending him a glare which he returned with a hard smile. “Some of us may think that we should handle all matters that come upon us without additional aid, but those with sense in this group know that we must do whatever we can to defeat this band of brutes.”

“We spoke about our plans already, you know they are for the best, that to involve others would be dangerous.” Jaheira retorted, her face a tight scowl of anger. She paid no heed to Anomen, who looked between the two of them with uncomfortable curiosity, feeling out of place.

He was not the only one. Lilliana knew that Ajantis and Jaheira had never gotten along very well and she dared not let the argument escalate. To have it do so in front of company would be truly embarrassing. “I think . . .“ Lilliana started, flinching when all eyes turned on her. “ . . .that perhaps Sir Ilvastarr has a point. Not to say of course that our previous plans did not make a great deal of sense.” She gave Jaheira a wary smile. “They did, but what could be the harm in taking at least a few knights with us? I - I am not suggesting a whole contingent, certainly.”

The druid was pressing her nails into her palms to keep from yelling in frustration. This matter had been gone over and decided upon after Sir Armand had made the Order’s interest known. It had been agreed that to involve others at this late stage could prove detrimental . . . and yet here they were again going over the same thing for little reason. Jaheira did not dismiss the Radiant Heart’s noble actions or the fact that they had saved many innocents in their campaigns . . . but so too did they march headlong into situations where stealth would have saved themselves and others. To find these bandits would require not just stealth but deception and to those of a self-righteous nature deception was not something easily enacted. Jaheira knew that Lilliana found it distasteful, even if she’d grudgingly agreed to the strategy. However Jaheira had thought that Ajantis at least saw the sense in their plans. If he did not and they were to add even but a few more of his fellows, with similar thinking, into their group it might be nigh on impossible to accomplish their goals. Khalid reached over to take his wife’s hand in his own as she began to speak and he sent her a look that silenced her. He was the more diplomatic of the two of them and she reluctantly calmed.

“We have different methods and I d-dare say that I think our separate groups would work b-better as they are. You might even say that the Order c-could succeed before we do.” The Calimshite sent Lilliana a brilliant smile and he could see the look of worry on her face smooth out as she smiled back. She knew that their group had a bit more information to go on than the knights did, and for a moment Khalid was worried the cleric would say something, but she did not. “After all, Lord Delryn, your c-contingent has been facing off against t-these b-brigands longer than we have.”

Ajantis was going to protest but Dynaheir interrupted him. “Thou is right, good Harper. A smaller grouping has a higher likelihood of success. With this Wychlaran and the fine Minsc we already have been stretching thy bounds of thee numbers, yes?” The amber-eyed mage grinned wryly in Jaheira’s direction, knowing the druid had times of wishing Dynaheir and Minsc weren’t in the group. “Working beyond thee numbers we have in possession already . . . All must see this could be . . . How do you say? Unwise.”

Kivan cleared his throat. He was the quiet one of the group and an undiscerning individual might have assumed it was because he usually did not have an opinion. Such an estimation could not have been farther from the truth. The rough and smooth cords of his voice drew attention and the wood elf was favored with everyone‘s gaze. “I know enough about our quarry to tell you that what Khalid says is the truth. To try and integrate the Order’s ways into our own at this late date, even but a few of them, will not help matters. These bandits are organized for their ilk and to fuse very separate methods together would make us erratic. The last thing any of us want to be right now is erratic.” Anomen was scowling at the Shilmistan ranger and Kivan looked in his direction. “I will tell you, squire, that your knights efforts are wasted in trying to draw the bandits out. You would be better served in sending smaller groups directly into the woods. Avoid the roads.”

“Yes . . . “ Lilliana nodded. “Master Alieradon is right. You should avoid trying to attack on the roads. I am sure if you tell Sir Armand, or your Sir Trawl, this information and that it came from the Harpers they will consider it. Also . . .” Khalid sent her a look of warning that she clearly understood. ‘Don’t give him too much information!’ Lilliana frowned, thinking on how the need to keep things from those she cared about was escalating. She wanted to tell Anomen to look north for their quarry instead of south, but the cleric knew the Harpers worried that they would get too close to their own search path. “I think there are hobgoblins mixed in with the regular bandits. Perhaps you already know that, but we were attacked by the creatures when we headed south and they behaved as thieves would. Brutish thieves.”

Ajantis sighed, knowing that he probably shouldn’t have said anything to begin with, but he was of the Order himself. He knew that the knights could defeat the bandits if they had more information, but in considering the opinions about the table he was outnumbered. The knight had promised himself to this group and he would stay with them until it was done, despite his feelings. Anomen’s shoulders sagged across the way and Ajantis wondered if the squire’s words would be waspish, but then a strong voice called to him from the doorway.

“There is my squire! We must be away, Lord Delryn.” Sir Trawl had just entered the building and he motioned to the young nobleman until he realized he was with company. Walking over the elder knight smiled. “Good morning all. Ah, I had forgotten that you were to take breakfast with others today.” Turning warm brown eyes on Lilliana his smiled widened, her features making the girl easily recognizable from the brief description Anomen had given him. He bent gallantly. “This must be the Lady Avalon I have heard about.”

“Heard about?” Kivan asked, starting to feel like the group as a whole was getting too well known. Surely it wouldn’t help them in matters of subterfuge if they needed such measures in the future. Lilliana might have shared his trepidation but she was too caught up by being introduced to yet a further noble.

“Yes, my squire was telling me about his lovely friend earlier in the morning. I’d gone and clean forgotten.” Sir Ryan sent the whole table an apologetic look.

“Lovely, huh?” Imoen grinned and got her sister in the ribs playfully, whispering in her ear and Lilliana turned fairly red. Glancing at Anomen, the thief could see that he too looked embarrassed. Good stuff. Imoen thought, amused by the whole thing.

“I regret that we do not have the time to speak.” Ajantis looked honestly regretful as he stood from the table to shake the elder knight’s hand. At least he’d seen the man earlier in the morning. Ryan nodded at the blonde and put a hand on Anomen’s shoulder. The squire was standing as quick as a blink.

“I hate to take him away from you like this, but we’ve just gotten a lead on where the bandits may be and I will require Lord Delryn’s services.” Sir Trawl smiled broadly before leaving the group, telling Anomen he’d meet him outside shortly.

“Well there! You see little squire, Boo says you did not even need us at all.” Minsc was beaming at Anomen, who looked confused. Lilliana was trying not to laugh at the consternated appearance of her friend’s face. To someone of Minsc’s size, almost anyone would be little in comparison.

“He’s . . .ahh . . . ‘special’, our Minsc. He means no disrespect by calling you little.” She whispered and her breath tickled Anomen’s ear. The Amnian nodded at the giant man.

“Yes, perhaps it is so. I am afraid that I must take my leave. I still think it a pity that we could not work together, but I enjoyed meeting all of you and I wish you luck. Might I steal Lady Avalon from you for a moment?” Anomen asked politely, ignoring Imoen’s sly grin.

Jaheira sighed, anxious to get going before the day was wasted and they still had yet to pick up a few last things from town. Khalid put his arm around her shoulders as all of the group stood from the table. “Y-Yes, that’ll be fine. It w-was good to m-meet you.” The Calimshite shook Anomen’s hand as he and Jaheira made for the western stairwell. Slowly the others said their proper farewells and drifted away from the table and suddenly Anomen was alone with Lilliana, the rest of the inn nearly empty that late morning.

“Well . . .” The Amnian shifted from one foot to the other.

Lilliana bit her lip, her face feeling very rigid. “Yes, well . . .” She took a sharp breath. “It . . . It was so very lovely . . .” Then she stopped, uncomfortably realizing that was the word Anomen used to describe her to his superior. “N-Nice . . . It was so nice to meet you again.” Her hands wanted to shake and she clasped them tightly against her abdomen, a ladylike pose stiff in her frame. Farewells to loved ones were always so awkward anyway, and this was even worse.

“You will be careful, won’t you?” Anomen queried and when she didn’t appear to understand he explained further. “I do not like the idea of you out there with the others. Apart from your sister they are all used to these kinds of things. You are not, surely you realize that and . . . no one really said anything about you having fighting skills. I know how devoted to Lathander you are so perhaps it is His conjurations that you use in combat.” The cleric was still slight of frame and the squire had a hard time imagining her wielding a weapon, though upon closer inspection he spied the telling swell of slim muscle in her arms. He’d heard the tales of what the Harpers had done at Nashkel, the same Harpers that Lilliana traveled with. Anomen doubted that they’d left her at the inn, so she must have gone with them down in the mines.

Lilliana nodded. Her image in Lord Delryn’s mind had probably already been irreparably ruined, no need to tell him about her pathetic attempts with her war hammers. “Yes, I get by. They will keep me safe.” She smiled, trying to placate the obvious worry on the squire’s face.

Anomen silenced the clamoring in his head long enough to visualize his Lilliana wandering down dark corridors, skin made dirty by soot and other unmentionable things. “You must have become quite the cleric to be able use your Lord’s call in battle. I have to admit I would have thought you would be more of a healer than a warrior.“ He finally posed.

“Can’t a person be both?” She asked, as innocently as she could, already feeling her cheeks beginning to warm.

“Well, I suppose they might, but you told me long ago that you would never be able to manage in battle.” He added. “But I found it clear that your companions didn’t seem overly worried about your safety in the fray of the moment.”

When her friend didn’t speak further, she fidgeted. “I have done what I had to, though the requirement did not come with any kind of manual. I’m still very much at the beginning of what I fear will be a dreadfully long learning curve.” Pausing, she gathered her thoughts. “As for my conjurations . . . well, Lathander watches over me and there have been times that I needed something more than a chant to cure wounds. I am not, however, some grand warrior cleric, smiting evil creatures with acts of daring do and shooting thunderbolts from my eyes.” Lilliana made an attempt to grin as her sister might do, to alleviate the tension, but she just wound up looking timid. Which as it turned out, was fine.

Anomen grinned wide enough for the both of them. “No, I rather suppose you are not. You are far too gentle for that.” He saw the red creep up into her pale cheeks like rose blooms and knew he’d embarrassed her.

For all the time that they had been apart, and the few months that Lilliana traveled with the Harpers, she was still a reserved and virtuous young lady. Anomen knew that his image of her in his memories would be forever altered, and yet enough things remained the same that the warmth of his feelings were not tarnished. It would be easy to parcel the half-high elf away into the same place in his heart that his sister, Moira, held. Yet, there remained something different to the bond he had with cleric, that was not, in essence, familial.

The cleric tilted her head, curious as to why Anomen had gone silent for so long, appearing to look through her. “My lord?“

“What? Oh . . . I apologize my lady.” The nobleman cleared his throat, trying to set himself on a different path of thinking now. “I want you to promise me something.”

“Certainly.” Lilliana nodded.

“You don’t even know what promise I’ll ask of you.” Anomen was befuddled by her immediate consent.

“I am positive you would never ask me to promise something that is out of my reach.” The affection in Lilliana’s eyes as she said that was nothing but genuine and it took Anomen by surprise.

Apart from his sister and Sir Trawl, there were few other people that had trusted him so openly. “Alright then. Promise me that you will be careful, no matter how talented your companions are, or how much faith you may have in your conjurations to keep you safe. Watch out for yourself. If something were to happen to you . . .” He trailed off, a sudden tightness in his throat at the thought making it difficult to keep speaking.

Lilliana knew well what Anomen must have been thinking. In her haste to reassure the squire she put a hand to his cheek as she did the previous evening. She gazed at him sweetly. “Nothing will happen to me. I’ll be fine, truly I will.” Her hand dropped. “I promise.”

Before the half high-elf could clasp both hands together again, Anomen took hold of the one that had been on his cheek and curled her fingers with his own. He kissed her knuckles firmly, far more intimately than the passing courtesy of a lord to a lady. Lilliana’s heart thudded almost painfully in her chest and she could not move or speak for her shock as his warm lips ran across her hand. The lord himself stared up at her from where he had bowed, and his eyes were dark with an emotion that Lilliana did not recognize. When he said her name, it was not with the proper inflection he had used last eve and all this morning, but with a ragged whisper.

“Lilliana . . .” Each syllable of her name was almost wrung out of him as he imagined her dying and not being able to see her again. Never knowing how she had yet to mature and to change. Anomen felt as terrified as he did in his many nightmares of his sister dying, but deep inside the feeling was not the same. When she’d so kindly promised to be careful he’d meant only to lightly kiss her hand, nothing more than what he had done before with many other ladies. However when his lips touched her skin an irrational desire to do more than that flared to life in him, inexplicable as it was. Now he had done something terribly improper and they were not even in a private place. Though blissfully there were few patrons about. Wanting to apologize he stood to his full height but Lilliana was not red with embarrassment as he’d expected. She was stunned. Her lashes were down low, casting a shadow in her eyes and the girl’s face seemed impossibly near to his own. It was as if someone had lit a dark candle in her gaze and Anomen was but a moth. Instead of voicing his regrets at his inappropriate action he stepped closer, enough so to catch the scent of tea on her breath.

Anomen took a stray strand of her hair and began rubbing it back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. It was just like the lock Lilliana had given him before he‘d left Candlekeep. “So soft.” He whispered, smiling gently. The Amnian understood then that he wanted to memorize her, in case he never saw his friend after today. Her hands, her hair, her face. Anomen did not want to forget such things. Unconscious of his actions he had taken to caressing her thin fingers, the skin pleasantly smooth to the touch where his had some calluses from long hours of practice and battle.

The cleric knew this wasn’t like their child-hood, with their young giggles, chaste kisses and silly dreams. This was something else entirely. Her nerve endings quivered with a peculiar and burning sort of anticipation. Lilliana’s mind, one that was so set on propriety, was at a loss right now. “I use chestnut oil with my hair, it makes it softer.” Her voice was as whispery as Anomen’s. He was so close that she was having trouble forming logical thoughts. The sapphires of his eyes were boring into her and she had the strange sensation that he was peering into her soul. What did he see there?

“I like chestnuts.” Anomen smiled again, with no idea why his voice sounded so seductive in his own ears, or why he hadn’t stepped away like a decorous gentleman would. A tavern maid came to clean off the table the group had been sitting at but he barely noticed. He should have stopped this, whatever it was. He should have used the maid’s appearance as an excuse to part ways. They were standing in a near empty room, but anyone could walk in at any time. Their proximity was entirely innocent, though . . . wasn’t it? Still, it might not have looked it to a stranger’s eyes. More than that, Sir Ryan was waiting for him. It was surprising to Anomen that right now he couldn‘t care.

“Oh?” Lilliana’s breath was light and airy, as if she would soon laugh but she didn’t. “It is . . . hot in here.” The simple dress she wore felt so light when she’d put it on, but just then she felt like her skin might have been aflame beneath the fabric.

“Yes. It is.” Anomen moved forward, closing that last bit of space left between them. The lavender powder Lilliana used gave off a strong, sweet, spicy fragrance. At this closeness the scent wafted in tantalizing tendrils up Anomen’s nose and he bit back against a moan. She had looked but a simple kind of pretty and still quite young. That’s what the squire had deduced at breakfast . . . Why then does she appear to be so grown up, so lovely now? A pang of comprehension hit him through the haze of his thoughts. It was her eyes, in which there burned a promise of beauty yet to blossom.

Something tense and buzzing was in Lilliana’s belly and she almost squirmed. The lobby was uncomfortably warm, and she should go to the cooler quarters of her room. Jaheira would be upset that she’d taken so long saying goodbye to Lord Delryn. Her lips were dry but she dared not move to re-wet them. Finally she had to.

Anomen’s skull felt like it was full of hot broth, sloshing about and making it impossible to think. His legs wouldn’t move even though he damn well knew this nearness was indecent. The lord could not grasp how he’d managed to get so close or why he wasn’t capable of moving, apart from his fingers still caressing hers. She licked her lips and all that hot broth ran out of his head, taking his common sense with it. Her movement had set off something in him and he kissed her without warning. Instead of recoiling, Lilliana kissed him back, her lips pliable beneath the firmness of his own.

“Hey! Take it upstairs if yur so hot for each other!” The tavern maid squawked. It was hardly anything more than a simple kiss but the maid‘s tolerance had reached its end. “Damn Amnish.” She hissed under her breath.

Lilliana jerked away, her brain finally dislodged from whatever hold had been on it. Her face was hot and awfully flushed. Shaking with disbelief and mortification she leaned against the table, the tavern maid glaring at her as she headed to the kitchen with a tray of dirty dishes. It couldn’t have taken that long to clean. Had it really been so short a time that they’d been standing there? It felt like an eternity. She didn’t even know what to say, and that same surprised shame was on Anomen’s face.

“My lady! I didn’t . . .I did not mean to . . .” He started towards her again and she flinched. He stopped in his tracks, head hanging low. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“No! That is alright.” Lilliana’s laughter was shrill and nervous. “Clearly it was . . .a . . . gaffe. A mistake, that’s all.“ She closed her eyes, too uncomfortable to stare at Anomen. “Very improper of me, very!”

“It was my fault, my lady, not yours. The heat was getting to me.” He thought it was a reasonable explanation, now that he had the coherency to mull over it.

Heat. Well yes, it did feel quite stifling in the common room. “Not just yours, but it’s fine. It shall be like it never happened.” Lilliana smiled but knew it was a pretty poor one.

The young nobleman shook his head, the smile he gave in turn fairly repentant. “No, my lady . . . I do not think it is possible to just forget about it.” She looked at him with sharp surprise and his voice caught in his throat. “I . . . you . . . “ Anomen stumbled over his words. He had to leave soon, or risk further embarrassing himself “Good luck, with your group and . . . be careful, please.”

Lilliana nodded, wanting to hug him but not daring to. “Good luck to you too my lord, and I shall be most careful. Fare thee well.”

Anomen opened his mouth but closed it again, nodding. “Yes, fare thee well, till next we meet.” While he still had his senses, he turned on his heel and headed for the front door of the inn. He looked back before he left the building and Lilliana was still leaning against the table, her hands on her flushed face. “It shall be like it never happened.” She’d offered him a very generous out, and he should have taken it. The sun was hot as he opened the door to the approaching noon. Lathander might have been very cross with a follower of Helm daring to kiss one of His clerics and was cursing Anomen with the warm rays. The squire rubbed a hand over his mouth. He could not in good conscience take her offer to forget the whole thing, because it would have been a blatant lie on his part.

Ryan Trawl looked up at his squire from where he was sitting on a bench under a large tree. “Lad, you look almost ill.”

“I am fine, Sir Trawl. It is just this blasted heat, it does things to a man’s head.” Anomen shook his skull for effect.

The knight laughed. “Indeed. I’ll be glad to see this day over. The evening will surely bring some respite.”

Imoen was sprawled out on the bed with her boots off. They had a lot of tromping in the woods ahead of them. Who knew when she’d be able to freely wiggle her toes again. The young thief was taking the opportunity while she still had it. That and the girl had done everything she could think of doing and was bored. Looking out the window, the sun was getting very bright. When was Lilliana going to get back up here? Then again her sister did have a way of giving excessive flowery speeches. She was probably telling her precious squire how she’d never forget him, how she’d carry him in her heart over her long journey. Imoen giggled herself silly for a good while over that one. Lilliana sputtered and got snippy about it but Imoen knew she was keen on Anomen. Anyone with two functioning eyes in their head could see that much from the way she was fawning over him at breakfast.

The door came open and Lilliana stumbled through. Imoen quirked a brow at her sister’s peculiar expression. “You okay? Ya look kinda . . . sick or somethin’”

Lilliana’s face was flushed as if she’d just got done training with Ajantis, and her eyes were dazed. She made her way over to the closet, searching for her traveling bag.

“I already got your knapsack packed for ya. I was waitin’ up here forever. What took ya so long anyway?” Imoen asked.

Lilliana’s eyes finally located her traveling bag on the lumpy mattress. “Sorry, I was . . . I lost track of time.”

“No kiddin’” Imoen snorted, but her sister wasn’t reacting to being teased. All humor fled from the red-head’s face. She swung her legs off the bed and padded across the floor, putting a hand on Lilliana’s shoulder. The cleric almost leaped out of her skin and Imoen reeled back. “Woah! You really aren’t okay are ya? Did he say somethin’ to you? Make you upset? I’ll go break his legs!” Imoen frowned, thinking her sister must be emotionally hurt in some way.

“Say something to me?” Lilliana asked, putting her hands to her cheeks. They still felt warm. “No. I’m just . . . That common room was so hot.” She fanned her face as she opened her bag, looking for the container to put her hair pins into. It was very nice of her sister, and unusual, for her to have packed Lilliana’s traveling bag but now she had to go digging for her things. She couldn’t very well wear her dress, sandals and jeweled pins on the road.

“Really? I thought it was pretty cool, considering how blistering the sun must be outside. Are ya nauseous then? Hey! Maybe it’s poison. That tavern maid was givin’ us the evil eye. She could‘ve put somethin‘ in your tea!” Imoen chirped, not happy at the idea, but glad that there was a sensible explanation.

Lilliana finally smiled, her head slowly coming out of its fog. “Imoen, no. I am perfectly alright, I just need to get changed.”

Imoen narrowed her eyes at the other girl. “There’s somethin’ ya aren’t tellin’ me. I can see it on your face.”

Sighing, the cleric sat down on the bed, letting her long hair come loose as she plucked the pins from it. Once they were all put away, and she’d run a brush through her locks, she started on a braid. “He kissed me.”

It had come out so quickly and quietly that Imoen almost didn’t catch it. Her red brows furrowed in confusion. “Huh? Like your hand?” Then she rolled her eyes. “Lil, he’s gonna be a knight. That’s what they do, kissin’ ladies hands, savin’ kittens, killin’ giants. Stuff like that. I don’t know why ya have to get all bothered about it.” Imoen huffed as she sat next to her sister, handing the cleric a long simple pin to keep the end of her braid attached to the crown of her head. The thief reached down and grabbed her own boots, yanking them on over dusty gray leggings. She hated the color but Jaheira was pretty adamant that Imoen couldn’t wear her normal pink attire in the woods. “Let me guess. He kissed your hand, told ya what a fair lady you were and ya got all embarrassed thinkin’ it would be ‘improper’ to enjoy the attention. Lil, I gotta tell ya, sometimes this fascination you got with courtly rules is kinda . . .”

“No, Imoen, I mean he kissed me.” Lilliana turned and stood to untie her dress, hands working nimbly. Imoen probably would have helped her if she hadn’t been so taken aback.

“What?” The red head almost croaked. She was trying to catch her sister’s gaze but Lilliana wouldn’t look at her. “Like a real kiss? On the mouth and everything?”

Lilliana nodded as she tossed her dress aside and pulled on a pair of women’s traveling breeches. “Yes and that isn’t the worst of it . . . I kissed him back. In the middle of the room, in public. Can you believe that? In public! As if it wasn‘t reprehensible enough to be kissing a gentleman that isn‘t courting you, it had to be in the lobby! The tavern maid broke it up by yelling at us. I‘m so ashamed of myself, and I am certain that I was the one that must have done something to cause it . . . somehow.”

Imoen fell back on to the bed, paralyzed with laughter.

“It is not funny!” The half high-elf admonished as she tugged a muslin shirt over her head.

When the human had finally recovered her cheeks were wet with tears of mirth. “Oh yes it is. It’s hilarious!” Imoen’s face was pulled tight with the huge grin she was wearing. “You’re always so appropriate and demure and he seems pretty righteous and proper himself and there ya were, the two of you. Makin’ out in the middle of the common room! How ‘bout that . . . Just when I’d given up that you’d ever stop being so stiff ‘bout everything.”

Lilliana tugged a little too tightly on the strings of her corset and gasped, hurrying to loosen them. “Imoen . . . It wasn’t like that. It was an accident!”

“Accident my arse!” The thief snorted, ignoring the flabbergasted look her sister sent her for her foul language. “Ya don’t ‘accidentally’ kiss somebody, you either do it or you don’t.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. It was highly irrational and very unacceptable. It must have been the heat and I don’t blame him.” Lilliana sniffed, looking in the mirror to make sure everything was on straight. “Oh, but what must he think of me now? I have to seem like the most rough, improper, low class girl he knows! Lord Delryn shall never want to see me again . . . and how can I look him in the face knowing that we embarrassed ourselves in public like that? Luckily the few patrons around didn‘t gawk at us or say anything. I might‘ve died from the scandal! ” Lilliana moaned and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes.

“I’m sure it ain’t that bad. With all the war-talk brewin’ ‘round here, ya think anybody gives a flying fig ‘bout a couple nobles kissin’? That wench just wanted to give ya a hard time, it’s not like she’ll go gossiping ‘bout it.“ Imoen shrugged as she laced up her boots. “This might come as a surprise to ya, sis, but just a regular plain ‘ole kiss is not some ‘big drama‘. For you maybe, and for Anomen too possibly. For the rest of the world, it ain‘t nothin‘”

“It is most assuredly ‘something’ to proper people.“ Lilliana reiterated, and Imoen gave her a dirty look. “Now, Imoen, you know that I have never looked down on you for not being a courtier. You are my sister, I love you regardless.“ The red-head smiled and Lilliana felt at ease. “There was an odd thing though . . .“ She looked thoughtful. “I did not feel bashful at that moment, even when I knew we were standing too close. I just felt all strange and light headed. I could not even move for the longest time.”

Imoen sighed wistfully as she began to twine one of her strawberry blonde ringlets. “Yeah. It was like that with me too. Especially with Shistal. We were both so shy and you woulda’ thought we’d be all nervous . . . but I think maybe ya just know what to do by instinct and it sorta takes over and then that’s all there is. You even forget where you are and it is just the two of ya.” She cast knowing spring green eyes Lilliana’s way. “Even if you’re standin’ in a common room.”

“Perhaps.“ Lilliana considered it. “I fail to understand why he initiated it. I know I look younger than twenty and plain of face. I was sure he would think of me as a little sister now. It had to be heat. What other explanation is there? It came out of nowhere!”

“Were ya bein’ all nice and sweet to him, like you were at breakfast?” Imoen asked.

Lilliana nodded.

“Were ya smilin’ at him all timid like ya do?” The thief asked, secondly.

Lilliana sighed. “I suppose so.”

“Well there’s your answer. Some guys go nuts about a gal that’s all meek‘n‘mild.” A thought crossed the red-head’s mind. “Ya know, you should get kissed more often, then maybe ya wouldn’t be so uptight ’bout it. I’ve kissed lots of boys. Helps ya get over bein’ nervous.”

Lilliana shook her head and laughed at her wild sister. “Yes, you have quite the long list of broken hearts in your wake. If I did not know you better, I would be worried for your virtue. Then again if you ever did more than kissing, the unlucky fool that got caught with you would find himself hanging from the main gate of Candlekeep . . . by his thumbs like as not.”

“Not his thumbs.“ Imoen winked suggestively and giggled as Lilliana swatted her again. The red head grabbed her own knapsack and slung it over her shoulder. Everyone was to regroup in the Harpers’ room before they left and they’d better get going now that Lilliana was all ready. “Oh, and by the way . . . If ya really think he just thought of you as a sister, obviously your wrong, ‘cause boys don’t go ‘round kissin’ their sisters . . . unless you’re from Chult.”

Lilliana and Imoen both laughed over that one. “You are awful!” The cleric scolded, smiling through her words but there was something yet bugging her. “I was raised better than to kiss him in turn, however. Maybe the heat was getting to me as well.”

The thief grasped the other girl’s shoulders and looked her in the eyes seriously. “I’m your sister, so I’m gonna lay down some truth here. You liked him when you were younger, you found that you like who he is now too, he’s good looking, he’s your type and he kissed ya so you kissed him back. Thee end. It ain’t anymore complicated than that.” Imoen patted Lilliana’s shoulder as she headed for the door.

She didn’t balk or pitch a fit. Instead a wry grin spread on the cleric’s mouth. “You turned into a sage when I wasn’t looking.”

“Nah, I just have a good influence.” Imoen smiled and kissed her sister’s cheek.

“I told him it would be like it never happened, as if we could simply get over the whole thing.” Lilliana sounded pretty sad about that and her sister put an arm around her as the cleric grabbed for her traveling sack.

“Yeah, well he’s as likely to forget about it as you are, and ya ain’t gotten over it yet. How was it anyway?“ The thief asked.

“How was what?“ Lilliana raised a brow.

Imoen snorted. “The kiss, ya knucklehead. How was it?“

“Oh . . . well, it was nice.“ Lilliana smiled wistfully.

“’Nice‘, she says.” Imoen rolled her eyes. “Don’t ya got a more excitin’ description ta use?“

“It was very nice.“ The cleric grinned. “Now come on, we should get going before Jaheira bites our heads off.“ Lilliana pulled the human girl along after her and the two were gone. Behind them in the vacant room, the inn’s pillows sat at the head of both beds, all sewn up. When she was bored, Imoen was quite industrious.

Year: 1350, 1’st of Mirtul

Khalid Kostas was panting, his long sword, Nithryon, held in a quavering grip. Behind him there was a roar and bits of stone fell around the half-gold elf and his companions.

Gorion Avalon turned to him with a grin. “I’m certain that will hold Firkraag. For all his bluster, I sealed the cave up well.” The sage nodded, hands still warmed from the enchantments he had used to bring the rock all down atop the massive red dragon. “Still, once we get out of here I’m going to ask the townsfolk of Berdusk to bring some explosive powders and further seal it up. That should keep him!”

Khalid nodded. “L-Let us hope so!” He had been sent out with a group of five other Harpers, including the sage, to subvert the machinations of the ancient wyrm that had threatened the Heartlands. Gorion had come along since he had experience with combating dragons. A task Khalid knew the man had been knighted for when he was younger. The half-elf warrior had himself never faced a drake or their kind until that day and he was wild with the adrenaline. It had been a fierce battle and the Harpers were lucky to escape alive but they had been unable to fell the beast. Gorion was the one to decide on caving in the large cavern Firkraag had holed himself up in. With all of Sir Avalon’s magical skills he’d caused one heck of a cave-in.

Now Khalid only worried about escaping from the rest of the cavern before it too crumbled. He rose to his feet, thinking about his wife. It was Mirtul Day, a day for lovers and children and all things spring . . . and here he was in a cave with dirt and bruises all over him. Jaheira and Khalid had been married for over forty years, but he looked forward to seeing her as if they were still newlyweds. While the druid half-wood elf was also in the Harper organization, she had been sent elsewhere. Though the two had plans to meet back up in Athkatla once they were done with their tasks. As his booted feet ran for the thin mouth of the cave, he recalled her beautiful face and smiled despite how tired he felt.

Once they were outside, Gorion put his hands on his knees, wheezing from the mad dash. At thirty-eight, the sage was in his middling years and healthy. Now he was acting like he was a hundred years old, which was a great many years for a human. Compared to Khalid’s half-elven one hundred and seventy-eight it was perhaps not so much.

The half elf grinned at his friend. “That w-was a quick run w-wasn’t it?”

Winded, Gorion sat down on the smooth stone of the mountainside, enjoying the view and the fresh air. “I dare say we were lucky to get out of that mess. I wonder now if Galvarey did not wish me to fail, though it seems far too deceitful, even for him.” The man’s eyes narrowed as the two friends made their way from the other three Harpers. Gorion had lowered his voice but there was still a sharp edge to it.

Khalid glanced behind him to make sure they weren’t being listened to. “You d-do not c-care for him?”

“Galvarey is far too ambitious for a Harper and the tests he is suggesting for Lilliana . . . they could hurt her. He knows I would object. I almost refused this journey you know, worrying about how she might be taken care of in my absence.” A late sunset was sending orange color across Gorion’s pale face as he took a seat at the cliff edge. He could hear his companions settling down farther back, taking a moment of rest before they headed down the mountain and into town.

“B-But surely you trust the others?” Khalid raised one copper brow in question. Afternoon sun lit his hair like it was fire from the dragon they had just bested. He knew this kind of worry, he had heard it from Sartonis Alieradon before he’d defected from the Harpers.

“I trust you, my friend, and Jaheira. I always will. You are good people. I trust Elminster, though even he has his days. My concern lies in how much influence Galvarey has over the minds of others, namely the High Harpers.” Gray eyes glanced back at their companions as Gorion lowered his voice another notch. “I worry that Lilliana frightens them, and in their fear they will be hasty with their decision; with what they do with her.”

Khalid had met Alianna’s daughter a year ago, as did his wife. That had been the only time and after that it seemed that whenever Khalid and Jaheira were in the same Harper hall as Lilliana and Gorion, the girl was kept hidden away. Tales were all Khalid had to go on and the Calimshite had heard plenty of those. Many of them suggested that Gorion thought of the girl as his own and was far too protective over her. From what he had seen the one time he did meet the girl, that rumor was likely true. Gorion had been carrying the child on his back as if he were a pony while she’d giggled with joy. “W-Well, it is a frightening t-thing to t-think about, her heritage.” Khalid responded, looking at his friend with wary violet eyes.

“Hmm, yes, but it is what it is and matters are not helped by fearing the child.” Gorion might have said more but then one of the others called to him and he rose, offering Khalid a half smile as both men stretched their limbs for the long walk ahead of them.

“Y-you really love her, d-don’t you . . . the girl?” Khalid asked with no small amount of wonderment. He knew what Gorion’s attitude had been before Alianna gave birth and it seemed at odds with the sage’s current outlook.

“Yes, I do.” Gorion’s voice had gone tender, but it quickly became serious, though no less heartfelt. “She may have been born His child, but she will always be my daughter. You can rest assured of that.”

Storm Silverhand, in all her long enchanted human years, had never been blessed with a child but her love for children had never faded. Though this girl she was watching, no one ought to grow close to. Some of the other Harpers worried that Storm, like Gorion, would become too attached to the girl and wouldn’t take her task as seriously, but in the end the child was still left to her care while Gorion was away. The Harper bard wondered if the sage would have left on a mission if it had been someone other than Storm. She swept a long braid of platinum hair behind her as she watched the two year old intently. Alianna Avalon had been friends with the bard from Shadowdale, and perhaps that trust extended through to the half-elf’s husband. Then again, perhaps it did not.

Athkatla was wrapped in bright sunlight that day, as Abeir-Toril was well into the spring month of Mirtul and the days were getting warmer and longer. The noon sun beat down on the worn stone of the Harper’s secret hall in the City of Coin. Smells from the docks drifted into the barred windows of the second-floor library the toddler and bard were in. Storm hated that they had to put any kind of bars on them, but it was a necessary security precaution. At least they could be opened to let in some air. Lilliana had been cooped up inside for weeks and Storm‘s requests to take the girl for a walk outdoors went ignored. A rustle from the open window caught the woman’s attention and she glanced up with sharp eyes. A large golden hawk had perched itself at the sill, having fit through the bars and was watching the little girl that was staring at it with equal interest.

“Lilliana! Come away from there!” Storm got up swiftly but at the same time was caught up in an almost ethereal feeling, something the bard could not place but felt as if it were tangible. It was permeating the room like a soothing hand.

The hawk stared with golden eyes and made a noise akin to a chirp. Lilliana toddled over to it, smiling in serene thrill at being this close to the bird. “Lathander!” She giggled as Storm stared, her mouth fallen open in shock. A pair of little hands reached for the bird and it amazingly let Lilliana stroke its feathers. Such a wild bird wouldn’t normally be calm enough to allow a human to pet it. Then the hawk flew away, leaving Storm stunned and Lilliana pouting.

Before the bard could process any of it, there was a loud knock on the door. When Storm went to open it, the face of Galvarey Andronicus was there to greet her. The twenty-eight year old human seemed to have a perpetually downward set to his thin mouth as of late. His dark blonde hair and pale blue eyes would make him a good looking man if he didn’t scowl so much.

“I’ve called Lord Bran Skorslun of the High Harpers here. Something has to be done about that girl. He’ll want to see her as soon as he gets here, I’m sure.” For the first time in awhile, he was smiling.

“Something has to be done? Galvarey, I was under the impression that we already were doing something about Lilliana. Why is Lord Skorslun here? Surely if the High Harpers wanted a meeting they could have sent an emissary, or beckoned us to Twilight Hall.“ Storm was frowning, perplexed and a bit wary. She knew a few members of the High Harpers, though her sister Lady Alustriel had defected shortly before Khelben Arunsun had. Storm herself had been in consideration to be added to their ranks, but now she wasn‘t so sure. To send just one of their number here with little warning seemed very odd.

“Don’t you worry your pretty head about it, my dear. You’ll see, in good time.“ The tall Halruaan strode into the room and looked down his nose at Lilliana who was sitting on the floor with a pile of alphabet blocks in front of her. She smiled at him and went back to her blocks. “Looking at her you’d hardly think she was so dangerous, would you? Her sire was clever to choose such a form for His demon seed.”

“Shh! Keep your voice down, she’ll hear you.” Storm scolded. Galvarey had never bothered her much before, but as of late he had gotten on her nerves.

He was a young impetuous wizard from Halruaa, and young wizards from that nation were not known for their congeniality. When the mage had first joined the Harpers it had been at the behest of his father who had also been a member, though now the senior Andronicus was dead. Having been born in Halruaa’s capital of Halarahh, Galvarey had grown up in a rich city full of nearly ninety percent humans with great magical talents. It clearly frustrated him that his own skills were not as quick to be perfected as others. Being that as it was, perhaps it was not so mysterious that Galvarey bore a grudge against Gorion Avalon, who was very much talented in the magical arts, and coming from the city of Waterdeep did not have highly magical roots.

Gorion was well thought of amongst most Harpers and that too got under Galvarey’s skin as he thought that he should hold more favor, since so many of his family members had served. Now with this business of Lilliana before them it was even more frustrating that Galvarey couldn’t get all of his fellows to think as he did, as some of them still trusted Gorion‘s judgment.

If they had killed the child then her soul would’ve gone to her father, Galvarey knew that to be true . . . but there were alternatives to keep her from ever embracing the dark destiny that was before her. As long as Gorion had held favor with the others, the Halruaan worried that no one would see reason and do what needed to be done. Today that was going to change.

Storm was watching the man with wary eyes and Galvarey eyed her right back. “What is it?”

“Has anyone been teaching Lilliana about the Pantheon?” The bard queried.

Galvarey was a bit surprised by the question, but he scoffed at it. “And give her easier access to her father? I think not. You’ve been the one in charge of most of her lessons and tests anyway, so why are you asking me?”

“There was a hawk, perched itself right on the sill and it let Lilliana walk up to it, even let her pet it. Then before it takes off, she says ‘Lathander’ clear as a bell.” Storm’s confusion was mixed with awe at how easily the two year old’s pronunciations skills were coming along.

Ice blue eyes narrowed to slits as Galvarey stared at the girl in question. If she were to say the name of any god it wouldn’t likely be Lathander, that was for certain. He sniffed in disdain. “Clearly she heard someone else say it around here, the child’s got ears like a . . . “ He paused.

Storm snickered. “Like a hawk?” She offered and Galvarey waved the suggestion away. Somehow the bard didn’t think anyone had said the God of Light’s name as there weren’t any Lathanite Harpers at this particular hall. “Maybe she is just divine-touched.“

“Her?! Step into the realm of reality Storm. That child might become many things if we don’t take preventative measures, but something she will never be is blessed by the goodly gods. Lathander would not want a Hell spawn like her to be one of his clerics! She‘s the daughter of one of His enemies!“ Galvarey hissed, at least keeping his voice down. “’Divine-touched’ What an absurdity!”

“You don’t know that and you didn’t see that hawk, it was so . . . strange. The room was filled with this presence . . .” Storm went on, looking thoughtful.

Galvarey rolled his eyes. “You’ve been sitting in the sun too long. In any case as much as I’d love to waste my day discussingridiculous ideas with you, I have important matters to attend to. Please see to it that she’s ready soon. I have word that Gorion has returned to Amn and I want this business over with before he gets back to Athkatla.” With that the man retreated, holding his head as if he were king on high.

Storm was beginning to dislike him. Immensely. She had several centuries on the man and Galvarey behaved as if she were younger than he was. Once the mage left, Storm went over to where her charge was playing with the alphabet blocks. She kneeled down to the toddler’s level. “Lilliana . . .” The girl looked up at her with bright eyes. “Can you say ‘Lathander’ again for me?”

A head of dark ringlets nodded vigorously. “Lathander!” She twittered out, looking supremely proud of herself.

“Who said that name to you? Your papa?” Storm was speaking, of course, about Gorion.

Lilliana shook her head. “No. Bird!” She grinned widely as she pointed at the still-open window.

“The one you pet?” Storm asked for clarification.

“Bird told me.” Lilliana informed her guardian as she went back to her blocks. She began to hum low in her throat.

Storm grabbed her chin lightly to force the girl to look at her. “The bird told you about Lathander?”

Lilliana nodded.

Storm gave the toddler a placating smile. “Lilliana, birds can’t talk.”

“No, no talk.” The half high-elf put her small hands over Storm’s mouth and then tapped the woman’s temple. “Head-speak.”

“Head-speak . . . The bird was talking in your head?” Storm mimicked the girl’s actions.

Lilliana nodded again.

The bard leaned back on her heels, deep in thought as Lilliana played. Storm got up and went to the corner of the library, hunting for a book on scions, the beast servants of the gods. Finally she grasped the firm binding of the tome she sought and eagerly flicked through its pages. The first page Storm went to was for Bhaal. His scion was a monstrous looking creature, more of a demon than a natural animal, though there was a notation that crows also served the Lord of Murder. Storm went secondly to the page for Lathander and her silver eyes widened.

On the parchment was a drawing of Lathander’s symbol and below that His scion . . . a golden hawk. Storm’s gaze went to the open window, clearly recalling the bird that had seemed so unnaturally attentive with Lilliana. A warm sun was casting rays into the library and it almost seemed like they were trying to touch the toddler seated on the worn rug. Storm shook her head. Silliness, that was all. Imaginings brought on by a long day. Nonetheless, the hawk she’d seen looked exactly like the drawing in the book and there had been an ethereal presence in the room with that bird there.

Lilliana’s sharp squeal nearly made Storm drop the tome.

The young half high-elf got up in a rush, the alphabet blocks tumbling about her bare feet, and the little dress she was in fluffing up as she tried to run towards the door. “Papa!” She shrieked in delight as Gorion Avalon hoisted her up and swung her about, giving her a peck on the nose.

“There’s my little flower! Oh but you’ve grown.” Though in truth it had only been a little under a month since he’d last seen her. “Soon you are going to be bigger than me!” The sage’s normally serious face was transformed with love.

Storm put the book away and walked toward the pair slowly. So much for Galvarey’s wishes to have his meeting before Gorion got back.

The sage was holding Lilliana, her arms wrapped around his neck and her cheek nuzzled against his shoulder. He turned to smile in greeting at Storm. “You’ve taken good care of her I trust?” There was a note of worry in the man’s voice that made the bard feel a little put off but she nodded all the same.

“Of course. We’ve had a busy time testing her ability to learn new words. She hasn’t quite gotten the spelling of them down just yet, but I’m sure that will come soon. Lilliana is very intelligent for her age.” Storm smiled at the two year old. She thought for just a moment that she should tell Gorion about their feathered visitor, but then realized he would just worry and it wasn’t as if Storm knew for a fact that it was Lathander’s scion. She left the library instead, knowing Gorion would likely want some time alone to spend with the girl. To the Hells with Galvarey’s wishes.

Oddly enough he followed her out of the room, still holding Lilliana. “Galvarey has Skorslun downstairs with a few others. Storm . . .” Gorion reached out to put one hand on the bard’s shoulder, the other arm wrapped firmly around the toddler. “I think you should stay away from that meeting.” There was a look of solemn warning in the sage’s gray eyes that gave Storm Silverhand pause. “This is a matter between myself and the ones that are awaiting us. I know they wished to act without my presence, and that fills me with unease. It is only on Tymora’s whim that I got here in time. You are soon to be considered into High Harper ranks. You‘re a good woman, and I‘d hate to see any ill ripples affect you.“ When Storm only stood and stared at him, Gorion softened. “I fear this may be the last time we see one another. Take care of yourself.”

“Gorion.“ She called out to the sage. “Watch the little one closely. Lilliana is a special child, and I mean more than just her siring.“

A slow smile spread on the lord’s face. “I know.”

Then they left, and Storm watched them go around the corner, sighing deeply. The sound of Galvarey’s angry voice followed her until she got out of earshot.

Year: 1368, 16'th of Kythorn (present)

The weight of Lilliana’s hammers were pressing against her back. She’d gotten use to their bulk. However, as she looked at how easily Ajantis or Minsc would carry their massive swords she imagined that she’d never be as used to her weapons as they were theirs . . . and just maybe, she didn’t want to be.

Jaheira and Khalid were inside the smithy picking up some last minute arrows and bullets. Lilliana was left to wait with the others outside. The sun was bright and she smiled and held her mouth open to take a deep breath. On days like today the cleric could almost taste Lathander’s presence. It was like a honey-wheat roll, warm from the oven with a dollop of butter on it. Lilliana’s stomach grumbled, though she had eaten not too long ago.

Then as she stared across the square her stomach lurched with a very different feeling. Anomen was with Sir Trawl and a small group of other knights and squires. They were all standing near a sundries stall, probably stocking up for their scouting mission. Lilliana felt her mouth turn down long before the guilt sunk its claws into her guts. She had loyalty to her companions and apart from Ajantis they seemed to all think there was a better chance of success if they acted without additional aid. The cleric had to stand by them, and it had been explained in a way that should’ve made it easy to agree. Ajantis had been unhappy with that decision, and if he could get over his displeasure and go along with the group, Lilliana should as well. However, as she stared at the small gathering of knights she felt just awful about them not being included and not being able to tell them where to look.

Behind the half high-elf her own group was waiting outside the smithy and Lilliana turned her head to look at them. They were all dear to her. Minsc and Dynaheir she was not as close to, but she still called them her friends and she was eager to learn more about them. Ajantis was a wonderful man, and though she’d gotten over her crush she still found him the most estimable in the group. Kivan had once been impossibly stoic and difficult to know, but he‘d let her in and she cherished that. Imoen, her beloved, sweet, harebrained sister, held a large corner of Lilliana’s heart . . . and then there were Khalid and Jaheira who slowly but surely Lilliana had begun to think of as extended family. The cleric felt guilty for being torn between her love and loyalty for them and the feelings she had for Anomen and admiration that was there towards the Order. With a dismal frown her eyes found her Amnian friend again, and she sighed.

She wished her father were there to counsel her, make her feel better and tell the girl what she should say and to whom. Gorion Avalon had seemed to always know what to do, what the right course was. Even after his passing his last wishes, to meet up with Khalid and Jaheira, proved to be the correct path. Lilliana had not been sure that first day with the Harpers, but now she knew that to have done anything else would have been folly. ‘I miss you, Papa.’ She lamented in her head, looking skyward and pressing her fingers to her lips to blow her father a kiss, where he surely was in the Heavens. The sun warmed her face and Lilliana smiled. Lathander was her father as well, in His grand way, and He was there to bring her an inner comfort, though she still longed for Gorion. Taking strength from her god, Lilliana asked Ajantis to hold her war hammers, telling him she wanted to try and buy some tea for their journey.

At first her booted feet felt so heavy on the cobbles that Lilliana feared Anomen and his group would leave before she reached them. Then as she drew closer it became easier to walk, her heart set on what she had to do. She could not stand to leave without things settled between them, and she had to re-direct the Order to the north. It was the right thing to do and if she caught the Hells from Jaheira, so be it. With the weight against her back removed, as she had handed off her war hammers, a pang of guilt struck her again. Why couldn’t she bring herself to let Anomen see her with her weapons? Wasn’t letting the squire see them also the right thing to do?

“You are a coward my sweet, you know it and I know it. Afraid to let Anomen see that you aren’t the perfect little lady anymore, afraid to tell your friends what you remember from that tomb.”

“Who said that?!” Lilliana asked out loud; that voice from before teasing at the edges of her ears. Before she’d dismissed it as her conscience and perhaps that was all it was. Somehow though, that whispery voice had sounded male. Shaking her head, the Lathanite made herself keep walking. Anomen looked up, blinking into the sun and then he stood completely still as if someone had turned him to stone. Lilliana knew that he’d spotted her coming towards him. She swallowed past a lump in her throat and plastered a smile on her face.

“Lady Avalon! We had thought you would be gone by now.” Sir Ryan gave her a short bow of greeting. A tall blonde man that reminded Lilliana vaguely of Ajantis, also bowed but looked at her with curious raised eyebrows, a pair of hazel gray eyes making him appear a tad severe.

“Ah, hello, good sir. I spotted you over here and just felt like there were some things I should tell you.” Lilliana addressed the elder knight, going right for her goal. ‘The sooner it is begun, the sooner it is done.’ Her father used to say.

“My apologies. I realize Sir Ryan knows you, but I fear I have not had the pleasure, myself.” The tall blonde put a palm out and Lilliana grasped it for a handshake, but then the young man kissed her hand instead. Anomen glared at the blonde with poorly veiled contempt.

Suddenly Lilliana felt more awkward than she had to begin with. “Lady Lilliana Avalon, I am a friend of Lord Delryn’s.” She nodded politely at the man.

His eyes slid almost imperceptibly to Anomen’s face, the brunette looking very displeased at the moment. The blonde smirked so quickly that Lilliana almost missed it. “Sir Cadril Valencia, and I must say that I would not expect the squire here to procure such a delicate friend. I rather thought he didn’t get on well with ladies.” If there was any malice in his words, it went undetected by everyone except Anomen.

“I get on fine with ladies . . . The nice ones at least.” Lord Delryn retorted, that same pretense of congeniality hovering at the surface, but between the two young men their hostility was thick.

Cadril took that as a slight against his affianced, Lady Irlana Dalryan. He was going to say something to put the squire in his place, but Sir Ryan interceded.

“What is it you wish to speak to me about, Lady Avalon?” The older man asked politely, easily silencing any further arguments between Cadril and Anomen.

“All of you, actually, all in your Order.” Lilliana rubbed a booted foot against the cobbles, gathering up her scant courage before it left her. “My companions wish to act unhindered by anyone else, but I do not think the Order such a hindrance. However I must tell you that we cannot join our own methods together, in that at least my group is right.” Lilliana took a deep breath as she garnered the attentions of the other few knights and squires that were standing with Sir Ryan, Sir Valencia and Squire Delryn. “Perhaps you will not take my word at its face value, I am after all just a girl, but I am hoping that you can trust that this information comes from the Harpers, those much more knowledgeable than myself.”

“Why then do they not give us this ‘information’ that you speak of?” Sir Valencia asked, open wariness on his angular features.

“Because they do not know I’ve come over here to parley with you and they would not approve.” Lilliana admitted with reticent honesty. She felt her timidity trying to worm its way up her throat, but she pushed past it. “You ought not look south for the bandits, or even westward into the Heartlands. My companions have come upon information that suggests the bandits are more likely to camp to the north, near the woodlands of Peldsvale and Larswood, in the center-most region of the Woods of Sharp Teeth. That is where you should concentrate your efforts.”

Sir Ryan was blinking at Lilliana, at first unable to respond as she enlightened them. Then he found his words, bowing to the young lady again. “I must say miss, that I am intrigued as to why the Harpers you traveled with did not want to share such a tidbit, but I suppose that is neither here nor there. Certainly I shall bring this information to the rest of our contingent.” Then as he turned to leave he stopped, smiling warmly at the girl. “Thank you, dear lady.”

Lilliana beamed after him, feeling light hearted. Cadril looked very surprised but he covered it up well as his own squire came up beside him, bag of sundries in hand. “Ah, yes, thank you.” His own smile was not as radiant as Sir Ryan’s, but certainly still nice.

The elder knight had not gotten far before he motioned to Anomen, who was staring at Lilliana. “In a moment Sir, I must speak with the lady. I shall meet you at the camp anon.” That seemed to satisfy Sir Ryan and he nodded from a distance, moving off with the rest of them.

“That was most unexpected. Are they not going to be cross with you for this, your group?” Anomen asked, trying not to be obvious as he observed Lilliana’s traveling attire. She looked quite different from the shy maiden at breakfast, but her face was the same.

“I imagine they will, yes, but I could not have let you go off down south when you are better served going north. It would not have been the right thing to do.” Lilliana nodded politely at a merchant that was staring at the pair, and the man appeared to realize he was being rude and went back to his work.

“Well, you have my thanks. You are charming Sir Ryan right out of his boots.” Anomen infused some dry humor into the situation, trying to make it more comfortable as he was feeling very strange there with her. Especially after what had passed between them.

“It is not Sir Ryan who I wish to charm.” Lilliana returned, surprising both herself and the Amnian. Her eyes widened with the shock of her words and she blushed. The merchant at the sundries stall was staring again and she looked at him pointedly before taking Anomen’s arm and steering the squire toward a short alley. The end of it saw the pair standing in a small garden courtyard.

“What is the meaning of this, my lady?” Anomen was wary, glancing at the alley that lay behind them now. Short buildings made a sort of wall between them and the street, the alley serving as the only means in or out of the courtyard. The air was heavy with the fragrance of the apple blossom trees that provided the area with shade. Anomen wished he could be thankful for the break from the hot sun, but he did not know what the young lady was on about, and that put him on edge.

Lilliana started to speak, letting a rush of apologies flow from her lips as they clamored in her brain. She stopped as she felt Lathander’s calming presence in her veins. His words sat nestled in the cleric’s subconscious. In chaos bring thee tranquility, in doubt bring thee certainty. Lilliana relaxed her posture, letting that calm settle throughout her body, soothing her nerve endings. If she began babbling like an idiot she’d never say what she wanted to say. “I did not mean to suggest that I was charming you. I meant only that I wished to assure you of my friendship.” An apple blossom fell loose and tickled her face as it made its descent. Lilliana rubbed at her itchy cheek before continuing. “To leave this awful apprehension between us . . . that grieves me terribly. You have not left town just yet, and I have to believe that means Lathander has given me another chance to right one of my wrongs.”

“Your wrongs?” Anomen scoffed, feeling a bit of latent anger directed at himself. “I am the one that stepped too close and took liberties that were not mine to take. To kiss you like that was highly untoward and the fact that I committed the act with a dear friend, who is not just a nice lady, but such a young one as well . . . It does not speak highly of my honor.”

“I am just as guilty as you are, so if it makes you dishonorable so too does it affect my own honor in kind.” Lilliana dipped her head, drawing in a breath of composure and went on. “Imoen and I . . . we spoke about . . . well, you know, and she thinks that it wasn’t ’a big dramatic event.’” She smiled in humor. Gods bless her darling little sister.

Some of Anomen‘s guilt was ebbing away in light of Lilliana’s demeanor. “And what do you think, my lady?”

“I think that perhaps my sister is right in that you and I over-reacted because of our upbringing. Do not mistake me, my lord, I have never regretted that courtly education, but maybe it is the cause of shame over something that was not so terrible.“ Lilliana looked up. “Was it?”

“No, not so terrible.” He smiled. She was still looking rather pretty, even dressed in traveling garb. Anomen was thinking maybe it was not just the heat that made him imagine as much earlier.

A short bubbly laugh escaped from Lilliana’s chest and she wanted to hide her face in her sleeve, but forced herself to stand straight and regard her friend. “Well, that’s . . that’s good.” She was feeling nervous all over again. “T-That isn’t what I meant to speak with you about, though. I wanted to say . . . I wish this unease between us did not exist.” With that phrase, her resolve was bolstered. “The following days are uncertain at best and if I do not see you for some time, the worst thing would be to have our parting words be stiff with anxiety and humiliation.” Eloquence was better served by someone with a strong voice for it, but you worked with what you had and Lilliana thought it sounded fair enough. What was more, she meant every word.

“What would you say then of a proposal to maintain our friendship by . . .” Anomen thought to compliment the lady’s fine articulacy with something equally as nice. “Leaving our cares for this previous afternoon behind us, certainly not forgetting what happened but moving on to let bygones be bygones?” The offer was left to hang in the air.

Lilliana grinned, quite happy, and took up that offer. “’Let bygones be bygones’ Yes, I like that. So . . . we have an accord then, to leave our embarrassment at the door, as it were, and go on being friends?”

“Yes, I believe we do. Shake on it?” Anomen placed a wide hand out and grasped the one that was extended to him. Though hers was much smaller, it seemed to fit in his palm nicely.

‘Coward, coward, coward.’ That wretched voice teased, but Lilliana wasn’t going to let it win, not this time.

As her hand slid from his, so too did the smile slip from her face, the look upon it expectant of an ill reaction. “In the interests of friendship and the honest disclosure that such a relationship should entail, there is something else I must tell you. Something that I was too ashamed to make known before.”

Anomen’s happiness seemed to fall off a precipice. Words like that rarely proceeded good news. “You can tell me anything, my lady.” He said, and he meant it.

“Your inquiries as to how I managed in combat were met with honesty that was . . . wanting. I feared to say anything because it does not make me seem ladylike and in your eyes, I would wish to appear nothing but decorous. However, to maintain that image would also be to maintain a sort of illusion, because it is not just the conjurations of Lathander that keep me safe within the bounds of my own reach.” The cleric took a long, deep breath. “I use two war hammers in combat. With those weapons I have killed enough creatures that I can feel myself becoming desensitized in a way. I’ve even taken enjoyment from some of my small victories.” Lilliana winced and the absence of any pride in her voice was absolute.

The squire was flummoxed for a few moments. “I do not understand. You use two war hammers? But you are so small!” He tried to imagine it and failed. “Are you telling me that you can swing about these big weapons with little effort?”

Lilliana’s laughter was brittle in her fear of Anomen’s further responses. “No, no of course that isn’t what I’m saying. In fact, I’m not terribly good at mastering them. When I chose that first war hammer, it was out of some stupid, girlish fancy. I thought it was pretty and then later I became entranced with a war hammer we liberated from an evil cleric. Lord Ilvastarr thought that the use of dual hammers would even out my posture, but it took a large amount of practice to lift just the one and so when I did start carrying two the training for that was double. Still I’ve yet to become the mistress of my own weapons . . . but I don’t want to.”

“What do you mean, you don’t want to?” Anomen still did not know how to process what he was hearing, let alone his reaction to it all.

“I feel self-respect over my accomplishments thus far, both the things I’ve learned and the differences I’ve made, however small. There have been people that required aid and I was able to help them alongside my companions, who I care for very much. I do not regret meeting any of them, but there have been some bad experiences in there as well and they offer me reflection on this kind of life. That which is lived upon the road, almost becoming a mercenary existence. But I . . .“ Her voice fell. “I do not yearn for this and it does not suit me.” She smiled sadly, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. “When I was younger I had dreams of adventure the same as any child, but I’m not a child anymore and life is not a book. I just want to go home, I want my old life back. I miss my gowns, I miss all those wonderful tomes and I’m begging you to try and not lose your affection for me, because of what I’ve been thrust into out here.”

He stepped closer and rubbed the tears off her face with his thumb, smiling at her as he finally found his words. “Lilliana, don’t cry. You shouldn’t feel saddened over necessity. You’ve done what you needed to do, and it would be ridiculous indeed to expect that you wouldn’t enjoy some of these events and encounters.” Anomen went on, keeping his tone even and smooth. “I admit that it does not fit the image of the fine Lady Avalon, to be running about with two war hammers and hurling them around.” A humorous smile lit his features. “But you seem to realize that yourself and I do not know why you should have felt shame over such an admittance. You’ll see the end of this soon, you could today if you left your companions. You could stay in Beregost with your sister and earn some coin with less involved missions for your church, surely. Then when you had the money to purchase a fine tome you both could go back to Candlekeep.”

Lilliana bit her bottom lip. “No. I wish I that were possible, but no, not right now at least. I have to see these bandits brought to justice and so too do I have to bring the man that murdered my father into court to pay for his misdeeds.” She stared at Anomen as seriously as she was able. “I know that it must seem like I’m creating my own misery here, but I’ve set these tasks on myself and under Lathander’s gaze I will see them done. It would be a great disgrace indeed to leave them unfinished to satiate my comfort. My relaxation after all this business is taken care of will be my reward.” The cleric shifted her gaze nervously. “But I would hate for you to think less of me because of it.”

Anomen shook his head. “My lady, there is nothing you could say to me, nothing you could reveal of yourself that would steal away my affection.”

“Nothing?” Lilliana asked meekly.

“Nothing.” Anomen smiled and wrapped her in a hug. Over her shoulder his face appeared a little worried. The Amnian wished his friend would reconsider and remain in town. Beregost was no paradise, true, but maybe after the Order found these bandits, Lady Avalon would go back to Athkatla with him, where it truly was safe. She could stay on at the Lathanite temple there, where she’d never have to fight again and she could buy all the books and dresses that she pleased. For now though he knew he had to leave the decision up to her. Through all her timidity there was a stubborn streak in Lilliana that Anomen could recognize as similar to his own. “Nothing at all.”

Year: 1350, 3’rd of Kythorn

“Avalon! I should have known you’d return sooner rather than later. Where is that stuttering chimp you took with you?!” Galvarey all but shrieked, Bran Skorslun looking stoic beside him.

“If you are so unkindly referring to Master Kostas, he is meeting with his wife in private elsewhere in the city. You may leave them out of this, the matter is between you and I, Andronicus.” Gorion stated simply, never loosening his hold on his daughter who glanced about her nervously. She’d start crying soon, he knew. Gorion wished there had been time enough to get her out of here before now, but it was the eleventh hour and the choices set before him were few.

“Leave the child with us, and you may consider the ‘matter’ settled. We have all come to an agreement that you are too close to the girl and can no longer discern the correct path.” Galvarey motioned a hand across the few companions he had. Apart from himself, no one looked all that certain.

Gorion took a small step forward, malice burning in his gray eyes. “Correct path? You mean that it is restorative to the great balance for you to torture a little girl?!” He hissed.

Lilliana was getting scared, hiding her face in her father’s cloak, small hands clutching at the fabric. She was young, but she knew these adults did not like each other and their voices frightened her. The toddler whimpered against her father’s shoulder.

“Torture?” Galvarey laughed. “Gorion, really, my friend, this has gotten out of hand. We have spoken only of containment, there is no torture.”

“You call burying Lilliana alive, humane and just? And you are no friend of mine, Andronicus. If this is the decision of the High Harpers, then where are they, why was this meeting not held at Twilight Hall?” The sage demanded.

Lord Skorslun stepped forward then, raising his hands as if to command silence between the two men. “Not all of our members were in agreement with this solution, but I am a High Harper myself and my word carries the same weight as any one of their’s. I understood the haste required in this situation, so I offered to come to Athkatla, instead of dragging everyone to Berdusk.” The man sounded weary of explaining himself, as if that were not the first time he had to. “Lord Avalon, this is nothing that we would consider in the long term, but think on it as a test. If she has the power to free herself in a month’s time then we will know that she is dangerous. If she cannot, then we will remove her from the sphere ourselves.” He stated, trying to smile.

“A sphere that you plan on burying so far in the earth that she may as well be encased in the Nine Hells! Do not play me for a fool, Lord Skorslun. I dare say that I think you are acting outside the bounds of the Harpers.” Gorion spoke of ‘the Harpers’ as if he were no longer one of them, and he knew in his heart that he wasn’t. “Why else would you be the only one they sent? Is it any wonder that the one High Harper that Galvarey is on good terms with is the emissary standing before me now? I think not and do not seek to convince me that it was your own ‘good nature’ that brought you here.” Gorion stepped away from them, glad that he’d left his items at an inn down the street. He‘d felt this moment upon him for some time. “She’s just a child! What is wrong with you?! I will not allow this, you will not hurt my daughter. Lilliana isn‘t a monster and I won‘t let you treat her like one!”

The toddler didn’t dare peek from her father’s cloak, whimpering in fear. She did not like all these loud angry words, and the ones she could recognize didn’t sound nice at all.

‘It will be alright, Lilliana. I am here with you.’

She smiled at the gentle voice in her head, her whisper left unheard with all the ruckus building about her. “Lathander.”

“We will stop you by force, if necessary. It is my wish that you will listen to reason.” Skorslun tried again, Galvarey looking intent where he stood beside him.

“Reason is not something to be found here. Khelben was right about the lot of you. You have lost your compassion and I can only hope that the good members that yet remain can make it past all the twisted ideals that preside here today! For love of the child, I must go.” Gorion turned on his heel. He grasped his Harper medallion and tore it off, letting it fall to the floor.

“You will not leave!” Galvarey shrieked, hurling a host of magic missles at Gorion’s back even as Bran shouted at him to stop, wanting to avoid violence.

It was in a blink that the sage turned his body to shield Lilliana and reflected the missles back at Galvarey. The Halruaan gasped in shock as the spell hit him in the chest and he skidded backward on the tiles. “YOU!” He fought to get back to his feet, wheezing.

The other mages acted like they were wary to make a move, Gorion’s eyes just then were more frightening than any monster. Slowly they came around, Skorslun leading the casting. “You have forced my hand!” He shouted, sounding almost repentant.

Lord Avalon had no time to think and was glad he’d planned things ahead. Lilliana seemed oddly at peace and her lack of crying helped the sage to concentrate. He fumbled in his pocket, feeling the hum of magic in the room send static through his hair. The sage was certain they would not cast anything that killed Lilliana, but they could very well kill him and without Gorion around, she was in danger from the others. Long fingers grasped the flask at last. Sartonis Alieradon had placed a powerful elven potion within it and the enchantment tingled through Gorion’s hand even as he threw it to the floor. He made a run for the doors as the blast sounded behind him. Galvarey’s screams followed him outside but he wasted no time, he only ran for the carriage he’d set up.

The powerful potion hadn’t severely harmed anyone but it did make them all unconscious for quite awhile. Galvarey was the first one to wake up, and the rest of them came around shortly after. He motioned to the few other mages he had with him. “Follow them, you fools!”

They did, but it was too late. The sage was long gone.

Lord Skorslun stooped to pick up the fallen medallion. “It seems a pity. He was such a strong member of our organization.”

Galvarey snorted. “Not anymore, not that he ever was once that fiend was born.” A thin reedy smile turned up the Halruaan’s lips. The others would see now what Gorion had become, what that child had turned him into. A madman that would attack his own fellows. “He can’t run forever, and we’ll get her back and do what needs to be done. No matter how long it takes. On my life I will serve the great balance.”

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