The Adversary

Chapter Twenty-six

8 Tarsakh, the Year of the Nether Mountain Scrolls (1486 DR) Waterdeep

Dahl scratched the last line of runes across the parchment, completing Farideh’s account of the internment camps, Adolican Rhand, and the Nine Hells acting out on Toril.

“I’m assuming,” Tam said to Farideh, “that you’re leaving things out.” Farideh colored a little. “Nothing that matters.”

Tam sighed heavily. “You remember I have artifacts in hand that can make you share.”

“I remember.” She rubbed her still-shackled hands together. “Although I wish you wouldn’t. It’s just private things.”

Tam regarded her for a long moment. Dahl wondered what she was talking about. Lorcan, he decided, dropping his eyes to the page. Probably Lorcan.

He caught Tam’s eye and shook his head surreptitiously. It wasn’t worth heavier methods to make her admit she’d kissed the devil.

“Since this is a great deal of information we had no knowledge of,” Tam said, “since there are coordinating accounts, and since you will have at least two sets of eyes I trust on you-”

“And since I’m not a Shadovar spy?” Farideh interrupted.

“Even if you were, at this point you’re more useful to us than to them.”

Tam smiled. “I won’t keep you. But should anything further come to light, we may ask you to return. And I hope if those private matters turn out to matter to the rest of us-”

“They won’t.”

“Six internment camps filled with god-blessed prisoners,” Tam said, “and not a soul noticed.” He cursed and propped his hands behind his head. “This is going to be a nightmare of an undertaking.”

“You’re going to have to contact the other networks,” Dahl pointed out. Tam shot him a dark look. “Later.” Farideh was not, after all, a Harper, even if she was exonerated. He stood. “Get those chains off her and get her back to Mehen. I want a list of available agents. Be back here in two bells.”

“Where are you headed?” Dahl asked.

“Barber,” Tam said, as he passed out the door.

Dahl kneeled and unlocked Farideh’s shackles. “That was painless.”

“Relatively,” Farideh said, a small smile tugging at her mouth. She spread her fingers, the pale third finger standing out like a ghost among the darker ones. An unwelcome reminder of Adolican Rhand. Dahl took her hand in his. “There’s probably a way to change it,” Dahl said, examining her finger. “I don’t know it off the top of my head, but people do it all the time for cosmetic reasons. Fancy revels and things.” He smiled at her. “I am completely certain someone can turn it dryad-green.”

“Better than this.” Farideh looked away.

Dahl squeezed her hand. “Worst comes to worst, we’ll find you some nice gloves.”

Farideh took her hand back, and Dahl stood and found something else to look at. “I suppose,” she said, standing, “there are plenty of places that sell gloves in Suzail.”

“Probably,” Dahl said. “Probably Lord Crownsilver can find a merchant who’d be delighted to fit his dear friend with gloves.”

“So long as no one knows that dear friend is me.”

Dahl didn’t argue. He didn’t have the faintest idea how Brin and Mehen thought returning to Suzail with tieflings in tow would work. He half hoped it didn’t and he wouldn’t have to trek to Cormyr when Tam decided he needed more information from Farideh. “What did you leave out?” Dahl asked. “Is it just-” She met his gaze. “Please don’t ask me. I won’t lie to you, but. . please, if you and I are friends at all, don’t ask. I promise it’s not anything the Harpers need to know.”

“All right,” Dahl said. “But you’ll tell me if you’re in trouble?”

“I’ll tell you if there’s anything you can do about it.” She pulled her sleeve down over her ruined hand. “Dahl. . I know you don’t want to know about your soul and. . things.”

“I don’t,” Dahl said firmly. If she was going to bring this up again, there were a hundred other things he could slip away to do. “I won’t keep you from Mehen,” he started.

Farideh wet her lips. “It’s only. . You should know, Dahl. I don’t think Oghma’s finished with you yet.”

Dahl felt his chest squeeze tight. “What makes you say that?” he asked, as nonchalantly as he could.

“The others,” she said, “the Chosen, they all have runes-symbols-that I can’t read, as if the gods have marked their souls.”

“And I have one?” Dahl said. “I doubt that.”

“You don’t,” Farideh agreed, and Dahl was embarrassed at how suddenly his heart seemed to collapse at that-even though he knew better. He struggled to think of some glib thing to say, but then she went on, “Yours are. . in other tongues.”

Dahl went still. “What. . what do they say?”

Farideh still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You asked me not to look again. I haven’t. . I only managed to read one line of it-in Draconic. It might be that it’s the same all through-it’s a lot of writing, as if someone made the light into ink-”

“Fari,” he said sharply. He felt dizzy, as if none of the blood were reaching his head. “Please. What does it say?”

And finally she looked up and met his eyes. “Vur ghent vethsunathear renthisj.” “ ‘And after,’ ” Dahl translated, “ ‘my priest speaks.’ ”

“You’re all right?” Mehen asked Havilar again. “You don’t need anything?”

“I’m fine,” Havilar said, grinning. All Mehen’s worrying-everything that had made her feel smothered and annoyed before-just felt like home. “And I will be here in the morning, I promise.”

Mehen studied her for a long moment, as if he thought she might be lying, as if he knew she was hiding something. “All right,” he said finally.

He stroked her hair once with his great hand and smiled halfheartedly. “If you change your mind, you can wake me.”

Havilar rolled her eyes, but still she smiled. Everything was falling back to the way it should be. Everything was almost normal again. She dawdled with the hand mirror she’d been left, trying to decide if she ought to take her braids out or pin them up or something altogether different.

The face that stared back was strange, but happy-and Havilar was less and less surprised each time she saw herself.

The knock at the door half a bell later made Havilar leap from her seat, all but throwing the mirror down. She yanked the door open to reveal Brin. “Havi,” he started.

“Well met,” she said, pulling him into the room. They’d hardly had a decent moment alone on the way back, always crowded by strangers and Harpers and Mehen-and even though Havilar was pretty sure Mehen knew by now what was going on, she’d rather keep things quiet until they sat down and told him properly.

Brin went a little stiff as she drew him in, and Havilar frowned. She shut the door behind him, but he didn’t relax. “What’s wrong?”

“Havi,” he said again, “I have to tell you something and. .” He swallowed.

“It’s not an easy thing-to hear or to say-but I need you to listen to the whole of it before you make up your mind, all right? Can you promise me that?” All the blood seemed to drop out of Havilar’s head. “Brin, you’re scaring me.”

He looked as if he were scaring himself as well. He guided her back to sit on the edge of the bed. “Just promise me? Please?”

“All right,” she said, too afraid to say otherwise. She watched his mouth as he wet his lips again, the moment stretching out, taut and sharp and horrible before he spoke: “I’m engaged.”

“En. . engaged with what?”

“Engaged to be married,” he said hesitantly. “Come summer.” Havilar pulled her hand back, the blood somehow sinking farther away from her head. She felt as if she were going to faint. She felt as if she were someone else, somewhere else, watching this happen. “But. . you said you loved me.”

“I do,” he said. He reached for her face, but she slipped away. “I do,” he said again. “I love you-”

“But you love her too,” Havilar finished.

“No,” Brin said. “It’s not a love match. It’s a political marriage. Raedra and I are. .” He seemed to hunt for the right word. “Allies.”

“She’s a princess, isn’t she?” Havilar realized. Tears welled in her eyes, and she looked away. “How can you not love a princess?”

“Because she’s not you,” Brin said fiercely. He pulled her nearer, as near as she could get. There were tears in his eyes too. “I will fix this,” he promised.

“I will find a way out, because this is all I want. Not a princess. Not a throne. Just you. Here.” He fell silent a moment. “But it’s going to take a little caution, a little time. Please-give me a chance. I. . I have to unravel some things that won’t take well to being unraveled.”

Havilar nodded mutely. He hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t even hinted.

“You said you never gave up,” she finally managed.

Brin looked at her sadly. “I didn’t. But I tried to.”

It was all more than she could manage. Havilar pushed him back.

“You. . You can’t stay here tonight,” she said. “I want to be alone. I have to be alone.” Brin stood, folded his hands, and for a brief terrible moment, Havilar wasn’t sure if she was glad or not that he wasn’t arguing. “That’s fair,” he said. “I hope it’s not always true. I mean it: I love you, and I will fix this if it destroys me.” He bent to kiss her on the cheek, and she let him, even though she didn’t know what it meant anymore. Even though when he shut the door behind him, Havilar curled her knees up tight, feeling lonelier than she could ever remember.

The little room in the Harper hall seemed even quieter the second time around. Farideh stood, waiting for the faint creaks and pops of the building, the soft vibrations of the warding magic, to break the silence.

As much as she ached for company, she wasn’t sure she was ready for it. Evenfeast with Mehen and Havilar, with all the many guests of the Harpers watching her surreptitiously, had grated against her nerves. She’d hardly spoken- glad for the too-many things Mehen had to tell them about Cormyr and Suzail.

“Don’t worry,” he said, long after Farideh had stopped counting the number of times he had said it. “It’s a lovely city. And we have a home there. And people will get used to you-just as they’ve gotten used to me.”

“And if they don’t?” Farideh asked.

“If they don’t,” Mehen said mildly, “I will remind them what the Crownsilvers employ me for.”

“You can’t thrash an entire city,” Farideh said.

“Don’t tempt him,” Havilar had said. And despite the fact that she had no doubt Cormyr had no place for twin tieflings with unfortunate ties to the Nine Hells, Farideh had to chuckle at that.

She still had not explained to Mehen what had happened in the tower room, what it was he had pulled her back from the brink of, and he had not pressed. Not yet. She wondered if Tharra would prove to be right-if this would be the fault that Mehen could not forgive.

She looked down at her bleached white finger. For so long she’d thought Mehen had a hard time loving her-she was stubborn and clumsy and strange beside Havilar. She wanted things Mehen couldn’t fathom the reasons for. They argued and she felt as if she’d never be enough to make him proud. And then she stole Havi-his peerless heir-from him for seven and a half years.

But he had come to the black glass tower and faced the Nameless One, and helped her back from the edge of losing herself. And she realized maybe she’d been a little blind all that time. She thought of the vision of Mehen, braiding her hair. Maybe she’d been lost in her own guilt and grief.

She was sure she would tell Mehen. But not before she told Havilar-not before she was sure she knew how bad things were-and that would have to wait for tomorrow. Farideh took off her boots and her leathers. She braided her hair and fished through her haversack for a thong to tie it off. Her hand brushed the ruby comb, tucked into the bottom of the bag, and she pulled it out.

The wind of the portal opening was hot against her neck. She shoved the comb back into the bag before turning to face Lorcan, standing in the middle of her room, not saying a word.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “Only to check in on you. Make certain you’re happy with how things fell out.”

“I wasn’t executed,” she said dryly. “Fortunately.”

“I saw.”

She rubbed her brand. “I know. Does it have to hurt like that?”

“What do you want it to feel like?” he asked with a smirk.

Farideh turned back to the dressing table, hoping she wasn’t blushing as hard as it felt. “If you’re just here to tease me, you can go, many thanks. I don’t like you spying on me.”

“Watching out for you,” he corrected. “I would have stepped in.”

Farideh watched her hands as she tied the haversack shut. “Are you settled, then?”

Lorcan heaved a sigh-sounding so tired, so human that she looked up at his reflection in the mirror. “Hardly,” he said. “Sairché is not recovered-or at least, she’s insisting she is not recovered. Her Highness is unhappy without saying she is unhappy. His Majesty is. .” Farideh dropped her eyes at the mention of Asmodeus, and Lorcan didn’t finish the thought, but slipped his arms around her.

“I was thinking,” he said, “you might let me borrow your protection once more. Until things do settle.”

Farideh turned, as surprised as she would have been to hear him ask if she might consider handing her soul over for a moment. She pushed him off. “I cannot believe you’d ask me that.”

“Why not?” Lorcan smiled wolfishly. “I could make it worth your while.”

Farideh blushed hard enough her cheeks ached. “Shall I go get Dahl, then? Or will any jack do?”

Lorcan’s dark, dark eyes fixed her for a moment, his mouth shifting into his familiar smirk. “Is that what you think? How interesting.”

She folded her arms. “Please-you wouldn’t have. . if he hadn’t been standing there, you would have just left.”

“He’s not here now,” Lorcan noted, easing toward her. “It would be a simple theory to test.”

Farideh didn’t move. She felt tired and worn through as an old sleeve- threadbare and ready to tear right through. If he asked, if he pressed, she wasn’t sure she could put him off, or that she wanted to. All she could think of was how he’d kissed her, how much she wanted him to kiss her again. How easy it would be to just put everything else out of mind, if he pulled her close against him again-

How much she would hate herself if she let him make her forget that easily. You cannot save him, she thought, as his hands found her hips. You cannot make him safe. You are losing all the ground you gained in Proskur, in the fortress. It was as if she was in the frozen lake once more, at the edge of her air. I know I have to let go of him, she thought, and I can’t.

“This is all a game to you,” she said. “You’re trying to trick me.”

“A little,” he admitted. “But you enjoy it. And who says I don’t?”

“And when I say no again?” Farideh looked into his dark eyes. “How quickly will you start railing and threatening and pouting? How long will you make me pay for that?”

Lorcan hesitated. “What if I promise not to?”

“If you can manage it?” Farideh said. “Then I might think about forgiving you.” He leaned close, one hand sliding up her back to pull her nearer. “But you won’t,” she added, hardly able to think of the words. “I know you.”

His lips brushed her cheek, her jaw, her mouth. This time it wasn’t sudden, it didn’t surprise her. He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, enough to make her forget the reasons this was a very bad idea.

Almost.

She pushed him away, shaking. “Gods. You’re dangerous,” she said to him, to herself.

He hesitated. “Not so dangerous as you.”

Someone knocked at the door, and Farideh let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Neither of them moved. The knocking came again.

“Tell them to leave,” he said.

Yes, she thought, tell them to leave so you can make another impulsive, stupid decision.

“Hold on a breath,” she called. Farideh shut her eyes. “Go home, Lorcan.”

Lorcan let her go, and when she opened her eyes again, he was several paces away, sorting through his magic rings. “Fine. That’s what you want, that’s what I’ll do.” He held the silver ring up and looked over at her with a wicked smile. “That’s what you say you want. And let’s be clear, I do get credit for this.”

Farideh found herself wishing someone would give her a little credit for putting him off. “All the praise due to someone for having basic morals.”

Lorcan clucked his tongue. “Good night, darling.” He blew through the ring and the whirlwind drew him back to the Nine Hells.

Farideh pressed her hands to her face and cursed a few times before opening the door to find her sister waiting there, looking as if someone had told her they’d lost seven and a half more years, and thrown her glaive into the bonfire besides.

“Oh gods,” Farideh said, “what’s happened?”

Havilar heaved a gusty sigh, her eyes shining. “Brin’s engaged. To a princess.”

“Oh, Havi.” Farideh pulled her into the room and into an embrace. “Oh. Oh gods.”

“He says it’s just political. But he can’t just chuck her to the cleric since it’s political.” She buried her face against Farideh’s shoulder. “He says he loves me.”

Of course he says that, Farideh thought savagely. “What are you going to do?”

Havilar pulled away and wiped her eyes. “Wait, I guess. For a little. I mean, we have to go to Cormyr anyway.” She hugged her arms to her chest. “And I do love him, and I believe him that he loves me. I just wish he’d said something before. .” She trailed off and looked away, into the room.

“Before what?”

Havilar’s golden gaze held Farideh’s for a moment. “You said you don’t want to know,” she said delicately. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

“Of course,” Farideh said, shutting the door behind her sister. Havilar sat down in the chair beside the table and unlaced her boots. Farideh hesitated a moment.

“You can tell me,” she offered, “if you need to.”

“And then you’ll say you told me so.” Havilar pulled off her boot and chucked it against the door. “In the woods,” she said, once it had landed. “I. . Things happened. I was still worried about you, only. .” She sighed again. “I do love him.”

“So you wait,” Farideh said. “And see if he’s as good as his word. Does Mehen know?”

Havilar made a face and started on her other boot. “Oh, he must. I don’t think you have secret political marriages. What would be the point?”

“I mean about you and Brin.”

“Oh. Right.” Havilar sighed. “I think he knows about the first time, and he suspects about this one. A better reason to sleep in here.” She looked down at her toes. “I’m still angry at you, you know.”

“I know,” Farideh said. “I’m just glad you don’t hate me.”

“I never really hated you. And. . I get it. You were stuck between a wyvern and the Abyss. It was still a pothac thing to do, but it was a pothac situation.” She met her sister’s eyes again. “No more secrets, though.”

“None,” Farideh promised. She swallowed against the tightness in her throat and sat down on the foot of the bed. “Starting with this one.” But the words felt as if they wouldn’t pass her lips. She blew out a breath.

“I can handle it,” Havilar said. “I could have handled that stuff about devils and warlocks.” She shucked off her brigandine and hung it on the back of the chair, over Farideh’s. “And you could have handled it better if you’d just let me help.”

“I know.”

“Now you know,” Havilar corrected, changing her filthy shirt for a linen nightdress. “So what is it now? More devils? More Shadovar?”

She was so sure of herself, Farideh thought. So light, so hopeful. Farideh was going to crush that again, with two little sentences.

But it wouldn’t change the truth. It wouldn’t help Havilar to be left in the dark any longer. Or so she hoped. Farideh sighed.

“I’m a Chosen of Asmodeus,” Farideh said. “And I think you are too.”