Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

Creeping’s cell was the last on the right. I walked down the corridor flanked by empty bars and whatever ghosts peered through them. A sinister looking ebony shortbow was clutched in my hand, sleek and taut, the shaft of a single black arrow pinched against its waist. The oiled fletching brushed against my chain cuisses with each stride. The torchlight dimmed toward the far end of our happy little prison, and an unnatural veil of living shadow emanated from the cell where Creeping waited. My eyes couldn’t pierce the black she had conjured, but its presence was evidence enough that she remained contained. Kage leaned against the far wall just outside the bars, a faint smirk under his hood. He loved playing gaoler.

“How’s she doing?” I asked, coming to stand before him. He held out the keys and cocked his head toward the maelstrom of shadow, smirk persisting.
“See for yourself.” He replied. I took the keys with one hand and traded him my bow and arrow with the other. I unlocked the cell door and swung it just wide enough to slip through, before locking it behind me and throwing the ring of keys back to Kage. He caught them in an outstretched hand and remained where he was, watching mutely. I turned into the darkness, my senses searching for my query.

I likened her resistance to that of a caged animal. For all her supposed intelligence, she was still a creature of rage and impulse. Far from heeding my earlier warning, she had waltzed right into the Gate, infiltrating our very Guildhall no less. An unforgiveable trespass.

A flash of movement to my left, and she appeared suddenly out of the darkness, lunging for my sword in its sheath. Her hand closed around the hilt, and my hand closed around hers. I felt the crush of her fingers beneath my grip. Then my free hand came up with a vengeance, raining blows against her body. Her breath came out in a sudden rasp and I heard the distinct crack of ribs under my assault. I drew back my fist and slammed it across her jaw with a sickening crunch, sending broken teeth flying to the dirt. She sank to her knees before me, clutching her middle, breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps.

I stood there a moment, watching her.
“You should have heeded my warning, Creeping.” I turned and took a step back toward the bars. At my look, Kage approached and passed the bow through. Taking my time, I carefully nocked the black arrow, turning it toward the subdued prisoner, slowly drawing it back. The ebony limbs creaked as I took up the strain, the jagged arrowhead pointing squarely between Creeping’s eyes.
“The Guildmasters have deemed you too dangerous to leave alive.” I said neutrally, the only emotion showing on my face a clear product of the heavy draw weight. She looked up at me with hate-filled eyes, her sneer showing what bloodied teeth remained.
“Well Pretender, it seems we’ve come full circle.” She spat, defiant in her last moments. “I have pictured this moment a thousand times in my dreams, with our places reversed.” The arrowhead hovered just an arm’s length from her face.
“Really?” I asked lightly. “I haven’t thought about you at all.” Something in her slackened, and it seemed for a moment that the bold defiance fled from her face. Then the arrow shaft punched a hole right through it. Her corpse slumped sideways at my feet.

I stared for a moment, unfeeling at her lifeless form, numbed yet without regret. My trance was only broken by the click of the locking mechanism as Kage swung the cell door open. I spun and walked out, offloading the shortbow into his waiting hand as I passed, not looking back.

Another loose end tied up. Creeping, dead in her cell. Sin, at the bottom of the harbour. Emerald, fled the Coast. Chrace and Orchid firmly under my sway. All remnants of the old Guild either sufficiently assimilated or swept away. All but one.

And it was as fine a day as any, for treason.

Black ink dripped treacherously from my quill, idling over its well. Fresh vellum lay before me on the Whisperer’s desk, blank and virginal, to be imminently scarred by an act that would change everything around here. Like the inevitable tumble of the grain through the hourglass, I methodically set pen to paper and began scribing my epochal call to treason.

Masters Arm and Foot,

I addressed the letter to them both that we might speak as a single, unified voice.

As you both know, the only thing staving off a full crisis of leadership in the Family is our ability to work around Diamond, to attenuate the damage inflicted by her poor decisions, and to otherwise tolerate her. This can only go so far, however.

That would certainly garner no disagreement. The other Guildmasters were outspoken critics, untempered by the loyalty my apprenticeship to Diamond had engendered. But that loyalty, like our collective patience, had long exceeded its more reasonable limits.

I am drawing the line at the Hand. Despite our agreement at the last meeting, Diamond refuses to acknowledge me as Acting Master Hand. She also continues to deny me access to the Hand files, even the ones I have written myself.

I clenched my jaw, remembering the heated words of our last argument. More or less the same as the one before that. And before that. She was beyond counsel now, beyond reason. I dipped the quill in the ink well and continued.

In the next few days, hopefully post the lockdown, I will call another Guildmasters meeting and make the following demands:

1) I am acting Master Hand until either Star makes a meaningful return or I can appoint someone proven and worthy to the position. Chrace is not proven and worthy, and I am doubtful that he ever will be. He is a fine Finger, but I am sceptical of his suitability to be a Guildmaster. As it is, I would sooner dissolve the Hand altogether than give him control as Diamond desires. I am the only one in any position to make something of the Hand.

The Hand was too dangerous a risk to be left to the chance of Diamond’s whims any longer. We had seen and felt the direst consequences of that risk with Heart Attack, and Diamond had still played fast and loose with it. Making unilateral contracts, sending Wyvern after personal targets and trying to keep the whole affair secret from me. Even Good Deeds had been a shambles, though I had pulled victory from nothing and saved that mess. Now Brother’s Love was locked away, our client in limbo, our reputation on the line again, for no reason but the Duchess' vanity. No, this time I wouldn’t let it stand.

2) The Hand files will be permanently opened to the entire Guild. There is no reason they should be kept secret. Withholding them is a disruption to the flow of information critical to our operations, and every member has the right to know what the Hand is doing. If there is anyone in the Guild we cannot trust to share these files with, then they should not be in the Guild, period.

Gold would appreciate that, I knew. Diamond was big on hierarchy and the power-trips it afforded her. She had forgotten that the Guild was a fraternity; sisters and brothers of shadow. She was out of touch if she thought the Footpads were her servants, content to labour in the dark. Well, I would damn well remind her before the end.

If Diamond does not agree to these terms, then I shall announce my bid for leadership of the Guild.

Gods. It has finally come to this.

If you two have other significant grievances that were not addressed in the last Guildmasters meeting, or were addressed and have not been acted upon, then I suggest you bring them forth now.

I also open myself up to critique. Any issue I have declared closed - Entresi included - is re-opened. I do this on the basis that if I am forced to make a leadership challenge, then I will not repeat Diamond's mistakes and I will damn well listen to the advice of my Guildmasters.

That was, I felt, a reasonable enough conciliation. I meant it, too. No token to prove my sincerity; I would see to it that the revolution we began was a just one.

I intend to repeat this process until all of Diamond's stupidities are rolled back, or until the Guild has new leadership. Be discreet but keep this channel open. If you feel differently, say so now. I will not meet Diamond with anything but a united front. I look forward to your replies.

Love, hugs and treasonous whispers,

Silver
Acting Master Hand

I blew lightly on the wet ink and then leaned back in my chair, casting a dispassionate eye over my words. No turning back now, no second thoughts, no tempering of anger with self-conscious doubt. The seeds of treason had taken root into full-blown saplings of mutiny.

The hourglass of hourglasses awaits.

I walked down corridors laid with appropriated carpets and adorned with pilfered paintings, Kage's stern form keeping pace half a step behind me. I don't know how he maintained that casual gait even while walking quickly. Even at a time like this.
“Is the Hall still locked down?” I asked. He grunted an affirmative.
“I didn’t want to risk any further…interruptions.”
Gold suddenly emerged from a side passage, almost colliding with us before gracefully correcting his balance and falling in step.
“Sorry I’m late.” He flashed that reassuring, devilish smile.
“Damn right you're sorry, where have you been? Have you called everybody in?”
“They’re upstairs, playing cards. Near enough and sober enough if we need to make this more public. One small hiccough though…” His voice trailed off; the unwelcome prefix of bad news.
I glanced back at him and cocked an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“Onyx is with her.”
I grimaced and bit the inside of my cheek.
“Damn, that could complicate things. He won’t want to make trouble but…Kage keep an eye on him, and be ready to call back-up if need be.”
Kage grunted a second acknowledgement. We arrived at the door to the office of the Duchess of Shadow. We didn’t bother to knock.

The office looked larger and more empty than usual, the barrenness seeming as hostile to our presence as the occupants. Onyx leaned against one wall, arms folded and looking decidedly uncomfortable. The diminutive Duchess sat perched behind her oversized mahogany desk – a lonely furnishing in an otherwise bare room – fingers clasped and an expression of fury on her face. Flanked by the other Guildmasters, I marched across the room to stand before her. An awkward silence reigned as we sized each other up and, in those few moments, three-quarters of the conversation to follow had already passed between us. I inhaled a preparatory breath, and began.

“Diamond. For some time, a Guild majority has been dissatisfied with your leadership. My tolerance of you has been the sole buffer against a change of management.” I spoke as evenly as I could manage. When Diamond spoke, she sounded amused, but in a cracked, almost hysterical way.
“Oh? And yet you’re only bringing it up now. Funny that!”
“I have advised you, cautioned you, warned you. You take assassination contracts we have no business taking. You sequester ones we should be taking. You make us look bad in front of clients. You keep secrets from your advisors and lock the Hand files away. You lord your power, forgetting this is a fraternity. You privilege returning walk-ins – complete strangers – over those who have earned their place here. You foster division in the Guild, our family. My family.” My eyes remained fixed on hers. “This is not how it should be.”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this. So you were really trying to take over, all this time?”
“Silver is not alone in this.” Said Kage, his voice low and gravelly.
“We are all resolved, Diamond.” Gold, calm and confident. I nodded gratefully to each of them before continuing.
“If it were one poor decision, or two, or ten, we would not be here. It is a chronic crisis of leadership. Our success and continued survival currently depends on our ability to work around you.” I looked at her levelly. “You have had your chance and tried your best. It is time to step aside.”
“You really want to try this? That’s funny!” She laughed manically. She seemed on the very edge of losing it now. I knew that what I was seeing was desperation, vulnerability, weakness. A dangerous state. Onyx watched the whole exchange, looking between us but saying nothing. He seemed as tense and nervous at the prospect of a confrontation as we were. At least I had guessed correctly; like us, he didn’t want this to get any messier than it had to be.
“No Silver. That’s not going to happen.” Said Diamond, her cackling abated. “Not a chance. If anything, I’m going to be needing a new Whisperer.”

Onyx shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. “Duchess, I don’t think they are going to back down on this.” He said carefully. Interesting. He doesn’t think we’re wrong.
“Well neither am I.” Said Diamond defiantly. Another awkward silence descended. Is saying ‘no’ the totality of her response? She actually doesn’t have any cards left. She’s spent. I looked between Diamond and Onyx, Gold and Kage. Everything, everything we had done, everything we planned to do boiled down to this. Through the hourglass, now or never.

I straightened and turned to Gold, addressing him directly.
“Master Foot, will you obey Diamond’s orders?” I asked. He looked at Diamond and then back to me.
“For the reasons you stated earlier Silver, I must answer no.”
“Will the Foot obey Diamond’s orders?”
“No.”
I turned to face Kage, his eyes flickering to meet mine.
“Master Arm, will you obey Diamond’s orders?” I asked. He glanced at Diamond, and then slowly shook his head.
“Will the Arm lock up those who refuse to obey her?”
“No.”
I looked back at Diamond.
“Speaking for the Hand, and for myself…I must also refuse to obey.”

Her fury-filled eyes remained fixed on me. The road to this moment had been long and frustrating. And sad. We had been master and student once. More than that we had been friends. But this confrontation was inevitable; I had stayed my hand too long, allowing things to fester. When Ecko and Sano had approached me many months prior with their plan for revolution, I had rebuked them and sent them packing. And the next ones who came to me, and the ones after that. It was always going to come down to this, and whatever happened next would be up to her. At least, in a fashion, she would choose her own fate.

Onyx looked tense. Gold and Kage looked tense. I coolly returned Diamond's gaze, ready to accept consequences, or unleash them.
“Your move little one.” I stood in the doorway of Diamond’s bedroom, now quiet and empty. Resplendent in rich crimson décor, it looked more or less how it had bar the dust-free scars where various personal items once stood. The kingly bed seemed vast even for a human; how she didn’t get lost in it was a mystery. I felt a sad smile cross my face as I took in the sight. “It will always be here for you little one, should you ever return .”

I shut the door and began hammering the wooden sign across the frame. A faint homage to difficult times, the stenciled lettering read simply: Closed for Renovations.

Nestled in the dark heart of the docks district, there is a building. Within that building, there is a gathering. Imbued in that gathering, a purpose. Flowing from that purpose, power. With the application of that power, opportunity, prosperity, mastery. The fraternity of shadow, the Thieves of the Gate; I call, they come.

Everyone wants to see where they stand in the new scheme of things. As I look around the gathered faces, there is something different, a feeling in the air. A rekindling of confidence, and an ember of promise. Our position has never been stronger. Returns from heists are up, competition is down. Through my apprentice infiltrators, I now covertly control the Zhentarim, the Elder Circle, the Weave Guardians, the Candlekeep Guard, the intelligence arm of the Flaming Fist, the Nashkel Trade Emporium and the White Mask Theatre. We have people in Doron Amar. We have people in the Hellstorms. We even have a proxy in the Harpers. We control the information trade on the entire coast from the northern environs of Baldur’s Gate all the way south to Nashkel and beyond. If the Dukes want to know what’s happening in their lands, they come to me.

The assets we have worked hard to deploy and nurture are now solidly in place. It’s time to start extracting value. Survival is no longer enough; it’s our time to prosper, to rule. As we gaze down the looming valley of fortune and opportunity, it leers back and winks knowingly. The underworld is a new world. The darkness has never looked brighter. Lords of the shadows, masters of the night, we will rise from the streets on nightmare wings and strike fear and poverty into the hearts and purses of the complacent elite. We’re going to cash-in big time.

The reluctant Queen claims the Throne of Shadow.

The room is flooded with expectation. Eyes hopeful, eyes greedy, eyes nervous and admiring. I feel the weight now more than ever; the burden. In the past, I was always equipped with excuses and escapes, scapegoats and sidetracks. No longer. The price of my actions will be accountability, and is that not what freedom truly means? To own one’s own legacy completely. To take history by the hand, smile, and pull hard. For all the titles I have worn, conferred or adopted, there is only one I have claimed. Only one I have taken. Only one that is my absolute and indelible right.

I am the Duchess of Shadow, the General in the Dark. The paradoxical ruler on her paradoxical throne. She who covets openly, takes freely and guards jealously. The hidden architect, the weaver of the web, the hovering hand bound to a thousand discreet strings. It is a title both wrapped in destiny and tearing through it, Fate’s confirmer and Fate’s denier. It is emblematic of my struggles, my triumphs. It wears the sober mask of my regrets. It is all that I am and none of it. It is everything I will yet become.

At least this time, I have chosen my path.

Our foes were massive, but we walked as giants. Down yawning corridors lined with frost-adorned pillars, and flanked by a silent honour guard of vacant stone statues. Through those heavy iron gates, those frozen galleries, that vast antechamber from where the cold crown ruled. Through ice and fire and blood, we walked. Then came the running.

I dived behind the nearest pillar as a blast of cold wind – the harbinger of the Frost King’s blade – sailed just over my head. The pillar exploded upon impact, sending a salvo cluster of ice and stone soaring into the air. As the debris rained down around me, I found one of those strange, lucid moments that can descend in even the most frantic encounter, when the adrenaline pumping to your senses seems to slow time itself. I looked on in this surreal moment of stillness as the battle raged around me.

Everywhere, shadows clashed with giants. Soprano, newly promoted Master Foot, practically danced among the confused vanguard, her mute grey cloak trailing in artful spirals, her smile beaming as she evaded blows with apparent ease. She put two fingers between her lips and whistled loudly, and her Footpads leapt into the fray. Orchid and Soot each held the arms of a giant as Azure jumped on its back, stabbing viciously at its eyes. Gold slashed his knives across the calves of another, bringing it down within throat-opening range of Silhouette’s distinctive sickle. Off to one side, Kage stood alone, facing down a blue drake. And in the centre of it all, I stood against the King. Speaking of…

I dived forward as the world sped up again and the King’s follow-up blow obliterated what remained of my already flimsy cover. Rolling back to my feet, I brought my blades together just in time to meet the next swing – big mistake. The blow sent me spinning through the air and clattering to the floor ten feet away. Trying to match strength with a giant. Nice one Aik. There’d be time enough to berate myself later. I recovered quickly, regained my footing and, before the giant could close the distance, I went on the attack. I lunged at him, stepping lightly, carefully moderating my balance to be able to react in time. The axe came down, and I twisted on one foot, moving slightly off centre. The storm of air hit me as the huge metal blade fell like a guillotine, inches from my face, burying itself in a foot of hard ice to my left. My next footfall found the flat spine edge of the enormous axe-head, and I launched myself into the air towards my now-exposed foe. Blades trailing silver and shadow arced toward his throat. They found their mark, opening it wide, spilling pinkish blood onto the ice. I fell with him as he toppled, rolling clear.

Looking around, I saw Kage finish the drake with a downward stab. The sounds of battle were dimming as the others swiftly dispatched the stragglers and the wounded, the wring of metal and bellows of pain replaced with a stark silence barring the gasps for breath of spent shadows. Slowly, they brushed themselves off and gathered around. I pointed one blade tip toward the King’s crumpled form.
“I killed the big one. That alone’s got to be worth a hundred points.”
Kage’s smirk was evident even behind his mask. “Bit generous. It’s just a giant. I say fifty points tops.”
“Whaaaat? You didn’t even see the jumpy thing I did to take him down”
Soprano smiled hopefully. “I survived to the end this time, how many points for that? And I helped with the strategy.”
Silhouette cleared her throat pompously. “Well, we would have used my strategy but I left it on the nightstand.”

Thus it devolved into a predictable debate about who did what, whose lives were owed to whom, who ought to claim the biggest share of the treasure and who should have to clean Soot’s cell as a punishment for dragging their feet. It wasn’t exactly regular night work for us, but it was nevertheless a necessary and timely exercise. Nothing coalesces a team like a Thieves’ Night Out. It helped us learn each other’s styles, each other’s habits. It hardened us as a unit. It brought the family closer, even the childish bickering. Especially the childish bickering.

This night, out in the cold, the Guild feels whole again.

I didn’t care why Anden Tremelaine wanted his brother dead. Perhaps it was the normal dispute over prospective inheritance. Perhaps the Tremelaine brother had done something to shame the family name, something only death could erase. Perhaps he knew too much about Anden’s true affiliations and intentions, secret as they were to some people. I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. Instead, as the roaring tongues of flame licked higher and his agony-filled screams echoed behind us, my only thoughts were about what well-behaved clients the Zhentarim had become. Upfront, respectful and prompt with payment. What more could one ask for in a repeat customer?

My accomplice and I dropped silently from the tree perch outside the second-story inn window, and began making our dash across the well-kept lawns. I glanced back in time to see the fire reach flashover and the window explode outwards in a rain of glass debris. Stealing the glow of the flames, the shards in motion formed a dazzling kaleidoscope. Orange fireworks in a morbid garden party. There were other screams in the building now, lamps flickering on in dark windows as more sleeping patrons were roused. The Tremelaine brother was supposed to die a quiet death in his sleep from smoke inhalation with the blame falling squarely on a toppled oil-lamp, itself the consequence of a characteristically drunken stupor. Unfortunately, the old timbers from which the Dancing Bear tavern – apparently a local institution here in Greenhill, Cormyr – were a lot drier and faster burning than we anticipated, and now it seemed the aged foundations were already catching. The other patrons would escape unscathed, but the building most certainly would not. Oh well. At least our tracks would soon be smothered by the smouldering ruin of what was, until tonight, Greenhill’s finest inn and alehouse.

The plan had been simple enough. Infiltrate the inn disguised as commoners travelling north, subtly fish the patrons to locate the target, and wait until the dead of night when the locals had all obligingly passed out from the tournament celebration and aftermath. Changing into our work clothes in the privacy of an upstairs room, Chrace and I had made our way to where our target was quartered for the night, stepping carefully over the many sleeping forms littering the halls. Upon confirming the identity of the comatose figure in the master suite, we locked the door and started the fire in a contrived tinderbox of discarded clothes and spilled lamp oil. Then it had been a simple matter of slipping out the window, sealing it behind us.

Thus we were on our way to an easy payday while a man died a horrible death in our wake. I told myself this was a good thing. I told myself that a professional relationship with Anden and the Zhents was more than worth it. I told myself we needed to have the Hand active and capable, or risk ceding ground to other would-be assassins. I told myself this smooth operation, in contrast to Diamond’s prior blundering, validated my revolution and signalled a return to prominence. I told myself that, in order to safeguard the family and our assets, it was necessary and right to burn a human being alive.

I refrained from looking back a second time, as I lied to myself.

I sat perched atop the western outer wall of the Friendly Arm Inn, well away from the road. An array of blades strapped cosily to my waist, climbing claws affixed my wrists, twenty feet of rope coiled beside me. Clad in Silver’s ghostly garb, I was a still and silent wall-top gargoyle, gazing meditatively upward as Selûne trailed tears across the clear night sky. Not exactly the best conditions for thief-work, but then, the inn was always well-lit. A risky target on any night, but then, this wasn’t my idea.

I glanced down past the looming silhouette of the inn’s upper stories, toward the courtyard and the auction storehouse. Somewhere down there, Gold was working alongside Lilah “Glass Dragon” and Tamina “Busy Bee”. Hellstorms. Amateurs. But paying clients nonetheless. We had watched Lilah work her tricks on Kalma and weasel her way into the crew. Several of their number thought she was controlling him, and it was hard to argue. One might also argue that Kalma needed controlling and I lacked the patience for that I once had.

Still, by permitting this heist I was taking a risk. Not to us directly; Soprano and Shepherd had but laid the groundwork, and Gold would do his lock-charming trick before making an early escape. Pick and run. The Hellstorms would have to find their own way out, and I could hardly care less whether or not they succeeded. But security would tighten as a result of this and, if they screwed it up, it could have far-reaching consequences.

I sighed softly to myself and gazed skywards once more. Regardless of my misgivings, I was happy to be doing honest work again. No one to overthrow, no one to burn – figuratively or literally. Here, perched high amidst the night stars, was where I belonged. Besides, there was only a couple of days left now until the day. Then it would be a long boat ride, Calimport, sunshine, much-needed respite.

The faintest sound below caught my attention, and I picked out Gold’s form in the darkness behind the inn. Anchoring it on a stone crenulation, I threw the rope down and he promptly scrambled up to join me on the wall. As I helped pull him over, I caught his look – he looked furious. “What happened?” I asked.
“It went fine. Then some masked idiot starting killing guards.”
I groaned. Morons. Amateurs. We’d be dealing with the fall-out for weeks now. When words gets out about this, guards everywhere will be jumpy, quicker to action and violence, less inclined to look the other way for fear for their lives. Lesson: Never let clumsy pirate thugs play Thief. Gold shook his head in disbelief.
“I told you I had a bad feeling about this one.”
I conceded a sigh, but then smiled warmly.
“Don’t worry about that now. You haven’t forgotten what the day after tomorrow is?”
His expression changed and the anger fled his face as he looked at me.
“Never. Of course you’re right, we have far more important things to think about.”
He leaned forward, pulled the cloth mask down from my face, and kissed me. I returned the kiss through a giddy grin.

Together, we cast the rope over the other side of the wall, and slid in tandem into the night.

The few lingering stage lights cast long, looming shadows in the theatre, empty at this late hour. Empty that is, save for a solitary figure, likewise lingering. I watched from the shadows as she methodically packed away the last of the painted backdrops, humming melodically to herself in her burgundy-pink dress and feathered hat. I smiled and shook my head knowingly as I watched; it seemed being promoted to a Guildmaster of the Thieves in no way diminished that happy humming tiefling. As she approached my hiding place, I stepped slickly out of the shadows and blocked her path. She greeted me with a startled jump and suppressed yelp, before frowning and narrowing her eyes indignantly.

“Do you have to do that in my theatre as well?”
I smirked and shrugged teasingly at her. “I have to keep my new Master Foot on her toes. You don’t want those stage feet to get rusty do you?”
“Hmph.” She folded her arms in a mild and ineffectual protest.
“Well, further to my nascent artistic streak…” I pulled my cloak aside to reveal a single page of parchment covered in a tidy, flowing script, the neatly printed title reading Act I Song I. “I heard you were having trouble with writers.”
“I have been, yes.” She said, taking the parchment. “Mostly the trouble is a lack of them, rather than particularly difficult people.”
“So yeah…ta-da.”
She smiled, her eyes darting quickly over the page. “Silver, this looks great. So you write songs now too?”
“No. Definitely not. How do you even know I wrote that? It may have just spontaneously materialised in the kitchen.”
“I know your handwriting by now. Unless you are suggesting it was written in sauce on the counter and you had to copy it down?”
I chuckled lightly. “That’s it. The counter was too much trouble to bring here. There are three Acts in your play, correct? And you require a song for each?”
“Yes, that’s right. Think you could…whip some up?”
“I shall check the kitchen regularly for further convenient apparitions.”
She smiled warmly. “I’d appreciate that a lot.”

There was a momentary silence between us as I sought the words giving effect to my true purpose here. I had left this very late, half because a whispering part of me hoped for Shalinee’s sudden and timely return, and half because it was an inexplicably hard thing to voice. No one ever knew Silver’s heart. “Actually, there is one other thing I wanted to ask you…”
Soprano looked up from the page. “Hm?”
“I am not sure what you might have heard within the family of my sister and her…absence.”
“Practically nothing, to be honest.”
A small wave of relief washed over me. It did no one any favours to know the extent to which she still suffered under the weight of Uuharel’s legacy. Whether she would ever fully recover…well, only time would tell, and by the Gods I would give her that.
“Well, I suppose she was the obvious choice to be my Maid of Honour. However, there remains the possibility that she won’t be able to make it…” Why was this difficult to ask? We had grown close these past months. All those nights staying up late in the Common Room, acting half our age or less, chatting in the darkest hours of the night, sharing private thoughts we would never extend to our brothers and sisters of shadow. But the title I wore was a wall; it made it hard to know what I was to the people close to me. As the Duchess, the dark mentor, the grand manipulator; I was confident. Without the mask, a little less so. Friendship commitment issues. “And, if she cannot, I wondered…” If anyone could take my sister's place, it’d be you. “…if maybe…you would.” You’re my best friend.
Soprano raised both eyebrows in genuine surprise. “Oh. Thank you.” She said quickly. “Um. What would I do?”
I sighed. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do. I think you’re basically supposed to stand there and look pretty, but not as pretty as me.”
“Well…then I’ll try not to look as pretty as you.” She smiled and I smiled back, once more somewhat relieved. Then I snapped my fingers theatrically.
“Oh, also, if I decide the whole thing is beneath me and don’t show, you have to marry the Groom in my stead.”
Her eyes immediately widened. “Wha…?”
I nodded seriously. “Yes. It’s kind of an insurance policy.” I followed this with a sly smile and a sardonically reassuring voice. “But I have every intention of showing up.”
“Good.” She said, narrowed eyes zeroed on me.
“Then again, if neither the Bride nor the Groom turn up, then you have to marry the Best Man…” I added with a knowing wink.
She gawped. “How’s that an insurance policy?”
“So that people don’t dress up for no reason.”
“I think perhaps I won’t let you out of my sight for the next few days...”
I grinned at her, but a rare ray of sincerity shone through. “Thank you, Mia.”

She smiled as well, though her face contorted a little as it turned to a yawn. “The night grows old; I think I’ll retire to my suite.” She said with challenging smugness. “With my couch. And open fireplace.”
“Oh right.” I smirked broadly, rising to the challenge. “That’s okay, I think I’ll head home to my master bedroom with its stately furnishings, my hot bath, my Hall-fortress filled with minions and ninja-cooks, my vault filled with ill-gotten wealth, my doting fiancé and the exotic chocolates hidden in my draw.” I splayed my hand as though casually inspecting my fingernails. “But, you know, enjoy the quirky colour scheme in your suite.”
She rolled her eyes and yawned with theatrical boredom “Oh. Well enjoy your all your whatsits then.”
I laughed. “Goodnight Mia.”

Mia. It’s funny who becomes most important to you. Or maybe it’s not; maybe for all our differences, we are really the same.

I recently helped write a play, Karsus’ Folley, which was well received at the White Mask Theatre. I did it for Soprano, really. She works damned hard to maintain her cover as the Director and produce new material for weekly shows, while trying to balance her obligations as Master Foot and one of my top agents. If I could lighten her load a bit, so be it. Well my dear, let’s see what else the kitchen can conjure. Perhaps next time I’ll surprise everybody with a rags-to-riches romance.

Rooftops echo with their laughter, as they rob happily ever after. A more perfect tale I could not imagine.

Only a few hours to go now.

“Don’t stop! Keep going!” Soprano swept through the crowd in graceful, twirling steps, her lute a blur. “Keep dancing!” Shadows danced upon the wide open deck of the Sea Sprite, black tunics shifting, black dresses flaring in time. With a broad smile beaming on her face, Soprano made her way over to the bright centre where Delphinn and I danced, our white wedding garb stark against the otherwise dark congregation. She grinned at me as she stepped rhythmically around us, playing all the while, her presence commanding attention. Hard to believe that, not a year ago, she was that shy little humming tiefling, nervously tugging on her hat feather, reticent even to step foot on a stage. Nowadays, she wore that stage everywhere she went.

“I have one more, the Groom’s dedication to the Bride.” Soprano chimed, changing the tempo down a gear, her eyes sparkling as she met my look. I looked back to Del and cocked one eyebrow.
“Dare I ask?”
He simply grinned back in his own devilish manner. He wore an air of triumph, as though this was his best day, and maybe it was. He had scrubbed up nicely for the ceremony and I had been deliberate in telling him so, being sure to use teasing phrases like “less scruffy than usual.” Clad in layered black and white cotton and gold trimmings, he shone such as to make the Lord of Shadows cover his face in embarrassment and pretend not to know his disciple. It gave him a certain presence though and he seemed to grow by six inches, which I was also diligent in telling him, using phrases like “now able to look a dwarf in the eye.” He placed his hands on either side of the vibrant silk gown hanging off my hips and leaned in close.
“This is my song for you, Aik.” He whispered.
I smirked.
“Then why aren’t you the one singing it?”
His devilish grin only grew wider.
“I thought it prudent not to ruin such a special day.”
I laughed loudly, cut short as Soprano began to sing.
I smiled and started to sway with Del, pressing close to him. All around us, inebriated Thieves let go of their inhibitions. Azure danced with Orchid. Soprano danced with Kage while somehow still managing to sing and play the lute. She was backed by the White Mask Theatre band, kidnapped especially for this occasion. Silhouette danced alone seemingly in her own world. Hawk, Bistro, Manners, Blindman, Caliph and his gang of dockrats all joined in and enthusiastically demonstrated how a Thief’s grace does not translate to all things.

A Thief wedding was a strange concept. Even at that moment, I suppressed a tiny sliver of guilt smouldering in my stomach, a fragment that cried “selfishness”, a discreet shard that demanded I return to legitimate shady work immediately. Well to the hells with that notion.
I am the Duchess of Shadow. I get what I want.

Del’s eyes were fixed on mine and, as I returned his gaze and Soprano’s song took shape, all the rest evaporated into blurred nothingness. We lost ourselves in the dream of the moment.
I smiled at Del and he grinned back as the lyrics evoking our first meeting bled through our ethereal cocoon, like sound echoing on water. I had kissed him back then, in that dark cave, an act I still did not fully understand. Partly, I had simply wanted to put this overconfident young rogue on the back foot. But perhaps there was more, a touch of kismet to it after all. Since then, he had risked all for me, infiltrated the Flaming Fist for me, stayed up all night for me during the Dreams saga, and had his tattoo cut from his face for me during the Uuharel affair. He had faced drow, warlocks, vampires and Shadow Thieves for me. He had helped overthrow a Duchess for me. He had been everywhere for me, and all things to me.

The Inamorato survives unfulfilled…

Now, the Dreams saga has given me a healthy if rarely voiced respect for prophecy. Enough has transpired as predicted for me to be wary of tempting fate, even while fighting viciously against it. But this one particular line was dead wrong; the man dancing with me could not be more fulfilled, and my heart mirrored his. I had flirted with love before, with Rysdan, but that had been a girl’s love, not a woman’s. This was different. This did not flare; it burned. This was permanent and immutable, encompassing and complete. After today, I would call him my husband, and I his wife. Aikura Veil.
As the song finished, Del leaned in close again, his lips hovering at my ear.
“I love you.” He whispered.
“And I’m warming to you.” I replied teasingly.
He grinned and I smirked and he wrapped his arms around me and I around him and we kissed passionately and it was perfect and wonderful and sublime.

The sound of applause pattered like rain on our own little bubble of time.

The ocean wind whipped my hair into wildly thrashing tails as the Blue Drake left the Chionthar and picked up speed in its southward turn. Holding the starboard rail, I leaned back and closed by eyes, relishing the last rays of evening sun and the steadily building sense of freedom that engulfed me. Behind us: the Gate, the Guild, responsibility. Ahead of us: Calimport, the unknown, adventure. I laughed as both wind and wave whipped past, sea spray lightly dusting my face, the rapidly passing waterscape engendering an intoxicating sense of flight.

Delphinn grinned down at me, enjoying his wife’s playful mood. He let out a long, relaxed sigh, and then turned serious.
"Aik, do you remember the stories I told you of my homeland?" He began carefully, as though treading around a particularly difficult topic. Something about his tone roused in me the urge toward petulant resistance.
"Every word."
"Then you remember my homeland and its people can be a bit... misogynistic. The Captain knows who you are and, in the underworld, there is no such prejudice. There shouldn't be any problems, but... " He trailed off, trying to find the safest way to express his meaning. I tilted my head toward him and cocked one eyebrow. Oh great, a condescending lecture to start the trip off. I waited for him to elaborate; I knew where this was going but refused to help him along.
"The captain likely didn't tell his crew. He wouldn't want a drunk sailor putting our business at risk, either in the Gate or any other port. If there's trouble, it's best to let the Captain handle it, or me. We both know you're the deadliest person on the boat, but for the sake of harmony it may be best to let some things slide."
"You know letting things slide is not my strong point."
"I do. I've made that point clear to the Drake's Captain. Of course, if the Captain does his job correctly then there should be no problems. If he wants his full pay, there won't be."

“Ah, Delphinn my boy! Welcome!” A new voice rang out from behind us, perfectly on cue. We turned to see a large, bearded man crossing the deck toward us. Obviously a Calimshan native, he wore fine cotton trousers, shirt and vest, and an ornate jeweled dagger strapped at his hip.
“And this must be your new wife you've told me so much about." The way he spoke this sentence, imbued with the understanding of those who work at night, suggested much more than merely the words.
"Haseid, this is my wife, Aikura Veil. Aik, this is Haseid, Captain of the Blue Drake."
I smirked. "Mm."
Haseid looked at me, and then uncertainly at Delphinn. "I assume you've told her about proper etiquette?"
"She'll be fine." Delphinn said with a casual smile, glancing up at the sky as though suddenly very interested in a passing cloud. "But you're…dangerously close…to being rude... right now." He said airily.
Haseid grinned and offered me a slight, apologetic bow. I smirked and rolled my eyes.
"I can tell I shall appreciate some aspects of your country more than others."
Haseid continued to grin. "Calimshan is the greatest nation on Faerun. But I'm sure Delphinn has already shared that with you."
"Yes, there seems to be an overwhelming cultural imperative to share that revelation with everyone you meet." I shifted my gaze out over the passing waves. "It's almost as if you are afraid for your home to be judged on its own merits."
Delphinn gave me an incredulous grin and scoffed dramatically. Haseid seemed near to actual offence, but just shook his head. "It's more an education to the...well, for people that may never have had the pleasure of journeying so far south."
"It is an education indeed, Haseid."
Delphinn flashed me a knowing grin, but Haseid hid his emotions well. "I'm glad you can appreciate it." He said evenly. “If you need anything tabarifa, please do not hesitate to ask myself or the crew.”
“I shall. I’m sure you’re all equally fascinating.”

Haseid bowed again and excused himself, and I turned to survey the labouring crew with the casual eye of a cat, looking at a lawn full of birds. Del chuckled and shook his head. "Now you’re just being cruel. I think I've made you more dangerous with my warning."
"Yes. Yes you have." I said bluntly. "We can only hope for a horrible storm and a sea monster attack to bring my spirits down before we get to Calimshan, lest that whole nation be forced to suffer my good mood."
"Please. If we were attacked right now, you'd call for your katana and laugh while you stabbed whatever it was through the throat. Then you'd toss the corpse at Haseid's feet just to see his reaction." His grin grew as he spoke, imbued with a sort of bemused pride. "So that'd hardly ruin your good mood. And if there was a storm, you'd stand on the bow and challenge the Stormlord himself to knock you off."
I laughed and turned back to the rail to watch the setting sun. The last bloom of evening light flared on the horizon, colouring the ocean in brilliant shades of vermillion. A fleeting beauty that, in mere moments, would be swallowed by the cool illumination of twilight glow. Del put his arm around me and I leaned gratefully into him, resting my head on his shoulder.
"So... what are you looking forward to most in Calimshan?" He asked.
I answered quickly, not needing to think. "Flying carpets."
"Now why did I know that was going to be your answer?" He said with a grin.
I smiled. "It is the obvious answer..." I paused for a moment, thoughtful. "But I am also looking forward to seeing the streets where you grew up. Seeing it through your eyes. When was the last time you were there?”
His look at my response was one moved and appreciative. He gazed out over the shifting sea, still aglow with sunset fire. "It's been a few years since I've been ho-...been to Calimport.” His expression changed and I looked up at him questioningly. Noticing my look, he shook his head slightly, a small, introspective smile appearing on his lips. "It's just strange. I don't consider Calimport my home anymore. I keep wanting to say 'home' because that's what I've always called it, but now..." He looked into my eyes and his smile grew full, his expression overflowing with meaning. I smiled and kissed him lightly as the last sliver of sun dipped below the horizon. New speckles of light began to flicker on all across the clear dusk sky.

An ocean of stars awaited.