Ranger, Wizard, Quasit - pteroredactyl (2024)

Chapter 1: After They Left

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Everyone had gone and now Tav was alone.

It started as soon as the Netherbrain perished: Karlach and Wyll fleeing immediately to Avernus and Lae'zel taking flight on the red dragon she had so dreamt about since childhood.

And then it continued slowly, with Halsin, Jaheira and Minsc setting off to the former Shadow-cursed lands to re-establish its broken community. They took Scratch and Tav agreed it was for the best, but her father had once said that a Ranger without a dog was a poor fellow and she now finally understood what he had meant.

Three weeks later, Astarion appeared from the darkness outside The Elfsong as she returned home to announce that he was finally ready to travel into the Underdark. It was this point that her heart began to feel the true weight of loss. The vampire’s words were delivered quietly, regretfully, and all semblance of his usual sardonic tone was absent. They embraced, and neither let go for some time until a cat skittered past them and broke the spell.

Shadowheart, needing to find her purpose, was the next to go, taking the Owlbear with her. She said that she had no plan but Tav was certain that she would follow the light over the horizon and find her place somewhere. They made promises to keep in touch.

They admitted that had no idea how to do so.

Finally, Gale left to return to Waterdeep. He had stayed far longer than she had thought he would and she suspected that it was out of a lingering pity for her. As he made pans to move home he continued to offer to stay or to take her with him, but she knew that his future lay apart from hers.And so she bade farewell to the last of her friends – no, her family.

Only one of her companions now remained; inherited from a somewhat relieved Gale. She had been minded to tell him to piss off when he suggested it, but couldn’t see another option – he would have been driven mad within a week had she not accepted the responsibility.

Shovel.

The half-mad Quasit with the filthiest mouth this side of the Hells was now hers to keep. Lucky Tav.

In fairness to the creature, she had mellowed somewhat in the months since they found her. In fact, she had been sort of adopted by Karlach, who made sure she was fed and watered and let her sleep curled up against the backs of her thighs each night. There were fewer incidents involving ‘murderising’ and thankfully, none involving fisting. They had only once had to intervene when Tara visited The Elfsong in the days following the Brain’s defeat, and it was this incident which had turned Gale’s mind to a more concrete offer to offload her. It would have been the demon or Tara, and there was only ever going to be one winner there. With Karlach gone, only Tav remained, and when Shovel looked up at her with those horrible, sad black eyes, she had found that she couldn’t say no.

He had also left a pile of books on Tav’s bed and told her that she could keep or discard of them in any way she felt fit. Tav wasn’t exactly sure what the hell a ranger was supposed to do with The Red Knight's Final Strategem, The Annals of Karsus, The Tharchiate Codex or the Necromancy of Thay, but this was Gale, and he probably felt this was a grander gesture than it was to her. She thought that they were probably very valuable, but the idea of selling them to someone who might use them for ill gain didn’t sit right. Even if she did find herself short on funds these days.

Nonetheless, she wanted them out of her room. Their very presence felt unhealthy, and she already had a fiend to contend with. She wondered how to proceed, but the solution hit her almost immediately. In fact, it solved a couple of problems: not only was there a perfect home for the books (it was where most of them had been stolen from, after all), but she also remembered that she did not need to feel completely abandoned in the city. The idea of some company warmed her a little and she went to fetch a backpack to stow the tomes.

When she was ready to leave, Shovel was waiting at the door, hopping back and forth excitedly on her froggy little legs. “Now that the spellsh*te has buggered off, Shovel thinks we might go murd-“

“I don’t think so, Shovel,’ said Tav quickly. ‘Not today, at least. Perhaps you’d like to stay here?”

There was a pause as Shovel appraised her new master.

“I wouldn’t.”

Tav sighed and opened the door. ‘Fine, but you sit on my backpack and behave yourself, understand?’

Somewhere along the road, Shovel had learned a military two-finger salute: probably from Karlach or Wyll, and she performed it now, straight-backed, with a deadly serious look on her face. Tav couldn’t help but laugh as she boosted her up onto her back and set off into the familiar hallway of the inn which she now called home.

This was her family now. This was her home. A rented room in a noisy inn that she would not be able to afford in a month’s time, and a hideous, stinky pet which fantasised noisily about killing people. Perhaps she needed to get back on the road, but the thought bothered her, and so she pushed it to one side and set off into the afternoon.

Chapter 2: Tea With a Friend

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The entrance to Sorcerous Sundries was as chaotic as ever but it cheered Tav up. Shovel had only insulted one woman on the route there, but she was as big as Karlach and twice as scary. Surprisingly, the woman had not wished to hear Tav explain that Shovel called almost everyone ‘Beefy’ and that the mooing noise she was making was simply an extension of this sentiment. The threats of bodily harm still rang in her ears and it had been some time since she had needed to perform such nimble evasive manoeuvres.

Despite this, they made it blessedly unharmed across the city until the familiar sight of the store greeted them. Entering, the metallic copper smell of the fire elemental mingled with something altogether sweeter wafting over from the back of the store. Tav recognised the unmistakable trace of pure Weave. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the moment, recalling some of the subtle variations which accompanied each of her friends when they cast their own magics. She tried to fix them in her mind every night before she slept just in case she should miss them too badly: Astarion, who’s magic suggested lemon balm, was her favourite, closely followed by Shadowheart’s balsam scented weave. Her own spells, rooted as they were in the natural world, were faint, yet bucolic, with hints of moss and sandalwood. It always made her recall her parents and gave her no end of strength in battle.

A tug on her hair snapped her out of the reverie and it was closely followed by a sharp tap on her forehead with a long claw.

“Is Beefy dead?” rasped Shovel.

“No, just thinking,” she replied irritably, but she moved forward to the broad counter regardless.

Cal was situated in the centre of the desk and he made a far happier sight than his brother had all those weeks ago. She was glad she would get to speak to him and not have to face the simulacrum version of Rolan. Something about the projection had never sat right with her, until Astarion pointed out that it was probably because it was incapable of arguing with her. He had a point – Tav couldn’t remember an occasion when she hadn’t at least bickered with the Master of Ramazith's Tower. She thought that after Lorroakan’s death, when he had defrosted in manner and helped them tip the balance in the fight against the Brain, that he would mellow, but he still seemed to delight in pushing her buttons - albeit in a friendlier way.

Even on the morning before the battle itself, as they had all gathered to discuss tactics, she had gone to speak to him and somehow ended up arguing about the elixirs she had taken in preparation for the fight. She later furtively downed an elixir of guileful movement as he had suggested, but at no point did she admit this to him. He must have seen that she had been so worried about getting hurt and protecting herself that she naturally felt the need to boost her spell casting and completely forgotten (as he had pointed out) to play to her strengths. “You are a master of the bow,” he had lectured, “but you make a poor mage. Best make sure you can get to wherever you need to be to do the most damage.” At the time it rubbed her the wrong way, but she had reflected several times since and by gods, she was glad to have listened to him. Perhaps one day she would tell him how she returned from battle with several unused spells left over but would have surely failed in her mission had she not been able to clamber across the burning ramparts and get to the Brain before all hells broke loose.

Yes, she should probably thank him for that. If he didn’t start immediately hectoring her about something or other as soon as she laid eyes on him.

The customer in front of her moved away. Cal saw her approach the counter and his face immediately broke into a huge smile.

“Tav! We were wondering when we would see you again! And who’s with you…?” He peered over her shoulder to where Shovel was crouched, currently holding on to Tav’s hair like reins.

“Oh, this is Shovel,” she announced, simultaneously trying to disengage the quasit’s scaly grip from her curls. “Shovel, for f*ck’s sake let go!”

Cal laughed and leant over to assist, although the more they pried the more tangled the little fingers became. Shovel cackled and began to dance on Tav's shoulders which stung terribly as her claws dug into the flesh there. Tav was just about to get violent, but then Shovel mercifully let go and hopped on to the counter. There, she performed a dramatic bow and cleared her throat.

“Shop Spellsh*te, I am Shovel. I like your pointy horns.”

The teifling laughed and clapped his hands together. Tav wondered if he was in the market for a pet and made a mental note to explore that possibility further at a later date. They seemed like a perfect pair, to be honest.

Cal looked up from his new friend. “Rolan is in the tower doing… I don’t know, Rolan things. You can go straight up through the portal. He’s changed the password again. Something to do with arcane magic. He says it’ll recognise family so I won’t need to know what the hells he’s on about and it works well enough. And apparently there’s a book on the shelf next to it that you can use to give you a clue.”

Tav furrowed a brow. “Guess I’m using that then. I miss the days when all you needed to do was be on first name terms with a giant aasimar.”

Cal snorted and shrugged. “You know what he’s like – probably trying to make sure nobody ever visits that he’s in danger of actually getting along with.”

“He’ll bloody hate seeing me then.”

Cal simply raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“Well, I better get up there and see what’s what. Thanks, Cal.” .She briefly wondered about that last comment. He obviously meant that she was tolerable to the new master of the tower, but she couldn’t hold back a smile as she climbed up the stairs to the mezzanine.

The portal hummed and fizzed: its black centre swirling outwards into a mess of purple static. It seemed foreboding, somehow, not least because she had no concept of what the password could possibly be. If Cal was right, she would need to find the correct book and search it for clues. She hoped that Rolan wasn’t being too much of a pompous ass when he set the trail, because she really didn’t have it in her to cope with one of his smug expressions should she need to seek his aid in getting to the tower. She moved towards the bookshelf, noting that the portal seemed to emanate from the shelves themselves. A particularly ragged spine caught her eye on third shelf and she leaned over to examine it. This brought her so close to the portal that her hair began to move with the slight draft caused by the magic. Shovel, who had followed up the stairs on foot and was standing by the books looking for all the world like she was intent on behaving herself, stretched up to her full height so that their faces met in the middle and their cheeks almost touched. Tav resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose at the mildly fishy odour which emanated from the demon.

“What is Beefy doing?” whispered Shovel.

“I’m looking for a book which will help me to get us through the portal.”

“Oh boooooks,” Shovel cried, “everyone is always so horny for books! It’s BORING!” She rolled her eyes so ostentatiously that Tav snigg*red.

“We do seem to know a lot of people who love books, don’t we?”

Shovel grabbed Tav’s face with a claw and leaned in. “Books don’t hurt them what need hurtin’, Beefy. Only Shovel can stab them right up. Trust Shovel, not some dustly old book.”

“Well be that as it may, we need to have a look for this password. No stabbing right now.”

“Uuuuuuurgh, fine. But Shovel has allergy to books. Remember when Shovel sneezed on the vampire’s book? He chased her all about! Ha ha!”

Tav did remember. It was quite the sight.

At that very moment, there was commotion downstairs and the sound of wood smashing. As Tav stood and turned to see what was going on, one of the constructs which patrolled the mezzanine collided with her and she toppled backwards, unable to quickly right herself due to the weight of her backpack. As she fell, she reached wildly for the nearest available thing to cling to and grasped one of Shovel’s horns. Two things happened very quickly in succession after that: Shovel, with all of her characteristic grace, screamed the words, “c*ntING HELLS, BEEFY,” and the pair of them fell backwards through the portal.

Tav hit the floor first, landing painfully on the edge of the books in her bag, and followed closely by Shovel who was flailing wildly. She opened her eyes, filled with dread at where Rolan’s portal had sent them. To her surprise, she found that she was greeted with an almost upside-down view of the very tower she had wanted to get to. And more than that, a pair of soft brown boots stood about a foot away from where she lay awkwardly arched across the bulk of her bag.

The boots did not move.

“Hello Rolan,” she smiled.

“Hm,” was the response.

A moment stretched and Tav wondered if she would ever regain her dignity. A joke was all she could offer at this time. “Do you remember when I was the Hero of Baldur’s Gate?” It earned her a soft, amused snort.

She looked upwards at the tiefling mage. It might have been the angle, but he had seemed to grow in stature since he took over the tower. He was no longer the sullen, moody young man who had resented her so. She hoped that it wasn’t just the angle. She liked to think of him growing into something… more. He had faced and met every challenge thrown at him with genuine grit.

He returned her look with a completely straight face. Although there might have been the merest hint of a smile there. It was difficult to tell from her position.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, as though she were not prone before him, clutching a wriggling quasit. “And who is your friend?”

Tav thought it might be time to right herself and managed to do so without having to release Shovel, who eventually gave up and decided to hang limply in her arms.

“I have some books I think you might be interested in,” she began, “and this is Shovel. She sort of became Gale’s familiar at some point, but he’s gone to Waterdeep now and so she’s staying with me.” The explanation felt weak and the reminder of Gale’s departure felt bad.

Shovel turned her face to Rolan and made a piteous expression. “The Spellsh*te didn’t want Shovel. Only Big Red ever loved her. She is gone too.”

Tav looked at Rolan and rolled her eyes as if to say, don’t listen to her. “And now Beefy is Shovel’s master. She has already begun the manhandling. Poor Shovel!”

“…Beefy?” said Rolan, and now he really was smiling a little.

“Oh gods, it’s just a name she calls me. I can’t remember why –“

“Slab of beef. With nipples! Ha haaaa!”

Tav felt the last of her dignity drain away into the ether. Rolan looked just as mortified and she wondered if she could simply throw the backpack at him and dive back through the portal. Speaking of which…

“How come I came through the portal without a password?”

Rolan blushed a little. “I made it so that people who met certain… criteria could enter at any time,” he said, and cleared his throat softly.

Family, Cal had said. That felt nice. Rolan considered her to be important enough to ensure she always had access to the tower.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “It’s nice to still have people in the city.”

He must have caught the sadness in her voice, as pig-headed as he was, and he immediately ushered her towards a table with two chairs and tea set on top of it. She placed Shovel on the floor with a warning to behave and sat with the bag set between her feet.

Rolan laid a hand on the teapot to check its warmth. “I’ll get another pot for us. Make yourself comfortable.” He disappeared down a spiral staircase and Tav wondered if he was still embarrassed about the mention of her nipples. She certainly was.

While he was gone, she watched Shovel pace around the central floor of the tower. For all she was filthy-mouthed and could be relied on to humiliate everyone around her, she was never deliberately naughty, and as she poked and inspected the various piles of books and equipment that Rolan was obviously sorting through, she was gentle with her ministrations.

Rolan reappeared after a few minutes, a glowing blue mage hand carrying a tray laden with the refreshed tea set and a plate of biscuits which made Tav’s stomach groan. One of the worst things about being left to her own devices was that she had always been a little neglectful of her own needs and often skipped meals. Gale had been gone for a day and she was already missing two dinners and a lunch. In the wilds, before the parasite, it was not such an issue, as she would graze on what she found as she went along, but after months as part of a caravan where meals were sometimes the only bright point in their day, she was now conditioned to eat regularly and fully. Any meal that she missed left her ravenous at a later point in time.

Rolan sat opposite her as the tray came to rest and the mage hand dissipated. A little awkward silence descended as they politely regarded one another across the table. Finally, they both made to speak at the same time, stopped, and then both started again. This made them laugh and Rolan waved a manicured hand in her direction.

“Hero’s first,” he offered.

Tav rolled her eyes but took her turn. “How have you been?”

“Very, very well,” came the response, as he poured two cups of steaming tea from the pot. “I still cannot believe how lucky we were to find ourselves here. I sometimes wake and find myself content to simply stand on the balcony for a while before I begin my day. That view: I am not sure I’ll ever get used to it.”

“It was well-earned,” said Tav, taking the proffered cup and smiling at him.

“Well, I’m sure that’s up for debate. I know I would not be here if it wasn’t for you and your tadpoled friends. And I don’t mean that I would be living elsewhere. I am not too proud to admit that you saved my pathetic tail that day in the Shadow Cursed Lands.” As if to emphasise the point, he made a little ‘cheers’ gesture with his cup towards Tav.

“Well. That’s all in the past, isn’t it? And besides, you thanked me and then told me not to be greedy for more. I'm surprised you're now offering your gratitude so freely.” She was needling him. The way he had rebuked her playfully that evening had struck her as it was the first time she saw a different, mischievous, side to him. If she was honest with herself, his co*cky comment had made her feel a little something towards him. A nascent spark which briefly allowed her to perceive a charming man in the darkness of the cursed night. Karlach had said it was a pity that he was such a f*cking prick because he was handsome, and that rang true to Tav. All the way up to the moment he turned on Lorroakan and proved himself to be something more. At that point he became a friend instead of a f*cking prick.

Tav had never felt any genuine romantic feelings for him. She hadn’t had time.

As she was thinking on this, Rolan sipped his tea and carefully replaced the cup on the saucer.

“I really was quite insufferable, wasn’t I?” He looked a little downcast.

“Please don’t think on it, Rolan. We all understood.”

“Yes, but to you in particular. I was quite the ass. I am sorry. Truly.”

“I accept your apology. But I do think I'd like to hear you thank me a bit more: would that be okay? Perhaps just a couple more. Perhaps a letter or a postcard.”

The tiefling smiled and raised an eyebrow. “You really are greedy, aren’t you?” he said in a low voice.

Tav swallowed and breathed, unsure how to respond. She had chosen to tease him but she had expected him to dismiss it, not lean into it. It felt suspiciously like he was flirting with her, but it had been so long since she’d had anything even close to resembling a similar experience that she felt herself floundering.

So Tav did what she did best, and powered onwards through the challenge with characteristic resilience.

Which is to say, she changed the subject.

“Would you like to look at the books Gale left?” She reached down to her backpack and undid the straps, checking on Shovel as she did so. If she had looked up, she might have seen Rolan rearrange his posture and take a hurried mouthful of tea. Perhaps she would have seen that a spell had been broken – one that even a master of the Weave could not navigate without awkwardness.

As it was, all she saw was Shovel hunched over in a corner, munching on something which looked suspiciously like a dead rat.

“Shovel!” Tav’s cry made the quasit jump guiltily and swing her head from side to side looking for an escape. “What are you eating? Gods, Rolan, I am so sorry. She can be quite disgusting.”

“I only caught a rat! Master Ilyn used to like it when Shovel crunched their little heads! See?” She held the half eaten tube of fur out to Tav and made her version of a grin. There were a few too many teeth and by far too much stringy viscera in that smile for it to achieve its goal of appeasing anyone.

“Oh hells,” said Tav. The smile became broader, perhaps to further impress, but this caused some gore to dribble from between Shovel’s teeth and Tav had to search around for a cloth in case any spilled on the warm, expensive, parquet floor of the tower.

It was Rolan who knelt down and produced a crisp white hanky, which Shovel snatched and dabbed around her mouth with amusing daintiness.

“I can’t be angry at anyone who catches vermin in my tower,” he explained, “the damned things have been nibbling at the books since we got here. Thank you, Shovel.”

The quasit stopped dabbing and looked suspiciously at the wizard. “Not another sh*tting spellsh*te,” was all she said, before the rest of the rat disappeared into her maw.

Thank fully, Rolan seemed amused as he returned to his seat.

“You really have mellowed, haven’t you?” observed Tav.

“Let’s put it down to a different pace of life. Biscuit?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter 3: It All Feels A Bit Real

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It turned out that magic could solve almost all of life’s problems, save for persistent rodents. Rolan outlined his problems over the tea, and Tav held on to the pile of books, amazed at how passionate one man could be about rats. Finally, he seemed to realise that he was waffling and gave her an apologetic look.

“Sorry, I just want to make sure everything in the tower is well kept. Lorroakan was… well, he was less than diligent when it came to upkeep. Everything seemed to be for show rather than the genuine betterment of his practice.”

Tav could hear the resentment in his voice and it moved her. He deserved the chance to be a little bitter after everything he had endured at the hands of his predecessor.

“Well, I should probably return these, then,” she said, placing the books on the table, “In the interest of diligence.” She tried to keep her voice light but the fact that she was blatantly returning stolen goods to the scene of the crime sat heavily on her conscience.

“Well well well,” Rolan smiled, “I had wondered when these might turn up.” He caught her eye, but the look was amused rather than annoyed.

“Ah, so you know about the…”

“Heist?”

Tav scoffed. “It was hardly a heist. More a pilfering. For a very good cause, I should add.”

“I cannot deny that these books were more than likely instrumental in the defeat of the Netherbrain,” said Rolan, idly flicking through the Annals of Karsus in much the same way as he might browse The Baldur’s Mouth over coffee and crumpets. “And Tolna made me aware of your activities as soon as you had left the building.” Another look, straight into her eyes: his face unreadable. “I didn’t care. I trusted you’d have made the right call. If you needed these books, then so be it.”

Tav exhaled. “Thank you, Rolan.” Her relief must have been obvious, because he gave her a kind smile.

“And you brought them back! So no harm done.”

“I did one better than that, actually,” she said, “I brought you something new, The Necromancy of Thay.”

She slid it from under the pile and held it out to him. She suddenly recalled watching Gale wrestle with the spirits contained in the pages and hoped that Rolan would exercise more caution. Somehow, she doubted it. Every wizard she had ever met had shared an obsession for knowledge that bordered on mania.

He took it, but simply replaced it on the pile.

“I am currently attempting to make up for the many years I had no access to proper training. I had only basic spell books and even they were lost to me on the road. I think necromancy is not yet on the cards for me. If ever.”

“I’m glad to hear it, I think. There’s always a price to pay for such things.”

Rolan huffed a laugh. “It’s taken me thirty years to find a home for my family. I cannot afford to take any action which would risk that. Thank you, though, for gifting this to the collection. We will take good care of it.”

“I know you will.”

There was an amicable pause, during which Shovel padded back over to the table and tugged on Tav’s jacket. She was less gore-stained than before but her downturned mouth and large black eyes gave her a slightly tragic air.

“You okay, Shovel?” asked Tav. The quasit gave no reply, which Tav was thankful for, but she did begin to climb gracelessly into Tav’s lap, surprising her. She realised that she would need to assist at once or risk shredded trousers. Once up, Shovel sat in her lap like a toddler and moved a claw towards the biscuits. She looked up at Tav as she did so, almost as though she was seeking permission.

“Can she have one?” Tav asked, a little apologetically.

“Of course.”

Shovel needed no further prompting and snaffled a piece of shortbread. But she ate it almost daintily.

“It’s nice to see you’re still looking after everyone, Tav.”

She sighed dramatically. “You know me, Rolan. I can’t stop meddling in the affairs of the weak and the pathetic.”

“Oof, a low blow,” he laughed.

Tav took him in from where she was sitting. He was pretty much lounging in his chair; one arm hooked over the back of it with his tea in the other hand. She liked that the tension had gone from his forehead and his easy way of speaking felt familiar and convivial. He was, after all, one of the last of her friends in Baldur’s Gate, and she unexpectedly wished that she could sit there all afternoon and simply bask in his company.

“You never really needed saving,” she said softly, “you only ever needed help. There is a difference.”

“I know. Well, I know now. After all, I had the chance to return the favour quite recently, didn’t I?”

A wave of gratitude led Tav into speaking without thought. “Thank gods for your huge cannon.”

Shovel immediately snorted and began to choke on a piece of biscuit, and Tav, realising what she had said, began to backtrack.

“That came out wrong!”

The grotesque sounds coming out of Shovel were wet and violent and Tav had to slap her square between the shoulder blades. Rolan conjured water into Tav’s empty cup and offered it to the struggling demon, who grabbed it and slurped the entire thing. Her coughing subsided, but was followed by a hefty belch.

Tav grimaced and pinched the bridge of her nose, but Rolan just laughed again: a gentle chuckle at first, but one which gained momentum until she could not resist a giggle of her own. Within seconds, they were both heaving with helpless laughter and Shovel was being jostled mercilessly with no idea why. Her gormless expression only made them laugh harder; united in abandoned reason. In fact, it reminded Tav of the tadpole’s effects and how she would occasionally get a fleeting sense of her companions’ feelings during their travels. Extreme, unguarded emotions had flowed easily through the parasites, which had the unexpectedly wonderful effect of occasionally amplifying their shared laughter. This felt like that.

As their mirth began to subside, they were interrupted by Lia, who appeared through the portal carrying a basket of goods from one of the markets which had popped up amongst the rubble. Even after such a huge cataclysm, life was finding a way to continue.

“Hey Tav,” she beamed, “Cal said you’d come to visit.” She accepted the hug offered by Tav, although it was awkward with the basket of vegetables and Shovel between them. Lia raised an eyebrow, but did not mention the strange creature who was clinging to her friend. “What are you two chucking about? You know what? Never mind. Will you stay for dinner? I managed to get my hands on a brace of rabbits and there’s the most amazing recipe I found in one of the books in the kitchen library.” She must have noticed Tav’s smile, because she rolled her eyes and continued, “I know, even the kitchen has a library. Imagine how happy our scholarly big brother is to call this place his own.”

“I would burn every book in this tower if it meant we had a place to call our own,” said Rolan seriously, earning a prod from his sister.

“You’d find a way to smuggle a few under your robes, I’m sure.”

“With your huge cannon!” cackled Shovel.

An awkward pause, before Lia simply said, “Ew.”

Tav wondered if it was too late to travel to Halsin’s camp and demand a swap for Scratch.

*****

Assisting in the kitchen was a welcome distraction for Tav, although she couldn’t help but dwell on Rolan’s blushing amusem*nt, even as she scooped rabbit innards into a bowl. Lia had offered any scraps to Shovel which meant that the quasit was following her around the kitchen asking questions as though they were joined at the ankle. To her credit, Lia was exercising a great deal of patience. And when Cal came up from closing the shop, well – Shovel’s life was complete.

Rolan stood at Tav’s side, beheading and quartering each skinned and gutted beast as she passed it to him. She was impressed by his lack of squeamishness, although she also felt guilty for assuming that he would be somehow too soft for the ‘real’ work of preparing a kill for the pot. Perhaps her ranger’s bias was at play. After all, he had lived through enough of his own hard times and the fact that he wore robes and liked complicated books made no difference to that fact.

The last rabbit was laid to rest in a dish and handed over to Lia. She was at the stove pouring over an ancient-looking tome crammed with fussy handwritten recipes. As he came back to where Tav was standing, Rolan held out his hands to her.

“Hands please,” he said, with no elaboration. Tav held them out to him, palm down, and he lightly traced his fingers over her skin, muttering an incantation. All of the blood shimmered and disappeared, leaving her skin as clean as it had ever been.

“Show off,” she teased, and noticed (hoped?) that his fingers lingered a little longer than was perhaps necessary. He simply smiled and repeated the technique on his own hands, one at a time.

“Just practising, of course.”

“Of course. Quite a useful trick, I suppose.” She hoped that the blandness of her response adequately hid the quickening of her breath at his touch. She couldn’t look him in the eye. He would know.

Perhaps he should know?

No – she was tired and lonely, nothing more.

It had been a long time since Tav had felt a touch more intimate than social. In camp, they had often embraced one another, and there had been moments where she felt something on the edges of her interactions with Gale, but she put this down to his naturally romantic disposition and her rusty people skills. After all, he was the former lover of Mystra. He could flirt all he wanted, but she had no desire to be a rebound to the literal goddess of magic. Perhaps Gale had craved a woman with slivers of coney fat beneath her fingernails. He had once complimented her “musk”, after all.

But no, it was far more likely that he, like everyone else in the tadpole club, had simply desired affection in dire times and found it in the closeness of the bond they all shared.

She had let Astarian feed on her too, but that felt like something given in sacred friendship rather than carnality. Besides, she wasn’t the only one. Even Wyll had allowed him a nibble on his wrist one night before a big fight. Keeping your comrades strong is a matter of survival, not sentiment.

And now she was giddy at the briefest touch of a manicured claw: from a friend, no less. She ought to feel embarrassed.

“Cal, can you fetch me some bay leaves from the glasshouse?” Lia was shuttling prunes into a huge iron pot. The smell of hot brandy filled the air and it helped Tav to ground herself.

“No problem. Coming, Shovel? We have mice in there too.”

This made Shovel hop about. “Oh yes yes yes!” She scuttled after Cal through a stone doorway which presumably led to a garden level of the tower. Tav hoped that she might get a tour one day.

“I think your quasit has made herself comfortable here,” said Rolan. He was leaning against a butcher’s block and pouring a glass of Blackstaff wine into a goblet.

“She certainly seems to be enjoying – oh Rolan, no, that’s Blackstaff, it’s bloody awful and it’ll ruin the stew.” Tav crossed the space between them in an instant and took the goblet from him. She sniffed the contents and made a face. “I cannot in good conscience allow you to destroy your palette with this before we eat something so good.”

Lia barked a laugh from the cloud of steam she was occupying over the hob.

“What in the hells does a ranger know about wine?” said Rolan suspiciously, watching as Tav decanted the liquid back into the bottle.

She was quick to respond. “Everyone assumes that rangers live in the wilds and kill things and not much else. You might be surprised to hear that we are also sometimes mercenaries for hire, and that the people who want to hire the really good ones tend to be rich. Therefore, it is not outside of the realms of possibility that some rangers… the really good ones, spend time dining at the tables of very very cultured people.” As if to punctuate her little speech, she plucked the cork from the bench behind Rolan and wedged it back in the bottle. She had meant for the recorking to be an amusing final gesture, but the act of leaning over him to retrieve it brought her rather close to him, and she felt it again. The fluttering.

Damn it all.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That came out rather snippier than I had intended.”

“Not at all,” replied Rolan. He was still close. She might have reached out and touched his chest with only a slight bend of her elbow. “I am sorry if I offended you. I suppose we don’t know an awful lot about one another, do we?” He was looking at her quite intently. He hadn’t really offended her, not truly, but his words held a promise of something that Tav quite liked the sound of.

Lia waved a wooden spoon in their direction. “It sounds like we need to rectify that, and I therefore nominate Tav to choose us something which might assist in the process.”

“Yes,” Rolan nodded, “come on: I’ll show you the wine cellar. Don’t worry, there’s a portal.”

*****

Cellar was a misnomer: Lorroakan’s impressive wine collection was stored in something which more closely resembled a cave, and a vast one, at that.

“You really are a lucky bastard, Rolan of Ramazith’s tower,” Tav breathed as they entered.

“I know, I sometimes find myself wondering if it’s all some elaborate dream.”

There were racks and barrels stacked from the floor to the ceiling and extending back into the darkness. Torches at ten foot intervals had been enchanted to flare into life as soon as anyone set foot in their radius and they were four torches deep before Tav caught sight of the back wall.

“There must be… three thousand bottles in here!”

“Four thousand, one hundred and six, to be precise. Including the Blackwater you so ardently rejected.”

“It’ll keep until tomorrow, by the way. You can have with a good strong cheese for your lunch. It should just about be palatable.”

“Thank you for the tip.” Rolan was leaning against a barrel and smiling in a lopsided way which suited him. The feeling that she was the one drawing these happy faces from him was wonderful. Until the day the Brain fell, she could not recall seeing him ever smile. Well, apart from the odd sardonic grin. And that face he made the night she brought Cal and Lia back to him.

Don’t be greedy.

“Anything jumping out?”

She returned to the present with a quiver, hoping that he had interpreted her silence for consideration of the many vintages on offer.

“See if you can find an Elverquisst,” she said. “I once had it whilst accompanying a theatre troupe in The Sword Mountains. It was good with rabbit.”

“You have hidden depths,” he smiled.

They separated and began scanning the racks, each of which was labelled in a tight cursive hand.

“Oh, I am fascinating,” she said idly, running a hand over the bottles.

“I do believe you are.” He was not concentrating on the wine. She could tell.

It was disappointing that she found what they were looking for so quickly. Almost immediately, in fact.

“Here it is. Decent year, too.”

“Really?”

“No f*cking clue. I’m not that interested in wine.” That made him laugh. It was a thoroughly pleasant sound. “Shall we?”

She made a move towards the arched doorway, but Rolan caught her wrist gently as she turned. She looked back at him, and his face was soft, yet serious.

“I am glad you’re here in Baldur’s Gate, Tav,” he said gently. “I am glad to have you in our – in my life.”

The feel of his skin connecting with hers was too much to bear without action, and before she knew what she was doing, she had embraced him and tucked her head into his neck. A stray strand of his hair tickled her nose, and as he enthusiastically returned her hold with his hands on her shoulder blades, his breath hit the place where her neck met her shoulder and sent a shiver through her. It was not long before tears pricked at her eyelids and she quickly let go, lest she fall apart at the seams in front of him.

“Thank you,” was all she could say. And then: “on second thoughts, we best get another couple of bottles. I think I might need more than a glass.”

“That sounds like a fine idea.”

Chapter 4: In Vino Veritas

Chapter Text

“For gods’ sake Cal, there is absolutely no way that you’d be able to tell if I was replaced by a doppelganger!”

“Do you want a bet, Rolan? I think I’d take one look at you and-“

“And what? And be killed instantly?”

“No, don’t be stupid! What would be the point of them killing me straight away if they’re trying to pass themselves off as you?! They’re obviously going to do something devious instead of just-”

“Why the hells would anyone want to pass themselves off as Rolan?”

“That’s not the point Lia: although, it might have escaped your notice that he’s become quite famous recently…”

“That’s very kind of you to say.”

“Oh gods, don’t make him even more insufferable, Cal!”

Tav was tucked into an armchair by the fire, full of rabbit stew, good wine and laughter at the antics of her bickering hosts. Shovel was curled up so close to the flames that she suspected it was only a matter of time before the bristly hairs on her back might begin to singe, but she seemed content enough.

Lia had missed the part of the recipe which called for the stew to simmer for two hours, so they had filled the time with wine: first, the three bottles of Elverquisst, which slid down so easily that the Blackstaff had been unceremoniously re-opened. It was a little more palatable at this point and by the time the stew was cooked, it tasted almost lovely.

The upshot was that they were all quite drunk. And if Tav thought the tieflings argued a lot when they were sober, she was in for a shock as the night wore on.

“All I’m saying is that even the best doppelganger in the world would find it difficult to be as much of an arrogant arse as you are, dear brother,” laughed Cal. He was lying on a large leather couch with his knees over the armrest and one arm flailing wildly while the other precariously held a goblet.

Rolan, who was almost primly sitting in a wingback armchair with his tail in his lap, gave no response save for an exaggerated sigh. He was holding his composure a little better than the rest of them, but his face was scarlet and his usual artfully arranged hair was looking the worse for wear. Several strands had worked themselves loose and fell over his shoulders and forehead. As he got more irritated with his siblings, he would occasionally run his thumb and forefinger along his parting and between his horns, loosening a little more each time he did so. He had also removed his robe and now wore only a pair of linen trousers and a loose white shirt which he had unbuttoned at the neck and cuffs. Tav took a wavering sip from her goblet and smirked over its rim. He looked good. The firelight made his skin glow and she wondered what it would be like to stare into those golden eyes… perhaps as he moved in for a kiss…

“...after all, no one knows better than Tav: isn’t that right, Tav?”

She looked up from her goblet, having completely lost track of the conversation, to see six glowing eyes looking her way. It was Lia who had spoke. She sat on the floor against the sofa.

“Sorry, what?”

Rolan gave his sister an annoyed look. “Leave her out of this, Lia.”

Tav looked at him quizzically. “Leave me out of what?”

“I was just saying that out of all of us, you’ve probably borne the brunt of Rolan’s foulness the most, because you’re not used to it. We had to live with it from being kids. It’s like water off a duck’s back to us.”

“I have apologised for my behaviour, Lia, I hardly think that we need to go over it again.”

Tav noticed that his demeanour had changed. He had sat forward in the seat, cradling his goblet with both hands and looking at the floor.

“What was it you called her?” added Cal, failing utterly to recognise Rolan’s discomfort. He adopted a fussy, cartoonish voice: “That bloody obnoxious acon-i-something?”

“Abydocomist,” said Rolan in a small voice, still looking at the floor.

“That’s it!” said Cal.

“Rolan, how could you?” said Tav gravely. He looked up at her, and there was genuine sadness in his bright eyes. It hurt her heart a little.

“I am sorry. I was scared. And proud. And I –“

“Don’t be silly, Rolan. I’m only joking. I don’t even know what it means,” she giggled. “And besides, Karlach said that you were a prick and I agreed, so we’re equal.”

He rolled his eyes. “I thought you were serious.”

“I was. I really did think that you were a prick.”

Cal and Lia both laughed and even Rolan smiled. He leant back in the chair.

“A prick? Could be worse.”

“I think that her exact words were f*cking prick, actually…’” she took a sip of wine and thought for a moment. “You know Karlach. Never known to use one swear word where two would do.”

“You must miss her,” said Lia.

Tav sighed, and it made her head spin. “I do. I miss them all.” The fire suddenly seemed very interesting, and she tried to ignore the silence which followed by concentrating on Shovel’s soft snores.

“I should probably go,” she said softly. It felt as though the magic of the evening had dissipated the moment she had remembered how alone she was. She hoped that she hadn’t made the others feel awkward, but her mood had dipped into a bleak place rapidly and without warning.

“I’m sorry,” said Lia.

“Oh, it’s okay,” she lied, “it’s not like they’re all gone forever. I can visit most of them and really I should be heading off on my own again anyway.” There was that sinking sensation that she got every time she thought about being alone in the wilds again.

Rolan seemed to sit straighter as soon as the words left her mouth. “Why leave?”

She looked at him. Was he distressed at the thought? She wondered if one word from him would be enough to make her stay.

“I was on the road when I was picked up by the nautiloid. I had been on the road for ten years. I don’t have a home to go back to. A family.” She took a breath and tried to look casual. “I left them all behind one day and never went back. I don’t have… this.” She waved a hand as she said this, as if to indicate something she could not articulate. She didn’t have anyone to cook stew with, or fight with over inconsequential things. She didn’t even have her dog anymore. Just Shovel. Her room at The Last Light. The clothes on her back; her bow and her hunting knife. All of the treasures were sold or donated to the rebuilding of the city, and all of her friends were gone.

The tears came: hot and wet, and she felt the wine loosen her grip on the emotions which had threatened to consume her since the day the Brain fell – perhaps since the moment she was taken from the road and infected with the parasite.

And so the floodgates opened - her body folded in on itself and her hands instinctively went to her face to hide herself from the shame. She heard Lia scramble over to her and then felt her arms wrap around her shoulders, and then another joined them, and it was Cal and he was warm.

They let her sob for as long as it lasted, and it could have been minutes or hours. Tav felt nothing but the pain in her chest and the whisper of horror that she was sitting in the living room of mere acquaintances holding her breaking heart out for them to see.

She had never cried like this in camp, even though the situation they found themselves in became increasingly dire with every passing day. She thought about Astarion, and how he would have lovingly teased her for such a display. She thought about brave Wyll, and Gale, who told her that she was the finest friend and counsellor. Would they be disappointed to see her like this? Or had they too had their moment to shatter into pieces? Perhaps Shadowheart was also at this very second hiding to pour her grief into her hands. It seemed unlikely, but the image gave her some solace and she was able to bring her breathing under control.

As she relaxed, the tieflings loosened their hold on her and she was able to raise her head. She wiped her eyes and nose on her hands but she was a mess.

Suddenly, a white hanky appeared in her blurred vision: a twin of the one offered to Shovel earlier in the afternoon. She looked up and saw Rolan holding it from where he stood in front of her. She took it, and his face remained impassive as she tried to tidy herself up.

“Where are you staying?” he said flatly.

“At the Elf Song,” she replied. “I took a single room after Gale left. I- I couldn’t afford any-”

“We never thought to ask,” said Lia sadly.

“You can stay here,” said Cal, “And Shovel, of course.”

“I- I couldn’t.”

“You are welcome to,” said Rolan.

“No, I can’t impose.”

“You are extremely pig-headed.”

That made Tav laugh. “I know,” she said.

“But you need to understand that we are here. And that you can visit any time,” said Lia, squeezing her arm.

“And Rolan, we do need help in the shop,” said Cal.

“We do,” he agreed. “Would you at least consider working with us? I need someone who is familiar with summoning, as it happens.”

Tav saw then that his face was lined with concern and those eyes were fixed on her.

She nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

He relaxed. It was palpable. But Rolan was still Rolan. “Will you at least stay tonight? Even the Hero of Baldur’s Gate should be able to admit when she’s too drunk to be wandering the streets.”

Tav considered this for a moment. “I’d like to see anyone try something when Shovel’s around, but I take your point. I would be very grateful for a bed tonight.”

“Excellent,” said Cal. “Come on Tav, you can have the best room in the house.”

Before she knew it, she was being pulled out her seat and led gently across the room. She looked back and Rolan and he gave her a small wave and a smile. “Good night. Things will seem better in the morning. I know something about that.”

She stopped at the door. “Sometimes we just need a little help from a kind acquaintance.”

“A friend,” was all he said, and she knew for certain from his tone that he meant something more.

Chapter 5: A Room With a View

Chapter Text

Tav awoke in silken sheets to the smell of perfume and coffee. Her head was thick with wine fog but when she raised a tentative hand to her brow, she felt better than expected. Someone had left a crystal jug of water with a matching glass on a table to her left and she gratefully took a draught while she blinked away sleep and looked around at the room she found herself in.

She tried to recall getting into bed the previous night, but her memory ended with the image of Rolan smiling at her from beside the fireplace. Oh Gods, what must he think of her? She had been a mess.

The room was expansive and must surely have belonged to Lorroakan himself. One wall was covered entirely with burnished gilt mirrors which reflected the huge, dark wood four poster bed in which she had awoken. She could see herself, half-dressed and mussed; still in her underwear and the shirt she had worn under her jerkin, but very little else. She tried to recall getting undressed but could not and busied herself taking in the room to distract herself from this fact. The rest of the walls were papered with an intricate but gaudy design of dark red and gold flowers. This somehow managed to be simultaneously rich and decadent whilst also being utterly tasteless. She could see why the new master of the tower might choose less ostentatious quarters for himself: the whole room reeked of its previous occupant. The furniture was impractical and made of a dark, imposing wood with grotesque carvings. Everything felt oversized and designed to intimidate rather than harmonise. She suspected that most of the many drawers and bureaus would probably open onto complete emptiness – an apt metaphor for their former owner.

However, there was one beautiful feature, and that was a wide, arched set of glass doors which opened out on to a terrace. Even from the bed she could see that the view was spectacular, and she wondered why she had not thought to ask for a tour of the tower ramparts at some point before this.

A powerful desire to see the city from such a novel vantage point overcame her and she slid from under the sheets. Her trousers and boots lay on the floor beside the bed, but she ignored them and headed straight for a door that she assumed led to the bathroom. Her need was urgent and so she hurried across the marble tiles and flung the door open, only to find a golden room with the largest bath she had ever seen in her life… and Shovel squatting over the privy.

The quasit fixed her with a quizzical look. “Come to see Shovel sh*t out rabbit heads, Beefy?”

“Oh gods, no, oh bloody hell.” She reversed out of the door and closed it quickly.

“You can stay and watch! Watch Shovel empty her hole!”

“No thank you!” she replied through the door. “But hurry up, will you?”

Why can’t you have a normal pet? She thought. A little mouse who eats crumbs or a good loyal dog? Even the bloody owlbear had been less hassle. She wondered what Scratch was doing. In his last letter, Halsin had told her how much the orphans in his care loved the dog, and how he spent his days chasing balls and napping curled up amongst them.

Tav suspected that Halsin did not have to hold his water while Scratch hogged the bathroom.

There was a sound of rushing liquid and a few seconds later, Shovel cracked open the door and poked her head through the gap, teeth first.

“Beefy’s turn. Little rabbit brains and eyeballs are all gone.”

Tav pressed on past her and closed the door. Perhaps her head was a little sore now that she thought about it.

When she was done, she stepped back into the room and went to put the rest of her clothes on. Her jerkin was nowhere to be found but she vaguely recalled removing it by the fire before she had her breakdown. Shovel was already at the window, tapping a long claw impatiently on the glass.

“Alright, alright,” said Tav, opening the door once she was dressed and letting the fiend out into the morning. The sun was low in the sky and the early autumn air felt crisp but not uncomfortable. The view, as she walked further out onto the terrace, unfolded, and suddenly the whole south side of Baldur’s Gate lay before her. It took her breath away. She had seen many vistas in her travels, but nothing so familiar and yet completely alien as this. She looked for landmarks, spotting the distinctive roof of Sourcerous Sundries almost immediately. She remembered agreeing to work there and wondered if it had been a genuine offer or a drunken promise. She needed the money and suspected that having something to do all day might be good for her. It would also keep her from having to go back to her solitary life, and that was worth a try in itself.

Rolan would be her boss. She would see him every day. She thought about that. She thought about it and found no reason to be negative.

The strangest thing about the terrace was the lack of sound. She knew the streets of the city to be filled with noise and bustle, and at this time in the morning there should be a hundred different commotions in the air - but it was almost silent. Occasionally, a solitary shout or a bell would make its way to her, but mostly, there was nothing more than the sound of the breeze. It was intoxicating.

She found herself leaning on the outer wall between two stone creatures with long pointed claws. Shovel joined her and scrabbled up onto the lintel. She sat a little precariously on the edge, so without thinking, Tav placed a hand on her back to steady her. Shovel said nothing but wrapped her tail around Tav’s wrist and sniffed at the air.

Everything was peaceful. She could understand why Rolan stood out here each morning.

“Good morning,” called a voice from above. Shovel got a fright and pitched forward, and it was only thanks to Tav’s grip on her spines that she didn’t plunge to her death.

“I’ve got you,” said Tav, her heart beating out of her chest.

“Oh sh*t, sorry,” said the voice.

She looked up and by craning her neck could just about see Rolan’s concerned face staring down at them from the terrace above. “I didn’t mean to give you a fright.”

“Mission most assuredly not accomplished, Rolan. But good morning, anyway.”

“f*cking f*ck,” said Shovel, shakily. She had climbed immediately down from the ledge and now positioned herself on top of Tav’s boot with both arms wrapped around her leg.

“Do you want some breakfast?” he called down. “I’m just in the lab but Cal has been to the market already and I think he is insisting on feeding you. Again.”

“I don’t want to impose,” Tav replied, shading her eyes with a hand against the sun.

“Don’t be bashful, it doesn’t suit you,” came the response.

“Fine. But can we at least go inside? I’m getting a sore neck, and I think Shovel is traumatised.” She looked down at the quasit, who returned her stare with blank insectoid eyes. Who knew what Shovel was thinking?

“Murder,” she growled, as if to read Tav’s mind. “Shovel will murder the spellsh*te. Tried to kill Shovel.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“What was that?” called Rolan.

“Not talking to you!”

“Oh this is ridiculous,” he huffed, “Go out into the hall and I’ll come and get you. Take you to the kitchen.”

“Come on, Shovel,” said Tav, lifting a knee in order to get a grip on the demon. “You have to promise not to try to kill Rolan while we have breakfast.”

“Don’t be BORING Beefy.”

“I know, it’ll be terribly dull. But I suspect there will be bacon, and that’s worth letting a grudge go, don’t you think?”

They had made it to the glass doors and Shovel allowed herself to be picked up and held in Tav’s arms.

“Bacon,” she whispered enthusiastically. “Yes, bacon.”

*****

Rolan took a minute or so to come down the stairs into the hall to meet them. He was once again wearing a robe over his clothes, although it was simpler than the ones Tav had seen him in before. He looked remarkably fresh considering how much wine they had consumed, but the secret of his vigour was not a mystery for long: he held a healing potion out to her.

“For you,” he said. “If you woke up anything like me, you’ll need it.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, “I have felt better.”

She went to uncork the bottle, but before taking a drink decided to address what was bothering her. “I have to say, I don’t know if my head hurts more from the drinking… or the crying.”

“Probably a little of both. But there’s nothing wrong with either as an excuse for a headache.”

She smiled at that and felt better for getting the matter out of the way. They stood like that for a few seconds - holding one another’s gaze - until she saw Shovel blink at her out of the corner of her eye.

“Well, down the hatch,” she said, before tipping the bottle into her mouth and draining it.

The effects were instantaneous, and she felt the familiar warm feeling spread out from her chest and into her limbs. Her vision sharpened and her head felt as though it was opening up. She sighed and closed her eyes: the potion was more invigorating that she had expected.

“Do you like it? I made some improvements to a recipe I found upstairs. I added little something extra.”

“It’s… wonderful. What did you add?” Tav could feel pains ebbing away that she hadn’t even noticed before. Her knee, for example. When had that begun to ache? Only now, as the dull throb subsided, did she notice it had ever been sore. She must have picked up an injury at some point.

Rolan scoffed. “Do you think I’ll tell you just like that? A wizard must keep some secrets.”

He began walking off, and she followed him.

“Oh Rolan, it’s mugwort, isn’t it?”

He stopped and regarded her suspiciously. The look on his face made her want to laugh. “I’m sorry. It’s an old ranger trick: make an antidote within the suspension. I promise I’m still impressed though. If you didn’t already know the recipe, it’s pretty clever of you to work it out.”

As they stood once again face to face. Tav worried for a second that he would be irritated or feel patronised. She wanted to take her words back.

But Rolan simply rolled his eyes. “I can see I’ll have to do better to get one over on you.”

She felt relief wash through her. “Like I said, I’m very impressive.”

“Hm. We’ll see about that. For example: I know for a fact that you have next to zero talent in evocation.”

“Is that so?”

“Believe me, I’ve seen you fight on numerous occasions. Usually, I’ll admit, when you’re saving my life. But your magic is all conjuration with a little transmutation for good measure. I think I could best you, given a few weeks to really get myself up to speed.”

“Interesting. And what makes you think I wouldn’t just fire an arrow into that tail of yours and be done with it? Magic isn’t everything in battle, you know.”

Rolan swished his tail as if to goad her. He took a step forward. “Well perhaps I could simply-“

“BOOOOOOOOORIIIIIIIIING!” screamed Shovel. “Where is the BACON?”

She jumped out of Tav’s arms and scuttled off down the hallway, presumably following her wicked nose to the kitchen.

Tav watched her go and then looked back at Rolan.

“She’s got a point,” she shrugged.

“Come on then,” he said, and offered her an elbow. She took it but felt herself blush as they set off. His arm felt warm and surprisingly toned where her free hand wrapped around his bicep. She walked close to him, mindful that she was pressed against his side, but enjoying the feel of it.

She snuck a glance at his freckled face as they walked and noticed that he too was a darker shade of red than usual.

She would kiss him before the end of the week. Her mind was made up.

Chapter 6: Then, Now and Perhaps Forever

Chapter Text

The last breakfast that she had shared with all of her companions had been on the morning prior to their last battle, before they headed to the Morphic Pool. They had congregated downstairs in The Elfsong and the landlord, sensing that sustenance was required, sent Chef Roveer out to fetch fresh bread, bacon and eggs.

Despite the fine fare, they had eaten sparsely, more focussed on discussions around strategy. Tav had reminisced often about it; she wished that she had paid more attention in the moment so that she might later remember what it felt like to be together for the last time.

She recalled leaning close to Wyll as he unfurled a map of the upper city across the remnants of their meal. They had all pored over it, perhaps looking for some order in the chaos – a plan which would take them safely from point A to point B, even if it was nothing more than a comforting fiction. Astarion had made a joke about something or other, causing them all to laugh: she remembered that, distinctly.

Gale had again raised the possibility of detonating his orb and saving them all from what was increasingly looking like certain death. And Tav had again taken his face in her hands and told him that it was not to be countenanced. And he had again thanked her, overwhelmed to be told that he was worth more to them than to his goddess.

Jaheira spoke of her family. Halsin of the forests, and the work that lay ahead where the shadow curse had left its mark. Shadowheart lamented her parents and buried her face in the owlbear’s plumage while they all pretended to busy themselves and allow her to rally.

Only Karlach, Minsc and Lae’zel seemed to relish the idea of the fight ahead, and they bolstered the others with stories of seemingly unsurmountable odds and acts of astonishing heroism. Boo squeaked from amongst the plates, a crumb in his tiny hands.

Somewhere amongst this, Scratch and Shovel lay sleeping. Tav thought that it was a shame, because Shovel would have been most excited at the prospect of murderising something as big as the Netherbrain.

As they were clearing the dishes away, a breathless halfling boy who Tav did not recognise had appeared in the doorway looking urgently around their group. She saw Alan speak briefly with him then point to her. The boy made his way over, handed her an envelope of rich cream parchment and just as abruptly ran back into the street without speaking.

The envelope was secured with an elaborate seal. It was weighty, as though something other than a letter was contained within it. Her name was written on its face in a neat hand, with a slight embellishment on the ‘V’. Inside, a note was made out in the same tight cursive and a gold ring studded with two small, bright yellow gems fell into her hand.

Tav,

As promised, you may call upon the Arcane Cannon when you have need of it. This ring will convey your signal to its twin when you wish us to act. Cast Message on it - I will hear.

I hope to see you in the upper city before you go off on the latest of your damn fool adventures. Don’t worry: I will be sure to offer you some words of advice if I do. Whether or not you listen will remain to be seen.

If I do not see you, I must implore you to not only succeed, but survive. The Sword Coast cannot lose the greatest of its heroes today.

Even if she is utterly insufferable.

The Master of the Tower and all of its magics are at your service.

Now and forever,

R

*****

Tav used the ring many times that day and it saved their lives several times over. It now lay in her backpack, tucked away in a velvet pouch within a secret pocket where she hid only the most precious of her possessions. It was one of three treasures from her adventures that she could not part with: it was never to be parted with. She had always considered it to be a perfect symbol of the friendships she made whilst infected with the parasite, but perhaps it was something more. Whatever her reasons, she thought it was beautiful, and when she felt a little low, she often took it out and spun it idly at the top on her index finger.

And so, imagine her surprise at breakfast when she reached for the butter at the same time as the wizard sitting to her right and realised that the ring Rolan wore on his left hand was an identical gold band set with two bright stones. He had been wearing it all day yesterday, too, but she had not noticed the stones. Now, they caught her attention. Stones the colour of her eyes… just as the tiny suns set in her own ring were suddenly so obviously the colour of his.

She looked at his profile and considered whether it was a coincidence. He had never struck her as the sentimental type, but her memory of the note (delivered explicitly to her, not Gale, who would have been a more logical choice, in hindsight) seemed increasingly intimate now that she thought about it.

Now and forever.

He stopped chewing, swallowed, and without moving his head, raised an eyebrow and looked at her sideways. “Everything okay?”

“Your ring,” was all she said. She kept her voice low, so as not to involve Cal and Lia who sat across the wide, scrubbed wooden table in the kitchen. They were entertaining Shovel with a story about a goblin Cal had killed on the road.

He turned to look at her fully and raised his hand to show her.

“I never took it off.” And then he added, “just in case you ever needed us.”

“Us?”

“Us. Cal and Lia, the tower, the shop... or me.” The last two words barely a whisper.

“Where did the rings come from?”

“Dammon, of course. He made them for me. He designed them.” He emphasised this.

“Oh.”

There was an awkward pause. Rolan picked up a teaspoon and stirred his tea unnecessarily, before speaking again. “He used stones the colours of our eyes. Something about wanting us to finally be able to see one another. I assumed he meant because we argued so much.” He sounded uncertain and did not look up from his plate. “It was all very silly.”

Tav gave a soft laugh. “That’s a very Rolan thing to say.”

“Well, I - I mean, I-”

“I kept my ring too. I always carry it in my bag with me.” She noticed the corner of his mouth twitch. “If I’d have known that I still had a direct line to the Master of the Tower, I might have worn it... Used it.”

She took in his face as she spoke. The freckles which peppered his sharp cheekbones, and the softness of his lips. The point of his ear was barely peeking through his hair, and she felt a sudden urge to run a finger over it.

He turned to look at her and spoke in a slightly too formal tone. “Would you like to take a walk around the ramparts?”

“More than anything,” she replied. A little too enthusiastically. Louder than she had expected.

Cal and Lia looked up when she spoke and watched wordlessly as Rolan pushed his chair back and offered a hand to Tav. When she took it and stood, she swore she saw Lia nudge Cal with her knee and gesture under the table with one hand – pay up.

Shovel made to jump down from her chair, but Cal intercepted. “Shovel! I think it’s about time we got to work. Lia’s in the shop today, but I have a list of chores to do in the greehouse upstairs so that we can start growing our own alchemy supplies. We’ve had a lot of trouble with vermin in there. Do you think Tav would let you come and help me out?”

Shovel hopped from one leg to another at the thought. “Beefy, oh you must!”

“Fine,” she said, relieved. “But Cal, you can’t let her run amok, and don’t let her into the shop. I’m not sure how she’ll fare with...” How could she phrase it? “...customers... especially little ones.” She indicated the average height of a child with her hand.

“Shovel won’t eat no kiddies! Promise! Swear on her hole! Just nice crunchy rats!”

“Well, that’s settled then,” said Cal. “Enjoy your walk.” Lia nudged him again and Rolan rolled his eyes.

“Just try to stay out of trouble. All of you,” he said.

He looked back at Tav, and she realised that neither of them had let go of the other’s hand. He must have realised too, but their palms remained together.

Perhaps a week would not be necessary, after all.

“Come on,” he said.

Chapter 7: Whispers of the Heart

Chapter Text

They walked, hand in hand, out into the morning sun. By her reckoning, the kitchen, and the cosy living room where they had spent the evening before, were situated on the level of the tower above the bedrooms, and below the lowest level of the three main chambers where they had defeated Lorroakan. Rolan had spent his time since then sorting the library and re-equipping the lower lab, and it was from here that they stepped out onto the terrace.

Tav’s initial giddiness at the way Rolan seemingly reciprocated her feelings was beginning to ebb into something less sure-footed. Now that the fantasy seemed to be advancing into something real, her chest was being nibbled by guilt. She wondered if this was nothing more than a sad, desperate measure to quell the loneliness which had threatened to overtake her in recent weeks. It had only been two days since Gale had stepped onto the ship which would take him back to Waterdeep – his tower, his family, his work, his purpose – and Tav had been wrestling with the reality of her own life pre-tadpole to ever since.

There were very few people who knew what she was before the nautiloid, and most of those people gained that knowledge against her will thanks to the psychic connection the tadpoles granted them. She was not naive enough to presume that they accepted her past without thought or judgement; she knew that she had needed to prove to them over time that she was more than the sum of her previous circ*mstances. But here was someone who had no idea. Someone to whom she would have to explain at some point. Someone who could potentially be disappointed in her, with no scope for redemption. She didn’t think she could take it. Not him.

They had begun walking around the wide terrace in what was probably a slightly awkward silence, but Tav was so preoccupied with thoughts of the past that she did not even think to speak. After twenty steps or so, Rolan halted and cleared his throat. She was suddenly back in the moment, and as he turned to her, she found that all thoughts of him being nothing more than a distraction melted away. He was beautiful. She had always thought so, from the first moment she saw him. A pain in the arse? Yes: but that only provided a delicious friction in her attraction to him. Never in the world would she have thought she would be stood in front of him with her hand in his, wondering if he would be the first of them to move in for a kiss.

He had directed her to a simple set up against the wall of the tower: a small wooden chair, some crates, and a stack of rickety looking cages for small animals of some kind. There was a mop and a bucket resting against the wall, and an abandoned pewter mug sat beside a tattered backpack on the windowsill. He leant forward to retrieve a book from behind one of the crates. And as he did so, a loud chirping started up from a tiny bird’s nest attached to the wall above their heads.

“I bought you here for a reason,” he said, tucking the book under his free arm. “This is where I used to sit and make notes when Lorroakan was out… or too busy to notice my absence from the shop.”

He looked wistfully at the arrangement: a makeshift office for a studious, albeit neglected apprentice. “If I was feeling brave, I would sneak a book or two out and make notes. Sometimes I would sit here all night. I learned a lot, but it was no thanks to him – the man who was supposed to be my teacher.”

Tav squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry Rolan. He was a monster.”

“He was worse than that,” he said softly. “He was a disappointment.”

A moment passed, and she could tell he was gathering his thoughts.

“I have been disappointed many times in my life. And in some ways, I wonder if I’ve simply learned to expect it, even when it is not a foregone conclusion.” He leaned against a crate, and she fell into place by his side: her hand still firmly in his. She never wanted to let go of him, and the thought brought her free hand up to grasp his upper arm again, just as it had that morning as they walked to breakfast. And then she was laying her head against his and a strand of his hair was tickling her face in the breeze.

“Do you remember when we first met?” she said.

“I remember it in rather too much detail,” he sighed. “I was not exactly pleasant.”

“Oh no, you were a complete swine,” she chuckled. She felt his shoulders move in an amused huff.

“Fair enough. Although in my defence, I was a little blindsided by the sudden intrusion into our argument by a group of frankly intimidating strangers.”

“You thought we were intimidating?”

“Did you ever actually look at your party? I mean, when you were all together? Lae’zel alone is enough to scare even the hardiest warrior. And there was Shadowheart in Sharran armour, for gods’ sake. Even in Avernus we were told stories about the bloody Sharrans. And then your friend Astarion: even before you know he’s a vampire, he looks like he wants to eat you… And Gale – I didn’t know who he was but he was dressed like a wizard so that was terrifyingly daunting… and then there was you…”

“And what did you think of me? Was I as monstrous as the others?” her tone was teasing, but her pulse had quickened. She was desperate to hear what he had thought of her. To know if she had affected him on that first morning.

They were both still looking out over the city and even though neither of them seemed to be moving, she felt that they were getting closer with every passing moment. She was now pressed against him; if she had turned even a little, her chest would be flush against his arm. Time seemed to hover to a standstill and that eerie quiet which pervaded the sky around the tower enveloped them.

He took a breath before speaking. “You were the most overwhelming one of all. I was hopeless against you, Tav.”

Tav wished that she could pretend that she did not know how he could say that. But she knew he was right. She had set about him almost immediately, siding with Lia and convincing him to stay.

“You didn’t miss a beat. You saw exactly what I was and flattened me. Astarion might have looked hungry, and Shadowheart might have been drawn from the scary stories of my childhood, but you… you were quick. And I didn’t stand a chance against you.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, because he sounded so wistful.

“Don’t be sorry, you idiot. You were also right, and that was the worst thing of all to me.”

He placed the book on top of the crate and put his hand on top of the one which grasped his arm. “Ever since that moment, you have been the only thing in my life, other than Cal and Lia, which has never disappointed me. You have saved us numerous times and you have forgiven me for being a sour, drunken fool. You have trusted me with this tower, and allowed me to play my part in the battle against the Netherbrain. You make me laugh, you call me out when I am insufferable, and you take my advice, even when it is offered in less than subtle terms. You accept me as I am, and I know that is not always easy. I wanted you to see this place because I want to show you that I’m not the same person I was before. I’m not a scared apprentice who uses braggadocio to hide his fear.” He paused here, as if uncertain. “I want to say that if nothing else, I hope that you are always my closest friend.”

“If nothing else?” Tav breathed.

“Well, about that...” He moved from the crate and stood before her. She longed to reach out and cup a hand to his jaw, but he held both of them to his chest. “I think, if you would be amenable, that I would rather like to kiss you now.”

Tav swallowed. This was the moment. She stood away from the crate and moved so that her forehead rested against his.

“I am amenable.”

His body relaxed and he shifted.

“But I think we need to talk a little more, first. There is something I need to tell you.”

Chapter 8: A Confession

Chapter Text

Tav moved away from him and went to lean over the edge of the outer wall. She looked back at Rolan who had remained standing by the crates; his forehead creased. She could tell that he was overthinking in that Rolan way of his – he was probably calculating a hundred different ways that she could be about to let him down. The thought broke her a little. She hoped he wasn’t right.

When he didn’t move, she patted the wall beside her. As he finally joined her, and she linked her arm through his, missing the contact. To her surprise, he spoke first.

“Is this where you tell me that you feel the same but for some reason you cannot possibly give your heart to me?”

She raised her eyebrows, and he shook his head in response, smiling. “It sounds like something from one of the romantic novels Cal and Lia’s mother used to read. The heroine always had some reason to hold herself back from true happiness before tragedy struck and someone died. I read everything I found as a child. Not too many books in our house.”

“Well,” she said, “I’m hoping that no one dies. And I do want you to kiss me, by the way, so please don’t worry about that.” She couldn’t help nuzzling her face into his shoulder when she said this: suddenly overcome by an unfamiliar wave of shyness. So this was Rolan’s intimidating antagonist: nothing more than a simpering girl when faced with the possibility of romantic feelings. This was not sex, or banter, or any of the things she could turn a practiced hand to. There was a rawness in this which she felt singularly ill-equipped to deal with.

“I just need you to know something before I let you do something you might later regret.” As she spoke, she felt his tail wrap reassuringly around her waist. It made her want to swoon.

“I’m sure there’s nothing you can tell me which will –“

“And that will be good. Wonderful, even. But I need to tell you all the same. Please.”

“Of course. I’m sorry. Go on.”

She breathed in and out to steady herself, not knowing quite where to begin.

“You know that I’m a ranger. And I remember telling you that I was picked up by the nautiloid in the wilds, where I was working.”

He nodded and she began to piece together the story in her mind. She could have started at the beginning - given him context and told him how she ended up so utterly alone - but a part of her knew that it wouldn’t change where she had ended up. It felt disingenuous to try to garner any sympathy before she got to the point.

“Do you remember after the battle…when you came to The Elfsong?” She looked at his profile. Saw a muscle working in his jaw.

“I do.”

“Do you remember what you called me?”

“I said you were an intolerable do-gooder.” He looked back at her and smiled and he looked so pretty. It made her stomach lurch. “I said that you were an intolerable do-gooder who couldn’t resist another opportunity to show off by taking on the biggest enemy you could find. And I stand by that statement, by the way.”

“Well, you’re wrong. I’m not a do-gooder. In fact, if you’d met me a year ago, you might have been right to call me intimidating.”

Rolan said nothing. She knew he was allowing her space to say her piece and she was grateful for his sudden unwillingness to argue.

“Before the nautiloid I was a bounty hunter. Well, no – that’s not the whole truth. I told you I was a mercenary, but I left out some key details. It’s true that I protected a theatre troupe. And it is true that I was employed by some very powerful people. But the whole truth is that I was absolutely, unequivocally available to the highest bidder. For any purpose.” She saw his face drop and made a quick correction: “as long as it involved bow or blade. I was not a hireling in any carnal sense and would have readily killed anyone who even so much as suggested it. No, I was simply a tool. Sometimes a thief, sometimes an enforcer. When I was lucky, I was a guide, a scout or a tracker. And then, on certain rare occasions, I was an assassin. I would have been better to have been a whor*.”

Tav let go of him and turned to face the tower, her back against the wall. His tail remained wrapped around her waist.

“My point stands, Tav,” he said, “none of us are the same people we were a year ago. I’m not sure that I care much about what you had to do to survive before the parasite when those same skills are the reason that both of us are standing here.”

It was time, then. Time to lance the sore.

“My last job was a week before the nautiloid. I was contacted by an associate of one of my previous employers. I had worked as a guide through the Neverwinter Wood with them and as always, asked no questions. There had been some trouble with a rival business organisation and to cut a very long story short, I had to… intervene. Obviously, I do good work. And so, by word of mouth, I was offered a new job on The Risen Road. Just outside Elturel.”

“I hadn’t realised you were so close. I always assumed that you came from some far-off land.”

“I wasn’t picked up there; I had left the area and headed north by that point. Nothing was the same after…” The words stuck in Tav’s throat. Rolan took her hand again.

“…I was paid to clear a farm which had been taken over by bandits. I should have realised that it wasn’t as straightforward as that. After all, my previous employer was hardly the type to associate with a simple farmer. I was told to sneak into the property and dispatch everyone in there. It wasn’t going to be complicated, and by that point I will admit that I barely thought about what I was doing when I went out to work. I had found that being hired by terrible people tended to result in killing other terrible people and it made me… morally sluggish, shall we say.”

She found herself idly running a thumb across the breadth of Rolan’s tail where it wrapped her. She wondered how it felt to him. She wondered if he would still allow her touch once the story was done.

“Everything went exactly to plan. I got in through the roof. I’d been told that there were twenty of them at least: big numbers for a single ranger, even one who had taken similar work a hundred times. But I thought I was in luck. The farmhouse was nothing much more than an attic and a huge central ground floor room where I could see sleeping bodies dotted about – six in sight, but potentially others who I would need to locate and dispatch. I calculated my chances and I’m sorry to say I took the easiest route at my disposal. I needed to weaken them all at once – perhaps even take a few of the older and slower ones out. I was so tired after weeks on the road… I just wanted to be done with it.”

“Did you check the bedrolls?” Rolan seemed to be one step ahead of her, and his voice was hushed.

“Of course not. I fired an arrow into the room and cast Conjure Volley. It was supposed to soften them up. It would have worked, too, had they been who I thought they were… If they had been stronger. It was only meant to weaken them.” She felt sick. She would have rather cut herself open and laid her guts out for him to see than do this.

“They were refugees, Rolan. Like you. And Cal, and Lia. Only six of them, and they died instantly. They weren’t warriors, they were soft. Barely out of their teens. I can still hear the thump of the arrows as they hit the bedrolls. They didn’t… they didn’t even cry out. They were cousins who had needed a place to stay and found the farmhouse empty. The man who employed me wasn’t even the owner, he just wanted them gone. He told me later that he had wanted to burn the place down just to hear them screaming but his wife wouldn’t let him get his hands dirty.” She practically spat this last part. “His old friend was able to recommend a half decent merc, and he owed him a favour. Apparently, I came highly rated on account of my complete lack of resistance. ‘Dead behind the eyes’, was the phrase he used when he pushed the pouch of gold into my hand. He wasn’t wrong: I’d lost myself somewhere along the way.” She chanced a look at Rolan, who was staring back at her, unreadable. “I ran, after that. I just kept heading north. I didn’t eat, and if I stopped to rest, I can’t remember it. It seems terrible to say, but being tadpoled was probably the best thing that ever happened to me. It woke me up.”

She sighed and rubbed her eye with a knuckle. “So there it is. The truth. I spent ten years doing increasingly irresponsible things until I became so numb that I did something truly terrible. I allowed myself to be used and I…” Her vision swam. “I remember waking up on the nautiloid and thinking ‘good’. I remember hoping that they would take my mind so I could finally be lost forever. I remember landing on that beach after the crash and screaming until I was sick because I was alive… and unpunished.”

She felt the last of her resolve dissipate and her body slump forwards: Rolan’s tail unwound from her and she was sure that was the last she would ever feel of him – that he must be disgusted with her. But then strong arms caught her and held her tight as her body shook with sobs and her cries rang out into the silent air.

“Tav,” he said. “Oh, Tav.”

She felt herself claw at the back of his shirt, convinced that he would come to his senses any minute and let her fall, but he didn’t. She choked and her chest burned with the fire of her guilt, but his arms still held her, and his words were soft: her name over and over, and hush and I’m here. She felt that she would never stop crying; never stop purging the unending horror of what she once was.

And then his hand was in her hair, and his lips were on her forehead. She felt the warmth of him, and it brought her back, slowly. She let herself gain control, little by little, until only the guttering, spasmodic gulps of breath which follow true crying remained. And then after a minute or two, when the worst of it was quelled and she was still in his arms, he pulled away from her and raised her chin with a finger. She tried to look away, aware of the state of her face, but his touch was insistent.

“Look at me,” he said.

She did as he commanded, and his eyes were afire. “I don’t recognise the person in your story. That is not my Tav.”

She twisted in dissent and in return he gripped her jaw with his whole hand, albeit gently. “That is not my Tav. Nor is it the Tav who rescued hundreds of people this past year. It is not the Tav who freed Astarion, or the one who convinced Gale and Karlach to live. It isn’t the Tav who took Arabella and Yenna in, or the Tav who gave Barcus Wroot the confidence to lead his people. Do I need to go on? The Tav we all know is a hero. And she is alive.”

He placed his forehead against hers and shook his head against her. “Dead behind the eyes, you say? Gods Tav, if only you could see yourself as we do – as I do. No one has ever shone brighter than you. When I met you in the Grove, I really was terrified of you. And not just because you were quick - you were so incredibly vital… So incredibly beautiful.”

He took both her hands in his and moved so that his mouth was against her temple. “I wanted you instantly. And it scared the sh*t out of me.”

Another sob wracked her, but this time, it was not driven by sorrow. His words felt like a healing spell.

“I’m a snotty mess,” she said.

“I don’t give a f*ck,” was his reply, and he finally, finally pressed his lips to hers.

Chapter 9: I Don't Know What This Feeling Is

Chapter Text

Shadowheart, Gale, Halsin and Tav returned, followed by the Owlbear– weary, broken, but victorious – to The Elfsong well past midnight. As they trudged past the deserted bar to the back staircase in silence,Tav ruminated on the fact that it had been less than twenty-four hours since they had breakfasted together. The inn had obviously been closed all day and she was thankful. They had told Alan and the staff to leave and find safety and when he seemed resistant, she worried that he would ignore their advice, but the tables were still pushed together in the same arrangement they had left them and there was even a solitary fork left on the floor. There was an air of abandonment about the place, but at least it was still standing.

Yenna, Grub, Scratch and Shovel had gone with Dammon after their meeting in the High Hall, so the room was abnormally quiet as they entered. Had anyone told Tav that she would be here, back again; bloody but breathing, she would have scoffed. She realised now that she had absolutely expected to die that day and the fact that she had not felt confusing somehow. She should be elated; riding high on the sheer force of their success, but there was stillfear for Karlach and Wyll, now in Avernus and by no means safe, and for Astarion, who was missing. They had begged Florrick for assistance in locating him when she arrived at the docks, and although she had agreed to spare two Flaming Fist soldiers, they knew that rescuing civilians must be everyone’s priority. Hopefully Astarion would be safe. After all, no one knew the dark places of Baldur’s Gate better than he did. He was no longer a slave, and he was full of strong blood. Blood that was given freely by his friends. His family. Their family.

“I thought Ravengard was never going to let us leave,” sighed Shadowheart as she flopped backwards onto a couch. She had already dropped her mail in a pile at its foot. “We saved the city and we’re rewarded with a five-hour debriefing? Even Shar isn’t that cruel.”

Gale sat across from her and began to loosen the clasps on his robe. “I’ll get us all a drink in a moment. I just need to rest my knees for a spell.”

“I’ll do it,” said Tav, glad to have an excuse to keep moving. As soon as she sat down, she knew she’d start thinking, and she wasn’t ready for that.

“Oh, you’re wonderful, Tav. Truly.”

“I think even I could use something stronger than water for once,” said Halsin. He was removing the Owlbear’s armour. “I haven’t had a day like that in many a year. Perhaps ever. There are some things that cannot be imagined no matter how long one lives... until they happen... and even then, I suspect this will all feel like a dream in another hundred years.”

“Well, it’s a good job some of us haven’t got that long then, isn’t it?” Tav deadpanned as she passed him.

“Of course,” he replied, looking contrite, “that was insensitive of me. Apologies.”

She stopped and patted his substantial arm. “It’s okay. We all get what everyone gets – one full life. It doesn’t matter how long it is. And after today, I still can’t believe I’ve got some left.”

Hasin smiled at that, but Shadowheart waved from her couch. “As much as I love to listen to you philosophise, Tav, please could I have some wine? I know for a fact that Alan has a bottle of Tyche Pink stashed away: Astarion clocked it on one of his little witching hour sojourns around the place.”

The mention of Astarion’s name sent another pangthrough Tav.

“Do you think he’s okay?” She asked quietly.

“He’s a natural survivor, Tav,” said Gale, removing a boot. “He’ll need a day or two to adjust but he’ll be back soon enough, you’ll see.”

“Hm.”

“And besides, he’s left his gold in the chest. He’s definitely coming back for that.”

“Oh,” said Shadowheart, sitting up, “I have his copy of ‘A Pleasurable Deal’. There’s no way he’s leaving that behind either. He told me he’d drain me dry in my sleep if I so much as creased a page when he lent it to me.”

Tav nodded, feeling a little better. She had found the book Shadowheart was referring to and given it to Astarion as a gift following a giggly late-night conversation about secret pleasures. The fact that it was so dear to him was lovely.

She set off back down the stairs to find the most expensive bottle of wine she could lay her hands on. Perhaps a small celebration would be okay.

*****

For some reason the empty bar was eerier when she was alone. She knew that the wine she was looking for would be hidden away somewhere and she recalled a niche in the kitchen wall which had struck her the first time they had visited to warn Chef Roveer of his impending murder. Gods, had that only been a tenday ago? She felt like she had been in the city for months.

She padded silently into the kitchen, stopping to greet Tambourine and offer him a scratch under the chin. The tavern cats had refused to leave with the others, so Tav was reassured to hear from him that they were both safe. In fact, he seemed entirely uninterested in her concern, and simply settled back onto the table where he had been napping after receiving her attention. Tav admired cats. They knew how to prioritise based only on what directly affected them. She wished she still had a little of that in her. Perhaps she should spend more time observing Wyll’s cat familiar.

No, she did not want to go back to living like that. Not after everything that had happened.

Her next task was to light the lamp above a well-scrubbed worktop where they had first met the Elfsong’s chef. From there, she easily located the slight indent in the wall which, upon closer inspection, revealed a small button, hidden with a basic invisibility spell. No one would have seen it unless they were looking... or werea ranger who had recently gained a magical eye.

The button clicked and Tav heard a scraping noise coming from the vicinity of the staircase. That part of the kitchen was still relatively dark, and she was turning to grab a candle from the bench opposite when a figure stepped into the light and failed to move in time before she bumped into them.

Perhaps it was the toll of the day’s events, but the usually unshakeable Tav almost leapt out of her skin at the sudden contact. Only her ranger’s instinct kept her from screaming, and Rolan was lucky she was beyond exhausted because her naturally fast reflexes would have ordinarily kicked in and laid him flat.

He had instinctively grabbed her by the elbows to keep her balanced, but the shock of someone catching her unawares when she had thought herself completely alone was enough to quickly convert her embarrassment into white hot irritation. She pulled her arms out of his grasp and gave his chest a prod.

“What the f*ck do you think you’re doing, creeping around like a bloody Bhaalist?”

He raised his hands and looked completely horrified. His tail flicked behind him.

“I am so sorry, Tav. I just – I saw the light. We heard that you survived, but I wasn’t sure if you were okay... I just wanted to – I mean, Cal and Lia were worried, so I said I’d...” he trailed off, sensing defeat. “I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“Well, I was until someone just about gave me a heart attack!” she exclaimed. “Hells, I only came down to get a bottle of wine and now I’ve let myself get jumped by a sodding wizard.”

This set Rolan off: it didn’t take much where she was concerned. “Gods, you really are bloody hard work, aren’t you? I was trying to be nice. And what does me being a wizard have to do with anything?”

“They aren’t exactly known for their stealth, Rolan. Probably because they can’t enter a room without passing comment on everybody’s business!”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion and his tail jabbed the air over his shoulder.

“Is this – is this about me telling you to change up your elixirs this morning? It is, isn’t it!? Just because I knew better... Zurgan, you’re astonishingly arrogant. After everything you’ve been through today, that’s what’s bothering you? I suppose I should be flattered. I seem to occupy more of your thoughts than a Netherbrain.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Rolan.” She bristled. But hehad touched a nerve. She had been going to tell him at some point that she had followed his advice, but certainly not after this. “You’re such a know-it-all. You’re probably here to tell me how we killed the brain wrong.”

Why was she being like this? Her mouth had detached itself from her mind. Rolan was here to check on her. Was she really so angry just becausehe had known better than her? Or was it something else?

Rolan dusted some imaginary dirt from his sleeve. “Well, I can see that you’re obviously fine. Five seconds through the door and we’re at each other's throats. Is that a record? I’m really not sure why I thought I’d bother. You might be a hero, Tav, but you’re the worst sort: an intolerable do-gooder who can’t accept advice. I hope you had fun showing off today.”

“Showing off?” she hissed, “You little sh*t! We just saved this f*cking city!”

“Yes, and I’m sure you’ll probably enjoy reminding every single one of us at every opportunity. Just like at Last Light.”

“Ha! I went to ask you if I could pour you a drink and you were all high and mighty with me, so I left you to it. You didn’t even give me a chance to speak – you accused me of being greedy for praise.” She waved a hand as he had begun to protest. “Yes, you’ve already told me you were joking, I don’t care. The point stands: it’s you who’s obsessed with the idea that I want some sort of thanks for all of this, and it’s bollocks. All I’ve ever wanted is to get the bloody tadpole out of my head!”

She crossed her arms across her chest, but she felt as though she had stepped outside of her body: she was watchingherself behave like a moody teenager but was unable to stop it all pouring out. What in the hells was wrong with her?

That being said, her last words had clearly had some sort of effect on the tiefling. He fell quiet and placed a hand softly on her folded arm. His bright, yellow eyes regarded her carefully.

“This isn’t right,” he sighed. “You must be exhausted. I’m sorry for barging in. Andfor picking a fight; it’s not the time for it.” He laughed a little ruefully at that. “Though it never seems to be the right time for us, does it? We always seem to rub one another the wrong way.”

There was a pause. Neither of them moved.

“Ugh, Rolan, I’m sorry.” Tav rubbed her eyes, finally back in control. She had allowed her pain to build up and then fired it at the nearest convenient target. “I’m just so tired, and... and I don’t know what happens next. I just need to sleep for a week and then I might be a bit more myself.”

He nodded. “I’ll go. I’m glad to see you in one piece, though. Cal and Lia will be happy.”

“Tell them I said hello.”

“I will. And Tav?”

“Yes Rolan?”

“If you ever need us... please just say the word. I promise I’ll be delightful : no nagging.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was small, and she suddenly felt bone weary. "Thank you for everything. For the help today. For checking in on me."

Why did she want him to take her back to the tower and tuck her into a soft feather bed? Unbidden, an image appeared in her mind of him sitting by the bed as she slept, reading aloud, so that she could hear him in her dreams. His voice was so soothing, even when he was lecturing her.

Without thinking, she stepped forward and embraced him. He was warm, like all tieflings, but she was sure he radiated something else, too. Something that reminded her of home. Rolan would do anything for his family, and she wished that she had someone like that. Someone like him.

He left after that, and she located the wine. She went upstairs to find everyone sprawled across various items of furniture, flat out and snoring. Her body unravelled with relief, and she fell into the nearest bed without removing her bloodied clothes, still clutching the wine when she woke up several hours later.

*****

And now he was kissing her.

Finally.

Her nose was blocked, and her eyes were puffy from crying - and she was wearing yesterday’s underwear - but they were kissing. It was happening.

The kiss itself was relatively chaste: lips pressed gently togetherand a tentative hand in her hair, but oh gods, it was sweet. She remembered the warmth of him from the Elfsong’s kitchen and suddenly she understood the strange need she’d felt to follow him home and let him take care of her. After a long rest and the clamour of the next few weeks, the feelings she’d had in the kitchen had beenlost – just another strange emotion amongst the tumult of the day the Netherbrain fell – but she knew now that she had been drawn helplessly to his fierce devotion to the people he loved, and she had craved the chance to be one of those people. She had been so very alone for so long that the idea of someone fighting for her was intoxicating. Especially someone handsome, and talented, and passionate. Especially him .

Even when his words were aimed like arrows at her, she knew where they came from: Concern. Fear. Worry. Love. She couldn’t remember a time before the tadpole when anyone had cared for her so much. Her companions had shown her that she was worthy of such care, but Rolan had been the one to give it in such a direct way: even if he was quite terrible at it. She was too. They would need to work that out.

She broke the kiss and took a deep breath, cursing her tears for stuffing her up. How typical that their first kiss would be an imperfect thing. It was quite apt.

Rolan smiled at her, and she felt a bolt of lightning shoot through her chest. She might never be able to forgive herself for what had happened in that farmhouse, but at least she would be able to process it. After all, what had she been doing this past year if not making amends?

“Are you okay?” he asked her, kissing the tip of her nose.

“I’m wonderful,” she replied. The hand that wasn’t in her hair rubbed gently at her lower back and it made her arch into him. He must not have expected it, because he made a soft oh sound and blushed.

She placed a hand on his cheek and rubbed her thumb over his freckles.

“Thank you, Rolan.”

“What for?”

“For seeing me as who I am now, and not who I was. It’s more than I can do for myself sometimes.”

He considered this for a moment. “I understand that. After all, I never thought I’d be the master of a tower. Even when I was full of myself, I fully expected to end up... unremarkable.”

“The dashing master of a tower,” Tav corrected.

Rolan winced. “Oh gods, I actually said that didn’t I?”

“You did. Just before we had that argument about elixirs.”

“Would you believe me if I told you that when you said you’d focused on spellcasting, it scared me senseless?” He punctuated this last statement with tiny kisses across her face.

Tav kissed him back, on the lips. “I would now.”

“You made a mistake. You must have been anxious and thought that spells would pack a bigger punch. Am I right?”

Tav made a face. “Rolan, are you using this situation between us to prove that you were right all along?”

“Of course not,” he scoffed. He pulled his head back to regard her fully. “I’ve always known that I was right. I just want to hear you admit it.”

She relented. “Okay, fine. You’re spot on. Happy?”

The look on his face was one she recognised well: supreme Rolansmugness. At one time she would have wanted to poke him in his rotten eyes, but now it seemed... adorable. “I can’t deal with this. If you’re going to insist on being smug then I’m leaving.” She pulled away from him, but he wouldn’t let her go and she happily allowed herself to be enveloped once more, laughing.

“I promise not to be a damned know-it-all,” he said seriously. “And besides, it doesn’t matter. Your elixirs worked. You survived, and now I get to kiss you as much as I want to. I don’t have to pick a fight to get your attention.”

Tav felt herself blush, but it wasn’t because of the kissing.

“I did what you said,” she blurted.

His eyes widened. “What? You did? You used an elixir of guileful movement?”

“I did,” and then, seeing his face become triumphant: “but don’t you dare get all puffed up about it! You were right. That’s the top and the bottom of it.”

He stood for a moment, as if relishing it. Suddenly, he let go of her and leant over the tower wall.

“I was right! She said I was right!” he screamed into the open air. “You hear that? I was right! Ha!”

He turned back to her and took her firmly in his arms. “I’m sorry, that was incredibly childish. Will you forgive me?”

“You’re such an arse,” she laughed. She kissed him again, deeper this time; opening her mouth against his and tentatively exploring him with her tongue. He moaned softly into her mouth as she did so, and it was the sweetest sound. He might have won this round, but she now needed to get him back, and rather than outwit him, she had a few ideas how she could turn him into something more pliable. The thought was delicious. She imagined him coming undone beneath her and she deepened the kiss. He ran a hand across her lower back again and it had the same effect as before. This time, though, he was ready for her, and pushed himself into her hips when they met his. Now she was the one moaning, damn him.

Without thinking, she slid a hand around his waist and down onto the nexus of his back and his tail. The effect was immediate: he practically growled and then his tongue was on hers and his hands were everywhere, and she was humming into his mouth and pushing her fingers into the twists of hair behind his ears. This caused another reaction and she buzzed with the excitement of exploration.

She had taken quite a few lovers over the years; mostly out of loneliness or boredom, or to work off stress, but this was something new. She couldn’t recall ever being so... invested. She wanted to measure every inch of him with her fingers; seek out every spot which caused a reaction and exploit each one until he was ruined.

They kissed for several minutes, rocking on the spot all tangled together and utterly lost to the world around them.

They probably would have remained that way, too, if it hadn’t been for small, furry projectile which sailed through the air past their faces and landed with a wetsplat against the wall. The shock of it broke the spell and they looked down in horror to see a decapitated rat which had exploded against the stone. They looked up to see the unmistakeable figure of Shovel waving a skinny arm from the greenhouse level balcony several floors up.

“BEEFY!”

“Hello, Shovel,” she shouted back, but the quasit had already disappeared.

Tav turned to looked at her wizard and they both began to laugh in disbelief.

“I’m rather glad I didn’t choose to study divination,” said Rolan.

“How come?”

“Because I’m fairly sure an exploding rat is not the best omen for new lovers.”

“I’m afraid you might have to get used to such things,” she said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. She tried to ignore the thought of him with his hair down, above her, as she lay sprawled in his bed.

“Love me, love my quasit? Is that it?”

“I suppose it is,” she said gently. “After all, she’s family. Like it or not.”

Suddenly, Lia appeared around the corner.

“OH MY GODS! I KNEW IT!” She was hopping on the spot, beaming. “ FINALLY !”

Rolan looked at Tav, his eyebrows raised in amusem*nt.

“What were you saying about family?”

Chapter 10: Urgent Family Business

Chapter Text

Within minutes, Lia had marched them back into the kitchen and gone to fetch Cal.

“Well, this is humiliating,” said Rolan gloomily, taking a chair and sitting at the table to await his fate.

“I think it’s sweet,” said Tav, eyeing her boots and noticing that there was more than a little rat blood splattered across the leather. She shrugged and sat next to the sulking tiefling. Rat blood wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever had to scrape off her clothing.

“I mean, they’ve always teased me a little about you, but I never thought they’d have a wager on us.”

That caught her full attention. “They teased you about me?”

“Yes,” came the irritable reply. “They said... oh, it's so stupid, I can hardly bear to repeat it.”

“Well you have to now!”

He eyed her and sighed. “They said that my ears turned red whenever you spoke to me. It’s ridiculous.”

Tav tried and failed to stifle a laugh, but then noticed his defeated look. “Oh Rolan. I’m sorry. They’re so mean. Do you want me to beat them up for you?” She ran a finger over the point of his ear and was delighted by the way he squirmed. She turned her body in the chair and leanedin so that she could whisper, “Do you like that?” to him. As she did so, she continued to trace a finger over the spot which had caught him off guard.

He leant his face to hers so that his breath was on her shoulder. They were dangerously close. Tav nuzzled his cheek with her nose.

“You’re going to causeme no end of bother, Ranger,” he whispered.

“I really hope so...” She could feel his body heatand she swore it was getting warmer by the second.

At that moment, the door swung open, and they sprang apart like naughty school children caught stealing cakes. Lia came in first, followed by Cal who was wearing Shovel on his back. Her long claws gripped his shoulders, and her legs were wrapped around his hipswith her talons tucked into his waistband. Both Cal and Lia wore huge grins and immediately pulled up a couple of chairs. Shovel climbed down and trotted across the table into Tav’s lap.

“I’m not sure how I feel about quasits on the table,” said Rolan, regarding the fiend. She stared back at him defiantly until Tav gave her a poke.

“Shovel is sorry,” she said, with as much sincerity as she could muster, which wasn’t much.

“Hm,” was all he said.

“Who cares, Rolan?!” exclaimed Cal. “I can’t believe you actually did fancy her all along! I told Lia that there was no way you’d ever like someone enough to remove the stick from your arse, but I suppose if there was anyone who could break you, it’d be Tav!”

Rolan grimaced and rubbed a hand down his face. He turned to Tav. “This is not how this should be going. I can only apologise.”

“No, I’m rather enjoying myself,” she replied, beaming back at him. Gods, she missed banter. It was like being back around the campfire with Astarion and Shadowheart.

“We thought Rolan would die alone,” said Lia to Tav. “Until he met you. Every time we watched him talk to you his ears turned-”

“Yes, thank you, I’ve already told her about your juvenile jesting!”

“Well they did! Even when we got back from Moonlight and you were still drunk as a skunk, she came over and...” she made a gesture with her hands exploding from the sides of her head. “Beetroot.”

“Lia said you could have single-handedly ended the shadow curse just by having a half-hour conversation with her,” chuckled Cal.

“Gods,” muttered Rolan.

“Well, I didn’t notice,” said Tav, feeling a little sorry for him in his embarrassment. “But again, in the interests of balance, I should tell you that when Karlach called him a prick, we both agreed that he was very handsome despite that.”

This seemed to brighten him. “You did?”

“We did.”

“So... Karlach thought that too...?”

Tav gave him a look. “Oh, sorry, are you worried that you’ve kissed the wrong adventurer?”

“Absolutely not. Of course not.” The way he looked into her eyes as he said it made her stomach fizz. He placed a hand on her knee and gave it a squeeze and she wished they were alone so that she could kiss every inch of his face.

“Oh, gods, please ,” said Lia, while Cal mimed being sick. Tav just laughed and ran her hand down Shovel’s back to distract herself. The quasit adjusted on her lap and made a rumbling noise which Tav knew indicated contentment. It had been a few weeks before the party had worked out the various bizarre noises that she would make. Mostly they just knew that she liked to bite people in fights. But once she had settled into camp life and realised that ‘Master Ily’ wasn’t coming back to reclaim her, she began to soften and become more pet-like. She would play with Scratch and the Owlbear cub, and sleep with Karlach. As an infernal creature, she could withstand Karlach’s fire, and so Shovel became an important comfort to the barbarian.

“As delightful as this all is,” said Rolan, “We do have some family business to discuss. I meant to raise it at breakfast but obviously things went in – ahem – a different direction.”

Cal and Lia gave each other a wry smile, but Rolan either did not notice or chose to ignore them.

“If it's family business, I can leave,” said Tav, and Rolan regarded her with bewilderment.

“Even without this morning and all that’s happened, I would still consider you at the very least an interested party in our family matters. And with everything that’s happened, I’d like to consider you a little more interested than that. Is that okay?”

Tav felt her breath hitch in her chest. “Yes,” she said softly. Her world felt like it had spun upside down: had she really only popped by to drop off some books yesterday? She recalled sitting on the edge of her bed in her room at the Elfsong the previous morning. She had been wondering what to do with her day and as so often had happened in recent months, the loneliness had begun to seep into her pores. As had so often happened in the year following her abduction, she felt that strange feeling when everything had changed in a day. She had spent years grinding out a living in the wilds and then there was a succession of mad, topsy-turvy single days: the day she went to the farm; the day the nautiloid came; the day they killed the brain; the day she visited Rolan for tea and ended up with his lips on hers... Her life was unrecognisable. She had found another family. She felt hopeful. It was unfamiliar yet intoxicating.

“I meant what I said about working at the Sundries,” said Rolan. “We really need to capitalise on the sudden influx of interest in adventuring and you’d be perfect. I know it’s not – I don’t know – heroic , and I’m not sure what you think...” he seemed to lose confidence a little, checking her face to see if the thought of working in a shop offended her somehow. “I - we – would love it if you would come and work with us. That’s all. And you’d be doing us a favour. Of course.”

She considered his words for a second. She really wanted to do it: Sorcerous Sundries was once of her favourite places in Baldur’s Gate, and she couldn’t think of better people to spend her days with. Especially the man who sat directly across from her, searching her face with his golden eyes. But something was bothering her.

“It’s not even a decision I need to consider,” she said, looking at each of them in turn, “but I need to remind you that I worked alone for a long time. My people skills are rusty. I don’t want to be a problem if I’m not very good at it. You’ll need to tell me if I’m awful.”

Lia looked at her very directly and spoke seriously: “Tav. We work with Tolna. She won’t allow customers to touch the books and even when they are very definitely going to buy one, she makes them complete a questionnaire to ensure their ‘suitability’.”

“In silence,” added Cal.

“And besides,” said Rolan, “the very idea that you aren’t a people person is ludicrous. You held your party together by sheer force of personality. You told me yourself that Shadowheart and Lae’zel would have killed one another in the beginning. Gale said it was only because they both respected you so much that they were persuaded otherwise.”

Tav muttered that it was always a group effort.

“Halsin followed you halfway across the Western Heartlands,” said Rolan.

“We all saw the crowd in the High Hall that day,” said Cal.

“You once made me laugh so hard that I snorted water out of my nose,” added Lia.

Tav rolled her eyes, but her heart felt like it it was filled with something other than anxiety for the first time in a long time.

Unexpectedly, Shovel turned in her lap and fixed her withhuge black eyes. “Always kind to Shovel. Never beat Shovel; never starve Shovel. Beefy has been kind, yes.”

“Oh for gods’ sake,” said Tav. It was all a bit too much. “Yes, fine. I’ll work in the bloody shop.”

Cal and Lia nodded happily and Rolan gave her a relieved smile. She patted Shovel between her horns and the quasit gurgled.

“We have our adventuring expert, then,” said Rolan. “I thought you could demonstrate summoning and proper care of equipment, that sort of thing. It really has been a big thing: people come in wanting all sorts of survival spells and artefacts.”

“How come everyone wants to go adventuring all of a sudden?” asked Tav. “Surely the city still needs people to rebuild as a priority.”

“Are you kidding?” said Cal. He wore a confused look, as though the answer should be obvious.

“What? Am I missing something?” She looked between the siblings cluelessly.

“Tav,” said Lia, “everything you did was all over the papers. It was all anyone could talk about for weeks.”

“Months,” added Cal.

“Everyone and his dog nowwants to be ‘just like the heroes of Baldur’s Gate’ and go on a grand journey, helping the weak and the needy on their way.”

Tav tried to ignore the way Lia had pronounced the absurd epithet the party had been given by the press. It was a constant source of discomfort to her that she was hailed a hero when, to her mind, all they had ever done was try to survive. Not to mention the fact that a week before their ‘grand journey’ had begun, she had... No. She would have to try to move on from such thoughts.

“If it makes you feel worse,” said Rolan with a smile, “we do have rather a disproportionately high number of people requesting ranger magic. I can’t imagine why.”

“Don’t be silly.” She was mortified by the very idea.

“It’s true,” said Lia. “You seem to have started a bit of a trend.”

Tav groaned. “I literally went around with a vampire who looks like a god, a githyanki warrior and a wizard who was the lover of a goddess. Why would people want to be like me ?”

“I’ll ignore the comment about Astarion,” said Rolan chippily, “and hazard a guess that it might have something to do with the fact that the average person can achieve none of those things easily. But you... you’re extraordinary because you are just so perfectly you . People love that about you.” He trailed off and cleared his throat. Tav remembered his words on the terrace: I wanted you instantly. And it scared the sh*t out of me. She removed her hand from where it had been resting on Shovel’s foot and slid her fingers between his.

“Well, I hope I don’t let you all down. Or my adoring public, apparently.”

“You couldn’t,” said Rolan, prompting another round of snigg*rs from the other side of the table.

“Right, well, on that note,” he said sternly, “I suggest one last order of business. But I would like to suggest that you two troglodytes get back to work if that suits you?”

“I quite like the troglodytes,” Tav chuckled.

“Careful Tav,” said Cal, standing up and pushing his chair in. “He probably wants to show you his collection of books on alchemical fungi.”

“Oh don’t Cal, you’ll get him all in a tizz,” Lia teased.

“Enough, both of you,” he said, but there was genuine amusem*nt in his tone. “You’ve had your fun.”

Lia stood and rounded the table. She bent down and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “I know we take the piss, but this is really, really, amazing. I’m happy for you, big brother.” She smiled at Tav. “Welcome to our dysfunctional little clan. We're glad he stopped being so emotionally stunted and did the right thing.”

“Yeah,” added her brother. “Best fifty gold I ever lost.”

They headed out through the door, leaving Tav, Rolan and Shovel alone. There was a moment of silence in which Shovel raised a leg to idly scratch behind her ear with a toenail claw. It was a bizarre habit she had picked up from Scratch. They had tried to explain to her that she had arms which could reach her ears, but it had been in vain.

Rolan swivelled in his chair to face Tav fully. She gently deposited Shovel on the floor and took his outstretched hands. Shovel padded off to explore the corners of the room.

“I need to ask you something,” he said. She nodded. “Last night I offered you a room here. I know you said no, but I want you to reconsider.”

Tav resisted the urge to say yes immediately. It wasn’t that simple.

“I really want to, Rolan. But what if something goes wrong? What if we spend a few weeks together and then suddenly you-”

“Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say, Tav. You know that won’t happen.”

“You don’t know that.” she looked at her knees. She was trying to be sensible. Mature. To make the right decision. “In a year or so, I don’t see why we can’t...”

Rolan didn’t cut her off this time, but he huffed through his nose and shook his head. He was so easy to read. It made her smile.

“If you think I’m waiting a bloody year to wake up next to you every day: after everything we’ve been through? I refuse.”

“You refuse?”

“I sodding well refuse!” They were both laughing now. “I demand that you move in immediately!”

“You’re too used to having your own way, wizard,” she said. She let go of his hands and rose from the chair. “Just because you’ve got your own tower, it doesn’t mean you get to boss me around.”

She placed a foot on either side of his chair and slid into his lap, locking her hands around his neck. He immediately gripped her thighs, and his expression betrayed his thoughts. She dipped her head and allowed her lips to graze his, eliciting another of those moans which shot arrows of fire directly into her belly.

After a few seconds of teasing, she allowed him to kiss her softly, and her hands wandered down his neck and onto his chest. He stroked her thighs: first along their edges, and then tentatively, up and on to their tops before delving down into the inside. He kept a respectable distance from where she wished he would roam, and it made her squirm closer to him, raising her hips a little to settle into the join of his legs and torso. This added fire to the kiss and there was his tongue in her mouth again, and his teeth were on the edges of her lips: sharp but not biting. She had never been with a tiefling before, and the sensation of pointed teeth was new to her. She imagined them on her skin and it caused another flush of chemicals to race to her core. How she wanted him, there and then. She would have taken him were it not for the fact that she worried he would think she was too forward, or too needy.

Of course, she knew that was nonsense. The noises she was pulling from him indicated that if anything, he would do anything she asked in that moment. He was hers and she was his for the taking. She wondered how she had lived without this feeling before now. She recalled the various bards and actors she had known on the road and their various soliloquies and sonnets about love, and passion, and desire, and how she had nodded and smiled and praised their performances without any sort of understanding. She saw that now. If she thought that she had known lust, it was nothing more than a pale cousin to the desire which now overtook her.

He broke the kiss and panted in her ear. “Stay here tonight at least. Please. Even if you don’t need the room, you must stay with me.”

“Of course I will,” she breathed. “But I need to go home.”

He whined – actually whined – at that, and she kissed his lips to soothe him. Each time they spoke, their words were punctuated with soft, breathy ministrations. They rubbed their heads together, and she traced his horns with her mouth.

“I know, I know. I wish we could go to your room right now and stay there for a week, but -”

“Why not? Why can’t we?”

“Because I need to get changed. Make myself beautiful. Sort myself out.”

“Gods, Tav, you’re already perfect.”

She snigg*red into his hair. “I’m wearing yesterday’s pants.”

“Oh you won’t need them, it’s fine.”

“You’re a brat, Rolan. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Constantly. But now it’s your problem, my love.”

There was that word again. Term of endearment, or declaration?

She prised herself back from him with a moan and sat back in his lap. She could feel how excited he was, and it took every ounce of her self-control to resist the urge to palm his erection through his trousers and find out what would later be dealing with.

“You’re a tease,” he said, smiling.

“And I think you f*cking love it,” she shot back. “But I do need to go. Just for a few hours.”

“You’ll come back for dinner?”

“I will. Of course I will.”

“I’ll make sure we have something that only takes minutes to eat.”

“I’m sure Cal and Lia will enjoy watching us wolf something down and then run off downstairs.”

“Cal and Lia can please themselves. They can entertain Shovel while we entertain one another.”

Tav bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut. “Right. I’m going. You’re just going to keep saying things that make me want to put it off and it’s not getting me anywhere.”

“Okay.” he ran his hands around her waist and down onto her bottom. He gave it a squeeze. “Go on, then.”

She retaliated with a cant of her hips into his groin. “Okay, I will.” And then her lips were hovering once again over his, and he was grinning, and she made an involuntary moan.

“Do I need to banish you? As the master of this tower?”

“Hmmm...”

“It’s only a handful of hours.”

“Barely four, if I hurry.”

“I think you can make it in three.” His hands were now roaming dangerously, working their way up her body into territory which would seriously test her resolve.

She practically jumped off his lap and waved a finger at him. “You are bad.”

He shrugged. He was a far cry from the uptight figure she had first met in the Grove. His legs were spread and the shirt he wore was unbuttoned at the top and pulled to one side so that she could see the ridges which ran down from his collarbone. His hair was coming loose and falling onto his shoulders. The points of his teeth were showing: where his usual demeanour was tight-lipped, his lips were now parted, and his breathing washeavier than normal with the exertion of holding himself back. He looked almost rakish, like the hero of a romance novel, and she could not wait to see what that evening would have in store. It was worth the pain of leaving him for a spell: she could feel the anticipation beginning to build already. By the time he took her to his bed, she would be a quivering ruin.

“Shovel, come on,” she called, not taking her eyes off him. “We’re heading out.” The quasit appeared from behind a pillar.

“sh*te, Beefy! Not back to boring sh*ttavern?”

“Yes, back there. Where did I leave my bag?”

“Ah,” said Rolan, standing and resuming his composure. “It’s here.” He handed it to her and kissed her as he did so. She had to resist the temptation to let it develop.

“Thank you. Portal?”

He seemed to snap out of a daze. “Oh, of course.” He made a complicated hand gesture and the portal yawned into existence by the range. “Don’t be long.”

“Don’t be greedy,” she mocked. He simply chuckled and gave her a soft push towards the portal.

“I’ll see you in a bit.”

Tav shouldered her pack and swung Shovel into position on top of it. “You’ll see all of me,” she said in a low voice. Rolan sighed.

Shovel emitted a loud groan. “f*cking hell, Beefy. Why not spread legs right here?”

That was enough to finally get her moving.

“Thanks Shovel,” she muttered, and the last thing she heard as the portal swallowed them was the sound of Rolan spluttering.

Chapter 11: Panic

Chapter Text

The tavern. Oh, the tavern.

When they had first arrived in Baldur’s Gate and all bunked in together, it was a welcome change from the nights of camping they had endured: it was civilisation. Even if Halsin snored like an actual bear and Astarion hogged the bath and Karlach talked about inconsequential rubbish when Tav wanted nothing more than to sleep, the Elfsong had been a place for them all, and for that reason she would always think of it like a home.

Well, at least that would be how she thought of their upper floor suite. The room she currently occupied in an annex just off the roof was significantly less welcoming as they stepped through the door. She, Gale and Tara had taken it once everyone else had left. Alan had agreed to allow three homeless families to stay in the much larger space and there was no arguing against that. Besides, the rent was cheaper, and they spent so much time out and about helping with various relief efforts in the city that they really only needed somewhere to sleep. They had become used to moving around the small room whilst giving one another space – a folding screen could be moved about to ensure they had some privacy when bathing or changing, and they were so used to sleeping in the same space as one another that it was never awkward. Shovel had found her place on the bed with Tav, and Tara kept a sniffy distance whenever the quasit was around. She said that she preferred to sleep on the roof in a nest of her own making, but one day Tav overheard a hushed conversation with Tara imploring Gale to return to Waterdeep and she knew that the tressym was right.

Now she entered the room with Shovel and sighed at how lonely it made her feel. The walls and floor were undecorated and unplastered, so that the general feeling was cabin-like. It should have suited a ranger, but it felt sad after the rich panelling and soft swags of the previous room. There were two single beds against opposing walls with the screen between them, and the round wooden bath stood in the corner directly to the right of the door. A single window between the headboards of the beds looked out on to the roofs of the neighbouring buildings but the sun only reached it first thing in the morning, so that it awoke them cruelly before disappearing for the rest of the day and leaving them to the gloom. Her chest stood at the foot of her bed, although it was barely half full these days. She had made sure that any surplus items and clothes had been distributed to the injured and displaced. Only her leather armour - a rich, dark green set which she had found in a chest in Moonrise Towers – and her weapons were worth anything now. The rest of her clothes were basic to a fault: a couple of pairs of linen trousers; two blouses; a simple belted dress; a long coat which was stained and patched from their travels and her jerkin.

Her jerkin. She sat heavily on the bed and realised that she had left it in the tower. She had been so caught up in dragging herself away from the place that she hadn’t given it a thought. It shouldn’t have been a problem, but the feeling that it was halfway across the city and not either safely tucked in her chest or on her back made her uncomfortable. She had never lost or forgotten it in the twenty years she had worn it.

It had been her mother’s. It was made of buttery brown calf’s leather and fastened with four tarnished buckles which were so broken in that they barely needed any effort to fasten. On the right-hand sleeve opening there was a notch, worn away by years of being nudged by her bowstring as it flew by. It was a part of her in the same way that her wild hair and her long limbs were. And she had been so flustered that she had misplaced it.

What was wrong with her?

Her cravings for the wizard were undeniably delicious, and she laid back on her bed as she thought about the way he had looked at her as she straddled him in the kitchen. She had never felt so utterly desired. She could get drunk on that feeling... but it had made her forget herself. The jerkin might have seemed like an innocent error to anyone else, but to Tav, who had worked hard to be always self-reliant and professional, it was a sign that she was unfocused. She wondered if she deserved to be a little less hard on herself and a little more like everybody else.

Shovel crawled up next to her and settled by her face. If Tav had been inclined to become introspective about her feelings in that moment, then the smell coming off the quasit was a perfect antidote.

“Gods, Shovel, what have you been doing?” She sat up and held the back of her hand to her nose.

The demon looked up sleepily. “Making fertiliser with Mister Cal, Beefy. Mister Cal says that Shovel is a good help.”

Tav couldn’t help but grimace at the fact that Mister Cal got his actual name, while she was certain to remain Beefy for the rest of her life. How long did quasits live for, anyway? She suddenly wondered if she would be picking twigs out of Shovel’s rubbery spines when she was ninety... or a hundred... She shuddered and moved to the bath, turning on the hot tap. At least she had this one luxury. The thought of sharing a bathroom with strangers filled her with horror, and waiting for someone to fill the bath by hand was always a chore.

The room filled with steam and she began to unbutton her blouse. Would it be Rolan’s hands on her clothes later that night? Would he want to undress her? None of the men she had ever been with had, apart from one: and he was so clumsy she had found herself impatiently taking over just to put the poor sod out of his misery.

She suddenly felt a wave of anxiety. What if Rolan was as practised in the bedroom as he was in his library? Surely a man with such confidence had been with many other women. Had he ever loved any of them? She imagined him making the same face at another woman – a faceless yet beautiful tiefling sorceress with raven hair. She saw him run his claws across her torso and bite her lower lip with his pointed teeth.

She sat back down on the bed, her head in her hands, breathing heavily. Gods, what was she doing? She had only ever f*cked men as a means to an end. She knew she could seduce them, but what of love? She hadn’t the first idea how to use her body to show another person what she actually felt. She was in way over her head.

Shovel began to snore. Minutes passed. When the bath seemed full enough, she stood up again and flexed her neck. She had punched Raphael in the nose. She had fought and defeated the honour guard of Prince Orpheus. She had stood face to face with a Bhaalspawn. She had fired the arrow which constituted the final blow against a gods-damned Netherbrain. The idea that she was scared to have sex with a perfectly normaltiefling was absolutely ridiculous.

The bath water was deliciously hot and before she climbed in, she piled her hair up on top of her head and poured in a little of a richly perfumed oil that Gale had left behind. The smell was a little too like him to be completely comfortable, but it was better than her usual scent of absolutely nothing. She scrubbed herself all over with soap and felt the stress leave her body. She would wear her dress. The green velvet suited her (so Shadowheart had said) and it might give her a little confidence. She knew that she was not unattractive, but she had never perfected the art of beautification. Perhaps, as Rolan had said, that was exactly why people liked her.

The thought bolstered her a bit, and by the time she was ready to get out of the bath, she had begun to allow a little of the excitement she had felt in his arms that morning to resurface along with her. She dressed, and regarded herself in the mirror with something like satisfaction. A little kohl around her eyes and she would be ready... but then she had a thought and grabbed her rucksack. She rummaged down to the secret pocket stitched into the base and located the pouch which contained Rolan’s ring. The two yellow jewels sparkled in her hand and she noticed that just like his eyes, they were faceted: turn the face one way and they were bright like sunflowers; turn them another and they were burning embers. Dammon really was a master of his craft. She slipped it onto her finger and regarded it happily. Let the adventure take her wherever it led. She had nothing left to lose, and there was comfort in that.

*****

Tav and Shovel entered Sourcerous Sundries just before it was due to close and they and were immediately greeted by Lia, who had been repositioning an animated armour which was particularly prone to wander.

Tav waved as she saw her hurry over, but Lia’s face was serious. “Thank Gods you’re here, Tav,” she said, grabbing her forearms. “He’s been unbearable all day. I thought he was going to bite Tolna’s head off at one point. He shouted in the book section, if you can believe it.”

“What?” said Tav. “Why?” She had left him in the best of spirits. What had happened?

“You tell me,” said Lia, leading her up the staircase. “He wouldn’t speak to us at all. It’s like he’s got worse as the day’s wore on. He was positivley giddy when you left. Then he went off to his room and when he came up for lunch he was in a right mood. Apart from coming down to be a bloody menace to Tolna he’s just sat at his desk with your jerkin on his lap all afternoon. We didn’t know if something had happened... if you’d changed your mind or something. Although if you haven’t, you might when you see the moody bloody git.”

They had come to the portal. Cal was just leaving the office with a hefty tome under one arm.

“Hullo Tav,” he said, “has Lia filled you in about Sir Pisspants upstairs?”

Shovel immediately picked that one up. “Pisspants! HA!” She waddled over to Cal and raised her arms at him. He smiled and lifted her onto his back, and she regarded Tav smugly. “Mister Cal is very funny. Make Shovel laugh and laugh! HA!”

Tav pointed a finger at her. “You’d better not repeat that in front of Rolan: I mean it.” She knew it was futile, but supposed she had to try.

“I’ll keep her out of the way if you like,” said Cal. “I’ve been brushing up.” He untucked the book and showed it to Tav: Caring for the Infernal: A Handler’s Guide to Demons. “And besides, I’m not sorry to have an excuse to avoid Rolan tonight. It’s like old times. I can’t say a thing without him snapping at me. I hadn’t realised how much he’d mellowed since we came here.”

“You’re not getting out of anything Cal,” said Lia. “We’re not leaving Tav on her own with him if he’s being a wretch to everyone.”

“It’s fine,” said Tav, but she was not certain. Perhaps he was having second thoughts. She felt as though he might send her home as soon as she set foot through the portal and a wave of panic surged up through her chest. Perhaps he had been so caught up that morning that he had allowed himself to say things that he did not truly feel. She would understand if he was worried about his studies. She would be a distraction: it made sense. She shouldn’t have let this happen.

“And besides,” said Lia, “he made me go to the market tobuy pigeon pies and apple chutney. I’m not bloody missing out on that.”

*****

He wasn’t at his desk in the library when they arrived. Lia thought that he might be in his room, but Tav noticed a draft from the lower floor and suggested that he might be out on the terrace. Ranger instincts. It was good to know they were still there.

“I’ll go and see what’s on his mind,” she said. “Hopefully he’s just lost a scrollsomething.” She tried to smile confidently, but those nasty little thoughtshad taken root, and she knew it probably wasn’t convincing anyone.

Lia shook her head. “If I had to hazard a guess, he’s probably just panicking. He’s awful at not being in control.”

“How do you mean?” said Tav. No one could read Rolan like his siblings, so she was grateful for the insight.

“Well, let’s just say this is distinctly outside of Rolan’s comfort zone. And of course, being Rolan, he’ll never admit it. He’ll just be a total arse until the problem... goes away.” She punctuated this last word with a flutter of her hand. Tav was none the wiser. Her face must have been blank, because Lia rolled her eyes and nudged her towards the stairs. “Go and see him. Hopefully you being here will cheer the miserable sod up. Come on Cal, let’s get dinner sorted. Shovel, do you like pig trotters? I got some for you.”

Shovel squealed and began to bob up and down on Cal’s back. “I’ll take that as a yes,” laughed Lia.

Tav unshouldered her pack and left it by sofa which sat opposite the desk. She descended the stairs, careful to lift the hem of her dress. It suddenly felt like the wrong choice to wear such a thing, even if she had thrown her old travel coat over the top and belted it.

She came to the door out onto the terrace and immediately saw him. He was leaning on the lip of the wall, with his elbows on the stone and his eyes shut. He looked peaceful, as though the air was cleansing him of his worries. In his hand he held something, and as she got closer, she saw that it was her jerkin.

“Hello,” she said.

He opened his eyes, and if he’d got a shock, he was doing a very good job of hiding it.

“Hello,” he said, without looking at her.

This was stupid: it had only been a matter of hours since she was in his lap, and he was running his hands over her thighs. She took a step forward and squeezed his shoulder. He smiled but continued to look out over the city.

“I see you found my jerkin,” she said. He finally turned to look at her, and she realised that all of her worries were for nothing. It was obvious – he loved her. His eyes burned for her. She wondered if he saw the same in her expression.

He didn’t speak, but simply took her in his arms and lifted her gently. She squeaked – she hadn't been expecting such a gesture – and it made him laugh. She kissed him for that. His laugh was wonderful and always deserved a reward.

“Why are you being a beast to your employees, Rolan?” Better to get it over with, she figured.

He sighed and scrunched his face up. “Ah,” he said.

“Yes, ah. Your brother and sister are ready to disown you. They had me half convinced that you were angry about this morning,”

He looked shocked by this. “What? What did they say?”

Tav felt a pang of guilt. “No, that’s not true actually. It’d be more accurate to say that I had myself half convinced.”

“Hm,” he frowned, “in that case you’re a bigger idiot than I thought.”

“Yes Rolan, that’s exactly how to make me feel better about feeling insecure. You’re doing so well.”

“Sarcasm?”

“Sarcasm.”

“Hm,” he said again. His arms were still tight around her waist, and she realised that his tail was winding around her thigh. It felt wonderful, to be held like this. Even if he was grumpy.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” she said, and kissed nose softly, to sweeten the deal.

“It was nothing really,” he said gently, brushing his lips across her cheek. “I went down to the shop to look for a book I’d seen and Tolna wouldn’t let me have it. I might have got a little... testy.”

“Lia said you shouted.” She brushed his lips with her own.

“Oh, for gods’ sake, I said ‘damnation’ out loud, that’s all.” He was irritated and looked upas he spoke, so she refocused him with a palm on his cheek; smiling. When he looked back at her, he couldn’t help but return the expression. “It’s ridiculous, having to whisper all the time in there. You know that.”

“I do.” And then, a thought: “What was the book?”

He looked embarrassed. “I’m not telling you.”

“Oh yes you are... If you say that, I definitely want to know.”

“It was a book about common diseases of the um... hands.”

Tav narrowed her eyes. “No it wasn’t.”

“Yes it was.”

“No it wasn’t! Why won’t you tell me?”

He groaned and let his forehead fall onto hers. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Tell me.”

“If you ever mention it to Cal and Lia, I will throw myself off this balcony.”

“I promise I won’t. Is it going to make me not want to be with you?”

“No! It’s nothing bad . Not like that, anyway. It’s just....” He pulled away and leant against the wall. Tav nestled herself next to him and he held her hand. “... I’m not exactly... experienced. I thought that I should do a bit of reading before you got here. The sort of reading that might...help.” He looked at her sheepishly and her heart almost burst.

“Did you ask Tolna for a lover’s guide?” she smiled, and he screwed his face up again.

“Yes?” he said in a small voice. Tav wanted to laugh. Not because she was cruel, but because he was so incredibly sweet in that moment, and he was all hers.

She stepped in front of him and held his face in her hands.

“I almost passed out earlier because I was so stressed about it too.”

He looked up, and the surprise was written on his face.

“Really?”

“Really. I can’t say I’m not experienced: that would be a lie. But I can truthfully say that I have never, ever felt like this about anyone else, and it terrifies me.” She held his gaze intensely. They were two sides of the same coin and the idea that they were both afraid was almost beautiful.

He raised a hand to hers and must have felt the ring there. He took her fingers and brought them to his lips.

“All I’ve thought about since you turned up yesterday is how it might feel to have you here, with me,” he said in a low voice. “Of course that includes how it would feel to have you in my bed. To feel your skin. Your voice saying my name.” She shuddered in his arms, and he kissed her cheek. “But then all I could think about was disappointing you. Being a failure.”

Tav couldn’t resist kissing the lobe of his ear tenderly and was delighted when it elicited a hiss from him. “And I couldn’t help but imagine you in the arms of some other woman,” she said. “A tiefling like you: someone accomplished and beautiful. Someone you loved.”

He brought her face to his and he looked distraught. “That sounds like you, Tav, you absolute fool. There’s been no one else, ever. And there won’t be again, if I have my way. If you can’t see that I want you, then you’re a terrible ranger. I’ve been daydreaming about you since the bloody Grove!”

She kissed him then; long and deep, and time passed in indeterminate measures until they heard Lia call up for dinner and they broke apart.

“You got one thing wrong,” said Tav, finally.

“What’s that?”

“I’m not a tiefling.”

Rolan rolled his eyes and playfully jabbed her side with his tail.

“Idiot,” he said. And it made her laugh again.

Chapter 12: A Dinner Date

Chapter Text

The kitchen smelled of warm pies and Tav felt a pang of something like homesickness. It was a homely smell, which must have triggered a long-forgotten childhood memory. It was comforting, and she once again found herself feeling grateful for the situation she found herself in.

There was a large platter in the centre of the table with four thick-crusted pies and a large jar of a thick, spiced chutney. In addition, Cal and Lia had stacked three plush velvet cushions on one of the wooden kitchen chairs for Shovel.

“Are they from my couch in the library?" Rolan asked, pointing a long finger to where she sat atop the pile. Her chair had been placed where Rolan usually sat and she was messily munching on a roasted pig trotter. Rivets of oily juice were dripping from her elbows onto the fabric as she slurped.

“Yes,” said Lia. “I gave them to Shovel because you don’t deserve nice things.” She was carrying a stack of plates to the table and gave him a pointed look as she walked by.

Tav watched Rolan’s face go through a series of emotions beginning somewhere at disgruntlement, moving on to resignation and settling finally on a slightly insincere half smile.

“Not a problem,” he said through clenched teeth. “Shovel is a guest, after all.”

“Speaking of which,” said Cal from his place next to the quasit, “I was thinking that she could have the little chaise longue from the eighth floor parlour. For when she stays.”

Rolan sat in one of several free chairs but eyed the creature in his spot ruefully. “An antique chaise longue…” he said, “for a quasit.” It did not come out as a question.

Tav sensed danger. “It’s fine, Cal, really. Shovel sleeps on the bed with me.”

Lia snorted into her glass. Tav felt Rolan tense up.

“I don’t think –“ he said, before taking a breath. He seemed to be supressing something for a moment but managed to regain control. “…I don’t think it will be a problem. But in case she gets lonely, I think she should sleep in Cal’s room.”

“Excellent,” said Cal. “I’ll move it up after dinner. Is that okay, Tav?”

“It’s perfect,” she said, looking at Rolan. And then, because she was quite enjoying the sight of him trying to play nice in front of her: “Will I be staying too? Do I get to sleep on a blanket on the floor in Cal’s room?”

“Zurgan,” he muttered under his breath. “Why do I feel like I have just invited an additional irritant into this family?” He looked at her with annoyance, although there was the spectre of a fond smile there, too. “You can sleep on the balcony. Or in the privy. Or perhaps on this table.” He gestured to the surface before them. “But wherever you end up: I’ll be there too, so choose wisely.”

“Aw!” said Lia.

“Shut up,” said Rolan, immediately.

“In that case, you definitely can’t sleep on the floor in my room,” Cal added, with a horrified expression.

*****

The pies were good: really good. Tav couldn’t remember eating anything so satisfying for months, and said so.

“I suspected you’d like them,” said Rolan, “and I confess there is a little sentimentality behind it. On that gods-blasted day you rescued me from the shadow curse you gave me roasted pigeon and an apple to take with me back to the inn. I ate it when I finally arrived and it really did make me feel better. I thought I could return the favour, in better circ*mstances.”

Tav held her breath and wondered momentarily whether or not to tell him it had been a roasted crow; not a pigeon. They had been a little low on food that day so Gale had improvised. Then she saw his sweet expression and thought about how thoughtful he was and decided it would remain a secret forever.

“That’s a lovely idea. And these are indeed better times... much better.” She wondered if she would have believed her own words a week ago. Even two days ago. But she was certain now.

“He didn’t go to the market for them,” said Lia, pointing a fork. “You still owe me for them too, big brother.”

“I’ll deduct it from your rent,” he chuckled, and she laughed too, despite herself.

“You’ve been horrible today, Rolan,” she said finally. The small smile he had been wearing disappeared and he sighed.

“I know, and I am sorry.”

“You owe Tolna an apology,” said Cal.

“Yes, I’m aware,” Rolan replied. Tav reached over and squeezed his knee. “But in my defence, she was being extremely stubborn. I only wanted to look at a bloody book.”

“Which one?” said Lia, causing Rolan to freeze.

“A book about arcane recovery,” Tav said quickly, trying to think of anything she could remember Gale talking about.

“Yes,” he said. “That.”

“Well you better speak to her tomorrow: she was a nervous wreck all afternoon and it’s not like we can send Cal over to help customers with books.”

Cal raised an eyebrow. “No offence taken.”

Lia waved a hand at him.

“I promise that I will apologise profusely tomorrow. I’ll be down to show Tav around anyway.” He placed the last piece of his pie in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

Shovel belched and deposited a stripped knuckle bone on the plate Lia had set out for her.

“That was good! Shovel likes piggie hands! Taste like babies!”

Cal, Lia and Rolan all stopped and stared open-mouthed at the quasit.

Tav rolled her eyes. “Don’t panic. We spent two weeks thinking she’d been eating people until we passed a wild chicken. She went tearing after it screaming ‘BABY’, and we worked out that it meant something in Thayan. Probably ‘chicken’, now that I think about it.”

They collectively relaxed and Shovel gave a shrieking laugh. “Come Mister Cal! Shovel wants to murderise mice for pudding!”

“Guess that’s me done,” said Cal, dropping a linen napkin onto his empty plate and getting up. “I suppose I’ll see you later.”

He left through the arched doorway and they could hear Shovel cackling all the way up the stairs.

And then there were three. Lia regarded Tav and Rolan. There was a pause, and Tav could tell that she was drawing it out to make Rolan feel as uncomfortable as possible. They had all finished eating and the bottle of wine they had opened was empty.

After a suitably awkward pause, she put them out of their misery with a shake of her head. “I’ll wash up. Go and do whatever it is you were planning. Hopefully it’ll thaw you out, Rolan.”

He looked slightly mortified, but Tav stood and ran a hand over his hair.

“Thank you Lia,” she said. “Your brother and I have a lot to talk about.”

“I’m sure you do,” she replied. “Just make sure he casts a ward around your room so that the rest of us don’t have to hear your conversations.”

*****

He led her down the stairs by the hand, and as they rounded a corner, Tav realised that he was leading her to the room in which she had awoken that morning.

“Hang on,” she said, stopping. There was a tug on her arm before he realised she wasn’t moving. He turned back and his eyes searched her face.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Why aren’t we going to your room? It seems like we’re heading back to where I met you this morning.”

He came to her and slid his hands around her waist.

“I thought we deserved the finest suite in the tower.” He bent to kiss her neck and she felt her knees go a little weak.

“I don’t care about the biggest or the best suite, Rolan. I just want you.” His hands wandered down her back and she shuddered with delight when he stroked the space at the base of her spine.

“I thought we could go out and watch the stars later,” he said into her neck. “My room doesn’t have a balcony.”

The feeling of his breath on her shoulder, his hair, his horns… it clouded her mind and occluded any further thought.

“Fine,” she whispered. “I don’t care. Let’s go. Now.”

They burst into the room through the door and Rolan immediately turned and cast arcane lock and a warding spell that Tav didn’t recognise. As he did so, his tail wound itself around her waist and pulled her so that she was flush to his back. She embraced him from behind and ran her hands across his chest, feeling the distinctive tiefling ridges which ran down from his collarbone. The muscles of his shoulders flexed beneath her cheek and she was overcome with a sudden urge to bite gently on the flesh there. The effect was immediate: he spun around quickly, catching her mouth with his and kissing her ferociously.

She brought her hands up, winding one in his hair and using the other to gently trace the line of his ear. He gasped into her mouth and she instinctively canted her hips into his. She could feel his erection through the velvet trousers he was wearing and this time she allowed her hand to wander down and over its outline, squeezing its somewhat impressive length in her palm.

“Gods, Rolan,” she panted. “You’re… you’re… gods…”

He chuckled and for a moment she was kissing smug Rolan; the same man who had tried to impress her at the party in the Grove so long ago. She realised that she loved this part of his personality – when he was especially obnoxious it made her want him even more. There was something about his supreme confidence that made her want to devour him. Karlach would never let her hear the end of it.

“How do you want to do this?” he said. Her hand was moving deliciously, now: up and down across the soft fabric of his trousers. She could feel the effects of her ministrations and knew that he would be almost desperate to shed the barrier preventing her skin and his from making contact.

“On the bed,” she replied between kisses. And then his hands were on her breasts and her mind went momentarily blank.

He broke their kiss and looked down at where he was cupping her chest. His breathing was heavy and his eyes were brilliant in the low light of the room. He looked awed. No one had ever looked at her like that, and she was still fully clothed.

“Can I…?” He trailed off, but she knew what he wanted. She thought back to earlier in the day when she had sat on her bed, filled with worry. It seemed nonsensical now.

Rather than answer, she lifted his chin with her finger and kissed him gently on his lips. Then, she let her hands fall to the first button of her dress which lay between her breasts. She undid it, and then placed his hand over the next one. He caught her meaning at once and undid the rest slowly, eyes flitting between the task at hand and her face as he did so.

Once her dress was open, he slid it from her, kissing its path down one shoulder. She shrugged out of it and it pooled on the floor at her feet. Now she was dressed only in her underwear, and drank her in.

“My turn,” she whispered in his ear. She found the laces to his trousers and slowly pulled them free, kissing him deeply as she did so. His shirt was easy to slide up and he raised his arms to allow her to pull it over his head. It was thrown unceremoniously across the room and Tav smiled at this wanton behaviour. The Rolan everyone else knew would never have allowed his clothes to be tossed around in such a reckless fashion. Everything would be folded. Stored correctly. Starched. This Rolan was just for her, and she felt a surge of pride. All hers.

He walked her backwards towards the bed, pushing his trousers down his hips as he did so. His co*ck sprang free and she felt the tip of it touch her belly between them. The trousers had to go, so she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled them down until he could step free of them. She looked up at him, completely naked, and thanked every god she could think of that Gale had left those books with her. He was a marvel: his red skin was taut and wrapped his wiry frame without any wastage. The infernal ridges which surged down his torso fascinated her and she could not not help but run her hands across them as she looked up into his eyes.

He placed a hand in her hair and sighed with complete contentment. His tail slid across her lower back, touching that sensitive spot and making her squirm.

He took her chin and ran his thumb across her lower lip. She responded by wantonly dragging her tongue across it and this action contained so much promise that he closed his eyes for a second.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said softly.

“Me neither,” she replied. “I can’t believe I finally have you.”

“You do.”

“And I’m never letting you go.”

“Nor I you.” He stilled, and they regarded one another. “I want you to show me, Tav,” he said, and she detected a hint of uncertainty in these words. “I want you to show me how to love you. I – I don’t know how…”

She smiled, put a hand on each of his hips and placed a gentle kiss on his stomach. “Then that makes two of us,” she said. “But I always found it easier to learn by doing. How about we work it out together as we go along?”

His answering expression made her chest pound, and as he leaned down to wrap her in his arms, she remembered what it felt like to be alive.

Chapter 13: Bedded

Chapter Text

Like all good explorers, they began at the beginning.

Their kisses were hot and urgent: the only sounds to be heard were their breath through their noses and their soft gasps between movements.

After a few minutes, Tav broke the kiss and shifted up to the pillows, beckoning him up to her. Rolan crawled up her body and both his movements and expression betrayed his demonic blood: he was almost cat-like, his tail snaking behind him, and she wondered how only moments before he had sounded so unsure of himself. She also wondered how such a beautiful man could be so lacking in experience that he would worry about being with her. Were the women of Elturel blind? Or had he been so wrapped up in his study that it left no time for such pursuits?

It didn’t matter. She would teach him everything she knew and they would discover everything else together. She felt a tug in her stomach at the thought: tonight, he was her apprentice.

If Lorroakan was a cruel and violent master, then she determined to be his antithesis. She kissed his face in the places where she could recall seeing bruises, rubbing herself against his warm skin while her hands untangled his hair from the fastidious knot he wore. As it unwound and fell past his ears, she delighted at this new image of him above her – so very like the fantasy she had indulged herself in that morning, and yet so different in its solidity. She had never seen him with his hair down: even when he was drunk and despondent in the Last Light Inn. It was another Rolan to add to all those others which now belonged to her – some of whom were public, but many more meant for her eyes only. For every image of the courteous shopkeeper or the grand Arch-Mage of Ramezith’s tower, there was a lean, agile lover with blown-out pupils and mussed hair who hungered for her. The thought was almost unbearably exquisite.

His kisses, when she allowed him to set the pace, alternated between slow, gentle pecks and fervent explorations of her mouth with his tongue. When his teeth grazed her lips, she moaned in a way that made him rut into her and the suddenness of the contact caused her to arch up. Her hands found his horns and she put her mouth to his ear to breath hot breaths into it while she caressed their surface. They were at once rough and uneven yet oddly warm and pleasant to the touch. She wondered how far she could push the contact. Would he allow her to tug on them gently?

A thought for another time.

“Tav…” he whispered. Meaningless, on the surface, but laced with meaning beyond the mere sound of her name. She caught his ear lobe in her teeth, and his entire body responded; her name again on his lips.

“I need to get rid of my underwear,” she breathed, “need to feel you. Your skin on mine.”

He sat back on his knees and moved so that she could sit up and unhook her bra, and as she pulled it free, she could see the intensity in his gaze deepen. He looked into her eyes and she saw the question there so she took his hand and placed it on her breast.

He lay beside her so that they were side on, his right hand still cupping her and their noses touching. He rubbed a tentative thumb across her nipple which stiffened instantly and sent a wave of fire through her. She hummed her appreciation and he smiled against her lips.

“You like this?” he whispered.

“You have no idea.”

He made another pass, this time with the pad of his index finger. And then another, pushing against the now-erect bud and finding it deliciously resistant. It was her turn to smile and she considered how best to reward his thoughtful ministrations. As she did so, she slid her pants down her thighs and wrangled them off as best she could.

Rolan’s confidence was growing by the second. He pinched her nipple ever so lightly between his fingers, eliciting a sharp breath from her. Every nerve in her body was suddenly on high alert. Despite his feather-light touches, she felt so intensely connected to him that she wondered if she could come just from him handling her like this. No one had ever pulled such electricity through her. His hand began to wander: up and down and across, squeezing and exploring. At one point he ran the backs his fingers over her skin and hummed appreciatively.

“Such soft skin,” he whispered. “Like silk.”

Then, his traces became more scientific: exploring the surface of her like an exotic specimen laid out on his desk. And all at once, as if he had a new hypothesis, he moved his head down to where his hand was holding dominion and began to leave a trail of kisses in its wake. Tav propped herself on an elbow and watched as he explored her with his mouth, willing him to centre his attentions and take her nipple between his lips.

When he finally did so, it made her cry out so loud that he immediately stopped and looked up at her to check that he had not made an error. She panted and said, “please don’t stop,” and if she sounded whiny or weak, she did not care because he redoubled his efforts and began to lave her with his tongue.

She turned so that she lay half on her back and he chased her with his mouth. He now had access to both breasts so he brought a hand up to double his attentions. The feeling of his tongue and his fingers – already so accomplished after mere minutes - was enough to make her squeeze her thighs together in desperation. She had never needed anyone like she needed this grumpy wizard with his arrogance and his mood swings and his sweet, sweet streak of vulnerability running right through it all.

She lifted his chin with her hand, bringing his face back up to hers so that she could kiss him. Was it strange that she had missed him? He had been so good, and now it was her turn to show him the same courtesy, so she slid a hand down his chest, relishing the newness of tiefling skin – hot and ribbed beneath her palms. But despite how good it felt, she was not interested in stopping at his ribcage, or even where the ridges formed tight chevrons above his hips. He was panting, and desperate, and she wanted nothing more than to watch him slowly unravel, so she traced the length of his co*ck with the palm of her hand and grinned as he reacted by reaching up and grabbing the side of her head.

“Gods, Tav,” he said, between kisses.

“Do you want me to..?”

“Please.”

She wrapped her hand around his length and gasped when she realised that it was not only his torso that was ridged.

He was going to end her, she was sure of it.

She stroked, gently at first, but working with increasing pace to the rhythm of his reactions. She explored every inch of him, from root to tip, with her hand: running her fingers over the head; pressing her thumb to his frenulum; and taking him in her fist and slowly pumping up and down until he groaned in her ear.

“I need to tell you-“ he said breathily, “-I need to say… it won’t be long… it’s been so long since I-“

She adjusted her hand so that the tips of her fingers ran up and over the head and he pushed his hips, rutting into her.

“Do you want to come?” she asked.

“I want to… so much… but I don’t want to disappoint you…”

She stilled her hand and drew back her head so that she could look at him.

“We have all night. We have forever.”

He nodded. “I want to be in you, Tav. I want to feel you.”

“I want the same. I can’t remember ever wanting anything more.”

He took her assent and rolled her fully onto her back, placing himself on his knees between her legs. His lips were red and full from kissing and his tail wrapped around her thigh in a way that made her feel like she was exactly where she belonged. If she knew Rolan like she thought she did, it didn’t matter that he was currently looking to her for guidance: he would learn fast and soon begin to take what he wanted without fear. She considered the idea of bending to the will of her co*cky wizard and found that she relished it as much as being the one to teach him. Their relationship would be forever a mouth-watering game of push and pull.

He took his co*ck and ran his hand up its length, watching as she slowly traced a path down her belly and into the space between her legs. She drew the action out, making him wait while she gently parted her folds and pressed the tip of him down to where he needed to be. He leant into her and she kissed him ardently; encouraging and guiding him with a kind touch into her. He edged his hips forward, hitting the mark, and pulled away from their kiss to rest his forehead against hers while he slowly slid into her.

As she gave around him and he felt himself surrounded by warmth, he emitted a soft oh: perhaps feeling something like true bliss for the first time in his life. She too, felt a sensation too fine to describe; his ridges stirring her inside in an unfamiliar, but addictive way.

And then, like magic, he was in her, all the way, and they were joined.

“How are you doing?” she said, brushing his hair out of his face and enjoying the soft rapture of his expression.

“I never thought it would be… Gods…”

“That good?” she chuckled.

“That, and more. You feel so good, Tav. So so good.”

His sincerity was arousing and she raised her knees so that he sunk even further into her. “Ah,” he stuttered. “You’re trying to kill me.”

Tav stroked his face and ran a hand up and down the arm he was predominantly using to support himself over her.

“It’s time to let go, Rolan. Let your body take over and give your mind a rest. For once.”

He nodded and began to move his hips, sending shockwaves into her. “Gods, yes: exactly like that.”

His actions, tentative at first, became more confident - he really was a quick study – until he looked into her eyes and smiled and began to thrust in earnest. Those same eyes darkened and his breath quickened and just as she had instructed him, he seemed to let go of his habitual reliance on reason and became something more animal in nature. Suddenly, he was snapping his hips into hers and his tail was tightening its grip and she could feel the tendons in his arms harden as his effort went into drawing out all the pleasure their bodies could give.

She felt the delicious drag of him inside her and she pulsed her muscles around him just to see his reaction; feeling like watching him come undone would be the impetus for her own climax. It had the desired effect, of course. His pace quickened and became erratic. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut; finally finding release after gods knew how long and spilling himself into her in an act of complete surrender.

The feeling of him slam himself home coupled with the beatific expression on his face and the way her name fell from his lips as he came was enough to drive her hand down into the space between them to catch her cl*tor*s under a fingertip and plunge herself over the edge and into her own ecstasy.

They came down seconds after one another, panting and then laughing as they took in the moment and the state they found themselves in. And then they were kissing, but this time it was different: soft and languid; a kiss to seal a promise made in sweat and spit and come. Something which said ‘and now you know me’ rather than ‘let me show you’.

A kiss of love, rather than lust.

Rolan rolled off her and she nestled into his side, her nose against his cheek. He was silent, and she knew that his busy mind would be wresting control back from the baser aspects which had driven him for the past ten minutes.

“How are you doing?” she asked.

He turned to look at her.

“How did I get so lucky?” he said. “I never dreamt that I could ever feel like that. It was… transcendent.”

Tav made a face. “I’ll take transcendent as feedback. I think I’ve only ever had brief thanks or a ‘nice one’ if I’m lucky.”

He rolled over so that he was fully on his side. “How many times have you – no, don’t answer that.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I asked. It’s not something you should ask, is it?”

“It’s okay,” she said. She ran her hand along his tail, which was draped over her thigh, and he shivered at the touch; his senses still dialled all the way up. “I genuinely couldn’t answer, anyway. Not because there were so many, but more because they were so meaningless.”

He stroked her arm. “I hope I’m not forgotten.”

A ridiculous notion, but she suspected he was genuinely worried.

“How will I be able to forget you when you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel anything? And before you protest, or start saying that I’m just being polite, let me tell you this: I don’t intend to ever lie with anyone else but you, ever again. So this conversation is moot. Null and void. I cannot forget what is constant.”

He smiled at that, and his lips found hers.

“Gods, Tav, I think love you. Is that okay?”

“Yes, Rolan, it’s okay. It’s more than okay. Now get the blanket up off the floor and let’s get warm.”

Chapter 14: Moondark

Chapter Text

She awoke in the deepest part of the night, having fallen asleep shortly after they tucked themselves up and continued to whisper sweet words of praise to one another. She was lying on her side with Rolan tight against her back; his face nestling her neck. His tail and arm lay over her waist and their legs were twined together under the soft blankets which adorned the bed.

The room was still, save for the sounds of her lover’s gentle snores, and although she did not adhere to the worship of any particular god, she wished that she had someone to thank for this moment and its absolute perfection.

Rolan’s heat ran right down her back and his proximity was stirring her. She thought about the way he had looked as he made love to her and familiar strains of arousal began to hum in her abdomen. She shifted to generate a little pressure between her thighs and when that felt good, her spine arched and she pressed herself back into his groin. He stirred a little in his sleep and that reaction spurred her to roll her hips slowly, creating a roiling tension where she needed it.

She began to run her fingertips up and down his tail as she worked, savouring the feel of its thick muscularity. Suddenly, as she slid it through her hand towards its pointed end, it seemed to take on a life of its own, and flicked onto her chest.

He was awake, then.

She left his tail to lightly explore her naked breasts and leant her head back so that his mouth was at her ear.

“Hello you,” she whispered, and he responded by laying pointed teeth on her, making her buck back into him a little more deliberately.

“Something on your mind?” he asked. His voice was rough with sleep.

“I was just wondering if you were ready for another lesson?”

“Already?” His tone was teasing. She turned in his arms so that she was facing him. His hand replaced his tail on her and he thumbed her nipple idly. Her sleepy arousal instantly became something more and she could tell he was ready for anything she wanted by the sudden and noticeable swelling between them.

“I can’t help it if I woke up and remembered that I could f*ck the most beautiful, talented mage on the Sword Coast if I wanted to.”

He hummed in approval and placed his lips over hers; gently licking into her mouth with his tongue. Within seconds, they were lost in each other: their movements languorous in the haze of waking, but framed with an urgency driven by desire. As their heat grew, they began to move their bodies together and he brought up his thigh between her legs; seemingly understanding that she needed something to nudge against her and provide the friction she was craving. However, rather than lose herself against him there, she pushed herself into him so that he rolled on to his back, and then she straddled him; sitting upright with his hips between her thighs.

“f*ck,” he growled, and she pulled her hair back and up onto the top of her head so that her breasts sat high and he had the best possible view of her. He immediately reached up to touch, but this was a lesson and she had other ideas. She took his right hand in hers and without breaking eye contact, placed the first two fingers in her mouth, sucking them sinfully.

“f*ck,” he said again, drawing the word out as she slid his fingers from between her lips. She let her tongue dwell on their tips momentarily, but did not linger because she craved those talented digits elsewhere.

“Shall I teach you how to touch me?” she asked, running his hand down her body and onto her stomach. His scorching irises blazed even brighter, and he simply nodded. Was he lost for words? Most unlike him. She hoped that he would find his voice again: it was one of the many things about him that she had always liked very much.

His long fingers, with their dark, manicured nails, were another of her favourite things.

“I’ve always admired your hands, Rolan.”

“You have?”

“Yes. I remember watching you cast prestidigitation at the party after the Grove…” she took his index finger as she spoke and placed it down and onto the part of her which craved him most. “…I remember thinking that you had the most elegant fingers. And now they’re all mine to play with. Those same fingers which can summon the elements are free to explore every last inch of me.”

“With pleasure,” he said in a low voice, and he might have been inexperienced, but it seemed that he was not without understanding, because he immediately set to work drawing small circles around her. She threw back her head at the unexpected wave of pleasure and a moan escaped her.

“Wh- where did you learn to do that?” she beamed, once again moving her hips in slow circles against his groin.

“One can learn a lot from books,” he replied smugly, “and I noticed what you did to yourself when we were together earlier.” He continued his attentions, using his other had to tweak and thumb her nipple.

“Gods, you’re amazing,” she sighed.

“I know.”

After a minute or so, Tav was almost lost: caught up in the pulsing ecstasy he was sending through her. But the thought of coming without him inside her was unconscionable. She wanted to share every second with him. She lifted herself up a little and ran a finger through the enticing wetness he had created. He didn’t stop what he was doing, but when she reached down and fisted his co*ck, he responded delectably by pressing his head back into the pillow. The sight of his neck, exposed and waiting, was too tempting, and she dipped down to lick a path from his clavicle, over his larynx and up on to his chin. The action of leaning forward mean that he broke contact with her, but she didn’t care: she needed to kiss him.

She captured his bottom lip momentarily between her teeth and he bucked into her hand.

“I want you in me,” she said. It wasn’t a question. “I want you in me so that you can feel what your clever fingers are going to do to me.”

“Gods, yes,” he murmured, kissing her with her head in his hands.

She straightened and lined him up to her entrance, before lowering herself onto him with agonising slowness. They both closed their eyes and she bit her lip to stop herself from moaning wantonly. She didn’t know if she would ever get used to the way he felt as she stretched her out. Would they ever get anything done? Surely neither of them could go for more than a few hours without f*cking ever again?

Once Rolan had recovered from that intoxicating first moment, he looked into her eyes and rubbed a thumb across her cheek.

“Being with you makes me consider abandoning Mystra for Sharess, my love.”

Tav laughed a little at that. “You don’t need to abandon her. But she does need to keep a healthy distance from you. Especially as you get more powerful every day.”

He looked up at her, a little confused, but she shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. A story for another day. I’ve spent more than enough time thinking about her, and I was rather hoping you could continue to practice your skills, darling.”

“Well that I certainly can do.”

This time, he placed his palm on her pubic bone, and used his thumb to work her. The fire reignited and she began to move on him in response. His hips ground up into her, and he hit the spot inside her which made her cry out.

Their rhythm became faster, and after a while she needed to feel the full power of him so she bent back down to lean on one elbow and allowed him to take over from below. He managed artfully to match the work of his thumb to his speed and before long Tav could feel herself wind up into the final moments of sanity before she tipped over into org*sm.

Their mouths were millimetres apart; their breaths one, and their lips occasionally brushing. Her hair hung in a curtain over him and he used his spare hand to pull it back behind her neck and out of her face. She marvelled at his consideration and, oddly, it was this which finally turned the lock inside her. As she came, she crashed her lips onto his and they kissed wildly while her muscles fluttered around him and the world burned for her. Rolan lost it the second she cried out and joined her – their hips pressed tight together as though their bodies were intent on becoming one entity.

They continued to kiss as the world spun back into focus, and it was a crazed, messy thing, without any decorum or care for appearances. Tav realised that she had one hand on one of his horns and had to make a conscious move to release it as she was holding on to it like an anchor.

He broke the kiss first, but it was only so that he could look at her in that way he did. It was as though he was painting a mental picture of certain key moments so as not to forget them. She looked back at him with the same intent.

He raised an arm to rest behind his head and smiled. He was pleased with himself. And rightfully so. She sat up and released him from her, relishing the feeling of their mingled fluids on her thighs and the way she ached pleasantly from his efforts.

“I suppose you think you’re rather clever, don’t you, wizard?” she teased.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “it’s up to you to tell me.”

“Oh, I have to tell you?”

“I think it would be the polite thing to do after I’ve treated you so well.”

Gods, that smug, arrogant face. She was one minute out from coming and already she wanted him to f*ck her senseless again.

“I think…” she said, casually tracing a circle around one of his nipples and relishing the way it made his breath hitch, “…that you are an extremely diligent – no – adept pupil.”

“At this rate, I think I’ll be well on my way to accomplishment within a tenday.”

“It’s not a competition,” she said, rolling her eyes, “but I have to admit, I like this ardour for study. I’m looking forward to your first independent explorations…”

He rolled her over suddenly, making her squeal in surprise, until he was the one on top. Push and pull, she thought.

“I wish we could do this all night. And all day. And all the next day,” he said gently, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and following it with a kiss on her cheek.

“Me too,” she whispered. She was so warm in his arms.

“Shall we try to get some sleep, my love?”

“That’s a good idea.”

The last thing she saw before she closed her eyes was two brilliant starburst eyes, looking at her in a way that made her feel safe, and loved, and unlike anything she had ever felt before.

Chapter 15: On Hedgehogs

Chapter Text

Bed.

How she loved a bed.

After ten years sleeping on assorted floors, grounds, benches, paving slabs, cots, hammocks, bedrolls and once, memorably, a very high tree branch, Tav could not get enough of the simple pleasures to be found in lying flat on a soft surface with a blanket over her.

The fact that she had a warm tail in her arms, which was in turn attached to a very attractive naked tiefling, was a massive bonus.

The bed was so enormous that they had drifted away from one another at some point in the night, but their unconscious desire to remain connected had obviously kicked in and it meant that said tail was currently wrapped around her like a sash.

What time was it? Not late – the sun was barely up. She was an early riser at the best of times but being in unfamiliar surroundings meant that she had woken often in the night. She had mostly just laid with her head resting on her hands looking at the man opposite her. He looked so peaceful in a way she hadn’t really seen before. When she had met him in the tadpole days, he had worn a permanent frown which caused the bridge of his long nose to wrinkle and a line to appear between his brows. She had thought then that was just how he looked, but she saw now that it was only the finest lines around his eyes that remained when he was asleep. He looked so much younger; unburdened. Here he was, in his home – having achieved everything he had ever strived for – and he had chosen her to share it with her.

Twice, she had watched as he moved in his sleep and found herself wondering what he dreamt of. Were they nightmares, filled with visions of Avernus or the shadow-cursed lands? Or were they sweeter memories of his family, or (dare she hope) her?

Knowing Rolan, he was probably practising somantic components. Magic was his first love, and she was not naïve enough to try to compete.

Now, she moved to be nearer to him, turning beneath his tail until she was on her stomach and could shift herself across the soft sheets to where he lay on his front. A strand of hair fell from between his horns onto his face, so she gently stroked it away and tucked it behind his pointed ear. He stirred in response and after a second or two, opened a golden eye.

“Hello, again,” he said.

“Good morning,” she smiled, and moved so that she was lying with her body flush to his; their foreheads touching.

“You didn’t run off in the night, then?”

“I tried, but there are a lot of stairs in this place.”

“I had them built especially. Can’t have you escaping now, can I?” He stretched, and she couldn’t resist placing her hand over the intriguing ridges on his ribcage. The warmth of him delighted her and she ran her digits up and down, even though she felt very little with her first two fingers because they were so callused from decades of pulling a bowstring. Yet another rough edge to her.

Rolan was rousing himself and rolled over on to his back. “We need baths,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

Tav recalled the huge gold bath and hoped that this time she could use the suite without having to deal with Shovel. Then she remembered that they were going to spend the day in the shop, and she felt a wash of nerves through her. Focus on the here and now, she thought. Get in that bloody lovely bath.

Rolan must have noticed her pensive expression, because he stroked her hair back from her face.

“What are you thinking?” he asked softly.

“Oh, just the usual existential panic,” she said grimly.

“That’s good. I was worried it was something important.”

She looked up at him, still not fully used to his sense of humour. They hadn’t had many laughs in the past, she now realised. And then she thought of everything they had been through and felt stupid. What in the nine hells was wrong with her if the thought of working in a shop selling products she had used a thousand times was so frightening to her? Some of the things she would be telling people about had literally saved her life in situations that could accurately be described as mortal peril. Would she rather face a goblin camp again? Cazador? The Dead Three? It was ridiculous.

But the butterfly in her gut refused to die. She was out of her element and that was all there was to it.

“I once tried to tame a hedgehog,” she said suddenly.

Rolan raised an eyebrow. “How very... you,” he said drily.

She propped herself on her elbow and looked at him. “I was about nine. Perhaps ten. We had settled for a bitwith some druids... I don’t recall where. We moved around a lot.” She paused, not really willing to get into that side of things just yet. To his credit, Rolan did not ask, but simply waited patiently for her to carry on. “There was a hedgehog that used to come by the camp every night. I fed him scraps and put water out for him whenhe turned up like clockwork after sundown. I thought he was just the cutest thing I’d ever seen, and I wanted to keep him as a pet. Everyone around me had their familiars but I had only just mastered the bow – I was nowhere near capable of advanced magic yet.”

“I never had a pet either,” said Rolan. “Although I did quite fancy a familiar myself, once I determined to become a wizard. A raven, or perhaps a cat...”

“You can have a quasit now.”

He looked at her pointedly. “Forgive me if I appear less than enthused about the prospect. I think I would have preferred something less...”

“Vocal?”

“Fragrant.”

“Sweary.”

“Murdery.” They looked at one another and laughed. “Sorry,” he said, with a wave of his hand, “I interrupted. Continue please.”

Tav moved over and he held out his arm so she could nestle against him with her head tucked below his chin. His tail slid into position around her. She could feel his heartbeat under her fingers as she exploredit.

“After about a month or so, I decided it was time to make a home for him. I found an old wooden crate and made a sort of hutch, which I hid in a quiet corner of the grove. I filled it with branches and leaves and the next night I went to pick him up.I didn’t manage it: he ran away. Hedgehogs are surprisingly fast, you know.”

“I did not know. But now I do.”

“You see? I can be educational when I want to be.”

He laughed at that, and it felt nice against her ear on his chest.

“I’m sure the people of Baldur’s Gate will flock to hear your hedgehog facts, my love.” He stroked her hair as he spoke, and she relished the pet name. My love.

“They would be fools not to. But that isn’t the point of my story.”

“No?”

“No. The point is, that it took me another tenday before I finally got a hold of him.”

“Did you get – what's the correct term...?”

“Prickled?”

“That’s it. Did you get prickled?”

“I did. But that’s fine. To be expected from a hedgehog. And that’s still not the end of the story.”

“Go on...”

“When I finally, finally got hold of him, I put him in the crate. I fed him every day and every night,and after every meal, I took him out to get him used to being handled.”

“Did it work?”

“No. In addition to the prickling, he was a biter. He bit me every day, twice a day, for another month. It was only when my mother saw that I could no longer pull my bow string without wincing that she found out what I had been up to.”

“What happened next?”

“She gave me a lecture about wild animals. Made me set him free. I remember him scuttling off into the bushes.” She took a moment before continuing. “He never came back.”

The air was still between them. After a moment, Rolan spoke. “You think he would have returned every night if you hadn’t tried to keep him.”

“Yes,” she nodded against his chest. “I know it. And I know it’s a stupid story, but I was thinking about it because I think I’ve always felt a bit like that hedgehog. If I’ve felt even a little bit trapped, I’ve run away, never to return.”

“Do you feel that now?” he asked, and she heard a waver in his voice. Just the merest hint of insecurity. But enough that she could pick it out from his usual composed tone.

She looked up at him and placed her hand on his cheek. “I was just thinking that I’m ready for a nice warm hutch. I’m tired of turning up for scraps and I’m grateful that someone finally wants to pick me up and teach me how to be held.”

He kissed the top of her head, eyes burning. “I do,” he said. “Because I think you’re just the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

She barked a laugh: most unladylike, but he seemed to like it because he leant down to kiss her, long and deep.

“Promise me one thing, though,” he said, breaking the kiss.

“Anything.”

“Promise you’ll not refrain from biting completely.” His expression was wicked. If they hadn’t needed to get ready for the day ahead, she would have been on him immediately.

“I think that’s something I can arrange,” she said. “But right now we really need to be sensible and get ready.”

He kissed her nose and threw the covers back. “Spoilsport.”

“Don’t blame me: apparently my new boss is a real ass.”

“I’ve heard he runs a tight ship.”

Tav grimaced. “I hope not... I’m nervous.” Her voice sounded uncharacteristically small.

Rolan sat up, forcing her to do the same as his body shifted. He took her hands in his. He looked her dead in the eye and spoke firmly. “Stop being an idiot.”

“Ass.”

“Your problem now. You’re stuck with me. Now get in the bloody bath before I have to cast prestidigitation on you.”

“Yes boss.” She swung herself off the bed, so she did not see the way his eyes flashed.

“Hm. I think we’ll revisit that later tonight...” was all he said under his breath as she walked, naked, into the bathroom.

Chapter 16: First Day at Work

Chapter Text

She came out of the bathroom to an empty room. The bath had been wonderful, and she had been grateful for a chance to take a moment to herself. Some things were best done alone, and it was very early to be ruining the magic of their relationship with such matters. She padded across the room wearing an Athkatlan silk robe she had found in the bathroom. She didn’t like to think of it belonging to Lorroakan, but she supposed it was a possibility. It was very fine and she couldn’t help but swish a little as she walked. She wondered where Rolan had gone: she thought he might like to run his hands over her body while she wore it: she thought she might like it too.

As she waited, she located her pack and pulled out the considerably less fancy clothes she had brought to wear in the shop: a pair of leather trousers, a plain linen blouse and clean, practical underwear. She had worn her only pair of boots under her dress and she would grab her jerkin from the kitchen on the way out. She wondered what to do with her hair, settling on tying it back loosely and allowing the shorter sections at the front to do as they wished. Then, when she looked in the mirror, she took it down again and braided it to one side down onto her shoulder.

As she was attempting to make the front less chaotic, the door suddenly swung open and a tray laden with breakfast foods appeared, followed by a flustered wizard dressed in a much plainer robe than her own, and Shovel.

“Morning Beefy! Spellsh*te has lots of good things, despite being a boring sh*tstick!” She trundled into the room past Rolan’s legs and jumped up onto the bed. She padded around a little, sniffing with her mouth open. “Smells like dirty doings! Now Shovel knows why Beefy wanted Shovel gone!”

Rolan hadn’t moved from the doorway and gave Tav a look. All she could do in response was shrug.

“Did you have a nice time with Cal, Shovel?”

A wistful expression, if it was even possible, came over the quasit’s ugly face.

“Shovel and Mister Cal snuggled, Beefy. Mister Cal is good friend!” She took a second and then seemed to remember the tray of pastries and tarts. “Of course, Shovel did miss Master.” She twiddled her claws together in a gesture of supplication.

“You know you don’t call me Master, so don’t start just because you want something.” Tav sat on the bed next to her and ran a hand over one of her horns. “I missed you too, though. In a way.”

Rolan raised an eyebrow at her and placed the tray on the table next to the bed.

“Cal and Lia were sitting in the kitchen, waiting for me,” he said irritably. “They had prepared this breakfast and were awaiting our arrival to interrogate us. I thought it would be better if we ate up here.” He handed her a dainty plate with a huge rosette of flaky pastry filled with jam on it. Then he seemed to remember something and beckoned to the still open doorway. A pair of mage hands carrying a silver coffee pot and two fine cups appeared and disappeared as he took the items off them. “Coffee?”

“Yes please,” said Tav enthusiastically as she pulled on her underwear whilst holding her plate away from Shovel’s greedy claws. “Shovel, get your own, you little swine!”

Rolan moved the table over then sat next to her and handed her a steaming cup of coffee. It smelled divine.

“Might as well eat up, Shovel,” he said. “Cal and Lia seem to have cleared Bex and Danis out completely.”

Shovel tilted her head at him and Tav thought she could actually hear the walnut she called a brain rattling around in confusion.

“That means you can eat what you like,” she offered. “Rolan has already said you can eat the tower vermin, and now he’s giving you that massive pile of pastries. Perhaps we can stop calling him names?”

The quasit simply stared vacantly at her as she stuck out and arm and grabbed an almond cake. “Fine,” she croaked. “Shovel will call Spellsh*te Mister Spellsh*te.”

“Better than nothing,” he said flatly, and sipped his coffee.

*****

Once they had eaten and Rolan had bathed, they set off and made it up to the portal without seeing the siblings. Rolan seemed relieved, even though they were probably already in the shop, lying in wait to torment him.

He stopped before they could pass through and placed a hand on Tav’s waist. He leaned in and kissed her gently.

“I’m feeling very fortunate. I just wanted you to know while we have a moment.” He looked down at Shovel. “Well… sort of.”

Tav tried to ignore the pair of black eyes looking up at them nosily from between their legs. She wrapped her arms around him and he returned her embrace. She didn’t know what t say in return and felt little overwhelmed.

“Come on,” he said into her hair, “I’ll give you the tour.”

She stepped away from him and picked Shovel up. “Let’s do it,” she smiled.

The magical energy of the portal fizzed around them and the only way that Tav could think to describe it was like stepping through a ring of pins and needles. In half a second they were back on the store mezzanine watching Cal try to reason with the resident ghoul and Lia once again move the errant enchanted armour back into position.

“Let’s leave them to it,” said Rolan, and Tav knew he was still trying to avoid them. “We can start the tour here: at Tolna’s office. I need to… pop in and see her.”

Tav nodded. Shovel jumped down and ran off down the stairs to where Cal was losing his patience.

“Oh for the love of the hells, will you please stop rearranging the gore pile? It’s perfectly fine where it is– oh, hello Shovel!” He immediately looked up to his brother and Tav and gave them both a very knowing smile. “Nice of you to join us! We were just wondering what time you’d drag yourselves out of bed.”

Lia overheard and came over to join him. She too, wore the smile of someone who knew exactly what they’d been up to. “You look a little tired, brother. You get plenty of sleep?” They both giggled like children and Tav couldn’t help but laugh too. Rolan, on the other hand, stood with his arms crossed and his lips in a tight line.

“Can I remind you that Tav is a guest? A little respect wouldn’t go amiss.”

Lia rolled her eyes. “Tav isn’t the one who’s had their sense of humour removed. Perhaps one day you’ll learn that we tease you because it’s so bloody satisfying watching your tail almost wrench itself free.”

She wasn’t wrong: despite his stillness, his tail was switching like an angry cat’s. He sighed and shook his head. “Troglodytes,” he muttered.

Tav couldn’t leave him to their mercy. She felt the old urge to rescue him and like always, she decided that the best form of defence was attack. “In the interests of openness and honesty,” she announced, “I’d just like to say that we had a lovely night together and that Rolan here is a passionate, yet gentle lover.”

“Oh my gods,” cried Lia, putting her hands over her ears. Cal looked stunned. Rolan appeared horrified. Shovel cackled and clapped her hands together.

“Are there any more questions from the floor?” asked Tav, imperiously. “I can provide diagrams upon request, if that might assist you?”

Rolan put his face in his hands, but Cal and Lia started to laugh.

“Alright, well played,” said Lia, “I have absolutely no desire to ever overstep the mark again.”

“Same,” said Cal. “That’s… ew. That’s going to haunt me.”

Tav looked at the mortified mage next to her. Job done. “You said something about Tolna’s office?”

“I can’t believe you don’t think you can handle people,” he said into his hands.

*****

Tolna accepted Rolan’s hushed apology and Tav was moved by how sincere he was. However, the book seller was less impressed by her own presence, making a sniffy comment about hiring common burglars. Tav took it on the chin – after all, they had committed a fair string of crimes to get into the vaults, not to mention stealing the books themselves – oh, and all the other priceless items that had helped themselves to. If the worst came to the worst, she would blame Astarion. People always believed her when she did that. He was cursed with a guilty face.

She wondered where he was now. He’d find it hilarious that she was back at the scene of one of their crimes and even funnier that she had spent the night riding the arrogant tiefling they’d kept rescuing on their travels. Astarion had once unsuccessfully propositioned her himself – at the same party where she had ironically spent most of the night talking to Rolan. Well, arguing with Rolan. They had got into a tipsy debate about the value of transmutation spells in combat. At the time she had thought that the very idea of Rolan being in a fight at all was laughable, but over time she had come to understand the hardships he had endured from the very beginning of his life. He had never told her his story directly, but intimated enough in passing for her to appreciate that his sophisticated, self-assured façade was as genuine as the projected image which manned the counter in his absence. He had definitely fought, and his skill was hampered only by a lack of resources.

Perhaps one day he would surpass even the greatest wizards. And while that thought was lovely, it also raised the possibility of attracting the attentions of the goddess of magic. That would be interesting, to say the least.

If there was one thing Tav could do, it was fight. She’d certainly be prepared to smack a few arrows into a goddess if the situation arose. It might even be cathartic, after everything with Gale. Obviously, she’d be dead in seconds, but she reckoned she could get a couple off before her demise.

“What are you smiling at?” Rolan looked amused by her dreamy expression. They were walking out of the office and heading for the stairs.

“I was just wondering if I could kill Mystra.”

“What? Why would you - ? Tav, you really are very strange.”

“I know. But I think you like it.”

He sighed and chuckled. “Gods help me… I always have.”

Chapter 17: The Boss's Favourite

Chapter Text

Tav loved Sorcerous Sundries on an average day, but being in the thick of the action was even better. From the moment the doors opened, a steady stream of people – every size, shape, colour, class, creed, job, persuasion, and shoe size you could imagine – filed in, found something extraordinary to purchase, and went on their merry way.

Constructs clattered around the shop floor carrying stock and keeping an eye on the products which were displayed. The doorway was guarded by Rolan’s fire elemental, and its occasional booms and hurks rang out above the general hubbub, fighting for domination with the sounds of resurrection from the gore pile.

The smell of wood polish, Weave and bitter iron from the elementals was the true smell of the store and as usual it hung heavy in the air, but Tav’s keen nose was entirely filled for the first time in months with the nimble, green scent of her own Weave as she explored her repertoire of old spells and cantrips for the customers.

Of course, once the first few of those customers had arrived and been greeted by the sight of one of The Heroes of Baldur’s Gate, word got around and the store became busier than it had been for some time. Lia worked on the main counter, wrapping items and practically pouring gold into the ornate coffer beneath the desk, while Cal, Tolna, Rolan and Tav held court with the people who flocked in.

Around lunch time, Rolan suggested that Tav summon Corvus, and for the first time in weeks the raven had a reason to perform. She felt his joy as he swooped amongst the buttress which supported the ornate glass roof; bombing down to pluck hats from laughing children and land on the heads of delighted patrons. Many of these patrons bought scrolls and books detailing various methods of learning the art of summoning, and Tav had to admit that she particularly enjoyed the enthusiasm of the children.

She remembered learning to summon Corvus as a child: he was the first of her familiars and she had struggled long and hard to stabilise her magic to such an extent that he gained a corporeal form. Her parents suggested that she start small – perhaps with a crab – but her father’s huge raven fascinated her, and after the hedgehog had scuttled off into the wild never to be seen again, she had fixated on crafting herself a proper companion.

Now, years later, her old friend was sitting on her shoulder in full battle armour while she demonstrated the complex somatic component of the spell to a wide-eyed little boy of around nine. As he ran back to his mother, chattering about the bird and his new desire to summon animals, Tav straightened herself and looked back over her shoulder to see Rolan on the other side of the store. He was with a scruffy-looking wizard, nodding his head as if listening to whatever the old man was going on about, but looking straight at her with a soft smile on his face. She returned the expression and gave him a wink for good measure; she found herself missing him and wondered when the store would wind down enough for them to speak again. Gods, it had only been an hour or so since they had taken a ten-minute break in the office and ended up kissing up frantically against the locked door. Why did it feel like a tenday? Why couldn’t she stop thinking about the way his hands had gripped her waist or the taste of his lips on her tongue? When would it be time to close up and run away to Lorroakan’s hideous boudoir to continue their fervent explorations of one another’s bodies?

Shovel was capering about for a small crowd a few feet away from her. She was singing a little nonsense song which she had sometimes hummed or squawked around camp when she was in a good mood. Surprisingly, she had been the true star of the show that day. Quasits were not a common sight in public, being that they tended to be in the service of the less sociable types of mages, and so she was attracting a lot of attention.

She had been very well-behaved, and Tav wondered if she had found her niche. She was domesticated enough to be unthreatening, yet bizarre enough to be fascinating. Then there was the fact that she would occasionally make a scatological comment which would cause the more sensitive customers to blush and giggle, and of course, younger customers couldn’t resist such charms.

One man, in particular, seemed somewhat enraptured by her as she spun, waddled and crooned. He observed her from a little way back, but Tav noticed him immediately. He was fairly young and tall, with short brown hair and a thick moustache. He wore a finely embroidered doublet, which looked rich, but on closer inspection bore signs of wear. His face was smiling, but there was something uncanny about his expression which raised Tav’s hackles. She suddenly felt an urgent, protective instinct and moved a little closer to where her familiar was performing. A ranger’s instinct is honed over a lifetime and is very rarely baselessly aroused. She was used to trusting her gut.

She drifted casually over; careful not to appear to have noticed him, and coming to rest about ten feet from his position. She was accustomed to stalking prey and the principles of observing others had always occurred to her to be similar. Move slowly, but with purpose; keep your eyes focused two feet to the side and two feet back – that way you can use peripheral vision to detect any major changes in demeanour – and make sure to scan the rest of the room for threats or leverage in case of a fight.

After a minute or two, the man simply moved away and left through the main door. Tav watched him leave and wondered who he was. He did not seem like the other customers - he was alone, did not speak to anyone, and appeared only to take interest in Shovel’s clowning. Perhaps he had heard about an unusual creature in the store from another customer and simply found himself drawn to the spectacle out of casual interest. Perhaps he was bored at work and took a walk, only to aimlessly find himself there. She was probably tilting at shadows.

She left Shovel to entertain her admirers and went to see if Lia needed any help labelling potion bottles now that there was no crowd at the counter. As she walked, she transferred Corvus to her arm and whispered a word of dismissal to him. As much as she would have liked to keep him out all of the time, it required a small, but constant, amount of Weave to do so, and it became tiring after a while. Gale had avoided this problem with Shovel and cleverly found a way to sever the spell which bound her in summoning form. It did have its disadvantages, however: namely that she could no longer be dismissed and they were stuck with her all day, every day.

Oh, Tav didn’t know who she was fooling any more – she was growing fonder of the little fiend.

The store was certainly emptying and the sudden lull meant that they all began to feel the ache in their knees and calves after a full day on their feet. Tav also felt a pull in her hamstrings which she knew was a result of the previous night’s activities, and she smiled to herself, enjoying the way her body bore the results of their passionate exertions. She wondered what positions they would find themselves in later… and then remembered with irritation that she would have to go back to the Elfsong at some point for a change of clothes.

Perhaps she could put a few bits and pieces in a wardrobe or a chest of drawers: that wouldn’t really be like proper moving in, would it? And then she wondered what exactly she would be keeping at Elfsong if she did that. She reminded herself that she owned half a chest of clothes, a backpack, some weapons and a quasit. Most of those things went everywhere with her. Would she even notice if she officially moved in with Rolan? Would she want to stay back in her room a couple of nights a week to keep up a semblance of independence?

She felt tired. It had been a long day on not a lot of sleep.

“I think we’re done for the day.”

The mage had appeared behind them and when she looked up from the bottle she was holding, she saw that the store was finally empty. The fire elemental looked over expectantly, and Rolan nodded to it. It fizzled for a moment, before disappearing in a pretty shower of embers. Five mage hands popped into the air around them and dispersed to straighten the shelves. The wandering construct managed to locate itself long enough to pull the front doors shut, one at a time, allowing Rolan to head over, cast arcane lock on them and close up for the evening.

Lia collapsed over the counter and rested her head on her arms.

“Gods, I am half dead,” she mumbled. “I don’t think I’ve ever worked so hard. Rolan, can you fire Tav already? I can’t do this every day.”

Rolan scoffed, and bent to check the magic coffer. It appeared empty, but he had explained earlier in the day that the takings were transported automatically to the vaults. He seemed unconcerned with how much they had made, and she liked that. They were not ostentatious people and she supposed that as long as they had enough to keep the place going and live a relatively comfortable life, anything else was a bonus.

Her stomach growled. They had eaten the rest of the pastries for lunch but nothing more all day. Cal seemed to be feeling it too.

“I could eat a knoll,” he complained, carrying a crate of alchemy supplies over to the work surface. “Who’s turn is it to cook? I’ll answer, it’s Rolan’s turn.”

“You know I’m not adept in the kitchen,” said Rolan. “It’s cheese on toast or not much else.” He was leaning his elbows on the counter opposite Tav. He had rolled his sleeves up at some point in the afternoon and she found herself staring at his lean, freckled forearms. She put the last labelled bottle in the crate at her feet and resisted the urge to lean over and grab him by the horns.

“All done,” she said. And then she had an idea. “I have to go back to the inn tonight so why -“

“Why are you going back tonight?” interjected Rolan. The crease in his brow was back.

“Just to get some clothes,” she reassured. “Although I haven’t actually been invited to stay with you tonight, so I suppose I should really –“

“Don’t be obtuse. Obviously, you’re invited. I asked you to live with us yesterday, didn’t I?”

Lia took a sharp breath in and Cal slapped a palm on the counter, but Tav was already shaking her head.

“I told you I thought we should wait.”

“What? Why?” said Cal.

“Shh,” scolded Lia. “If Tav wants to wait, she’s allowed to. It’s nothing to do with us.” She turned back to Tav. “Even if we do think it’s a brilliant idea and we would love her to move in immediately.”

Shovel, who was only able to reach the counter with the tips of her claws, let out a miserable sigh. So even her supposedly loyal familiar was unhappy with her decision.

Rolan tapped a nail on the wood. “Well, you know my opinion. But then it’s not the first time you’ve completely ignored what I think, is it? I should be used to it. I should probably have suggested that you move to Amn. You’d have been through the portal pulling a travelling chest within the hour.”

“Ha ha, Rolan. I’m trying to be responsible.”

“You’re being obdurate.”

“I don’t want to put you in a position you might come to regret.”

“Why would I regret asking you to live with me in a tower with over a hundred rooms?”

“It’s not about a lack of space, and you know it.” She felt painfully aware that Cal and Lia were watching then bicker.

“And don’t pretend that you’re doing this out of some sort of concern for me. I am perfectly clear on my feelings,” he said, straightening.

“You are now,” said Tav, unsure where this feeling of insecurity was bubbling up from, “but things change; it’s just life. What happens if you wake up in a year and you realise that you resent me?”

Rolan looked nonplussed. “What – why in the nine hells would you think I would ever resent you?”

“I don’t know, Rolan.” She said. And she didn’t.

He shook his head. “You’re moronic, Tav.”

Cal and Lia looked awkward. “Don’t phrase it like that, Rolan,” said Lia.

“Why not?” He snapped. “I’m not asking her to get married, I’m asking her to stay with her friends.”

“She’s not a moron because she’s worried about her independence! You’re making this about you!”

Rolan looked like he was about to say something, then thought better of it.

“Thanks Lia, but… it’s not even about my independence, I don’t think,” said Tav.

“See?!” cried Rolan, one hand held out to her. “The reason I’m so bloody annoyed isn’t because you want to be independent, it’s because you seem hells bent on the idea that I’m going to somehow stop wanting to be with you! It’s ridiculous!”

Tav thought back to the way he had held her in bed that morning; his fingers tracing slow circles on her skin, and his warm lips against her ear whispering honied words to her. She was moronic. Everything about the man screamed devotion of the highest, most reverent kind.

“I know,” she said quietly. “I just… I’ve never done this. It’s all so new. I don’t know what to do.”

The fight went out of him. “Me neither.”

“Don’t ask me,” chipped in Cal.

“Or me,” added his sister.

There was a pause, and then they all began to smile.

“Bloody hells,” said Tav. “I was only going to suggest picking up something from the inn to bring back with me for dinner.”

That made them laugh. Even Rolan.

“Come on,” he said, “I’ll walk you over.”

*****

She could tell he was utterly unimpressed at the sight of her accommodation, but for once he chose to hold his tongue and simply stood with his hands behind his back near the doorway.

She busied herself with rooting through her trunk for clean smalls and a couple of tunics. She thought that she would take two days’ worth of clothes and see how she got on. Perhaps she might even buy herself something new with her first wage. Who could say?

She noticed that he was looking closely at the bed opposite hers with an intense expression. “I can hear you thinking,” she said. She was folding the clothes she had chosen, ready for her bag.

“You said you stayed here with Gale?” His tone was deliberately light. Too light.

“Just for a month or so. And with Tara. And Shovel, of course.”

“It’s very… cosy.” He cleared his throat.

Even with her back to him, she knew that the crease between his brows was back. She fastened her bag and turned to face him. Yep, there it was.

“No cosier than camp,” she said.

“Hm.”

She shouldered her bag and took a few steps over to where he was brooding. She smoothed a hand over the back of his hair.

“Are you worried it was too close?”

He tried to look unbothered, but she had never considered him to be a particularly convincing liar. “Because if you are, I can absolutely reassure you that Gale is possibly the most prudish man who ever lived, which – for reasons I will tell you about another time – is quite ironic. He used to send all of us out when he bathed or got changed. Even Tara.” She chuckled at the memory. “And he’s particularly fastidious when it comes to self-care. We spent a lot of time sat on the roof.”

Rolan fixed her with his glowing stare. “I hate the thought of you being here.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” she said reassuringly.

“I know that. I’m sure it’s palatial compared to some of the other places you’ve stayed. What I mean is, I hate the idea of you being here when all of that time you could have been with me.”

Tav made to speak, but he held up a hand. “I phrased that wrong. This isn’t about something as mundane as accommodation. What I mean is that I should have ceased my endless self-pity soon enough to realise that you were there all along… I should have made sure I told you how I felt. At least as soon as you brought Aylin to the tower and she freed me from Lorroakan…”

He trailed off. Tav pressed herself against him with her hands on his chest and placed a soft kiss on his temple.

“I don’t suppose I realised that you felt that way,” she said.

Rolan gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Dammon saw right through me. Then I tried to flirt with you in the High Hall.”

“You did refer to yourself as the dashing master of the tower, didn’t you?” she laughed, and he groaned.

“It’s why I came looking for you here that night,” he said after a moment. “I couldn’t settle until I saw you with my own eyes. I had a ridiculous notion that you would fall into my arms and we would kiss like the heroes of a penny romance novel.” He sighed. “It was stupid.”

Tav felt a pang of regret. She had been so tired. So sad and scared and confused, that night. He hadn’t stood a chance.

“I gave you a hard time, as usual,” she said, and as if to make up for it, she placed delicate kisses along his jaw line, before finding his lips and showing him exactly how sorry she was. Before long, his hands were reconnoitring her back and his tail was tenderly brushing over her behind, while she held a hand to his cheek and slid her tongue into his mouth. She has missed his warmth so much in the store.

Her bag fell to the floor as their embrace became more urgent, and his hands were now on her ass, squeezing her there as he walked her back to the bed. She broke the kiss when her calves hit the wooden frame, speaking through panting breath, nuzzling her face against his.

“What about Cal and Lia? We’re meant to be taking dinner back with us.”

Rolan kissed her neck, and she felt the familiar downward surge of molten yearning that his attentions set into motion.

“Shovel can catch them rats, for all I care right now,” he said breathily. “I’ll be damned if I’m letting you go.”

She assented. He was deliciously impassioned and she had no intention of giving up on the moment either.

“Get undressed for me,” he commanded, and she obeyed without thought; very much willing to bend to this new tone. She stripped completely, and stood utterly bare and without shame or embarrassment before him. The fire in his eyes seemed to burn her up as he moved his gaze appreciatively across her form. He reached out a single finger and toyed with her nipple, making her gasp. He hummed in approval at that.

“I’d like to f*ck you from behind, please Tav,” he said in a low voice. “Is that okay?”

“Gods, yes.”

“And I’d like to keep my clothes on while I do.” He was tracing her stomach with the backs of his fingers as he spoke. Tav thought she would die with every sweep he made. She bit her lip and made a soft unhf sound, which made him smile wickedly. He moved his fingers down a few inches and continued the movements, skirting her pubic hair and causing her abdominal muscles to flutter every so often. She raised her hands to his neck, more for support than anything else: her knees were feeling weaker and she felt herself swaying deliriously.

“Please touch me, Rolan,” she begged, eyes closed. “Or f*ck me. I don’t care which.”

He leant in and put his mouth to her ear. “Sounds like someone is getting desperate,” he growled.

“Please,” she implored.

He smirked and used his free hand to move his robes and unlace his trousers. She opened her eyes in time to see him free his co*ck and move his hand along the shaft a few times, groaning as he did so. She suddenly wanted nothing more than to take him in her mouth, but before she could act, he was turning her and pressing himself to her back. She felt him against the cleft of her ass and instinctively arched against him, causing a hiss to emanate from those pretty lips of his. In response, he slid a hand up to her breast and squeezed her nipple; the sensation shot straight to her core and made her gasp.

“Bend over,” he ordered her. She obeyed immediately, placing her hands on the bed and shuffling her feet apart in order to make herself as available to him as he needed her to be. The bed was tall and it mean that she could comfortably rest her elbows on the blankets and therefore take whatever he gave to her. He tested her readiness with a finger: slowly sliding it along the length of her. As he brushed her cl*tor*s, she rolled her hips, but he was not in the mood to take his time, and before she knew it, the head of his co*ck was nudging her entrance and his hands were gripping the soft flesh of her hips.

He worked his way in with a series of shallow thrusts: each more electrifying than the last: the ridges along his shaft playing her like an instrument. After a while, he seemed to be satisfied that he could do what they both craved; he pulled back and then slammed himself into her, causing pleasure to ricochet across her body and a loud moan to escape her lips.

“Tav,” he said in a strangled voice, “My Tav.” This simple utterance was followed by a hand tracing the line of her spine and the sensation of his tail running up and down her thigh. It was too much, and she pushed back into him, desperate for another powerful thrust. It seemed that their desires were aligned, because he pressed his hand to the small of her back and railed her again; twice this time, and then again, and again, until he was f*cking her at pace and she was lost in the feeling of him and the smell of their bodies and the delectable wet noises of their lovemaking.

She felt sudden urge to see him, so she raised herself onto one elbow and turned as best she could to look over her shoulder. The sight of him, lost in her, and the look in his eyes when he finally opened them to see her looking back at him were enough to force her free hand down to where she needed it, rubbing tight circles and immediately feeling the ascent of her climax begin in earnest.

“That’s good, Tav,” he panted. “I want to feel you come on my co*ck. Good girl. Do what you need to do. Come for me.”

The sudden change in his language was like an arrow straight to her cl*tor*s and she immediately flew into the abyss of org*sm. She stuttered out a curse as her entire body lit up – her fingers swirling the magic into her and his co*ck powering it all with its steady thump, thump, thump. She felt herself contract around him and it was enough to set him off too; his nails bit into her flesh and he cried out, “Ah, Gods!” before he lost all semblance of rhythm and simply shuddered into her a few more times.

As he emptied himself into her, he leant over her back and pressed his forehead to her skin. She felt acutely the hardness of his horns and the tickle of his hair as her receding climax left her skin alive with sensation. She dropped her hand from her swollen parts and returned it to its position as a prop. She needed it: her body felt a hundred times heavier, like it had whenever they came back from the astral plane and could no longer hop across hundreds of yards with ease, or even when she would emerge from a lake after floating in its waters.

Neither of them spoke or moved for a few seconds. The only sound was their hard breathing and the far-off hubbub of the bar below. Finally, Rolan withdrew from her and she could flip around to face him, propped on her elbows with her knees up. He looked utterly undone: his hair was coming free and he was positively puce. He panted, and then grinned at her; an expression which she simply had to return.

He leant down to cage her with his body and kissed her like she could save his life. He was still dressed and she pulled at his lapel to bring him closer until he fell forward and they ended up in a giggling heap. As their mirth subsided, he looked at her with blazing clarity.

“I don’t care if you want to keep this place for yourself,” he said. “But I really do object to the idea that I will ever not want you.”

She kissed him softly and nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“You can cut that out as well.”

“Fine,” she giggled. “You’re feeling a little more in charge today, aren’t you?”

He rolled off her and idly unclasped his robe, looking at the ceiling.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that to you since you turned up two days ago,” he said. And then he looked at her, earnestly. “I love you, Tav.”

This time, there were no nagging doubts: no worries or fear.

“I love you too.”

He sighed, and she wondered if he had been worried that she wouldn’t say it back. Now who was moronic?

“Rolan?” she said, as they both lay still, staring at the ceiling.

“Yes?”

“I really am f*cking starving.”

He nodded in agreement. “I’ll go down and see what I can find. You get into bed and warm it up for me. We’re not going anywhere tonight.”

He sat up, then stood, allowing Tav to slide into position under the covers. Before he left, he bent down to place a kiss on her forehead.

“I love you, you moron.”

“Get some wine.”

He paused at the door before he left and spoke over his shoulder. “You know, I think I quite like this place after all.”

“That’s a shame,” said Tav.

“How come?”

“Because I’m thinking about moving.”

He turned and looked at her. She nodded.

“This week just keeps getting better,” he said, and then headed out to find sustenance.

Chapter 18: The Evolution of Tav

Chapter Text

The tent is stifling hot, and the conversation has gone on too long to be of interest to her. Men are arguing, back and forth, without resolution, and she does not need to hear the minutiae of their petty disagreements: tone of voice is usually enough to alert her to any need for intervention.

She is frustrated by a remnant of their meal in her teeth; its presence an irritant which at least distracts from the seemingly endless drone of their posturing. She tongues at it lazily, not quite willing to take a nail to it, but working hard to free it, nonetheless. The mutton had been overcooked, and even though she was allowed a seat to the right of her employer, she was not permitted to speak. Not that she would have felt the need to contribute in any way: the dealings of black-market traders and thieves bore her as much as the men themselves.

Her employer beckons her, and she steps forward from where she stands in the shadows.

A signal is given, and she silently draws her knife.

The tent is stifling hot, and the conversation has come to an end.

*****

They have been on the road for a month; this band of merrymakers. She joined them three days ago: answering a poster on a wooden board in a tiny village. MOUNTAIN GUIDE WANTED. MONEY PAID UPFRONT. She could not say no to that.

They are sitting around a fire and the sweet boy with the fire-red hair is singing. It reminds her of home, and she excuses herself. She tells them that she needs to piss, but she simply needs to be elsewhere. There is a small glade a way back on the trail and she thinks she might bide her time there, alone, until the others bed down for the night.

She hears him follow her – the big elf with the swords – despite the fact that he is obviously taking care to be silent. He clearly underestimates her: he might be stealthy, but she is better at attending to her surroundings than he would ever believe.

She is ready for him in the glade by the time he makes his way through the trees. His eyes are hungry. She stands before him, naked and bathed in the moon’s light, and he takes her urgently and indelicately.

He moans a name when he comes, but it is not hers, and she does not care.

*****

Her pack is heavy, but she persists up the hill. The smell of the burning nautiloid follows them: the others complain about it, despite the fact that it is inescapable. One more thing which they cannot control in a miasma of terrible, unchangeable, things. It smells of a corpse. It reminds them that they are well on the way to joining it.

The wizard is the first to step into the trap, and she scolds herself for not taking point and scouting for them. Perhaps she wants this: perhaps she wants to welcome the cold oblivion which took the others on the ship. If only they did not have to suffer their bodies broken to be granted such a gift.

She fears the pain above everything else. It makes her a coward and she feels disgust at her own mundane dread.

As soon as the tripwire snaps, she is bolt-focused and grabs the ridiculous man by the back of his robes, pulling him violently backwards and away from the meagre blast in the space he had occupied a second before.

The vampire makes an appreciative comment about her reflexes, but she ignores it, not wishing to be complimented on the speed of her actions. Not wanting to feel anything other than hatred for the efficiency which guides her body and makes her a valuable asset for hire.

She releases the wizard with a push and presses on at the front of the group, telling herself that she simply wishes to avoid their company.

She spots and disarms five more traps before they make camp for the night.

Each time, she asks herself why, but finds that she has no answer.

*****

She is clinging to nothing, having been flung from the rubberlike surface of the Netherbrain as it plummets towards the Chionthar. The air is chaotic with smoke and noise as alien ships fall from the sky and as she tumbles, spinning, she worries for the people below and the buildings and her friends. She thinks of all of these things before her own fate, and even when it occurs to her that she is going to die – she is falling to her death – she cannot bring herself to feel anything other than acute sadness at the loss of what she has found since the tadpole was placed in her head.

She feels the air part for her as she falls, and she stretches her body into it, mimicking one of her arrows in her final moments as an almost reverent homage to her life’s craft. The ships in the harbour rush to greet her and she hears the roar of a dragon in the distance. The world has become crazed and she will miss it.

She will miss it.

Her last thought is a desperate, keening, need to LIVE. The water is so near, and she closes her eyes, and suddenly, it is too late.

*****

She awoke brutally, gasping for air and clawing at the sheets. Her stomach was sour from wine and she swallowed back the bitter reflux which burned her throat.

Rolan stirred beside her, perhaps awoken by her gasps or the fact that she had pulled herself into a sitting position against the cold wall. He reached across to her; his face wrinkled in concern. She took his hand and tried not to tremble in his grasp.

“Speak to me, Tav,” he said.

She took a shaky breath and motioned to the water flask which sat on the bedside table. He immediately sat up and passed it to her. “Here. Take your time.”

She sipped at first, and then took a long draught, hoping that the water would wash the acid back into her stomach and soothe her throat. Rolan observed her closely. His tail slid across the bed and came to rest on her naked thigh.

After a minute, she had recovered enough to pass the water back and pat his tail appreciatively. She smiled weakly and knew immediately from his face that she wasn’t fooling him.

“I’m okay, honestly,” she said. “I haven’t had a nightmare for some time, but that was… that was a bad one.”

“What happened?” His tone was gentle. She knew that she could tell him anything or nothing and he would not judge her or think less of her.

“The Netherbrain. The moment when…it fell. I haven’t been able to remember what happened before I came to in the water, but…” Her voice broke.

He moved to sit next to her against the wall and took her hand. When she looked at him, she was overcome with emotion: something like gratitude and a lot like love. Her dream suddenly echoed through her and she realised that the forgotten need to live that she had felt before hitting the water had been slowly blossoming anew since she had fallen through the tower portal with Shovel in her arms.

She turned to face him and smiled. “I think I understand, actually. I think I know what I need to take from it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think the dream was reminding me of something important. I remember falling, but my memory has always been hazy: I see flashes, but can’t recall feelings or details.”

“Understandable. The whole ordeal must have been incredibly traumatic.”

“I suppose so… but in my dream… in my dream I was there again. I remembered how it felt… to want to live. To feel the loss of everything I had gained after I was abducted. You don’t know what it’s like to suddenly wake up to the fact that you have something to live for, just at the moment that you’re about to hit a river at terminal velocity.” She couldn’t help but laugh a little at that, and he smiled too; seemingly bolstered by the return of her sense of humour.

“I can’t imagine it. But I am glad that you survived, and that you retain that enthusiasm for your existence.”

She shook her head at that. “I haven’t always felt like that since it happened,” she confessed, “but being with you has unlocked that part of me again, I think.” She laced her fingers with his and they sat like that for a moment before she looked into his eyes. He stared back, unspeaking, but she saw that he had welled up at her words. His face was stern, but not from anger – from a desire to control his expression and a natural inclination to disguise his emotions.

He leant in to kiss her, and in the dark of her room, after a night of sex, wine and venison stew, they both privately resolved to never hide from one another again.

Chapter 19: Hot Pursuit

Chapter Text

“Cal and Lia are going to be so pissed off with us, Rolan.” It was the morning after her nightmare and Tav was rooting around under the bed frame to check for stray items before she closed her trunk and ended her time at the Elfsong for good.

“Oh please,” he replied, “I’m sure they will have found something to satiate themselves. It’s not like the cupboards were completely bare. They’ve survived on less – we left Elturel with nothing and had to forage for a few days until we found someone willing to trade with us. Eating two-day old bread is not going to cause them to spontaneously expire.”

Tav sat up on the floor holding a dusty lace stocking which was most certainly not hers. She tried not to imagine the siblings wandering through the countryside – it presented a painful parallel to the other group of tieflings who had crossed her path back then, and she felt the familiar pluck of guilt in her gut. She knew from experience how quickly this feeling could overwhelm her and strangely, the only thing which had begun to stop her from panicking when it happened was remembering everything which had come after. She had been to the hells and back, and it felt like she had paid a small penance… but would she ever truly be able to atone?

Rolan, however, was oblivious to the effect his recollections were having on her and he blithely continued to list the savage realities of his first days on the path to Baldur’s Gate. He fastened his boots as he spoke; his deep, lilting voice calming her a little and bringing her back to the present.

“…of course the milk was sour by the time we found Zevlor and the others, but Lia insisted that we shouldn’t waste it and made the most abhorrent attempt at scones you could ever imagine. I thought Cal was going to… are you alright? You’ve gone pale.”

Tav crawled over to him and laid her head on his knee. “I’m fine. I think it’s the wine.”

Rolan frowned. Was there nothing she would ever be able to get past him? Then, she remembered the previous night when she privately resolved not to hold anything back from him, and took a deep breath. Better out than in, she thought.

“Hearing about you travelling from Elturel brings back… complicated memories, that’s all.”

He took a moment to absorb her words, and then: “Ah. I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” He ran his thumb over the shell of her ear – so different to his own. It felt wonderful.

She looked up at him and scrunched up her face. “I think about it all the time but I don’t think I’ve ever really processed it.”

“Do you want to talk about it now?”

Tav considered the question.

“Not yet. But soon, I think. Thank you.”

Rolan smiled and petted her some more. “I’ll be ready when you’re ready.”

She placed her own hand over his on her head and nuzzled his thigh. “I know.”

“Shall we get you home, then?” The word home hung in the air, as he had no doubt intended it to.

“Yes. Let’s go and see Alan. Tell him he’s getting his room back.”

*****

She had to admit that she was surprised at how emotional she was feeling about her departure from the inn. There were a lot of memories in the place: most of them fraught with the pressures of their situation with the Netherbrain, but some of them far happier. She recalled some of those fleeting moments as they walked out into the cool morning and joined the bustle of the street. Alan had offered to have her chest sent on to Ramezith’s Tower as a departing favour so they had decided to take a leisurely stroll back to Sorcerous Sundries before opening rather than use a chunk of Rolan’s energy casting Dimension Door as they had planned.

As they rounded the corner and the Highberry house came into view, Tav suddenly caught a flash of gold thread in her peripheral vision and looked over to see a familiar doublet retreating hastily into the morning crowd. The man from the shop – the one who had seemed so interested in Shovel – had been watching the inn and was now attempting to slip away undetected. Without thinking, her instincts took over and she practically leapt into a sprint, shoving her pack at Rolan and taking off before her wizard had even realised there was anything wrong.

The moustachioed man must have thought he had managed to get away without being seen because he was hanging around the other side of the house as if waiting for an opportune moment to move on. When he saw her racing around the corner, he uttered a curse and resumed his flight; heading north into the alleys surrounding The Devil’s Fee. She anticipated his route and decided that heading to the Upper City was likely a feint on his part. She focused in on his retreating figure when he was in view and noticed a layer of filth on the bottom of his trousers which seemed at odds with his otherwise carefully arranged façade. The sewers presented the most likely explanation, and because she had spent enough time down there to last a lifetime, she knew that if she didn’t catch him quickly, she would surely lose him in their foetid labyrinth.

She shouldered a merchant out of the way and received barrage of abuse for her trouble, but there was no time to apologise. Her calves burned and her chest tightened and she wondered when she had last exerted herself like this. She was out of practice, that was for sure. Even when they were shifting rubble and building shelters in the wake of the fall of the Netherbrain, she had missed the sheer joy of pursuit: the need to focus only on her target and track them using her countless skills to finally run them down. Even now, she could tell that the man would be seeking an entrance to the safety of the City’s cesspools; he had begun to favour his right leg. He was tiring, and the constant twists and turns she was forcing him to make were obviously exacerbating an old injury of some sort. He needed to end the pursuit so he would shortly be making a definitive move. She would be ready – she always was.

Eventually, they came out at a small, deserted square. He turned on his heels and spun to look at her. She was so close: perhaps ten metres or less, but the expression on his face was worryingly triumphant. It took her by surprise but once again, instinct kicked in and she brought herself to a stop while there was still some distance between them. No one looked that happy to be almost caught without knowing something that their pursuer did not, and just as she flicked her eyes around the courtyard seeking the source of his confidence, a flash blinded her and she was knocked off her feet and into darkness.

*****

“Ooh, is she dead Agnes? Has she got anythin’ good on her?”

“Derryth! You’d rob your own bloody mother, you would! Give ‘er a chance now would you? She’s still bloody breathin’!”

“Don’t act like you weren’t thinking the same you old trout, you was over here like a clap on a whor* when you saw her go down!”

“I resent that Derryth Grimball: you take that slander back or I’ll dab you on your rotten old nose.”

“You could bloody try, you dirty pig; my Martyn will rip your tit* off!”

Tav awoke to the sound of the two women scuffling across the square and pulled herself into a sitting position. Her head felt about ten times its normal weight and she fought an urge to lie straight back down and slip back into whatever oblivion she had risen from. What the hells had hit her?

She was just trying to get her head around the direction from which the spell had come, when she heard the unmistakable sound of Rolan calling her name. Gods, he sounded half insane with worry. She knew that once he saw that she was okay, he would scold her.

She gritted her teeth and stood. Everything felt weirdly soft and slow but she was mobile.

“I’m over here!” She shouted. “In the square! I’m okay!”

He appeared in the opening of the alley then immediately ran to her and embraced her.

“What the hells happened? Who was that man?” He pulled back and held her at arm’s length with his hands on her shoulders. “What’s wrong? Why do you look all washed out? Are you hurt? Hells, Tav, you’re so reckless! You can’t just run off like that! What if you – What if something had happened? Well? What have you got to say for yourself?”

“I’m fine, Rolan,” she said wearily, when he had paused long enough for her to speak. It looked like the lecture was going to come sooner rather than later. “I think it was a sleep spell, but it was enough for him to get away.” She continued to scan the surrounding area for clues as to where the man had gone as she spoke, but could not escape Rolan’s look of abject horror when she mentioned the spell.

“You were hit with a spell?! We need to get you back to the tower at once. I need to check you over. You don’t know what it was? Was there an incantation? And who the hells was that man? Is he the one who hit you? I think you have some explaining to do.”

Tav’s head spun. “Please, Rolan,” she begged quietly, “I need to work out where he went. I’m fine, like I said…” She was in hunter mode and his fussing felt stifling. When her adrenaline was up, all she could do was fixate on the task at hand: it is what she had been trained to do since birth and it would probably never change. She took a few steps away from him, observing possible vantage points and came to the immediate conclusion that her assailant must have been at one of the western windows based on the fact that she had felt the impact on her right arm first.

She turned to look at him. His lips were pressed into a line and his nostrils were flared but he rolled his eyes when he saw the determination written across her face. “You have five minutes and then I am casting dimension door and getting you to the tower. No arguments.”

She looked around but apart from the two bickering women who had disappeared, there was no sign of anyone else. And then she realised that she would be far better placed wherever Shovel was – if she was his actual goal.

“Rolan, I’m ready to go.”

The wizard looked surprised, as though he had expected more of a fight, but he nodded and made a series of complex-looking hand movements. A pale light began to emanate from his finger tips and as it grew in intensity he called out “Quod dico face,” and threw his arms forward, producing a blast in the air before him which faded and left behind a shimmering, door-shaped portal.

Despite the tension which still ran cold in her veins, she took a moment to appreciate how incredibly attractive her boyfriend was when he demonstrated his prowess like this, and she finally smiled at him. He raised an eyebrow in response and as always, his co*cky expression made the pilot light in her gut flare into life.

“After you,” he said smoothly. “I can see you’re already feeling better.”

“Show off,” she retorted, stepping past him and into the light.

*****

Dimension Door could only take them as far as Sorcerous Sundries, and as Rolan flung open the front doors to grant them entrance, they were greeted by the sight of Cal and Lia setting up for the day.

“Where’s Shovel?” said Tav urgently, pushing past Rolan and scouting around for her quasit.

“Oh, look who’s shown up! Cal, look, it’s Rolan and Tav! We thought they had been abducted, didn’t we?”

“Not now, Lia,” said Rolan testily, and she seemed to take the hint – this mood seemed more extreme than usual: even for him.

“What’s happened?” said Cal as he came round the counter to where Tav stood.

“Where’s Shovel?” she asked again.

Both siblings looked to Rolan who shrugged. “I promise I’ll fill you in on the details,” continued Tav, “but right now I just need to find Shovel… Please.” Her voice cracked on the final word.

“Of course,” said Cal. “She’s just up in the office.” He pointed to the stairs. Tav set off up them, shouting back her thanks over her shoulder.

By the time she got to the top, she could hear Shovel humming softly and relief flooded her system. The door to Tolna’s office was ajar and she peered around it to see the little fiend perched on the desk watching as Tolna carefully checked over a tome.

Tav took a step into the room and cleared her throat. “Hello, you two.” She was mindful to keep her voice as low as possible to appease the eccentric bookseller.

Tolna simply muttered a greeting and did not look up from her book, but Shovel leapt down from the desk as soon as she heard her master’s voice and ran over to her.

“Beefy! Where did you go? Shovel has been helping Missus Booksh*te!”

Tav looked over to Tolna who simply shrugged without looking up. If Tav had been asked to name two less likely companions she would have given up without ever considering the pairing she saw before her. Even now, after a parasite, a giant brain and a completely impromptu love affair with an old rival, the world could still surprise her.

Before she knew what she was doing, she scooped Shovel into her arms and held her tight to her chest. Was it because she was the last of her companions? Was it because she was silly and ungainly and utterly out of place here? Or was it something else – a magical bond that she could not comprehend - that made her suddenly appreciate her ugly charge?

“Ew, Beefy what is this? Why is Shovel being crushed? What did Shovel do wrong?” She pushed out her legs into Tav’s stomach and threw her head back. “Please don’t hurt Shovel!”

Tav placed her down immediately as though she had turned white hot in her arms. “No, Shovel, no… it’s not meant to hurt! I was hugging you!”

This was enough to pique Tolna’s interest and she looked up from her book, watching intently as Tav knelt down to quasit height. “We hug each other when we care. It’s to show that we want to be close.”

Shovel tilted her head and regarded Tav suspiciously. “Why did you squeeze, though? Shovel’s arse almost turned inside out.”

“I’m sorry. I was just relieved to see you is all. I… missed you.”

She became aware that Rolan, Cal and Lia were at the door. Shovel sat still for a moment then began to dance on the spot.

“Of course you missed Shovel, Beefy! Shovel is brilliant! She’ll fist your dogs and feed your babies to the rats! HaHAAAAAAA!” She kicked her legs and twirled and Tav began to laugh despite herself. Perhaps she was not completely ready for hugs, but she was certainly a sight for sore eyes: innocent and unaware that there may well be danger around the corner.

“Tav?” said Rolan.

She got herself under control, stood and took hold of one of Shovel’s clawed hands. The quasit did not object and stood still by her, as if waiting for instructions.. “Do we have enough time to get Shovel back to the tower? I don’t want her in the shop until I know what’s going on.”

Rolan nodded. “Of course. What’s going on?”

Tav blew a puff of air and looked at them all. “I think someone is following me. And I think they might want to kidnap Shovel.”

Chapter 20: Wizard, Apprentice, Quasit

Chapter Text

By some miracle, the shop was quiet, so Tolna agreed to hold the fort along with Rolan’s eerie projection while the others convened in the kitchen of the tower to discuss the situation. Rolan, who still seemed to be on the fence about the level of threat they were facing, stood by the range with his arms crossed and his chin on his chest. Cal and Lia sat at their usual seats waiting for Tav to speak, and she had sat with Shovel in her lap again. She was worried. She could tell that they could tell. Rolan’s distance was another concern.

“The man I chased was in the shop yesterday; he was watching Shovel. I thought he seemed off so I watched him, but he left and I thought nothing more of it. Gods, I should have followed him then. I knew he wasn’t right.”

Rolan looked up and she could see he was working through the events she described. “You were hardly to know that. And… well, we still don’t know it was anything other than a coincidence.” He spoke apologetically but his words nonetheless irked Tav, who was just on the cusp of crashing out of her adrenaline high.

“A coincidence that just so happened to end up with me being knocked out by a conveniently placed spellcaster? Come on, Rolan.”

She was right – she knew it. Rolan, for once, simply nodded and did not press the matter further, although his brow remained furrowed.

Shovel had been unusually quiet since her ‘assault’ in the office, now looked between them.

“Anyone gets their claws into Shovel will be murderised!” she cackled. “Or perhaps maybes kidnappers are more fun than spellsh*te and Beefy…Less conversations. Booooring!”

Tav sighed. The quasit did make it quite hard to feel sentimental towards her.

“Rolan, can she only get through the portal with one of us?” she asked.

“Yes.” He replied. “And the tower is locked from the fifth floor up. To be honest, I haven’t been able to work out how to get down further than that, which is irritating. But also has the advantage of ensuring that someone of Shovel’s… capacity is quite unable to leave the tower.”

Cal looked offended on Shovel’s behalf.

“Rolan, she’s sitting right there. Don’t be an ass.”

“I doubt very much that I offended her.”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to at least pretend that you care about the situation,” said Lia, over her shoulder.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Lia turned in her chair to face Rolan fully.

“It means that you sound like you don’t think there’s a problem.”

“I didn’t say that. I just meant that there isn’t a lot of actual evidence. And besides… my main concern is Tav. In case you both forgot, she was hit with a completely unknown spell. How do we know that they weren’t after her?”

Tav bristled again. “Okay, now I’m sitting right here,” she snapped. And then, seeing how his face softened at her words, she shook her head. She still struggled with people worrying for her. “I’m sorry. It’s nice that you’re concerned, but I just don’t think they would have knocked me out and left me if they were after me. And besides, you didn’t see him yesterday. He was very much focused on Shovel.”

Rolan stepped away from the range and came around the table to sit next to her. He put his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together.

“What was Shovel doing when he was watching her?”

Tav could have kicked herself – of course that was an obvious question to ask. She had been so focused on her prey that she hadn’t even thought to ask it.

“She was singing a nonsense song that she knows. Shovel, how does that little song go?” She hummed the first few bars to jog her memory and Shovel bobbed her head and sang along in a reedy voice.

“owway cnau esnav somt, shomt ftou eftoo tiou, etyoo coou so-oo sasf, shashf esh-meeeen.” The words were thick and heavy, which suited the slightly dirge-like tune, and when she had finished, Tav looked at Rolan. His eyes were closed and he looked distressed.

“What?” she knew that Cal and Lia were just as confused as she was.

Rolan tapped a nail on the table and looked at her with his wedding ring eyes. “Tav, that’s Thayan.”

The fear began as a tingle in her shoulders and slowly began to creep up her neck. She thought back to the day they had found the secret laboratory beneath the blighted village and she wondered how she could have missed something so bloody obvious. After all, hadn’t she heard the quasit sing the song before? Come to think of it, how had Gale, of all people, missed this?

She wracked her brain to think of when she had heard her sing. Always when she was with Karlach. When she was content. When she felt safest. Gale may have been the one to hold summoning power over her, but he was by no means her true master, and once he had found a way to release her from her bond, she had spent less and less time with him.

“Thayan like… with the Red Wizards?” Cal was wide-eyed. Lia seemed suddenly unsure of Shovel, and eyed her suspiciously. Even Rolan was looking at Tav expecting answers. She felt a terrible guilt descend upon her. What had she brought into their home?

“We found Shovel in a cave beneath a ruined village,” she began. “Her old master had moved there under the guise of an apothecary, but in reality, he was… he was a Red Wizard.”

“Zurgan, Tav,” said Rolan. “You’ve brought a bloody Red Wizard’s familiar into our home! Knowingly!” His words felt like ice. She wanted to explain, but the words wouldn’t come. She simply looked at the floor.

Rolan rested his face against his praying hands. “I thought Gale had summoned her. I thought she was a harmless fiend he had found a clever way to free. I never… I never thought she could be so dangerous.”

“Oh come on, Rolan,” said Cal, “she isn’t dangerous! She’s been here for three days and all she’s done is catch rats and make us laugh!”

“Rolan’s right,” said Lia, “as much as I hate to admit it. Gods only knows what she’s witnessed. And now we have people trying to steal her – people who know that she’s connected to Thay. They’re hardly going to be friendly types, are they?”

“I’m sorry,” said Tav.

“You need to tell us everything,” said Rolan, and his words were flat. Emotionless.

She felt sick.

“We found her and she led us to the lab that her master was using to research necromancy.”

Rolan laughed bitterly. “Of course it was necromancy. Did you think he might have been collating his butterfly collection?”

Tav ignored him and continued. “He seemed to be obsessed with true resurrection. That’s where we found the Necromancy of Thay that I gave you. He had stolen it and we found a journal which mentioned that his apprentice was trying to escape and return it. Just before the village was taken his apprentice went missing, and the key to unlock the book was lost.”

Shovel shook a little as Tav spoke, and seemed to want to add her own version of the story. “Master Ily was so horny for the stupid book. Then Shovel lost Master Pyros and Master Ily shut her in a box forever. All alone. Until Spellsh*te came along and freed her. Then Shovel had Beefy and Big Red to look after her. Much better, even if there is far less fun. Shovel is fed. Shovel is not beaten. Shovel has friends. Even when Shovel tries to eat doggy, no one kicks her. Shovel helps in fights and bites bad sh*tes. Lots of fun.”

Tav gave her an encouraging pat. “Where did Master Pyros go?”

The quasit looked penitent. “Shovel fell asleep. Master Ily said he fell down big hole or was eaten by spiders.”

“We found a body in the caves where the key gem was hidden,” added Tav.

Rolan rubbed his hands over his face. “So, we have a stolen Thayan necromancy and a quasit who has at least partially witnessed gods know however many unholy rituals. Now someone has noticed that she is casually able to recite good chunk of esoteric text by heart and they are watching our every move with a view to kidnap her.” He looked up at Tav. “Have I missed anything?”

“Nope,” she said, hoping that he wasn’t about to spontaneously explode or worse, give her a lecture. “Look, I know that this is a mess, and I am so incredibly sorry that this is happening, but you have to believe me, I thought all of this was in the past. I had no idea she was just wandering about with a bloody Thayan songbook in her head.”

She sat back and idly ran a hand over Shovel’s spines. “And besides, once Gale had worked out how to use the book, he always had those bloody summoned ghouls following us around. The noise of them used to drive Lae’zel insane. And they stank. Good in a scrap though.”

Rolan looked like he was, indeed, about to spontaneously explode. “Are you telling me that Gale wandered around casting a danse macabre horde arbitrarily? Gods, you people were beyond irresponsible! Capricious doesn’t even begin to cover it!”

Tav took the bait, and let Shovel down on to the floor so she could turn to him. “No Rolan, Gale knew what he was doing. One: in case it had slipped your attention, trouble had a bit of a tendency to find us pretty much every where we went. Having a powerful set of summons was a f*cking necessity. And two, our capricious behaviour, as you so bloody eloquently put it, saved you on quite a few occasions, so I wouldn’t be so quick to judge if I were you.”

She knew she had gone too far as soon as she spoke and he did indeed flinch at her words. She was too emotional – the thought of losing what she had found was twisting in her belly and she wondered suddenly if she was lashing out defensively because she had no other way to express her terror at the thought of Rolan hating her.

Rolan put a hand on her arm. He didn’t seem angry after all and it surprised her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I know that you needed all the power you could get.”

It was Lia who changed the subject. “Bottom line: is Shovel dangerous?”

Tav looked at her. “No. Not unless you’re a rodent, or an enemy.”

“Shovel will fist their holes!” came a voice from hallway. She had wandered off to seek mice elsewhere, but was still listening in.

“It’s good enough for me,” said Cal.

“I trust Tav,” said Lia.

Rolan sat back and looked at each of them in turn.

“Right,” he said, “we’re going to need a plan.”

*****

Lia returned to the shop and Cal took Shovel up to the greenhouse. Rolan took Tav by the hand and led her down the stairs to a richly oak panelled hallway which curved, following the walls of the tower. At the end of it, a large, imposing door faced them. There was no lock, but he made a few elegant gestures and it slowly swung open to reveal a large room which was hung all about with ancient-looking tapestries. At the far end of the room, nestled between two massive, cluttered bookshelves, there was a vast desk and a chair which looked more like a throne. The floor was covered with intricately detailed rugs of all shapes and sizes and there was a large, burnt orange velvet sofa in the middle of the room. It was draped in furs and throws and cushions and Tav wanted nothing more than to sink into it with a glass of something warming, a book… and a tiefling wizard

The room was a little chilly and Tav noticed that there was a pane of glass missing from the magnificent stained-glass window which dominated the east wall. Rolan set to work lighting a fire in the ornate fireplace which faced it, and before long they were comfortably ensconced in the embrace of that sofa, albeit at opposite ends. There was still a tension in the air, and neither of them seemed to know how to approach it.

Finally, Tav couldn’t bear it any longer. The thought of arguing with her mage was too upsetting and she did owe him apology. She fiddled with the hem of her tunic and cleared her throat.

“I should have told you about Shovel from the start. I’m sorry.”

Rolan nodded. “Thank you. And I am sorry for not trusting you. I know that your instincts are indescribably good. I just… worry. Call it a habit after so long being in danger. I’m not used to being safe.”

“Of course. I should have thought. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to constantly worry about your safety.”

“Not just mine,” he said sadly. “And besides, it’s not like you’ve had an easy time of it.” He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “ Giant brains and vampire lords and angry goddesses and what not.”

“Two angry goddesses. One considerably scarier than the other.”

“Oh?” he looked intrigued. “You only told me about Shar.”

“It’s complicated. And probably Gale’s story to tell, not mine. And I suppose I need to… how should I put this…?” She considered her words for a moment. “I need to work out how you might respond to the fact that we basically told your goddess to get f*cked.”

“You told… Mystra? You told Mystra to get f*cked?” Rolan looked aghast, and a little impressed. “Why in the hells would you do such a thing?”

Tav smiled. This was better: more like their usual banter.

“You’ll have to ask Gale,” she said enigmatically. He narrowed his eyes and moved along the sofa a little. “I’d rather hear it from you.”

She shuffled towards him. Just a bit. “I’m not a gossip, Rolan.”

“I think I could persuade you.” Another inch or two.

“I’m a model of integrity.” Almost touching now.

His hand reached her hair and he brought his face close to hers. She felt a bolt of arousal at the proximity, and it was deliciously coated in relief that he still trusted her – that he still wanted her.

Their mouths were almost touching. They breathed over one another’s parted lips and she gently held a handful of his robes.

“I think, given recent developments in my already considerable skill set, that I could find a way to have you positively singing for me if I so desired it.”

The thought was too much for her and she happily gave in to temptation, kissing him oh so softly until he made an appreciative hum which spurred her into greater action.

Before long, they were a tangled mess and she found herself leaning back into the cushions so that he could lie alongside her. His tongue met hers and they explored one another’s mouth and lips with a fervour that could only be attributed to the fact that they had been so close to genuinely arguing not half an hour before.

Tav pulled at his clothes, meaning only to bring him closer, but it was mere seconds before this action turned into a desperate scramble to undress one another, and they clumsily shed their clothes as best they could, being that that they were lying side by side and neither one of them was willing to break their kiss.

Eventually, after they had somehow managed to reach a state of nakedness (Tav had no idea how they had got their boots off), Rolan ran his hand down her body and found the wetness between her legs which had been spreading since his he had first made contact.

“Hello Tav, what’s this?” he smiled against her mouth, while exploring her with two fingers. She squirmed against him and responded in kind by gently running her hand up and down the length of his co*ck. “Hmm…” he sighed, and resumed kissing her, but with a little more urgency, this time.

He was as hard as she was wet, and it wasn’t long before he was on her, and she was accommodating him between her thighs and he was lining himself up, ready to make her sing as promised. His fingers moved up to her cl*t and with feather-light touches, he showed her exactly what he had learned in just three days. His kisses found the place where her neck met her shoulder and she gasped as he used his tongue to trace a path along the skin there. His fingers were becoming bolder; she could feel him nudge at her entrance, and she wondered if it was possible to die from anticipation.

“How are you already so good at this?” she breathed, and he responded with a circle around her cl*t that made her gasp and grind upwards so that his co*ck nudged deeper. He must have taken this as a signal, or perhaps he simply lost control, because in one motion he pushed into her and bit down on her shoulder at the same time: hard enough that she was unable to resist crying out his name. He immediately pulled his face away from her neck and looked into her eyes – she saw the concern there and stroked a hand over his dishevelled hair. “It’s okay,” she said. “I can take it.”

He nodded and rested his forehead against hers, then pushed himself into her, taking his time and filling her with his ridged length. She arched her back and he dipped his head to run his tongue over her nipple, thrusting slowly and running his hand along the length of her thigh.

After a moment, he hitched her leg over his arm and began to f*ck her in earnest. The feeling of him inside her and the way he looked at her as he took over her body was stupefying – she felt her mind let go of everything except him – those blazing gold rings in his eyes and the hair which now hung loose over his face. His horns, his long nose and his freckled red skin… he was intoxicatingly beautiful and he was hers. Hers to do with as she wished, just as she was his in the same way. And he was powerful, and accomplished. He was certain to become Archmage, and he would prove every last one of the bastards who had driven him from his home that he was more that they would ever be. He was Rolan. He was her world, and she would protect him with her life. With her body. With what skill she had. She would be his muse and his partner and his whor* and they would spend the rest of their days laughing and talking and exploring and f*cking.

He was getting closer now, his eyes fluttering closed and soft moans escaping his pretty lips, and Tav felt herself building into something too, but she needed a little something extra to fuel the fire and propel her into her bliss. She pulled her knees up to her chest and Rolan instinctively leant over her, finding the spot within her that pulled everything into place. She cried out and he mischievously realised the power he now had over her; making his thrusts deeper and more commanding. He watched closely as her face contorted and her shouts became more wanton and she saw his studious mind measuring each and every one of his movements so that he could pull as much ecstasy from her as possible.

It was the thought of him treating her as an experiment – a puzzle to be solved and mastered - which made her come undone and with complete abandon she was suddenly filled with light. He continued to f*ck her through her climax but as she felt her walls flutter and pulse around him, she sensed that his control would not last long.

She was just returning to herself when he finally let go and slammed into her. His face was a picture of lustful perfection as he filled her and with three more thrusts, he fell onto her and buried his face in her neck. She shifted to accommodate his horns, and held on to him as he ran through the aftershocks of his org*sm. She felt the ridges along his ribcage with her calloused fingers, and traced the sharper edges of his shoulder blades where his infernal wings might once have been. She felt his breathing slow and she stroked him all through it.

“I love you,” she whispered, “I’m sorry. I love you. I can’t fight with you. I can’t. You’re everything.”

Eventually, he stilled, a dead weight on top of her with his face in the crook of her neck and his hair covering his features. The room was still; only the fire made any noise.

“Tav?” he said.

“What?”

“I’m more than happy to fight with you every day if it means we get to do that afterwards.”

She laughed and smacked his arse gently. He moved himself so that he was by her side again and he slid free of her. She felt the evidence of their tryst between her legs but he grabbed his robes and carefully placed them between her thighs. It made her laugh and he looked at her.

“What’s so funny?”

“Can you imagine what you would have said back at the Grove if someone had told you that you’d be using your robes to mop up your come from between my thighs?”

He considered this for moment and smiled. “I would have died of panic,” he said evenly. “Like I said, I was terrified of you.”

“And now?”

“Oh, you still scare me. But now it’s mostly because of your murderous, body-snatching Thayan quasit.”

As soon as the words left his lips he sat up. “f*cking hell, that’s it.”

Tav co*cked her head at him. “What is?”

“What’s the worst thing we could do to someone trying to kidnap Shovel?” he looked at her and he was smug. She loved to see it.

“What’s your plan?”

“We let them have her.”

Tav recalled all the times she had watched Shovel commit acts of grievous bodily harm on their enemies. She also thought about how utterly hideous she could be. And then she thought about the entry in Ilyn Toth’s diary: it had been Shovel who provided him with fresh cadavers for his experiments. To those who weren’t allies or friends, Shovel was a complete hazard. And she would lead them right to the culprits.

Could it work?

There was only one way to find out.

Chapter 21: The Tower Greenhouse

Chapter Text

“Cal!”

“What?”

“Come down: we have an idea!”

The greenhouse which ran from east to west in a crescent sat at the very top of the tower, facing north beneath its pointed roof. Tav was greeted by temperate, fecund air the moment she stepped through the door from the stairway and if she closed her eyes, she could almost be in a summer forest. It was an immediate, profoundly comforting, sensation. As they made their way around the terrace between the neglected beds of tangled vines and branches, she spotted palms and dragon trees; kava and echinacea and an immense agave which was more beast than plant. While she had never claimed to be an expert in botany, she was well-versed in basic alchemical ingredients, and she estimated that Rolan and his siblings were sitting under a veritable gold mine.

Cal had made it his mission to start clearing the place up and she had heard Rolan promise to investigate the possibility of hiring a gardener to work with him. Far more than any other part of Ramezith’s tower that she had so far seen, she was excited about the possibilities of this space, but supposed that it would all have to wait until the city was in a more stable position: all of the botanists, herbalists, alchemists and gardeners were still engaged by the Duke to ensure that healers and builders were kept in supplies.

However… If the library was the considerable mind of the tower, then one day, this would be its beating heart.

The glasshouse itself occupied the equivalent height of three floors and tapered up unto the rafters of the tower roof. That way, the sun could beat in from every possible direction and ensure as much heat and light fell upon the occupants of the broad beds as possible. On the side of the crescent which hugged the wall, the bricks were covered with ivy and climbing vines in every shade of green: blocks of emerald competed with variegated snarls and a there was a large patch of what looked like hydrangeas halfway up which Tav was certain did not belong there. Some magic holding them up, perhaps?

There were other hints of mysterious undertakings, too: a whole bed of herbs which she recognised was followed by another, filled with what she could only describe as insane hybrids. She bent to pick basil leaves which smelt of vinegar and she wondered if anyone would ever again know the purpose of these freakish shrubs. Perhaps there was a record somewhere in the rambling shelves of the library, or a ledger in a cupboard, or a scroll in a chest in a room that even Rolan had yet to discover.

She realised that technically, she too lived in the tower now, and that these were also her secrets to discover. The idea was thrilling.

Cal was perched on a platform at the very far corner of the west wall, high above the floor and precariously positioned. Tav heard Rolan mutter the words reckless idiot as they approached, but she could see that he had rigged the simple wooden bench with a pulley and was wearing a rope harness around his hips – he would be in no immediate danger should he fall. She was learning that Rolan was hard-wired to expect the worst: particularly where his siblings were concerned. It was rather sweet, really. Having never had a brother or a sister, she enjoyed seeing him fuss over them. Her own parents were… well - they were never ones to worry, preferring to allow her to make her own mistakes, even if it usually resulted in an injury of some sort. It was only when she presented a threat to others – almost always animals or a temporary friend she had found to play with on the road – that they would step in. It wasn’t a bad way to be raised, but she saw Rolan cluck and fret over Cal and Lia and there was a part of her that wondered how she might have turned out if she had found herself an abandoned brother to make her life hard, too.

“Do I have to come down? I’m just fixing this drain!”

“Yes! Gods, must I always be required to repeat myself?!”

Rolan turned to her and raised his hands in a gesture of exasperation. He had re-tied his hair and changed his robes, but she could still see the flush of their tryst on his cheeks. It made her want to giggle like a fool.

“Cal,” she called, ignoring the fact that she couldn’t even look at the bloody wizard without turning into an imbecile, “we think we’ve got a plan to keep Shovel safe. Where is she?”

Cal loosened one of the ropes from the platform rig and came slowly down using his strong arms to lower himself. When he reached the bottom, he stepped over the wooden slats and put his hands on his hips.

“She’s off in the beds somewhere. She caught a massive rat about half an hour ago, so she was in a good mood. I’ll admit that the prospect of fixing that pipe was a whole lot more bearable when the alternative was to sit down here while she sucked out rat brains.” He spoke cheerfully, as though having a necromancer’s fiend for company was the definition of good times. “What’s the plan?”

Tav spoke first. “We’re thinking that whoever wants Shovel probably needs her alive and unharmed.”

“They’ll need to speak to her to find out what she knows, after all,” added Rolan.

“Yes, and Rolan thinks he’s seen a crystal ball in the tower somewhere, so we can cast a scrying spell–“

“It’s actually quite simple–“

“Soooo,”

“We thought…”

Cal threw his head back and screwed up his face. “Oh Gods, you’re thinking about letting them take her, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” said Tav. “But we can get her back once we know where she is. And she can look after herself. I’ve seen her take down formidable enemies. She can cast invisibility, she’s fast, and she bloody loves a scrap. They won’t know what hit them if they try anything.”

Cal looked utterly unconvinced. “You’re putting her directly in the path of danger. If you’re right about them wanting her because she was reciting some necromancy spell, then they’re probably terrible people!”

“We know,” said Rolan evenly. “But no one knows her better than Tav. If she thinks that Shovel can cope, then I believe it too.”

He smiled at her, a little sentimentally. Tav liked that he had faith in her, but she suddenly worried that his judgement was being clouded by his affection for her. Cal certainly seemed to be horrified by the idea.

They needed to speak to Shovel.

“I think it’ll be okay, Cal. You’ve never seen her fight: she bit Enver Gortash in the crotch.”

Both Cal and Rolan winced a little at that.

“Well she went back towards the north side.” said Cal, once he had recovered. “Last I saw her, she was in and out of that big spiky thing.”

“Thanks Cal. Rolan?”

“Yes, lets go and find the little devil.”

*****

They found her halfway along the path, or at least, they found the drops of blood which had spilled from the neck of some unfortunate rodent and followed the trail into a ferocious-looking tangle of thorny branches. Tav caught a glimpse of demonic eyes eerily reflected back at her, and she called out to them.

“Hallo Beefy!” came the response in a crooked sing-song voice, followed by Shovel ambling through the undergrowth. As she came into the light, Tav could see the remnants of several of her victims smeared across her face. Shovel nodded Tav and then at Rolan. “Spellsh*te.”

Tav knelt down in front of her. “Shovel, I need to talk to you. Do you remember this morning how we were talking about a man who might want to steal you?”

The quasit tilted her head and if she had possessed eyelids, she might have blinked. “Yes, Beefy. Bad sh*te who f*cked you up this morning?”

Tav couldn’t help but feel a little defensive at that, but she bore down on the emotion. “I wouldn’t say f*cked me up... but never mind that now: Rolan has had an idea about how we might be able to deal with him.”

“Is it… murderising?” she asked reverently, looking directly at the wizard. Her mouth worked excitedly like she was tasting the word as she spoke it.

Rolan raised a finger. “Not at first.”

“POOH,” she scoffed, and made as if to return to the shadows, causing Rolan to hurriedly speak before she could take a step.

“I promise that you will get to – um - deal with them eventually,” and then, seeing Tav shoot him a warning look: “with our help, of course. No killing unless we are there too.”

Shovel seemed to mull his words over.

“We think that they want you because of what you learned from Master Ilyn,” said Tav. “So we think they’ll keep you safe.”

“Master Ily?”

“Do you remember any of the words from the book Tav took?” asked Rolan.

That set Shovel off. She waved her arms and arched her back like a surly teenager. “Oh that bloody f*cking book! Even bad sh*tes want to kidnap Shovel because they are horny for it! Uuuaargh!”

“It does seem to be a popular one,” said Cal.

“We don’t actually know that this is about the Necromancy, though Rolan,” said Tav. “Although it does seem to be a coincidence that they’re taking an interest in her… I can’t help but feel that it’s all connected somehow.”

“Master Ily used to read it all the tiiiiiime! It was BORING!” Shovel kicked at the dirt and huffed. “Shovel heard him read the same pages over and over and over and over and over until they was stuck in her brains!” She illustrated her point by poking a long claw into the side of her head. “But Master Ily never did work it out! She came back, but not as a flesh person! Just as a deadun! Hahaha!”

Rolan and Cal looked to Tav for an explanation.

“His journal mentioned a woman. Gale thought it was a lover he had lost. Astarion was less sentimental. Karlach thought it was his mother. We never found her, anyway – but his journal implied that he tried to resurrect her and only ever managed to raise her as an undead.” She shook her head. “And now that I’m telling you about it, I’m just realising how messed up the entire situation was.”

It was Cal who broke the silence which followed. “People will do terrible things for love.”

“Master Ily did terrible things to her!” screeched Shovel. And to everyone’s horror, she made a lewd gesture with her fingers.

“Well,” said Cal, “let’s just hope that it definitely wasn’t his mother.”

“Moving on,” said Rolan, hurriedly. “The plan is to wait and see if someone takes you, Shovel. If they do, you need to pretend to be compliant. Do you understand? As thought you don’t mind being with them?”

“Shovel on best behaviour!” As if to illustrate, she pirouetted daintily.

“That’s the spirit,” smiled Rolan.

“And then, once you’ve been taken,” said Tav, “Rolan can cast a spell which will mean he can see things through your eyes?”

“He’ll take Shovel's eyes?” Shovel looked perturbed.

“No, of course not! He’ll just be able to see what you see.”

“…it won’t hurt Shovel?”

Tav looked at the wizard. This would be a wonderful time for Rolan to exercise some tact: not something he was particularly well-known for.

“Some people describe a tingle along their spine, but no pain. It’ll be like… like I’m dreaming about being you. That’s all.”

“And then we’ll find you,” said Cal. “Won’t we?” He looked from Tav to Rolan as he spoke.

“We will,” affirmed Tav. “We’ll find you, and we’ll help you –“

“MURDERISE.”

“Yes, Shovel. We’ll help you to murderise every last one of them.”

Chapter 22: Tav Has an Idea

Chapter Text

They were coming down the spiral stairs when Rolan suddenly stopped and rubbed at his temple.

“Bloody hells...” He was gritting his teeth and leant against the stone wall to steady himself.

Tav came back up the steps to where he was standing and caught his arm with her hand. “What’s up?”

“I’ve been trying to set up a sending protocol with Cal and Lia so that we can communicate between the shop and the tower, but it’s still not quite right. Lia is trying to tell me something but it’s coming through all wrong. It sounds like she’s enlisted a gnoll to scream her message straight into my ear.”

Cal, who had been following behind with Shovel, stopped too and folded his arms across his chest. “What’s she want? Can you make it out?”

Rolan held up a finger; his face a mask of concentration. “Shh!”

“Ooh, sorry ,” huffed Cal.

Rolan seemed to listen for a moment and then rolled his eyes in annoyance. “She’s telling me to get a move on - that the shop is busy...” he looked to the side, as if more information was incoming. “...and that I’m a selfish arse. Of course.” He shook his head and pressed the heel of his hand to his brow. “I need to work on that protocol, it’s terrible. I wonder if I could use the somatic component of message to shorten the spell’s range, but increase casting frequency...?”

He was drifting off into thought in much the same way that Gale had often done when faced with a wizardy problem. When she had first met him, his reveries would drive her insane, but she soon grew fond of that vacant expression... as long as they weren’t stuck in the middle of a goblin camp or a courtyard full of arcane towers. Lae’zel had needed to apply some gentle reminders when he lost focus on these occasions. This seemed like it might be a similar sort of situation.

“Rolan. Rolan .”

He snapped out of it. “Yes, sorry. I was just thinking. Let’s get down to the shop and help.”

Tav gave him an amused look and resumed her descent down the worn steps. So: here she was with an intellectual for a lover. She never thought such a thing was possible. Sure, she liked books and was always on the lookout for ways to develop her own spell casting, but the idea that she could share her heart with a wizard, of all people, would probably never cease to amaze her.

Her train of thought led her to consider her own talents. She was well adept with her bow and could deftly wield both dagger and short sword, but she also had to admit to herself that she was currently a little out of practice. It had been six months since the battle with the Netherbrain, and she had not been required to fight at all since then: it was the longest she had ever gone without training since she could hold a knife.

If Shovel were to be taken, she would have to hope that her skills alone were enough to overpower any adversaries. She did not know how far Rolan had developed his battle spells since she last saw him fight, but by his own admission, he had not had access to any real training before he arrived at the tower and had therefore never been the strongest caster. Had the time between then and now turned him into a warrior?

And then there was Cal, with his quarterstaff, and Lia with her shortbow. Had they been training? She had no idea how they would fare if it came to a proper fight – and that worried her. Before the tadpole, when she knew she would be in any combat situationalone, she would spend time ensuring that she always had the advantage - research and observation were just as important as actual combat skills. Then, after she had been infected and met the others, she had learned quickly how to both support and depend on them in the heat of battle. She knew that Minsc could be depended on to cover her as she found high ground, and she knew that Halsin and Jaheira were vulnerable in the seconds before their wildshapes took form, so she would always aim to protect them as soon as she saw them begin to shift. Gale had often stood behind her so that he could rely on Corvus to obscure his movements from enemy mages and stop them from pre-empting his spells; Karlach knew that her left flank was weak as she took aim with her bow and so guarded it when she was in a melee. Even Shovel had been known to sneak in the opposite direction to Astarion so that they could take a group from either side – causing beautiful mayhem in their wake.

In the time they were together, they had become as much anarmy as a family, but Tav knew that she could not expect the same from the siblings right away. They might know how to fight, but they were not yet a unit. If she was right, and someone was trying to take Shovel, then they knew that there were at least two enemies that they would need to defeat: the man with the moustache and the spellcaster who had knocked her out. And the fact that there was more than one conspirator was before you took the fact that the spell had been well-aimed and powerful into account.

They could simply be looking at a fight with a particularly interested dealer in exotic creatures... or they could be walking into a trap filled with powerfully equipped Thayans. Or even Red Wizards.

They needed to train.

“Rolan?”

“Yes, love?”

“What’s on the floors below the kitchen? Before you get to the locked levels?”

He gave her a look. They had reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the kitchen from the opposite endto the living room.

“A couple of dusty parlours, some bedrooms and an old ballroom on the seventh floor. Not much in it. Some truly awful paintings and an old suit of armour. It’s a huge space but I don’t think Lorroakan had the imagination required to actually use it. Nor do I think he had any friends to invite to a ball, come to think of it... Why do you ask?”

Tav took an apple from a wooden bowl on the counter: suddenly painfully aware of the fact that they still had not eaten that morning. She took a bite and chewed meaningfully.

“Can I turn it into a dojo?” She said, swallowing.

“Yes!” declared Cal, immediately.

“Excuse me ,” said Rolan pointedly. “Who is the master of this tower?”

Cal waved a hand dismissively. “It’s a bloody good idea and you know it – I know Lia will agree. And Shovel: right Shovs?”

The quasit fixed Rolan with a coal black gaze. “Perhaps Spellsh*te is afraid of Shovel? Perhaps Spellsh*te is worried about the fistings she might give him.” She punched her skinny arm up into the air to punctuate her meaning.

“Shovel,” Tav chided, “That’s not nice.” Rolan nodded. “You know you promised to call him Mister Spellsh*te from now on.”

“Oh, ha ha,” he said sarcastically. “Anyway, what exactly do you need a dojo for?”

She swallowed another bite of apple. “Get the portal going and I’ll tell you. Lia needs help in the shop, remember?”

Rolan jumped a little as if suddenly remembering that he was supposed to be going somewhere. He grabbed an apple for himself and drew the spell for the portal, muttering something about being able to cast linked portals and how it meant that they didn’t have to constantly make their way to the library, which was inconveniently only accessible from the kitchen.

“Shovel, you need to stay here,” said Tav, as Rolan and Cal stepped forward and disappeared.

The quasit lookedput out and a miserable whine came from her fish-like mouth.

“Beeeeeeeeefyyyyyyyyy!, Shovel will be BOOOOOOOOOOOOOORED! Shovel thought she was getting kiddienapped today!” She stamped a little as she spoke and swung her arms huffily at her sides.

“I know, Shovel, I know. But I want to wait until the others are a bit more prepared in case we have to fight.”

“Fighting is the best part! That is what Shovel is looking forward to!”

Tav was suddenly struck by inspiration. “Oh, of course. I know how much you like to fight. That’s why I want to make sure that Cal and Lia and Rolan are all trained up – you see, they’re all good at fighting but do they know how to make it fun? I don’t think do… yet.”

Shovel weighed her words. Her neck flaps puffed out a few times, and then she hopped from foot to foot. Tav knew this to be a good sign.

“Beefy is right! Let’s not kill them quick! Let’s tear and bleed and FIST them! Get the tieflings bigger knives! Tell Spellsh*te to use Master Ily’s book! More claws! More teeth!”

“Yes,” said Tav, shaking her fist with mock enthusiasm, “let’s make sure they know how to do it the Shovel way!”

“Just like the vampire and Big Red! Just like Owlbear!

“Just like them,” she agreed. And she felt sad. “Just like we used to do.”

“Go, then, Beefy. Shovel will entertain self, yes. Many rats!”

“There won’t be any left at this rate,” laughed Tav, feeling a little better to see how excited Shovel was.

But the moment didn’t last long: the quasit leant forward and spoke conspiratorially in a hushed tone. “Oh, don’t worry, Beefy. Far worse things than rats in this tower… But Shovel will eat them too!”

“Good to know,” said Tav weakly. “Good to know. Enjoy.” And with that, she stepped into the portal, trying to forget the prospect of terrible horrors in her new home.

Rolan and Cal were waiting on the mezzanine for her. The queue for the main counter was almost out the door and as they came down the steps, Tav saw that Tolna had been required to join Lia there: that would probably be another black mark against Tav’s name. Perhaps one day Tav could locate another Netherbrain to bring down in the vain hope that it might finally prove to the librarian that she was not a monster.

Lia rounded on them as soon as she noticed them arrive and jabbed a finger in their direction. They hurried over: Cal looked positively terrified and even Rolan seemed to be uncharacteristically sheepish.

“You could have answered earlier! Tolna and I have been non-stop! We’ve had to let the bloody ghoul look after the books!”

They all turned to see the confused-looking ghoul wandering aimlessly amongst the various manuscripts while a group of alarmed wizards huddled at one end of the shelves, daring one another to approach first.

Tav looked back and was met by Tolna’s narrowed eyes. The older woman did not speak, but her look was enough to make Tav look away guiltily.

“I’m sorry, Lia,” said Rolan, taking a delicate potion bottle from her and wrapping it hastily in tissue, “the sending spell clearly isn’t working. I think I might have an idea, but I just need to-“

“You just need to bloody get out there and speak to some customers, that’s what,” she said irritably, snatching the bottle from him and wrapping it again properly. “And Cal, you can get to work restocking the potions – for some reason we’ve had a run on elixirs.” She turned to Tav and smiled. “Hello Tav, you can stay with me. Tolna? Thank you for your help; you can get back to your books.”

All of them took their cues and did as they were told, and Tav felt grateful that Lia hadn’t quite begun to think of her as family yet, because she was frankly scary.

She rolled up her sleeves (she was aware that she hadn’t had a chance to change since the previous morning but there was no way she was about to ask Lia for a break already) and got to work.

*****

The next six hours disappeared into an unending stream of tasks. Tav helped to clear the queue and then went back onto the floor with Rolan to answer questions and make recommendations about everything from potions of healing to enchanted hats. She showed a warlock how to tie a fishing lure suitable for catching poisonous catfish which could be used to make a potent healing poultice, and she talked a particularly feisty halfling through the benefits and drawbacks of enchanted underwear when tracking game. With the exception of bathroom breaks and a quick trip to the market to buy pasties for everyone, she and the others worked solidly until the time came to close up, and for the second day in a row, the doors clicked into place, and she almost fell to the floor with exhaustion.

Tolna appeared from her office and bade them all good evening before she stepped into her personal portal, which Rolan had conjured for her. Tav wasn’t sure, but she thought she caught a glimpse of a smile from her as she waved. Progress.

“Right,” said Lia, with some determination, once she’d gone. “Rolan: why can’t Tav have a dojo?”

“I’m sorry,” he shot back, “is everyone privy to this plan except me?”

“Sorry, Rolan,” said Tav, going to where he stood and sliding her arms around his waist. His tail swished in annoyance, but stilled when she kissed his nose. “I know I was going to explain, but we had to get to work, and Lia was next to me on the counter and… I was thinking out loud, I suppose.”

He looked at her and sighed. “It’s not like I can actually be annoyed at you, is it?”

“No, you can’t. Ever again.”

His face was soft, as though he had forgotten the others in the room. “I think we’ve argued quite enough in our time together to last a lifetime. If that means I have to let you have whatever you want, then so be it.” He ended this sentence with a forehead kiss, and immediately there came a pair of matching sick noises from the direction of his siblings.

“Steady on, Rolan,” said Cal. “she’ll run a mile if you keep slobbering over her like that.”

“No I won’t,” called Tav over her shoulder.

Rolan couldn’t have looked more please with himself and raised a triumphant eyebrow at his brother.

“Anyway,” said Tav, changing the subject, “This isn’t about getting what I want. It’s about solving two problems in one.” She explained her reasoning and the need for them to train together, and all three agreed that it was a necessity. Cal and Lia were particularly excited, and Tav recalled a distant memory of Lia wishing to join the Flaming Fists at some point. Rolan simply listened in his very Rolan way and nodded his assent.

When she had finished outlining her plan and he had agreed that she should convert the seventh-floor ballroom, he asked her what the second problem was.

“Ah,” she said, “that’s where you might tell me to get lost. You see, the shop is now full of would-be adventurers and, to be honest, most of them are going to walk into a whole world of trouble if they just decide to wander off into the wilds. I had someone ask me today if they could learn how to tame a warg so that they could ride it.” She paused for effect. “I once watched a warg eat its handler just because he sneezed too loudly and woke it up.”

“Lovely,” said Cal.

“Exactly. Most of these people are clueless, and a few of them are downright insane: I’m starting to feel guilty about helping them out.”

“What do you suggest?” asked Rolan.

Tav leant against the counter and crossed her arms. “Let me teach them. Basic bushcraft. Safety spells. Self-defence. Bit of archery. Anything, really. Let me run a proper adventurers’ training facility and hopefully save some of these poor sods before they blow their heads off using a scroll of fireball to light a campfire.”

She nodded and fell silent: her point made.

It was Lia who spoke next, directing her words at Rolan, who appeared to be considering the proposal deeply.

“It’s great idea, Rolan. People will come from all over to train with The Hero of Baldur’s Gate.”

“One of,” corrected Tav.

“One of what?” Lia looked confused.

“ One of The Heroes of Baldur’s Gate. There were a lot of people involved. Yourselves included.”

“I’m not happy about strangers in the tower,” said Rolan, suddenly. “Sorry.”

Tav deflated. She should have realised that it wasn’t going to be something he’d go for. “Yes, of course. I understand.”

“Well what about the vaults?” Cal asked brightly.

“The secure vaults? Where we keep all of the very dangerous , very valuable items?” Rolan looked incredulous.

“Oh come on, Rolan, you said yourself that there are about forty rooms down there. And they’re all trapped, aren’t they?”

“Not well enough,” he said, with a pointed look at Tav. She smiled innocently and he chuckled.

“At least let Tav take a look.” Cal was not going to let the plan drop. Tav was pleased he was in her corner.

“And if there isn’t anywhere suitable down there, then I’ll let it go,” she said. “We can just use the ballroom for our training and I’m sure that gnome with one arm that you were chatting to earlier will be absolutely fine on his mountaineering expedition. He seemed pretty switched on… even if he did load that poison crossbow bolt backwards so that it was pointing at his face...”

“Alright!” Rolan bellowed, and then laughed, “gods Tav, I love you, but you’re just as bad as these two!”

Lia squealed. “ Love!”

“Don’t start!” he snapped, immediately. “You’re all insufferable.” His words dripped with affection, despite his testiness.

“I love you too,” said Tav, wrapping her arms around his neck. “And thank you. Thank you for trusting me with this.”

His tail found its way around her waist, and he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“Hm,” he smiled, and she knew that he wanted to say more but couldn’t run the risk of giving his siblings ammo for their teasing.

“What are we having for tea?” Cal asked out of nowhere, and Lia groaned.

“I’ll make it” Tav offered. “I could use a walk to the market – I don’t think they’ll be packed up yet. Rolan?"

"Let’s go.”

He unlocked the doors, and they stepped out into the evening. The air was bright, but not cold, and the light from a magnificent sunset over the harbour filled the square.

“It’s nice to walk around as a couple,” said Tav, offering her tiefling an elbow.

“It’s even nicer to stay in our room as one,” he replied slyly, linking on to her.

“Later, wizard. I need to feed you all first. Come on,”

“After you, my love.”

Tav beamed. “Yeah, I like this very much”

Chapter 23: Freedom of the Winds

Chapter Text

By the time they returned to the shop, arms laden with goods, Tav’s travel chest had turned up and was secured to the outer door with a rather sweet note from Alan. He wished her well, informed her that there was a silver tankard with her name on it behind the bar, and said that he would always be proud to have housed the great heroes of Baldur’s Gate. It was enough to make her a little emotional, and Rolan hugged her to his side as she read it aloud to him. He offered to make the trunk lighter with magic, but Tav knew that it was so sparsely filled that they would be able to carry it easily, and she was right.

Dinner was fresh fish, grilled with roasted vegetables of every colour and variety that the two of them had been able to find in the market. Everyone complimented Tav on her skills, and she laughed because it hadn’t really taken much effort at all. Even Shovel had helped a little, using her sharp claws to descale the fish and slice their bellies.

Cal offered to tidy the kitchen, and so Rolan led Tav back to Larroakan’s suite with a twinkle in his eye.

“I take it this is our bedroom now?” said Tav, noticing that the bed had been made and that her chest was placed neatly at the foot of the bed. Rolan had been busy while she was cooking.

“I hate it too,” laughed Rolan. He had clearly picked up on her slightly repulsed tone as she looked around. “But look at the doors… the bathroom… the bed… the room I’ve been using is positively pokey compared to this.”

He came over to where she stood and wrapped his warm arms around her from behind. He smelled powerfully of what she now identified as his own weavescent. She rubbed his arms where they lay on her belly and tilted her head back onto his shoulder so that he could place kisses in the hollow behind her ear. The way he handled her was so gentle, it was almost reverent. Had she ever known such care? Certainly not as an adult; not even by her own hand.

They rocked gently on the spot together for a while, lost in their own thoughts but enjoying the feel of one another.

“I was thinking that we could redecorate,” he said softly, his breath warm against her skin. “Get rid of all of this terrible furniture and make it truly our own. What do you think?”

She hummed an assent but her mind was elsewhere.

“Rolan, what does my magic smell like?

He stopped his ministrations and she felt him consider her question.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever thought about it,” he admitted. “I didn’t even know that was a thing… although I do seem to recall reading something on the subject, now that you mention it.” He ran his fingers down her hair as he spoke. “Why? What does mine smell like? Don’t say something ghastly like sulphur or ammonia: my ego can’t take it.”

She laughed and turned so that she was facing him. “Nothing so dramatic. You smell like vetiver and dewberries.”

He frowned, but there was a smile at the edge of his lips. “That’s… incredibly specific. How good is your sense of smell?”

“Excellent, when I need it to be,” she said, and ran a finger down his long nose. “I was taught to focus in on scents when tracking. I have to concentrate, but it does work. For some reason, though, I seem to be able to smell individual weavescents.”

“Is that what you call them?”

“Yes. And yours is particularly lovely, of course.”

“Of course; I am not some common or garden mage who smells like… potatoes or something.”

That made her laugh. “Potatoes?”

“Yes. I am quite sure that vetiver and dewberries is a scent produced only by the finest of weave user. Now cast something and let me see if I can deduce your - weavescent, was it?”

“Yes. Okay.” And then she paused. “Gods, what if I smell like potatoes?”

Rolan raised an eyebrow. “It might be an improvement – don’t think that I haven’t noticed that you’ve not changed since yesterday.”

“Well someone distracted me!” she pouted, and wriggled out of his arms; turning her thoughts to a spell.

“It’ll have to be something quite big, I suppose.”

Rolan wagged a long finger. “No elementals in the boudoir, dear.”

Tav rolled her eyes and then had an idea. She looked up at the rafters above her. “How high would you say the ceiling is in here?”

“Why?”

“Come on, genius: how high?”

“About sixteen feet. But I ask again: why?”

“You’ll see,” she said. She shook out her hands and feet and bent her neck to each side.

“Tav?” He seemed concerned.

“Do you trust me?”

“I – yes. Of course I do.”

“Then shut up and pass me my pack. It’s over by the door.”

He did as she asked while she worked the joints of her body. It had been so long since she had used such a big spell that she wanted to make sure she was ready. When he passed her the pack, she reached down to the bottom and found the space where her ring had once nestled. The only thing left in there now was a neat square of thick cloth, frayed a little at the edges. She pulled it out, folded it into a triangle, and wove it between the fingers of her right hand. Rolan was fascinated – she could see it in the way he stared at her every movement, and she caught herself feeling proud: she could finally demonstrate her expertise to him as his partner, rather than as just another adventurer on the road.

She held up her wrapped hand. “This is sailcloth. From the boat that brought Cal and Lia back to you from Moonrise Tower, as it happens. I kept it because it I do enjoy the little spell I’m going to show you. I don’t use it often, but… well – you’ll see.” She stepped forward so that they were chest to chest and put her arms around him under his own. “You’ll want to hang on. And here, put your feet on mine.”

“I don’t want to put my weight on your feet…”

“It’s fine, honestly. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

He cautiously did as she asked, taking care not to crush her toes. “How many times have you done this?” he asked. She could tell that he was trying to be casual. It wasn’t working.

“Loads,” she replied, adjusting her posture and making practice gestures with her hands. “Never with someone else, though.”

He nodded and then seemed to hear the last part too late. “Sorry, what?”

“What?” She feigned ignorance.

“You said –“

“Too late: liberum ventus!” She slammed her fists together behind his back and then threw her fingers open. Immediately, a great wind flowed through her palms and whipped around their bodies, growing in intensity with each passing moment until it roared in their ears and their hair and clothing was whipping in its path. Rolan closed his eyes against the onslaught and she took a moment to do the same and stabilise the movement of the air; feeling the cool caress of weave enter her somewhere around the base of her skull and press on through her veins to find its way out and join the cyclone around them. Once she was happy that everything was as she expected, she took a breath and allowed the flow to double and then double again. The column surrounding them tightened and the air tingled with magic against their skin, until she reached the intensity she wanted and opened her eyes.

They began to rise. Slowly at first, but then a little faster as she found her pace within the maelstrom. Rolan looked around as best he could and marvelled. That expression was wonderous to her – the idea that she had magic that could impress him felt divine. She took care not to lose concentration, however – the spell could feasibly take them sixty feet into the air, and she didn’t want to lose control and slam them into the ceiling. That might take the fun out of it a little.

“Tav, this is…” she could just about make out Rolan’s words above the roar of the wind and she responded simply by kissing him ardently. He responded without hesitation, seemingly unconcerned that they were suspended in the air. He moved his hands from her shoulders to her neck as they kissed and the feeling of being essentially weightless in his arms made her dizzy with pleasure. At first, she worried again that she might lose concentration and then send them crashing to the floor, but the feel of him and their bodies against one another sent her into an almost trance-like state and before long she was utterly rapt and yet the current continued to swirl around them, on and on, holding them like a third lover.

Finally, after gods knew how long, Tav felt the first signs that the flow of weave had begun to diminish and she reluctantly came back to the present. Rolan was smiling beatifically, and she embraced him as she let the spell run its course and gently brought them back down to reality.

The last gusts were stroking their faces as her feet touched the floor and suddenly, he was a weight in her arms and on her feet and everything felt a little too substantial. She shuffled her boots from under his but neither of them moved to unclasp the other, until Rolan moved his lips to her ear.

“Moss, and pine resin and wildflowers,” he whispered. “It’s intoxicating Tav… I never would have believed it… my beautiful, formidable girl… you will amaze me forever.”

She breathed in deeply, and she could smell it too – the forests of her childhood, just as she had always detected before. But now he knew what she experienced, and he also sensed wildflowers, which she had never picked up on, but there they were: their scent hanging delicately in the air.

They were something new.

They were contentment, and love and joy.

“Let’s have a bath,” she said.

He kissed her forehead, and her cheek and her lips. “What a wonderful idea,” he agreed.

Chapter 24: Something New

Chapter Text

Tav carefully folded the sailcloth and replaced it in her pack while Rolan buzzed around: turning on the bath taps, fetching a pair of giant towels and asking constant questions about the spell. Tav answered as best she could, although some of the things he was asking her were well beyond her sphere of knowledge. Eventually, she shook her head affectionately and grabbed his lapel as he went past.

“I really don’t know anything about arcane renunciation, Rolan… I learned my spells from other rangers, not books.” She swayed from side to side, tugging at his robes, until he relented and put his arms around her. “But if you want me to blow your mind, how about I tell you that I can use that spell to teleport if necessary?”

He had the decency to look even more impressed. “Well now I just feel ridiculous for suggesting that you were only capable of transmutation and conjuration,” he said with a fascinated expression. His hands were on her hips, and he found her rhythm, moving softly with her.

Tav pressed herself even closer and gave him a mischievous grin. “You underestimate a ranger at your peril, wizard. We have hidden depths.”

“Hm, I believe I’ve heard less-refined people refer to them as bow monkeys. Not me of course.” He tucked a curl behind her ear, and gently touched his thumb to her bottom lip. His pointed nail navigated its swell and he traced its path with burning irises.

“Oh no, of course not.” she whispered. “You wouldn’t be so… foolish, would you?”

“Foolish?”

“Positively idiotic, I reckon.” She leant right in to speak directly into the shell of his ear. “Anyone who would be so unkind to a ranger would certainly never be invited to lie with one…”

He made a low noise at those words and rubbed the side of her head with his horn. She responded by standing on her tiptoes and planting a delicate kiss where it met the skin of his forehead.

“I love your horns,” she purred.

“You’ve changed the subject.”

“You distracted me.” She raised her hand and made an experimental tug. He moved his head with her and whimpered a little. That got her thinking. “Hm. Interesting.”

He chuckled. “What’s on your devious mind? Deliberating on a particular possibility?”

“I am.” She inspected him and grabbed the other horn so that she had hold of both, moving his head gently back and forth. “Hm. Yes, I think I could ride you into battle. How do you feel about piggybacks?”

He dug a knuckle into her side, and she squealed. “You think you’re funny, do you?” No one had ever made her squeal like that – she sounded like a child. This man was going to be the death of her, she was sure.

She wrapped herself with him in a giggling huddle, and they remained that way until the sound of water splashing on to the marble floor of the bathroom suddenly broke the spell.

“Oops!” he cried, and the sound of it was so completely un-Rolan, that it caught her by surprise and made her snort a laugh.

He ran into the suite and she heard a curse, followed by a quick spell. When she appeared at the door, there was no sign of any spillage and he was looking delightfully pleased with himself, despite his wet boots. So he hadn’t managed to get everything, then.

Not that it mattered: within a few minutes, they were naked, and he was helping her climb the steps and slide from the broad golden ledge into the capacious bath. In fact, it would be technically more correct to call it a pool – it was probably capable of comfortably holding three people, although she tried not to dwell on that. She wondered if anyone had ever been desperate enough to spend this sort of time with Lorroakan and decided that it was reasonable to assume that some of the less choosy whor*s in Rivington might have reduced themselves to it.

She lowered herself in; her breath catching a little as the heat enveloped her. Once she was settled up to her clavicle, Rolan followed her and sank down so that he sat between her legs with his back against her chest. He hummed contentedly and she imagined that he had his eyes closed in contentment.

“I should have brought wine. I’m a poor host.”

Tav co*cked her head. “Host? I thought I lived here now.”

Even though she couldn’t see his face, she felt his interest pique. “Is that confirmation then? You’ll live here with us – with me?”

“It is. For now, I suppose.” She scooped a little water and let it run through her fingers on to his horns, but he refused to rise to her childish flirting.

“Good enough.”

She unknotted his hair and ran her fingers through it until the ends were floating in the water around her breasts. Once she was satisfied with that, she couldn’t resist tracing his ears and he stirred at her touch. The room had steamed up and the thick air was perfumed and silent. Every so often one of them would sigh in contentment.

“Who would have thought that we’d end up here?” she said dreamily. “It feels like a lifetime ago since I met you.”

“It feels like a lifetime ago since I kissed you. It feels like you’ve always been here. And yet everything we do is new. I never would have thought that I’d ever be sharing a bath with a woman, let alone the one I had been daydreaming about for months.”

She felt suddenly sad to hear him say that. “I can’t believe I didn’t come to see you sooner.” Her fingers explored his face as she spoke. “I wish you would have said something.”

He turned to face her, and she wrapped her leg around his thigh. He looked up at her and cupped his hand on her neck. “You’re here now, Tav. We’re together, and it’s… wonderful. I spent so long being wrapped up in myself that I never even dreamt about being happy. Gods, if it hadn’t been for the fact that Cal and Lia refused to let go of me, I would have just… drifted off somewhere, like a kite with no string. I see that now. I see how I am only here because of the people who never gave up on me… insufferable as I am.”

Tav kissed his forehead and stroked his hair. “Hush you,” she said. “There’s nothing insufferable about you these days. And whoever you were in the past was surely a product of the circ*mstances you found yourself in. You must be kinder on yourself, my love.”

He sighed. “If I am able to do that, it’ll be by following your lead.”

“I think we could both do with learning to see ourselves through one another’s eyes. Does that make sense?”

“It does. We can hold on to each other now. Be one another’s kite strings.” He took her hand – the hand which wore his ring – and kissed its palm, looking into her eyes with his intense gaze. The rings in his own eyes; yellow, fading to ember orange, flickered with the depth of his sentiment. And then he was on her: his lips clashing with hers, and water splashing from the sides of the tub with his movements, and their arms were around one another, exploring the new sensations of being together, submerged in hot water.

His skin felt even softer and hotter under her grip and the undulations of the ridged skin across his ribs enticed her hand lower and on to his chevroned hips. Each new terrain of his body guided her hand down; down to the parts of him which craved her touch. As her lascivious fingers reached his hardness, she skirted around it, eliciting a frustrated huff from him.

“Sit on the ledge for me,” she whispered. He looked up from where he was lavishing her neck with attention with a quizzical look. She pecked a kiss on his lips and told him to trust her.

He rose from the water and the rivulets of water which wended down his skin and the steam rising from it put her in mind of a water god – a creature made of the boiling seas of the Hells and given perfect form. He placed himself as instructed, and watched with wide eyes as she moved to kneel between his knees and smiled wickedly up at him. His tail wrapped her waist.

He must have suspected what was coming, because he softly moaned before she could even raise a hand to him. The sound was a delicious appetiser, and she squeezed her thighs together in anticipation, placing her hands on his thighs and dipping to place a tiny kiss on the head of his co*ck.

His hands went to her hair, and she allowed him to gather it up to ensure he had an uninterrupted view of what she was about to do. Once he had done that, she softly held him at his base and pushed him upwards so that she could begin.

She started by placing hot butterfly kisses across his scrotum, chasing them with kitten licks and gentle, teasing tugs with her teeth. His reaction was even better than she had hoped for, and she noted it for future reference – buzzing with pleasure because she was his first: the first to pull these whispered ‘oh’s and ‘ah’s from him. The first to make him moan her name as she showed him how it felt to be adored with her mouth.

Her ministrations picked up with the intensity of his articulations, and she cupped him with her free hand, moving her attentions to his co*ck: licking him from root to tip and plying him there with a swirling movement which brought forth a soft ‘f*ck’ from him. As she worked, she gripped him and found a rhythm with her hands to compliment the movement of her tongue.

She licked around his opening and down to where his foreskin was pulled back, noting the places where his breath hitched or his hands tightened in her hair. She had never once given head like this before. Each of her past experiences suddenly felt transactional and empty – a way to move a tryst on and get to the part where she might feel something herself. She had certainly never paid attention to the effects of her movements with the aim of learning every possible way to please the other party. One and done, move on, who cares, had always been her mantras.

But not now. This felt much the same as her training: her body was still her tool, now designed to delicately work on him, inflicting pleasure, and joy, where her blades and arrows inflicted pain and death. She had spent decades perfecting the finest methods of destroying a life, but with Rolan, she felt her warrior’s mind redirect its skill to the art of pleasure – her muscle memory flexing to recall how hard, how tight, how fast she should move; her intuition moving her tongue and her hands to new places. It was familiar, the way she was learning him. Did he feel something similar, when his clever fingers were playing over her nipples or her cl*t? Was he recalling the somatic components of complex magics as he found the places within her which made her gasp his name? Who knew that two people who had spent their lives focused on their crafts to the exclusion of all other things would be so suited to perfecting the act of love when they finally found one another?

She wet her lips with her tongue until they were slick with spit and placed them over his opening. She licked a little at the saltiness there, and then pushed him into her mouth. She made sure to take him slowly, drawing a growl from him as she did so, until he hit the back of her throat, and for the sake of her own comfort she stilled. She looked up at him as best she could and was rewarded with an expression of pure, unfettered lust.

“f*cking hells, Tav,” he moaned. “f*cking hells…”

That was her cue to move and she did, trailing her tongue along his ridges as she lifted her head. She kept her lips tight around him and worked him from below with her hands. When she reached the top, she circled his head again, but wasted no time before she dipped back down and took him as far as she could. That made him positively purr, and she smiled around his length.

He wanted to see her - she could feel his desperation to commit the sight of her to memory, and he took one hand out of the rough ponytail he had made, to cradle the side of her face. She repositioned so that he was nestled into the pocket of her cheek, and his traced the bulge reverently with his long nails.

“You’re so good to me, my love. Look at you; you treat me like a noble. All pliant and willing. You make me feel so powerful.”

She pulled back and released his co*ck with a sinful pop.

“You will be the Archmage of Baldur’s Gate, Rolan: you are powerful. But you’re also mine… mine to worship. Mine forever.”

He liked that, and his co*ck nudged her chin. She needed no further reminder, and she immediately took him again, sucking up and down his length in earnest and finally allowing herself to take him beyond the threshold of her comfort and into her throat. She gagged a little, and adjusted her breathing, but she had never met a man who did not love the theatrics of a woman choking on him at least a little bit, so she tolerated it, knowing that in time he would similarly come to pleasure her without prioritising his own sensations.

It did not take long for Rolan’s breaths to become shorter and when she stopped momentarily to spit down his length and onto her hands, he gasped. His utterances were increasingly non-linear: “Tav… my girl… doing so well…” and she took a moment to work him hard with her hand so that she could watch his face twist in beautiful concentration. The sight of it filled her with pure need.

“I love you,” she said earnestly, “I would burn the world for you, Rolan. You deserve everything you have and more… You’re going to be the greatest mage who ever lived and I am going to f*ck you every night: I’m going to let you bend me over your desk when you’re stuck on a problem and take out every frustration on me…”

He gasped and the hand in her hair pulled her back so that she looked up at him, and he stared at her ferociously.

“Don’t stop. Gods, Tav: keep going. I’m so close.”

She leant in so that she was rubbing him hard between her breasts and the sight of it clearly pushed him even further. She finally couldn’t resist her own needs, and she plunged her free hand into the water to find her cl*t – moaning hard when her fingers met those greedy nerves.

“I’ve never felt so good, Rolan,” she moaned. “What are you doing to me? I can’t concentrate; all I can think about is the way you look when you fill my c*nt. No one has ever made me scream their name… no one has ever, oh gods… no one, has ever made… has… oh gods…”

She felt her org*sm hit her like a battle hammer in the gut and before she could hold it back, it consumed her. Somehow, she managed to keep pace with her other hand, and when she was able, she opened her eyes and watched Rolan witness the aftershocks of her climax run across her face. He held her chin now, and his eyes flicked wildly between her ecstatic expression and her hands on him.

“Almost…” he panted, nonsensically. “You look… so beautiful… all mine…”

She no longer needed her other hand so she took his balls and gave them a squeeze, then bent again and extended her tongue so that the tip of him rubbed against it with every stroke. This was the final straw, and he clutched the edge of the bath, crying out her name and releasing her hair. She felt the tightening in his balls, and plunged him fully into her mouth, just in time to receive the hot strings of come which flew from him and met her eager tongue: another new experience for her. He was the first man she had allowed to do this - the thought of it had always repulsed her. But not him: in fact, she was surprised by how much she wanted to taste him, and she found herself licking him clean in her mouth – chasing every last drop, and despite the fact that it burned at the back of her mouth and begged to be swallowed, she found herself instinctively pulling off him and raising her open mouth to him to show him what he had done to her, almost proudly.

He loved it. She could see it in his expression – surprised at first, but then unashamedly and brutally turned on by the sight of it, even as he came down from his high.

She laughed, and swallowed, and he panted, smiling and trying to compose himself. He tipped his head back and blew hair out of his face. His fingers still gripped the ledge but his tail unwound from her and slipped into the water.

She moved back until she was on the opposite side of the tub and observed him closely; unsure if she had ever been happier in her life. He must have sensed her staring, because he met her gaze and sighed.

“Get in,” she said. “I think I deserve a cuddle.”

He did as she asked and switched places so that he was now behind her and she was nestled against him.

“You deserve more than a cuddle. You’ve just blown my mind.”

“I wasn’t blowing your mind, idiot,” she said cheekily, earning a soft nip on her upper arm.

“You are badly behaved, Tav.”

“Would you like me to behave in a more decorous fashion? Perhaps it would be better for me to be more lady-like, as the consort of the Archmage?”

He shuddered at the reference to her earlier words. “I think we’ve already covered how the consort of the Archmage should behave quite adequately, don’t you?”

“Ah, so you prefer the slu*ttier version. Duly noted.” She turned to look at him, checking the effect of her words.

He met her with lidded eyes. “In private, I suspect we will be many things to one another. So yes, sometimes I will be more than happy to – what was it? Bend you over the desk and take out my frustrations on you?”

She chuckled and nodded. “That was one suggestion, yes.”

“Hm. I certainly look forward to that.” He stroked her hair and twisted his fingers through the ends which floated in the water. “But I will also be looking forward to the other things we do. I look forward to reading on the balcony with you. I look forward to kissing every inch of your skin… I look forward to tasting you like you have just tasted me, and making you scream my name.” He planted a kiss on her head as if to seal his words, and Tav exhaled. She hadn’t even noticed that she was holding her breath as he was speaking.

“I know I told you that I love you,” she said quietly. “But it feels like I love you more today. Is that weird?”

“Ha, I feel exactly the same.” And then, “Shall I wash your hair? I feel as though I at least owe you that, darling.”

Tav slid down and hung her legs inelegantly over the side of the tub, splashing water across the floor. From where she now lay, she could dip her head beneath the surface of the water, allowing Rolan to gently massage her scalp.

She looked at him; upside down. “I can see up your nose.”

He shook his head. “You do love to shatter a magic moment, don’t you?” His words were muffled and distorted by the water. His nails on her scalp felt delicious and she closed her eyes.

“Let’s do this forever, Rolan.”

She felt him bend over her and then his lips met her forehead.

“Forever.”

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0E9LU1s9a3SMMPj1xKxUwN?si=5a54e35571b846c9

Chapter 25: Family Breakfast

Chapter Text

The ball room was entirely wrong. For starters, it was possibly the most beautiful room that Tav had ever seen, with a vast, high ceiling held up by delicate golden buttresses and punctuated by intricately made bosses where they criss-crossed. The walls were entirely mirrored, save for the odd panel which held great canvases featuring landscapes from around Faerûn and a selection of ceremonial weapons which looked far to fancy to be of any actual use in combat. The floor was polished marble, and mere minutes after they entered to look around, Tav and Cal were sliding around in their socks like children on ice. Rolan simply watched and pretended to look like he didn’t wish to join in, but Tav knew better. One day she would break down those ridiculous walls of his.

It felt good to behave in such a carefree manner – her childhood had ended somewhat abruptly, and with every passing year on the road she had lost a little more of the person she had once been, until all that remained was a facsimile. Yes, she had laughed along to the japes of bards and sang drunkenly in taverns with other warriors over the years, but there was a light inside of her which would douse itself for weeks at a time; ignite briefly, and then inexplicably snuff out again.

The tadpole had changed that. The tadpole had taught her that she wanted to live.

And now she was being dragged across an opulent ballroom by a tiefling boy and shrieking as he spun her too quickly around in circles, while her quasit ran beside them, cackling and trying to catch their heels in her claws.

“Cal! Run! She’s got my leg!”

“Shovel has Beefy now! NIBBLING will commence!”

“Not on my watch! You ready, Tav?!”

“Cal? What are you – aargh!” He threw her with an almighty effort in a slingshot motion and she spun the short distance over to Rolan, who caught her in his arms with a resigned laugh.

“Having fun?” he drawled.

She pushed her hair out of her eyes and shook Shovel from her leg.

“I’m sorry,” she said, breathlessly. “I know we’re meant to be looking the place over. So yes, I think you’re right: having people in the tower is a risk, and I don’t think I could bear to fill this room with training equipment anyway. It’s too nice… and fun.”

“Well I’m not sure what use it is to us in any form,” he said, wandering over to a plinth with a rather gaudy urn sat upon it. “It’s not like we’ll be holding any balls.” He tapped the urn with a fingernail and it rang a high, clear note.

“That sounds expensive,” noted Tav as she pulled her boots back on. “You should sell some of the junk in this place and give the money to the rebuilding efforts.”

Rolan nodded. “Good idea. Most of it is truly bloody hideous, isn’t it? I’ll see if there’s anyone that can recommend me a trustworthy broker.”

Cal sauntered over and slipped on his shoes. “Can you imagine mum seeing you now? You’re all: ‘I shall find a trustworthy broker to sell my many hideous treasures…’” He laughed, and put an arm around his adopted brother’s shoulders. “Remember when we used to fight over who got the middle of the bed? We weren’t poor, Tav – well, not until we lost everything in Avernus – but mum and dad only had one bed for me and Lia, so when Rolan here arrived on our doorstep we had to bunk up and let him in. Lia used to make us sleep on the floor if we stole the covers.”

Rolan looked at the floor as he listened, but there was a smile on his lips, albeit a melancholy one.

“You know, these things are yours too, Cal,” he said. “We live here together. As a family. I wouldn’t care about any of it without you and Lia. And Tav, of c.”

He held out a hand to her and she took it, planting a kiss on his freckled cheek.

“And what about SHOVEL?” The quasit’s insistent voice came from below. She was looking most aggrieved – or at least, that’s what Tav assumed. It was always tricky to tell based on facial expression alone, seeing as she almost constantly resembled an outraged haddock.

“Keep killing the vermin, Shovel,” said Rolan, “and you will always be welcome.”

“Ugh,” she huffed, padding off towards the door. “Always work for Shovel to do. Never invited to stay just because.”

Tav gave Rolan a look and he irritably mouthed the word fine back at her. “Shovel, you are also part of this family. And will always have a place with us.”

The fiend stopped and looked back. “…Hmph.” she paused, as if processing the sudden change in Rolan’s tone. “Shovel would be bored anywhere else. So Mister Cal, Lady, Mister Spellsh*te and Beefy will do.” She made a point to bow grandly as she gave Rolan his agreed title, and then she resumed her path to the door.

Tav shook her head. “I should have kept the Owlbear.”

Rolan agreed.

******

Lia was waiting in the kitchen as they came in for breakfast.

“What’s on the agenda for today, then?” she asked, filling the teapot with water from the kettle. She had half-sliced a large loaf of bread and laid out a selection of jams and honey.

Rolan took his seat (restored after Shovel’s cushions had been moved back to the chair between Cal and Lia) and picked up a slice of brown bread from the plate Lia had prepared.

“Tav wants to have a look at the vaults. I thought I could show her around and see if they would suit her… endeavour.”

“We’ll need to look for a largeish space and make sure it’s secure. If we find somewhere I could do with a hand thinking about what we need to go in there.” Tav looked at Cal and Lia. “Fancy it?”

“Er, yes!” said Lia emphatically. “I’ve been dying to get my bow out again since the Brain fell. I can’t wait to watch you up close and train with you!”

Tav chuckled at that. “Well, you might be able to teach me a thing or two. I’ve never really taken to the shortbow so I’m open to suggestions.”

“Do you ever use a staff?” asked Cal. “I’ve never seen you with one but, I bet you can use one.”

“I can at a push. But it’s not my favourite.”

“Okay,” he said, and he sounded a little crestfallen.

“I can still teach you what I know,” she said quickly, sensing his disappointment. “And we can cover shortswords and daggers till the cows come home.”

“Sounds good!”

“Oh gods: Cal with a sword sounds like a recipe for disaster,” laughed Lia. “Ow! Don’t kick me just because it’s true!”

“We really need Halsin if we’re talking about quarterstaffs,” said Tav, changing the subject. “I’ve never seen anything like it – he once knocked a goblin’s head clean off his shoulders. Not a single second of hesitation, just whoosh. Amazing, really.”

“Goblin had a new hole after that,” said Shovel through a mouthful of jam and bread. “Big one.”

“Wow,” said Cal, the honey dripping from his bread where it had stalled halfway to his mouth.

“Impressive,” agreed Lia.

“Tav. Decapitation at the breakfast table? Really?” Rolan looked offended, but it simply made Tav laugh.

“I’m sorry, my love,” she said, “I hadn’t realised that you were so delicate. I seem to remember you blasting your old master with several magic missiles the last time I fought by your side, but I must have been mistaken. Silly me”

He poured himself a cup of tea and tried to look superior, but she could see the ghost of amusem*nt in his expression.

“I am not saying that I am above using my considerable skills in battle to protect those who are… dear to me. I will always step in when I am needed.”

“And I am so very grateful, oh great battlemage,” she teased. “Please could you pour a cup for me as well? I fear I am too unskilled and puny to lift the teapot…” She held up her arms weakly and pulled a sad face. Cal, Lia and Shovel all laughed and even Rolan simply shook his head as he fulfilled her request.

“As I was saying last night – you are badly behaved.” His words were laden with meaning, which she caught immediately. The memory of him gently pinching her arm as she lay against him in the bath sent a little shiver through her.

Lia must have picked up on their exchange of looks because she wrinkled her nose and told them to cut it out. “I’d rather be talking about headless goblins than have to witness you make that face at the breakfast table, brother.”

“Yeah,” agreed Cal, “we love you, Tav, but you can’t live here if he’s going to be pulling those faces at you.”

Rolan was undeterred. “One day both of you might be sitting here feeling like the luckiest tieflings alive. And then we will see who’s ‘making a face’ won’t we?”

“The luckiest tiefling alive?” said Lia with disdain. “It’s hardly a high bar. We must be the unluckiest race in the world.”

“You take my point,” said Rolan. “Hopefully you two will eventually find someone as wonderful as my Tav, and you can invite them to stay over… and we can have breakfast…” he paused and looked suddenly disconcerted. “No, you’re right, I would hate it too. The thought of Cal simpering over someone while I’m eating my porridge…” He shuddered. “No.”

“Oi,” said Cal. “so we don’t get to bring people here because you have double standards? Classic Rolan, that.”

“It’s my tower,” he shrugged, knowing exactly how his brother would react.

“You weren’t saying that ten minutes ago! You were ready to let me auction off the silverware because we’re family and we all own everything together…”

“Oh really?” said Lia, “and where was I in this equation? In the kitchen making your breakfasts like a good obedient sister?”

“It wasn’t like that, Lia – oh, tell her Cal – I meant you both. Obviously.”

“I don’t know… and you were pretty unsure about Shovel being here as well.”

Shovel looked up from the jammy crust in her claws. “True! Shovel is only good for catching rats to Spellsh*te!”

“Now that’s just patently untrue - hey, what happened to my Mister?”

“Shovel forgot.”

“Conveniently! Tav, do you hear what I have to put up with?”

Tav was too busy laughing to reply immediately, but after a moment she leant in for a sip of tea and shook her head. “You’re all ridiculous. It’s wonderful.”

The siblings huffed but she saw that their bickering was entirely good-natured. She suspected that they had done enough real arguing in The Grove to last them for the rest of their lives. They fell into a companionable silence as they finished their breakfasts.

After a few minutes, Cal had finished and began to tidy around the table. Lia wiped her mouth with a napkin and sat back in her chair.

“Do you think Tolna will be okay on her own with the projection and the ghoul today? I’m shattered. I’ve done two weeks straight down there and I need a day of doing nothing.”

“She can let us know if there’s a problem,” said Rolan. “In some ways, letting Tav loose on the place has meant far more work, actually.”

“Oh, sorry,” she said. “Hopefully if there’s a suitable space in the vaults I can keep out of the way.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he replied, “I just mean that people got a bit more excited about it than I expected. Perhaps the idea of private lessons might make things more manageable after all. Plus,” he continued, gesturing to Shovel, who was draining a dainty porcelain cup a loud slurp, “if we’re keeping Shovel out of the way, she could use the company while you set everything up.”

“I’m quite excited,” said Tav. “It’s been ages since I got to fight anything: even a training dummy.”

“Well just be careful. I’m still bothered about you getting hit by that random spell yesterday. If you’re training amateurs anything could happen.”

“Tav can take care of herself,” said Cal, “can’t you?”

She thought back over the years and recalled all the times that she had patently failed to do so – most of which were in the period between her abduction and the final battle against the Netherbrain. As far as mortal peril went, she had seen her fair share. It would be painfully ironic for her to die in some ludicrous accident involving a one-armed gnome and an incorrectly loaded crossbow after everything she had been through.

“Oh, I’ve died four – no, five times. It’ll be like falling off a log.”

The three tieflings all looked at her like she was insane, but it was Lia who spoke.

“Sorry, you say you’ve died five times? What, like you were knocked out? Unconscious?”

Tav laughed. “No, I mean I died. Did you not meet Withers at our camp when you came by after the goblin camp? Actually, that day was the second time he brought me back, funnily enough. The Drow Paladin who was commanding the lot of them got me. She was quite the opponent. Big mace and everything. Gale’s witch bolt did for her in the end…” She fidgeted with the hem of her tunic as she spoke; lost in memories which she hadn’t spoken aloud before. It was easier to talk about them than she would have expected – the idea of so many deaths and resurrections was almost comical, when she thought about it. Cal and Lia were rapt, and she continued, seeing their interest. “The first time was nonsense, to be honest. The parasites did something to all of our strength so we were all weak in those early days. Gale could only cast basic spells, Astarion kept knocking things over, and Shadowheart was barely able to heal a bruised knee. My aim had gone to sh*t and I couldn’t summon a thing. It was like being five years old in your parent’s clothes. We were just on the way to the Grove after finding Withers and I got killed by an Intellect Devourer, of all the bloody things. Can you imagine? A tiny brain with legs! I was mortified. Astarion never let me hear the end of it.” She smiled at the memory. He really had teased her about it endlessly. She raised a hand foppishly and pretended to flick her hair back, adopting an exaggerated version of the vampire’s speech patterns. “Oh daaaarling, how typical of a ranger to be outsmarted by something with only half a brain…”

Cal clapped a hand on his thigh in approval, and Lia chuckled. Tav looked over to Rolan but the expression on his face immediately wiped the smile off hers. He was looking at her in what she could only describe as horrified disbelief. His mouth hung open but his top lip was curled, and his eyes were wide.

“How can you laugh about it?” he said in a perturbed voice.

“I don’t know,” said Tav. “Perhaps because it’s sort of funny? I don’t know. We just had to make jokes so that we didn’t constantly feel like the world was ending.”

He didn’t seem to understand, and his natural inclination in such circ*mstances was to probe for meaning until he had either exhausted himself, or his options. She had seen it time and time again: he fixated on things to the point of driving everyone mad – his apprenticeship, his inability to save Cal and Lia in the Shadow-Cured lands… the bloody potions she had taken before the battle. She knew he wasn’t going to see things from her point of view without a fight.

He leant forward and avoided her gaze. “I don’t like the idea of you being so blasé about death. It worries me that you think you’re invincible.”

“You know what? You’re right.” He was worried. She was better to acknowledge that than to fight it.

“I’m what?”

“You’re right! Or at least you were. I’ll admit, it took a few weeks us to remember that we no longer had Withers around to resurrect us. And save for Gale, who does still have quite a magnificently complicated but foolproof way to bring himself back if required, we are none of us immortal any longer.” She took his hand and squeezed it a little, until he looked at her. “I promise that I’m not taking any risks. I’m not the person I was before the tadpole, I’m not the person I was with the tadpole: hells, I’m not even the person I was a month ago. I’m very keen to stay alive.”

Rolan considered her for a moment and then nodded without speaking. He got the message. She could see.

“Well, I’m definitely up for hearing about the other three deaths at some point,” said Cal.

“It’s a date,” she smiled. “And while we’re at it, I can tell you about the time Shovel killed Astarion. That’s a good one.”

“What? Really?”

Shovel shrugged and made a wheezing sound which passed for a laugh. “Stupid vampire believed Shovel - but balsam is not for rashes! HA! Fireballs all over!”

“We had a little trouble convincing Shovel that we were trustworthy when we first met,” explained Tav.

“Roasted vampire smelled very good! Shovel is still hungry!”

Rolan stood and smoothed his robes. “I think that’s our cue to get going, don’t you? Time to visit the vaults. Plenty of mice to catch down there, Shovel.”

Cal also made a move. “Let’s do it.”

Tav thought for a moment before she joined them at the door. “Cal, would it be okay if you stayed up here with Shovel and Lia? Perhaps take Shovel up to the greenhouse to catch mice? I’d like a word with your brother.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “I suppose I should finish that drain from yesterday. But promise you won’t make any plans without me, okay?”

“I promise,” she said.

Lia started collecting the plates from the table, but then stopped. “Actually, Cal, I’ll take Shovel up there and you can do the washing up for a change. It’s been bloody ages.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“And you two,” said pointedly, aiming an accusing finger at Tav and Rolan, “don’t be gross in the vaults.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” said Tav.

“Well, I might,” said Rolan, causing Tav to snap her attention to him in shock.

“It’s my tower,” was all he said with a shrug, and he set off through the doorway.

*****

“What was all that about?” asked Tav, feeling thoroughly entertained, and, if she were honest, a little turned on. They were heading down the spiral staircase which led to their bedroom and she wondered if he was about to make a detour to ravish her before they headed to the vaults. She wouldn’t object.

He grabbed her hand and conjured a portal at the bottom of the stairs. She felt a pang of disappointment, but he stopped short of its swirl and pulled her into a deep and urgent kiss. His hands played across her back and she leant into him, enjoying the feel of his sharp teeth on her bottom lip and the heat of his skin where her hands lay on his neck. She ran her fingers up into his hair and curled a silky tress into her fist. He groaned and his tongue became more insistent in her mouth. Finally, he broke away from her, panting, and made a low sound in his throat.

“You’re planning how to be gross in the vaults, aren’t you?” she said, planting soft kisses on his lips between her words.

“I am not. There’s bugger all down there except cold hard floors, and if you don’t mind, I like to be comfortable. Plus, there are an awful lot of traps. One false move in the heat of the moment and we’ll be looking for an extremely discrete healer.”

Tav giggled. She loved that Rolan – the same awful snob who she had disliked at first sight all those months ago – was able to make her actually giggle. Had he always been funny? Or was this something that he had discovered since he had become safe and comfortable? Either way, she laughed often and easily with him, and it was as addictive as the other, more physical, pleasures he afforded her.

“Your siblings are going have their revenge one day, you know,” she said. “Perhaps there will be a string of lovers – a different one every day of the week. You’ll be the one telling them off.”

“I’m sure of it. I’ve already heard that Cal has his eye on one of our regular customers. But the rule stands: no strangers in the tower. They can go elsewhere.”

“Am I not a stranger?”

“Don’t be preposterous.”

“You really don’t know a lot about me.” And then she remembered why she had wanted to speak to him alone. “I’m sorry if I upset you before: when I was talking about dying, I mean. There’s a lot of things that happened to us that… well, they probably don’t make a lot of sense to most people. I forget that sometimes, not having anyone else to talk to about it all.”

“You can tell me anything, Tav. I’ll probably looked shocked for a bit, but I’ll get over it.” He tousled a curl which had fallen out of her ponytail. “I hope I’ve proved that already.”

Tav recalled his face after she had told him about the refugees in the farmhouse. How he had managed to be both distraught and sympathetic all at once. The way he had kissed her, despite her sharing her darkest secret with him. And that was done now, wasn’t it? After that, there was nothing left that could compare. No other true horrors: just a catalogue of bad people she had killed for other bad people. Okay, it wasn’t ideal, but it was no worse than many others trying to survive on the road.

She decided to test the water. “Astarion dared me to pickpocket Arron when we first met him at the Grove.”

Rolan raised an eyebrow. Then sniffed. “Good. He wasn’t particularly fond of us. Did you get anything of worth?”

“A ring. Useless. Astarion wasn’t impressed.”

“I can imagine. It’s not exactly scandalous, is it?”

“I kissed Shadowheart. For a dare. We were drunk.”

Rolan narrowed his eyes. “Hmm… no, I don’t think I’m bothered, actually. It sounds fairly innocent. You’ll have to do better than that.”

She considered this, and wondered how far she dare push it. Should she tell him that she had thought about Gale when they shared their moment in the Weave? That felt too close to home, even though it was nothing, really. A passing fancy.

She cleared her throat. “I had sex with the Drow twins in Sharess’ Caress.”

That got his attention. “What, both of them? How many times did you visit the place? Surely once is enough?”

“Oh, it was only the once,” she said lightly.

He seemed to make a mental calculation and his eyes widened when he realised what she was saying. “You do see how that’s worse, don’t you?!”

“Ah, fair point. Gale was pretty horrified by it too. He said that Halsin shouldn’t have encouraged me.”

“Gale was there?! Halsin!? Is there anything you didn’t share with these people?”

Tav knew he wasn’t outraged to the point of being angry with her, but his words hit a vast, clanging chord in her chest and she suddenly realised that he was right – they had shared everything. It was no wonder that she had spent the last six months becoming increasingly morose. The tadpoles had disappeared and they had all reverted back to a group of lonely individuals. Loners and misfits. Broken people who had been granted the blessing of genuine camaraderie for a few sacred, wonderful months.

And then it was gone. No wonder she had been depressed.

She looked into Rolan’s eyes and saw him gaze back at her. He looked worried.

“It’s okay, Tav,” he said. “I meant what I said. I’ll love you no matter what. You can’t tell me anything that will change that.”

“I know,” she said softly. And she saw everything she needed as she spoke. There might not be a tadpole, or a giant brain disguised as an all-powerful god to connect their minds, but there was still a force which flowed in and around them: fixing them in space and time as one unit. Their thoughts were their own, but only as long as they wished them to be – communicating their inner thoughts, desires, fears… it was as simple as opening their mouths and speaking their feelings while the other listened, motivated by nothing more than love. This was as new to them as the touches they shared, and as their bodies became more and more familiar, so too were their inner lives becoming intertwined.

Gods, love was a strange and complex beast.

She kissed him once more for good measure and nodded her head towards the portal.

“Shall we find a room where I can break stuff, and definitely not one where we can be gross?”

“Let’s. Before you decide to tell me about any other sexual misadventures.”

She stepped towards the portal, but rather than stepping straight through, she looked back at him over her shoulder. “What, you mean like letting Astarion feed on my neck every night?”

“Yes, exactly like – hang on, what the hells, Tav?! Are you serious? That’s a bit much!”

She stepped into the vortex with a laugh, enjoying the sounds of his surprise. He’d get over it… once she showed him how to take her against a wall… with very little discomfort.

Chapter 26: Marble Walls

Chapter Text

“It’s so perfect,” Tav gushed over lunch. They had all convened back in the kitchen because the shop was indeed a little quieter and there was no need for them to work. “I can’t wait to get started. I’m thinking about heading out to Rivington tomorrow to see Exxvikyap – I know she her stock is good and we’ll need the basics. I’m sure she’ll let me have it on tick, but I can trade my armour if necessary. I can always get something new once there’s money coming in.” She took a mouthful of soup and wondered if she could make the training dummies herself like Lae’zel had. She supposed it wouldn’t be too hard to scrounge up some sackcloth and wood. Her mind was on fire with possibilities, but as she reached over for one of the oatcakes that Rolan had put out for them, he put his hand calmly over hers.

“The dojo will be part of Sorcerous Sundries and any equipment is therefore a business expense,” he said firmly. “There’s no need for you to trade in your armour; don’t be ridiculous.”

Tav felt herself blush, and it caught her by surprise.

“What if it no one comes to train?” she asked.

Rolan gave her one of his exasperated looks. “Well then, we’ll have a room full of weapons. It’ll be like all the other rooms full of assorted paraphernalia around the place.”

He must have noted the expression on her face, then, because he gave her hand a squeeze. “We have more than enough to cover the expense. I know – it’s hard to imagine for us too. We’ve had six months to get used to the idea and all of us are still wearing our old boots.” He turned to direct his next statement to Cal and Lia, as well as Tav. “I was looking at the accounts last week and… well, we can all afford new boots.” He paused and then laughed softly. “Hells, we could probably afford gold boots. Several hundred pairs each.”

The other siblings remained notably silent but Tav understood their reluctance to spend money on themselves. She herself had lived hand to mouth for so long that she couldn’t work out how to feel about Rolan’s offer. There was something about being poor that made it almost impossible to work out what you could buy when you no longer had to worry about cost.

She took another sip of soup and sat back, making a decision. “Let’s all go out tomorrow to buy boots and weapons.”

“I like it!” beamed Cal. “I need some new underpants as well.”

“Oh lovely,” said Rolan, flatly.

“You want Sticky Dondo for that,” added Tav. “He had a load of questionably-procured underwear the last time I saw him.”

Lia poured herself some water from the carafe. “I’m definitely up for shopping tomorrow, but I am going to change the subject away from anything that might result in someone at this table using the words ‘Cal’, ‘sticky’ and ‘underpants’ in the same sentence. So Tav: tell us some more about the room in the vaults, please.”

“Oh, right. Well it’s just a really big room, really. Nice and secure.”

“Is that it? You were down there for hours.” Narrowed eyes bored into her. Rolan interjected, sensing that the conversation was about to move into dangerous territory.

“It’s better than the ballroom, and you can easily get down there with a second portal. We can seal the doors so that it’s the only way in or out and there’s no access to the rest of the vaults.”

Tav nodded along, then pulled a face. “Hang on, what happens if the portal malfunctions? Will we be left to die down here? I don’t want to have to eat anyone to survive.”

Her comments earned her an eye roll. “Quite apart from the ludicrous notion that one of my portals might actually fail, I would remind you that we have a way to make sure you can always reach me.” He held up his hand. The ring. “And I’m still working on the sending protocol I’ve set up with Cal and Lia. You will obviously be included, if you should so desire.”

“Yes please,” she smiled. “I like the idea of being in your head. Poking around in that big brain of yours.” She illustrated her intentions by waggling her fingers over his hair.

“Idiot,” he laughed.

*****

They spent the afternoon in Rolan’s study, Tav curled on the sofa with a book on alchemy, and Rolan at his desk writing replies to some of the letters he had received in the last week.

Shovel, who had by all accounts been less interested in the tower’s mice that afternoon, and keener to help Cal plant herbs, was sleeping on her back by Tav’s feet. Her great, upturned maw hung open and she was utterly undignified in her slumber – legs open and everything on show. Every so often, she would kick or scratch in her dreams and Tav would have to move her leg quickly or be caught by a very real claw.

Rain pattered against the stained-glass window, beating a gentle tattoo which complemented the pops and cracks from the fire and the soft scratchings of Rolan’s quill. As soon as word had got out that Lorroakan had finally overextended himself in the field of alchemical experimentation (a noble lie, which lasted approximately three weeks before Gale excitedly confided the truth to an old colleague in a letter), mages from across Faerûn were sending their best wishes to the new master of the tower. Clearly, a change in management had proven popular amongst those who had been unfortunate to have dealings with the previous incumbent. Rolan had initially been concerned that someone would object to the tower being passed on to a mere apprentice, but so far, no one had so much as hinted at such a possibility. Tav was learning that wizards loved rules above all else, and so Rolan was offered no end of advice and guidance from those he could now call his peers.

Rolan and Tav had met a couple of times in those days; there had been a ceremony for those directly involved in the Netherbrain’s defeat, and a ball a few days later. On both occasions they had first sought one another out, and then proceeded to discuss something or other animatedly until they found a small point to disagree on and as a result become irritated with each other’s company. At the ball it had been Rolan’s insistence that the use of necromancy was a dangerous path to darker pursuits, and Tav could still remember wanting to slap the wine from his hands as he rose the glass to his pompous face. He could be so… Elturian sometimes.

She had been in a mood anyway that night – she had been heartily encouraged by both Shadowheart and Gale to wear a ridiculously expensive gown, elaborately decorated with crystals and pearls. Her hair had been pulled straight, then re-curled into some sort of nonsense arrangement, and the shoes that Shadowheart had found for her were offensively painful. She had spent the first half of the evening complaining and as a result being told off for complaining, and then, as the wine began to take hold, she had felt surly, because no one, apart from her friends and a couple of older women, had told her she looked nice. This, in turn, annoyed her even more, because she was not used to craving attention, but the sheer effort that it had taken to turn herself from a simple hunter into a perfumed meringue-person was surely worth a little bit of praise, was it not?

Rolan had come up to her and laughed at her scowl, but he had at least told her that he liked her dress. Sure, he had then immediately dived into a diatribe about Tolna’s large collection of books on necromancy, and the spell was broken. But at least he had said that her dress looked nice.

“Rolan?”

“Yes love?” He didn’t look up from his letters, but he sounded a pleased at the distraction.

“When we met at the ball, did you think I looked nice?” She twirled a curl around her finger and tried to sound casual; as though she was simply thinking aloud as she read her book.

He sat up and after a second or two, spoke over his shoulder. “I did: you looked astonishing… but I thought you looked bloody miserable, too.”

She nodded and made a hmph sound.

He turned in his seat and looked at her. “I would have rather have seen you in something you felt comfortable in. I have always thought that you were beautiful, but seeing you uncomfortable or sad always felt… disheartening.”

“Is that why you used to always argue with me?” She chanced a look at him, that new feeling of insecurity appearing out of nowhere again.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said forlornly. “I think that was just me trying not to look too desperate in front of you. I suppose I was trying to stand up to you – convince you that I was your equal, or something. Ugh, saying it out loud makes me sound utterly unhinged. Thank the gods that Gale left those books so we could start again without my fatuous self-doubt getting in the way.”

Tav smiled. “I wonder if he knew what he was doing? He used to say that we should visit you, but we never seemed to have the time.”

“Well, you’re making up for it now, aren’t you?”

“I am, and I intend to continue to do so.”

Rolan turned back to his work. “Why do you ask, anyway? What made that thought pop into your mind?”

“I thought I looked nice,” she said, tasting the truth on her lips as she said it. “But I didn’t want to admit it to myself in case I was wrong.”

“You weren’t wrong. Anyone who had never met you would have thought that you were beautiful. But we knew you. And the people who love you know that you’re at your most ravishing when you’re pulling a bow in your armour or dancing at a camp party with a bottle of wine in your hand.” He dipped his quill in its ink pot. “You’re not someone who suits being painted as a portrait, Tav. You need to be seen in motion. The way you walk, the way you laugh, the way you pull your hair up onto your head when you’re talking… that’s when you shine.”

He spoke casually, almost as if he was chatting about a new spell or his favourite type of cheese. Tav was lost for words.

And then he raised his head, still facing away from her. “Of course, there’s also something to be said about the sight of you with your shirt half off, pushed against a marble wall and moaning my name…”

She snorted, and threw a cushion at his head. “Degenerate.”

“I know,” he said, and he pulled out a new sheet of paper, to start a new letter.

Chapter 27: The Dojo

Chapter Text

A tenday passed.

Cal made excellent progress in the greenhouse, assisted by Shovel, who was gradually coming around to the idea of cultivating life rather than fisting it. Lia and Tolna kept Sorcerous Sundries running with a combination of persuasive salesmanship and a repertoire of stern looks; their opposing personality types bizarrely complimenting one another and ensuring that they were able to deal with every possible request, demand or complaint which came their way. Business had resumed its usual steady yet comfortable pace, and on most days, they were able to let the others get on with their own projects, only calling for assistance when things got too out of hand or someone came in with a query which required Rolan’s expertise.

Rolan himself continued his studies, kept up his correspondences and made sure that the various collections housed in the tower were catalogued and cared for. When Tav was in the dojo, he would usually be found in the library or the lab, preferring to work in his study when she could join him. Tav knew he liked it best when she would work alongside him on the sofa, so she would make sure that she saved up any reading or planning that she intended to do and offer to spend an afternoon with him in companionable silence as they went about their work.

Not that it lasted particularly long: their enthusiasm for one another had not diminished as the days passed and they would still find themselves naked and panting in one another’s arms after a few hours of resolute, sensible working. As anyone who has found themselves embarking on a new sexual relationship will tell you, study is not always an activity confined to books. They continued to itemise the possibilities offered by their bodies in an almost scholarly fashion, although as the days passed their roles shifted between student and mentor. On one occasion, Rolan found a particularly instructive book of Zakharan poetry and they spent an entire evening perusing the richly detailed plates and then reproducing some of their favourites. The sound of Rolan’s voice as he read from the book while she worked his body with hers had taken her to new heights, and she was almost useless the next day, preferring to lose herself in tomes outlining the spell needed to see through Shovel’s eyes should she be kidnapped, rather than do anything which required either concentration or physical effort.

Rolan had doted on her all day, his ego full to the brim at the notion that he could bring her to such a state.

They woke early each morning and invariably made soft, sleepy love before they rose, their bodies flush and their fingers pressing pliant flesh in an almost worshipful manner. They would whisper their love to one another as their hips moved at a languorous pace – neither of them in any hurry leave the other’s embrace and go about their separate tasks. It was these mornings that Tav found herself thinking about most often; even though they were so unassuming and tender. There was something about the way their gazes connected as they f*cked and the fondness she saw written on his face that made her belly flip when she would recall it.

And then there were the stolen glances, the shared jokes, and the furtive touches in the shop or out at the market. Tav wondered how she had managed to live her entire life without feeling the sweet, addictive shocks of those moments. She felt herself opening: unfolding into something else under his influence, and she saw it in him, too. He was quicker to laugh, wittier, and his tendency towards sesquipedality was developing into something charming rather than ostentatious.

All of this could have been a huge distraction, but Tav was also unwavering in her desire to get the dojo to where it needed to be. Apart from the fact that it could be a valid business proposal, they were still mindful of the fact that there were unknown forces watching out for them and they needed to be ready to fight should it come to it. They had visited Rivington as planned, and Exxvikyap had been delighted to assist with a whole selection of specialist arrows at an extremely reasonable rate. If anything, Tav had felt that she was doing the dragonborn a favour by selecting her as a trusted supplier, although Tav also suspected that Exxvikyap was incapable of anything other than a sunny and well-disposed disposition.

After the arrows, they had returned to the city and visited two familiar faces: Gloomy Fentonson and Karlach’s old friend Fytz, who was keen for any news on that front from Tav. Even Gloomy seemed happy to offer his wares at a reduced rate, and Tav was torn between telling them not to be so bloody stupid and accepting the offer on the basis that she was technically spending Rolan’s money. In the end, he stepped in to accept the low price but offered to make sure that anyone who trained in the dojo would be informed where their fine equipment had come from. Everyone was happy with that.

Once the deliveries began to arrive, Rolan reanimated Krank, the chief animated armour who had been destroyed along with Lorroakan. He had kept the parts for future use and it seemed like a perfect idea to have him to assist with moving everything down to the vaults via a new portal on the mezzanine floor of the shop. Cal helped out too, and even Shovel, when she wasn’t off exploring the tower. Tav was sure to keep her out of the shop for too long, though; still concerned that she could be swiped in a moment. Well, she would need to be silenced first: it was unlikely that she would stay quiet for long otherwise.

Tav had spotted the moustachioed man twice more since her run in with him, but he had not ventured into the store again, preferring to loiter in the plaza outside. Rolan had made her promise not to pursue him again and when she had seen him, she had itched to go flying out of the doors, but held herself back. Strange as it was for her to pause before acting, let alone at the behest of another. Even in a week, her edges had softened and her actions were bordering on thoughtful. Another of love’s powerful effects that she had not anticipated. She wondered who she would be after a year of it. She tried not to imagine herself knitting by an open fire with a gormless expression on her face, instead preferring to imagine that she would sharpen back up once she recommenced training.

It took two full days to assemble the dojo once all of the equipment was unpacked and checked. Tav felt her muscles protesting after the fourth hour of mounting the polished metal plates she had bought to protect the wall behind her training dummies, and by the time she had loaded the ten foot by six foot weapons rack with every possible type of combat tool she could imagine, she was ready to drop. She had headed to bed as soon as she had finished her dinner, and when Rolan came up to check on her, he found her face down on top of the bedcovers, still fully dressed.

She woke up the next morning in his arms, having been carefully undressed and tucked in properly by her loving mage. The second day was less taxing: blocking the various training zones with stripes of white paint, arranging the training dummies, and laying the tightly woven reed mats that she had bought from a market merchant recommended by Fytz.

The final touch was to mount her armour on a wooden stand that stood by the portal and check her own weapons over. She had mixed feelings about seeing her armour again, having worn it through so many hardships and battles that she had lost count of them. Despite this, it was beautiful: made of tough yet supple leather and dyed a deep green which reminded her of Yew needles. It was relatively unadorned, but the reason that she had taken it without thought was because it was made specifically with an archer’s anatomy in mind. It included arm protection which sat only on the outside of the arms and fastened just above the elbow and at the wrists, so that she could pull her bow with no resistance while still feeling protected. There was also a thickened plate embossed with a sigil over the left breast and an elbow guard: both of which would ensure the bite of her string did not catch her. She had asked Gale about the sigil and he believed that it was the mark of an eldritch knight. Indeed, when she wore the armour in battle, she felt the powerful war magic left behind from its previous owner and it often gave her an additional reserve of strength beyond the point she would have ordinarily begin to tire.

Her weapons were simple. Her longbow was made of mulberry wood and had been given to her on her thirteenth birthday. Along with her mother’s jerkin, it was all that she had of her life before the road, and in many ways it was an extension of her body in the same way that her hands and feet were. She knew its every quirk and foible – how much further to bend it in the rain, and how the wood creaked in snow. It was the first thing she looked for when she found herself freed from the mindflayer’s pod, and had she not immediately located it, she might well have perished with the other poor souls on the nautiloid.

The only other weapons that she carried were her daggers. She had never been particularly sentimental about daggers, choosing to replace or upgrade them as required, but had kept the one Astarion had made from the bark of the sussur tree. He had given it to her following their defeat of Cazador, choosing to keep his old master’s blade Rhapsody as a grim reminder of his victory. His other dagger was a gaudy thing with a skull on the pommel that he was fond of – and which suited his theatrical demeanour.

She had spent the latter part of the afternoon cleaning each weapon reverently, crossed legged on the mat and enjoying the ritual. Her thoughts ebbed and flowed, and for the first time in months she allowed herself to recall the battle against the Netherbrain. By the time she had finished her task, she had come to a realisation. The battle was hard, yes: but the aftermath was what she had been carrying with her these past six months.

Each of the three items was placed into a special holder, and she took a final look around. It was better than she had hoped. There was everything they would need to get started: an archery range with three dummies; a set of wooden training swords; staffs of all lengths; shields; a hand combat mat; and a central square area for practicing summoning with perches hung from the high arched ceiling for flying practice. She had even got Cal to make a set of knee-high wooden stands which could be arranged in various configurations to create mazes for small starter summons such as crabs and frogs to navigate.

In time, the place would hopefully evolve, but for now, it was wonderful.

She raised her right hand to her lips and felt her breath, warm, on the finger which wore her ring.

“It’s ready,” she whispered. “Come down.”

He arrived within three minutes with Cal, Shovel and Lia in tow.

“Tav,” he gasped. “This is amazing.”

“Whoa,” echoed Lia, “Look at the size of this crossbow!” She ran her hands across the weapons in the rack, her face a picture of excitement. “I cannot wait to get started!”

“Same,” said Cal, who had seen more of the place than the others, but still wore a huge grin.

“Are you pleased?” Rolan asked Tav.

She nodded happily. “I love it. Thank you so much for letting me do this.”

“Thank you for suggesting it and actually doing it. Although I worry that you might spend all of your time down here and I will lose my reading partner.”

“I think I can make time for you,” she laughed, trying not to blush as she remembered their last ‘reading’ session. It had ended up with his face buried between her thighs on the floor in front of the fire. Another new skill to add to his rapidly advancing repertoire.

Shovel was pacing around with her head swinging side to side as she took it all in.

“Lots of toys for Shovel to play with, Beefy. Although Shovel is happy enough to use her fist on any sh*t piddling sh*tes.”

Tav knelt down to her level and beckoned over to Krank. He stepped forward holding a small parcel wrapped in thick paper and handed it to Tav.

“Shovel, I got something for you,” she said, holding out the package.

“Baby?” said the quasit, co*cking her head to one side.

Tav sighed. “Yes, Shovel, it’s a baby. A nice fresh one… don’t be ridiculous. Just open it.”

“Ha! Shovel made a joke, Beefy.” She took the gift from Tav, who shook her head and laughed, and then sat on the mat to open it. It didn’t take long before the string which had held the paper in place was in several pieces and Tav made a mental note to remember how sharp the fiend’s claws actually were. Once the wrapping was disposed of, Shovel held up her gift. It was a small, quasit-sized mail shirt. There was a spilt down the back to accommodate her spines, and a lozenge of hammered silver on the collar featuring a motif of their tower.

“Rolan and I wanted to make sure that you’re always as safe as can be, so we asked Dammon to make this for you. We hope you like it.”

Shovel simply held the shirt, and said nothing. Her black eyes were inscrutable.

“Shovel? Are you okay?” asked Rolan. No response came. She simply looked between the siblings and Tav with her mouth open.

Tav looked at Rolan uncertainly but he simply shrugged.

“Shovel…” said Shovel.

“Yes?” said Tav, encouragingly.

“Shovel…”

“It’s okay,” said Cal. He looked like he was about to cry.

“Shovel…” She gave up and simply waddled over to Tav, flinging herself at her and wrapping her long arms around her. Once she realised what was happening, Tav pulled her arms free and returned the embrace. Shovel clambered into her lap and they sat like that for a few moments. Tav didn’t know if quasits could cry, but a sound she had not heard before rumbled up from Shovel’s chest and it sounded pretty close to a happy sob in her book.

Shovel pulled away from Tav and went to Rolan. She did not seek to embrace him, but looked up at him and held up her gift.

“Shovel has never worn anything, Mister Spellsh*te. Please help Shovel?”

He nodded and bent down, helping her into the mail and making sure it was comfortable. When he was happy, he patted her on the horns.

“Very smart.”

Cal and Lia began to fuss over her, telling her how amazing she looked, and Tav took the opportunity to wipe her eyes discretely. She caught Rolan observing and made a what can I say? face and stood, taking his proffered hand.

Shovel came back over, much more her usual, animated self. The mail fit her perfectly, and Tav once again marvelled at Dammon’s prodigious skill.

“Master, when can Shovel get to hitting things?” She hopped about as she spoke.

Tav noted the use of the term ‘master’ and instantly decided that she hated it: gods help her, she was Beefy.

“Less of the master, Shovel. You know my name.”

Shovel bowed dramatically, performing her little military salute as she straightened.

“Well come on then, Beefy!”

She grabbed Tav’s trouser leg and pulled her over to the central mat, causing Rolan to lose his grip on her hand. Tav looked back to see him chuckling at the sight of it, so she summoned a crab and set it about his feet. The creature was quick, and Rolan had to jump out of its path over and over, cursing his lover in increasingly explicit terms. Cal and Lia were helpless with laughter, until he gathered his wits enough to send a gentle Thunderwave at the scuttling menace which ended its existence.

He turned to Tav and pointed at her. “You’ve just started a war, madam.”

“Bring it on,” she said. “Get him Shovel!”

Rolan just about had time to mouth the word sh*t before Shovel was in motion, her arms waving furiously as she ran. Rolan made a beeline for the portal, and Lia jumped into the space where he had been, still wheezing with laughter.

Tav wondered if Rolan had time to hear the shout which had sent terror into so many of their enemies over the course of their adventure: namely that Shovel was on her way, and it was, of course, fisting time.

But he managed to escape, and Lia scooped her up as she passed. They collapsed in a shrieking heap, causing Cal to pile on as well. It made Tav’s heart sing to think that this was her family now, and she had to wrinkle her nose to stop tears from tickling the edges of her eyes. Tav had never cried from happiness before. It was going to take some getting used to.

The three wrestlers could entertain themselves. Tav set off to find her man and thank him properly.

Chapter 28: A Letter Arrives

Chapter Text

Tav was in the shop choosing scrolls for the dojo when the letter came. Alan had sent one of the porters from The Elfsong to deliver it to her because it had arrived there. She hadn’t seen the need to tell people that she had moved – probably because she hadn’t expected in a thousand years to receive a letter from anyone.

Cal and Rolan looked over from where they were working at the alchemy table; their nosiness made her chuckle until she caught sight of the envelope and felt her good mood evaporate. Gods damn it: she was going to kill him.

“A letter?” Rolan’s curiosity got the better of him and he appeared at Tav’s side.

Tav frowned and dithered. “It’s from Gale.”

“How do you know?” he said, looking at the unopened envelope.

She sighed and rolled her eyes, then held it up for him to see.

“Clarrin Bowstave, care of Elfsong Tavern, Baldur’s Gate,” he read, then looked at her, nonplussed. “Who is Clarrin Bowstave?”

She didn’t even have a chance to reply before Cal clicked his tongue behind him. “Don’t be thick, Rolan: did you think her real name was Tav?”

The mage looked taken aback. “Your name is Clarrin Bowstave?”

“Yes,” she said resignedly. “Bloody Gale and his stupid formalities. Oh, don’t look at me like that Rolan.”

“I didn’t know you had another name,” was all he said in reply.

She saw that he was dejected because she had neglected to tell him and felt guilty. In honesty, she hadn’t remembered telling the others, but after a night around the campfire with a little too much almond brandy, she had woken up the next morning with a pounding head to a cheerful ‘good morning Clarrin!’ from Astarion. The look she had given him must have warned him and the others off – her name was something that belonged in her past and she intended for it to stay there.

“I’m sorry, Rolan. I never use it but I had to when I took the room. It’s… well, it’s just the name that my parents gave me. I’m not that person any more. I’m Tav.” She nudged his foot with hers. “Your Tav, remember?”

He smiled and nodded. Then he kissed her gently on the cheek.

“Steady on, Rolan,” said Cal, “you’ll make the front page of the Gazette if anyone sees the Master of Ramezith’s Tower kissing the Hero of Baldur’s Gate.”

Rolan completely ignored him and addressed Tav. “I suppose I had assumed that you were like me. Just… Rolan.” He spoke evenly, but she heard the emotion behind his words. “I have no idea who I am. It can feel difficult sometimes.”

“Our name is Dastrak,” said Cal. “We’ve told him a thousand times that he’s Rolan Dastrak, but he won’t have it.”

“It’s not my name,” said Rolan, still looking at Tav.

“And Clarrin Bowstave isn’t mine,” she said.

Cal broke the subsequent pause. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, what’s in the letter?”

“Don’t be so nosy,” Rolan bristled.

“It’s okay. But I’ll open it upstairs, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course. I’ll come up and make us both some tea. I have a letter of my own to write anyway. And before you ask, Cal, it’s to a patriar who has asked for some advice on the subject of his wife’s infidelities.”

Cal’s eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline. “You can help with that?”

“Of course not,” snapped Rolan. “The very idea is insulting. I’m writing back to tell him to bugger off.”

Cal was impressed. “Go Rolan!”

“What sort of advice did he want?” asked Tav. She had taken jobs like this in the past – track the wife, find the lover, report back and make good coin. It was always rather fun.

Rolan shrugged. “He wanted to know if she could be compelled to tell the truth. Magically. It’s utterly immoral and borderline abusive.”

She couldn’t help but agree with him. Perhaps it wasn’t always fun for everybody involved.

*****

Once she was back through the portal, she went off to find Shovel, thinking that she might like to hear the letter too. She found her on the lower level of the library where they had found Lorroakan’s most valuable magical items all that time ago. Shovel was rooting around behind a dusty old arcane tower, long out of service, and seemed cheerful enough at the prospect of hearing from her old master.

They made their way back to the study and settled into the sofa. Rolan appeared as soon as they had settled and handed Tav her tea.

“I can work upstairs if you want to be alone,” he said.

Tav placed her hand on his arm and pulled him down for a kiss. “Don’t be stupid. There won’t be anything I mind you hearing.”

He patted her head and took his seat at his desk.

“Shall we crack on then?” she asked the quasit.

“Let’s see what Spellsh*te had been up to,” came the reply. “Shovel expects it will be boring and sad. Ooh my knees hurt! Ooh my goddess BLAH BLAH URGH.”

“Yes, well. You’re probably right,” said Tav, opening the letter with her thumb and ignoring Rolan’s subtle chuckling behind her.

There were several pages of small, elegant cursive: double-sided, of course. Tav wondered how he could possibly have so much to say after only eleven or so days, but then remembered that this was Gale they were dealing with. For all they knew, this could be letter one of ten covering the first day of his trip. She missed him terribly, but there had been times when she’d prayed for silence as he expounded on some subject or other at length.

She began, reading aloud, and inserting the odd comment here and there. “On the third day at sea I was struck by an overwhelming desire to sample some of that exquisite stuffed fish which we made on the road to Rivington – Gods, he must have been delirious, that fish repeated us for two days and I don’t think Wyll has eaten garlic since.”

And: “Tara sends her regards to Shovel – Ha, he must be joking. Oh, he says later on that he is. That’s very funny, for him.”

She read for ten solid minutes before she reached the last page. He had detailed his journey - even though she could tell from the terseness of his prose that he was disappointed by its complete lack of adventure – and his return to his tower, which she could tell was everything he had hoped it would be and more.

The end of his letter was a little more sentimental, and she heard Rolan stop writing to listen intently as she continued.

“I find myself missing everyone with each passing day – the adventures we shared will live with me for the rest of my life and beyond. I may have dedicated my life to studying the mechanics and artistry of the Weave, but in my companions, I found that which cannot be created or controlled: enduring love. And despite the fact that I am once again ensconced happily where I belong, there will forever be a part of me which will yearn for the camaraderie which we shared. No one in this world – hells, not even Mystra herself – knows me as you do, and as I lie in my bed at night, I am sometimes drawn to the thought that perhaps we lost a part of who we are when the parasites expunged themselves. Perhaps we can never again enjoy the breathtaking knowledge that we were finally known and understood by a precious few: it is now lost forever…”

“UGGGGGHHHHHHHHH,” cried Shovel, covering her ears with long fingers. “He hasn’t changed AT ALL.”

Tav smiled, but her vision was a little misty. “Yes, he does get a little sentimental, our Gale.”

“Do you feel like that?” asked Rolan.

“What?”

“Do you feel like only those you travelled with will ever truly understand you?”

Tav turned to look at him, considering the question.

“No! Shovel is going! There will be talk of FEELINGS. Always talk of sh*tting FEELINGS. Shovel cannot be doing with it.”

“You hugged me yesterday, Shovel,” Tav called after her as she headed out of the door. “And you LIKED it!”

“Rot in your own sh*t Beefy!” came the reply.

Tav turned back to Rolan, placing her arms of the back of the sofa. She recalled the question and thought about her take on the matter.

Finally, she spoke. “It’s a long story, but Gale was in love with Mystra.” She held up her hand as Rolan went to speak. “Not in a wizardy way. I know you’re all weird for her… seems to happen with most of the gods who have pretty faces if you ask me, but whatever: that’s not the point. The point is, he was her actual lover.”

“Goodness.”

“Well, yeah, that’s one way of putting it. And like I say, there’s a very long tale to be told about it. But the upshot is… that I don’t think what he thought was love, was actually love. He would bang on about her all the time and tell us about their connection and the way she would – I don’t know – turn them into sort of astral beings who could connect in like, a million different abstract ways or something or other – I didn’t understand a lot of it – but it always sounded so… performative. Does that make sense?”

Rolan was completely intrigued. Who wouldn’t be? He left his chair and came round to sit next to her on the sofa. She swung her legs on to his lap.

“Do you mean that it felt more like he was describing, I don’t know, an artform, rather than sex?” he asked.

Tav pointed at him. “That’s it exactly. Couldn’t have put it better myself. In fact, there was one night he was telling us about having six arms and floating around in the Weave and –“

“I can see how that might be useful.”

“Ha, I bet you could. Anyway, Karlach just butted in as he was talking and said, ‘did you never just f*ck her in a bed?’ …and he was scandalised. Horrified.”

“Why?” Rolan asked. She could tell that this was more interesting than writing to patriars.

“He said it was because their relationship transcended all of that. That they did not need to experience the pleasures of flesh because they were connected on a completely different level.”

“And what did you think about that?”

“Well Halsin and Lae’zel were quite scathing about it. To be honest, I just sort of shrugged it off. If sex in the astral plane was better than sex in a cheap hotel or a tent, then good luck to him. I think I just sat off to the side with Astarion, polishing our daggers. But I do remember feeling as though Mystra can’t have loved him all that much if she was always the one calling the shots.”

“I doubt that gods can ever love mortals,” mused Rolan.

“Of course they cant,” she scoffed. “They’re gods. And so the fact that Gale thought he loved her when he was essentially insignificant to her makes me feel like, yes: he probably does think that he lost the only people who ever truly knew him when the parasites disappeared. But I also think that for someone so learned and so wise, he’s also the dumbest man I have ever met. There’s no need to lament the loss of our connection when the world is full of people that he could forge a new one with.”

Rolan took her hand and ran his thumb across her knuckles, then toyed with the band on her finger.

“Gale is going to lock himself in that bloody tower,” she said sadly, “because he thinks that he has lost something forever. I was ready to do it too… until I realised that the thing I had lost was just a taste of something I could have again.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t ‘oh’ me, idiot,” she smiled. “I’m being romantic.”

He laughed softly and squeezed her hand. “Are you going to write back?”

“Yes of course. Apart from anything else, I need to ask him about Ilyn Toth and see what he thinks of our friend in the square. But I’ll make sure to update him on recent developments, too.”

“I love you,” Rolan stated.

“And I love you.”

“I can see why you were thinking about killing Mystra now. It makes sense.”

“Oh, there’s a lot more to it than that. Finish your letter and I’ll tell you the whole story.”

*****

For the esteemed attentions of the Greatest Wizard of The Age (for now, at least), Gale Dekarios, formerly known as Gale of Waterdeep.

First of all Gale, you have secured a guarantee that I will one day be visiting you in Waterdeep, if only to skin you alive for the use of my full name on your letter. You know how much I hate it, and pleading that you were simply being thorough or something equally as nonsensical will not cut the mustard. Consider this a warning – future transgressions will not be tolerated.

Having said that, it was lovely to hear from you, and I am glad that your journey was safe and uneventful. I can tell you were disappointed: perhaps you’re more of an adventurer than you give yourself credit for. I think I’d be happy with a boring sea journey, though. I prefer my adventures to take place where I can find some high ground and a tavern at the end of the day.

Which brings me to my next point. I am no longer residing at the Elfsong. I have been invited to stay to live at Ramezith’s Tower with Rolan, Cal and Lia. With Rolan, actually. As in with Rolan.

Gods, this is quite excruciating to write.

Basically, I decided to return the books we stole (I mostly blamed Astarion) and well… I never left. I know that you’re probably thinking that it’s completely ridiculous after all the arguing I’ve done with Rolan since we met him, and I know he was quite insufferable for a while back there, but like you said yourself, everything has been different since the parasites disappeared and perhaps in some way, I can now see beyond those immediate problems we had and start to enjoy myself a little. He seems to feel the same way. He’s really quite remarkable and makes an insane amount of progress every day. Baldur’s Gate has no Archmage but I have no doubt that he’s well on his way to filling the vacancy. I’ve told him you’ll be happy to correspond with him. I know you always saw his potential even when we couldn’t. I feel a great deal of remorse for that now but I am hopefully making it up to him.

I want you to know all this because I was worried to read the last part of your letter. Gale, I know that you lost Mystra, and then the crown, and our little gang of misfits, but please don’t assume that your story ends there. I can hardly believe I’m saying this, but I was ready to give up when you left. I spent the better part of a day sitting on the roof outside our room wondering why I hadn’t been allowed to die when the brain fell. The last six months have been hard on both of us and I know exactly what you mean when you say that no one will ever know you like we did. I mean, we literally read one another’s thoughts, didn’t we? But I am going to say something to you that you’ve probably not heard very often. You won’t like it, but tough sh*t.

You are wrong.

Just over a tenday ago I was wishing that I had never been pulled out of the Chionthar. Now, I find myself telling every secret I have to another, for no reason other than the fact that I want to. We don’t need telepathic parasites, murderous cults or astral realm stuff to form a connection with another person (and I do mean person here Gale – no more sodding goddesses): we just need to find someone who we want to know and who wants to know us in return. They won’t be perfect, and you won’t be either, but you will feel better when you are with them. You’ll feel like there is a reason for you to be ‘known and understood’, as you put it.

Who would have thought that the ranger would end up being the philosopher of the group?

And yes, I know it’s only been a short while since Rolan and I realised what we felt for each other, but I have been through the anxieties about how our feelings may change and how I may end up alone again and to be honest? I don’t care. It’s worth the risk to be happy – even for a short while. Rolan has just read this over my shoulder and made me cross it out. He says to tell you that he fully intends to make me happy forever.

Rolan remains as bossy and overly self-assured as ever.

Finally, I have to tell you that Shovel is very well. She listened to your letter with great interest, only screaming in complete disgust at the very end. She still calls you Spellsh*te, although I have to let you know that you have some competition in that department.

Anyway, I do have a serious matter to discuss with you, and I would appreciate any insight or advice that you may have on the matter. It concerns Shovel and Ilyn Toth…

Chapter 29: A Quest Begins in Earnest

Chapter Text

“That’s it, Cal, keep your chin up. Move your feet a little? There. Now breathe. In… and out… Focus on the weight of the staff.”

“Like this?”

“Tip your left hand down a little, actually: one facing up, one facing down, always. You want to be a third of the way down. There. Better. Okay, what’s your instinct? You want to hit the dummy, right? Where are you going to aim?”

“The head?”

“Right. Try it.”

“Gods, that hurt.”

“Don’t over extend. Your shoulder is taking the blow rather than his head.”

“Is this better?”

“For a start. Here, watch.”

“So up and across instead of side to side?”

“Up and across. Now watch my knee. Copy it. Thirty repetitions. I see you getting lazy and I’ll use that staff on you.”

*****

“Okay Lia, Rolan is going to throw these boxes in the air around you.”

“Teleport.”

“Sorry, Rolan is going to teleport these boxes into the air. Not that it makes a difference. What? No Lia, sorry, never mind, your brother was muttering. Okay. Hit them all and I’ll make dinner.”

“Easy.”

“You think? Rolan, go.”

“Hey, that’s not fair! He’s shrinking them down to nothing!”

“No one said your opponents would play fair. Now stop pouting and fire!”

“Damnation!”

“Again! Nock! Now pull – Loose! Miss. Again!”

“Bloody hells. Ow!”

“Mind your fingers. Don’t get angry, it comes through the string. And for gods’ sake breathe! I taught you better than this!”

“f*ck! Almost.”

“Almost? Not good enough. Keep going.”

“There!”

“Very good! Not bad for your first time up there. Now more.”

“Another!”

“Again. Breathe! Mind your feet, you’re on your toes again!”

“Sorry! sh*t!”

“No time for apologies – shoot! Focus!”

“Ha! Got you Rolan!”

“You got him. Four more! Neutralise the threat!”

“One…. Two… ah, that was close…! Three! Ha!”

“Don’t get co*cky, you’re not done yet! One more Rolan: make it count!”

“What the-? It’s heading right for… Aaah!”

“Good! You got him!”

“I did! I did!”

“Well done. Okay. You can come down off the ladder now.”

*****

“I fail to see why I need to work on my posture. I feel ridiculous.”

“Rolan, you said yourself that you can feel it in your back when you cast evocation spells. You need to work on your core. Now stop being such a baby and lean back on me.”

“In Elturel, they make the girls walk with books on their heads like this. So that they can walk prettily. Not so that they can cast more powerful spells.”

“Gods, I’m starting to sympathise with Lorroakan. You’re a terrible student. Lean back will you?”

“I can’t help it that I have managed to get to where I am without teachers… There, is that far enough back?

“You’re right. That was harsh. But I am trying to help. Okay. Let me support your hips with my hands… Rolan: what is your tail doing?”

“Sorry – I er, I think its because you’re so close; your smell is… well, you’ve been down here all day and… and your hands…”

“Focus up soldier!”

“Yes. Sorry. Where were we?”

“I was about to ask you to cast thunderwave at the mirror over there. But oh, here is your tail again.”

“I can’t help it if you’re all pressed up to me and talking into my ear! It’s distracting!”

“Rolan!”

“Could we perhaps work on my core with some sort of exercises instead first? Get warmed up?”

“I take it back – you are a terrible student. And that tail has a mind of its own… We’ll never get anything done down here at this rate and – oh! Well that’s just – ahhh – I see what you’re doing… you’re a complete nightmare, do you know that..?”

“Tell me to stop.”

“…..hmn”

“Thought so.”

“….”

“Right then, let’s do this my way.”

*****

Tav worked in either the dojo or Sorcerous Sundries until the sun set each night; the autumn days shortening with every passing cycle. When she was not training or planning for the opening of the adventurer’s college, she was loitering in the main atrium of the store, sometimes greeting customers who were excited to catch a glimpse of the Hero, but mostly watching out for the man with the moustache.

He appeared twice in three days following Gale’s letter. The first time, he casually walked through the crowds, probably not expecting to be met with the stony gaze of the ranger when he pretended to glance over. However, if he was rattled by this, he made no sign of it, and if anything seemed infuriatingly amused by it. He nodded to her, and disappeared back into the alleys of the Lower City.

The second time, he seemed to seek her out. She was kneeling in the doorway, dripping machine oil onto a construct’s elbow joint which had begun to make a terrible noise. It was later in the afternoon and the usual hubbub in the plaza had died down, so she was able to watch him as he emerged from behind the Central Wall watchtower and began to wind his way across the flag stones towards the fountain. When he saw her, he smiled, and she couldn’t help but hold out her palms to her in a what? gesture. He was starting to get on her nerves now. Was he really a threat? If it hadn’t been for the way he’d looked at Shovel and the fact that someone had knocked her out as she pursued him, she would have been tempted to write him off as an attention-seeking crank.

But no: his face when he saw Shovel in the store that day had been more than simple interest – it had been triumph. He had looked at her like a grand prize.

*****

When Gale’s reply came, it was attached to the leg of a pigeon which flew on to the tower’s balcony wall as she stood taking in the air one morning. The reply was brief owing to the lack of space, and Tav wondered how many drafts it had taken the wizard to pare his no doubt extensive musings down into something which could be carried by a bird. She bet that a far longer letter was on its way too, and smiled. He couldn’t resist a chance to wax at length. Karlach would often check up on them by asking, “penny for your thoughts?” but Shadowheart reckoned she’d need closer to ten gold for Gale’s.

She hastily unrolled the message, keen to see what insight he had provided in such haste.

Tav,

Sorry about your name, should have thought. Can’t write much, will be as brief as my thoughts allow me to be under the circ*mstances, which are necessarily constrained given the apparent urgency of your situation and the risk to the safety of our infernal companion.

Brevity – a word which Gale Dekarios, in all his years of study, had clearly never come across. Tav shook her head and read on.

I recall two correspondences

Letters. He could have written ‘two letters’. Gods, he was frustrating.

I recall two correspondences from Shovel’s former master that we found on our travels. One addressed to our friend Balthazar – now long destroyed, I fear – and the other in the ancient lair of Mystic Carrion. Perhaps some new evidence may come to light upon further investigation of that particular area? I appreciate it will be a most unpleasant reacquaintance, but surely if one were looking for necromancers, that would a strong starting point. And although we have not heard from him, perhaps good old Thrumbo is still knocking about by the docks with his undead companions? He may have overheard a useful tidbit or two.

It all puts me in mind of – apologies: the gentlemen from the courier service informs me that I may only use one side of the parchment and I find myself pressed for space.

Let me say that I found your last letter extremely heartening and that I am delighted for you. Rolan in a very lucky chap andIwishyouallthebestandwillvisitsoonYours,Gale

He might be a ridiculous caricature of a wizard sometimes, but he was a bloody genius, too.

“Rolan!”

“Why are you bellowing?” He was in the bathroom when she came back into their room.

“What are you doing today?

He looked back at her from the mirror where he was carefully arranging his hair. He was naked, and she resisted the urge to slide up behind him and touch the place under his tail where it met his torso. She had discovered the spot quite by accident a few days before and had yet to fully exploit it, but the sound of the shuddering moan which had come from him when her fingers had traced it had not left her mind ever since.

“I was going to sit down with Cal to finally list the ingredients we intend to grow. But then I had a thought, and I might invite Derryth to join us. Make it a joint venture. We could use the expertise and she could have the run of the greenhouse. What do you think?”

Tav leant against the sink and watched as he created the neat twists in his hair.

“I thought you said no strangers in the tower?” she said.

“I did, but… I don’t know. It feels wrong to just use it as a home. I don’t think that’s what it was intended for. Perhaps we allow a few trusted experts access to certain facilities – controlled access of course – and see how that plays out.” He finished by tying a leather cord around the gathered hair and looked himself over. This version of Rolan was every bit the future Archmage. Well, perhaps once he got dressed.

She put a hand on his ridged shoulder and kissed him on the cheek. It was entirely too chaste for her liking, but she didn’t have time to get distracted.

He turned and took her in his arms, testing that resolve. “Why do you ask, my love? Do you need me to pelt my siblings with boxes?”

“I don’t, as it happens. But I did get a letter from Gale.” She brought the tiny scroll up to his face and bopped him on the nose with it.

“That was fast.” He chose to ignore her childishness, even though she knew he loved it.

“It came on a pigeon. He’s made some suggestions on where to look for information about Shovel. I was wondering if you fancied a trip out?”

“Anywhere nice?”

“Absolutely not. Think: the worst place you’ve ever been.”

“I’ve been to Avernus.”

“Okay, perhaps the second worst place.”

He considered for a moment and then nodded slowly. “Can it wait until after lunch? I’ll meet with Cal, head over to see Derryth, and then get back here with something to eat before we go. Does that sound acceptable?”

“Perfect,” she replied with a kiss. “It’ll give me a chance to get my weapons sorted.”

That gave him pause and his tail appeared behind his shoulder. It did that when he became alert – some primal instinct kicking in, she supposed.

“Should I ask why you’ll need weapons?”

“Necromancers, Rolan. Perhaps some undead. And don’t worry, we’re taking Shovel, and I’ve been training, and you assured me that you were building your spellcasting strength when you had me bent over that weapons rack, didn’t you?”

He raised an eyebrow at the memory. “I did seem to be doing something magical, did I not?”

That earned him a push and she flicked him between the horns. “Get dressed, have your meeting, then meet me in the kitchen with something delicious later.”

“You have my word,” he called after her retreating figure.

She had a lot to do. Starting with a particularly nasty little oil that she and Astarion had come up with back in the days when he feared Cazador’s servants in every dark space. She wondered if she had time to brew a little drop or two? Perhaps she should have told Rolan they were going into the sewers… No, let it be a surprise. She could make it up to him later. Perhaps by exploring that little spot under his tail a bit more…

Chapter 30: A Sausage Surprise

Chapter Text

It felt good to armour up again: the old routine of dressing and buckling coming as naturally to her as breath. There were some differences, of course – she noticed that the bottom buckle across her solar plexus needed to be fastened on a slightly looser setting, but that was hardly surprising after six months of comparative luxury.

She had made sure to spend some time after her last battle repairing the nicks and scratches which had accumulated, so the leather now felt new and looked impressive. The task had been cathartic to her: her hands working as her mind replayed the instants each mark had been made. In this way she had been forced to confront head on many of the moments which might have come back to her in dreams, or in those waking moments where one’s mind blinks back to another time and place to relive its pain remorselessly.

There was no real reason to feel that she would need armour on their trip into the sewers, but it was light enough not to hinder her and there was a confidence to be found in wearing the right gear when she was working. And this did feel like work: it was ranger stuff through and through, and she had been raised by bounty hunters and trackers. Her own desire to tame beasts had come later. Probably because of that bloody hedgehog.

Once she was buckled up, she flexed her limbs experimentally and found that her movement was as unimpeded as ever. She ran across the dojo and back to ensure the leather did not creak, and once she was satisfied, she went to her pack and pulled out the last of the three treasures that she had kept from her days fighting the Absolute.

When Astarion had turned Araj Oblodra down in Moonrise Towers, she knew then that a part of him which had seemed broken forever had suddenly begun to mend. He had looked to her to support his decision and despite their eyes meeting for only the most fleeting moment, she finally realised the depth of what he had lost from the way he had looked so desperately at her. When the drow then moved towards her friend to scoff at him, Tav had seen red and swiped an intricately made circlet which rested on her bench. It was a ridiculous, childish thing to do, but she was overtaken by a desire to commit some form of revenge on the horrible bitch, even if they were supposed to be keeping a low profile.

She had offered the band to Astarion as a gift to remind him of his autonomy, but when Gale had examined it, they had realised that it was infused with a powerful hunting spell which would make her even more deadly to those she marked out in combat. Astarion returned it to her graciously and told her that it was fitting because he knew she would always have his back – both in and out of combat.

She had worn it in every fight since then, and found that when it came to sorting through their accumulated treasures and possessions, she needed it as much as the scrap of sail cloth and her beautiful ring from Rolan. It sat perfectly on her brow, as at home there as it had ever been, and she felt the familiar fizz of its Weave. She closed her eyes.

Weapons came next.

The sussur blade slotted neatly into the sheath which lay across the base of her back. She did not favour it, so it had become a helpful off-hand weapon, particularly in situations where she was faced with rapidly disabling an opponent’s magic. Her other dagger was a much more feral-looking thing which she had picked up from a goblin on the road. She had sharpened it until it had become a quick, silent, but most of all reliable, killer. It had tasted the blood of at least twenty throats and despite everything, she hoped it would not need to do so again. She slid it into the sheath on her right thigh.

Finally, she took her bow and attached the leather sling which she used to carry it over one shoulder. Her quiver went on first; over her head and across her right shoulder, so that she would be able to grab and nock her arrows as quick as she needed to in a fight. She decided to take ten of Exxvikyap’s finest broadheads: their red fletchings bound with intricate silk threads, and she slung her bow on over them. She was ready for her first true adventure since the Netherbrain’s defeat.

*****

“Hells, Tav. Why are you dressed for battle? I thought we were going to have a look around for information? I’ll have to get changed. Zurgan, I haven’t got anything near to suitable. I wish you’d bloody said something…”

Tav watched him flap for a moment or two before stepping further into the kitchen and putting her hand on his chest. “You’re fine as you are. You’re a spell caster and I’m not. All you need is you.”

He frowned, unconvinced. “At least let me get the Markoheshkir stave from the library. I was using it to practice my fire spells one day soon after Cal and Lia moved in and I nearly took the side of the tower off.”

“Hopefully you won’t need to level a building, but it might be worth getting used to working with it anyway.” She kissed him and let her hands roam across his chest and arms. She found that when she was with him in proximity it was almost impossible not to touch him. The feel of his body, clothed or not, brought her to her senses; fixed her in place on a planet that felt as though it could spin her off into the atmosphere at any moment without his grounding presence.

He pulled away from the kiss and regarded her as though she were a wonder with his wedding ring irises. “I haven’t seen you like this since the High Hall,” he said. “I had forgotten how powerful you look.” His words were laden with a promise. She suspected that she would be dressed like this for a little while after they returned from their errand.

“I promise I’m only wearing all this because I don’t have anything else and you never know what you’ll come by in the sewers.”

His face went from amorous to reproachful in less time than it took for her to realise that she had spoiled their surprise destination.

“I might have known,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Necromancers are hardly known for their love of airy palaces, are they? Well I am certainly changing now – these boots are sheepskin. Help yourself to the smoked sausages and I’ll be right back.”

“You might want something waterproof…” Tav called after him, a little sheepishly.

He gave her a look before he disappeared through the door. “Why thank you, Tav. I wouldn’t have thought of that. I do hope our patrons appreciate the stunning insights that you are able to offer once our dojo is open.”

“Get stuffed, wizard!” She had half a mind to send another crab up the stairs after him, but the smell of smoked sausage and freshly baked bread had been in her nostrils since she’d come through the portal and they were a far more pressing matter.

She was just rummaging in a cupboard for some mustard when she heard Shovel’s pattering claws on the tiled floor behind her.

“Hello Shovel,” she said, finally locating what she was looking for behind a huge jar of pickled eggs. Lia’s favourite.

“Beefy. Shovel is excited to go looking for bad sh*tes.” She was wearing her mail and Tav thought she looked very fine indeed.

“I bet you are. You’ve been cooped up in this tower for ages.” She knelt one knee on a chair and grabbed a knife from the table. The mustard was thick and strong – perfect for balancing the salty spiciness of the sausages.

“Shovel has not been bored. Tower is huge and filled with many crunchy things. Does Beefy have… sausage?” She climbed up on to the chair next to Tav and pointed a claw at the brown paper package on the table which contained their lunch. At some point she had learned that tilting her head and looking innocent had resulted in treats, and it made Tav chuckle despite herself. She sucked mustard from her thumb and opened the package, hoping that Rolan had bought enough for the three of them as the smell was so delicious that she didn’t feel like sharing. She was still holding the mustard knife, but when she peeled back the paper to reveal its contents, it dropped to the floor with a sickening clatter.

There, nestled amongst the meat was a single, long finger – severed from its root and laid carefully out as though it were just another delicacy. The skin was dark and ink-stained with neatly-trimmed nails and wore a thin silver band etched with tiny, faded ivy leaves. Tav realised with a sickening lurch that she had seen it before. Whoever had placed the digit in this package wanted them to know who it belonged to. They were sending a message.

“f*cking sh*tting hells, Beefy!” cried Shovel, who had clambered onto the table to investigate. “Shovel wants that one!”

Tav brushed an arm into the quasit to move her back from the parcel. “It’s not for eating, Shovel,” she said quietly.

“Awwwwwww! Fine! Keep it for yourself! Shovel will sh*t in your shoes when you’re asleep!” She hurled herself back into her chair angrily and crossed her arms across her mailed chest like a petulant toddler.

At this moment, Rolan appeared back at the door. He had changed into a pair of slim suede trousers which he wore tucked into his old travelling boots. His shirt was covered by a waistcoat and a short wool cloak hung from his shoulders. He looked ready to take on the world, and the quarterstaff he held in one hand did indeed radiate a vibrant energy from its silver dragon tip. Tav wished that they were still just going out to look for clues about the man in the square. Their job was about to get a little more complicated than that. At least she was wearing her armour. At least she had her weapons. She could protect him if she needed to.

“Tav? You look like you’ve seen a lich.”

“Ha!” said Shovel.

“What’s going on?”

Tav gestured to the package on the table. She noticed a tremor in her hand and tried to ignore it. “Where did you get the sausages from?” she asked. Her voice was steady. Good.

Rolan looked confused but approached the table, following her line of sight. “I ordered then to be delivered from the butcher by the docks. Why? Oh Gods…” He looked at the package in disbelief, his red skin paling. “What…?”

“I think it’s Tolna’s,” said Tav flatly.

Rolan’s eye snapped up to hers. “It can’t be. I only saw her a few minutes before I saw you. She was in the store. The package had been delivered to the counter and I collected it from Cal. He made me promise to save him some.” He furrowed his brow in confusion. “I walked right past her, Tav. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Oh gods,” she sighed, unshouldering her bow and slumping on to a chair. “If this is f*cking doppelgangers again...”

“We don’t know that,” said Rolan. “Come on, we better go and see if Tolna is still there. See if she’s – ah – misplaced any body parts.”

Shovel sat up in outrage. “No SAUSAGE?”

Tav grabbed the package and pulled it towards her, picking the finger out from amongst the sausages as she did so. “We don’t know who sent this or what their intentions are, Shovel. It’s too risky.” She passed the bundle to Rolan who turned and placed it on a high shelf. He then took a hanky from his pocket and offered it to Tav, who wrapped the digit up carefully.

“UGH,” moaned Shovel. “UGGGGGGGGH! Shovel is STARVED!”

“Here,” said Rolan, tossing her an apple. She caught it but her face twisted in disgust. “Shovel has eaten worse than manky old fingers but never an APPLE! BLEGH!”

“So be it,” said Tav. “You’ll have to go hungry. Now let’s go and count our librarian’s fingers.”

Shovel hesitated. “…Just a nibble?”

“NO,” replied Tav and Rolan at the same time.

“FINE!” she screamed in response. “sh*tE IN BOTH YOUR SHOES THEN!” Despite her words, she hopped down to the floor, leaving the apple where she had been sitting. “Shovel is hungry! And if no finger for dinner then bad sh*tes better watch out! Shovel likes to BITE!”

Tav stashed the wrapped finger in the pouch attached to her quiver strap. “Let’s hope there’s something for you to sink your teeth into, then. We can’t have you starving.”

“Oh good,” deadpanned Rolan as he created a portal behind Tav. “I do so enjoy bloodshed.”

“You get used to it,” grinned Tav.

“I can imagine that being in love with you means it’s essentially mandatory.”

Tav paused a moment, and then nodded. “I suppose so. Welcome to my world.”

Chapter 31: Into the Dark

Chapter Text

Tav thought back to her interactions with Tolna over the past few days. She had remained aloof and frosty with her so it was not as if Tav could even work out if her behaviour had changed. Gods, she hoped that it wasn’t doppelgangers. The itch of fear she felt at the prospect of them took her by surprise, but she allowed herself to recall some of her run-ins with them and realised for the first time that they genuinely scared her. She might have taken down mindflayers, devils and orthons, but there was something about the way they twisted as they changed - the popping of their joints and the rending of their flesh - which repulsed her. They smelled like turned milk and hawthorn berries and even as she walked up the tower stairs, as far from danger as she could possibly be, she could not help but check her dagger and flex her neck to disperse the creeping sensations which had been prompted by her thoughts.

Rolan reached the library landing first and watched for Shovel coming up behind him. “Shovel, before we go through the portal, do you remember the day you sat with Tolna in her office?”

The quasit blinked at him. And then nodded. Tav suspected she was still moody about the finger. She cast her mind back to the day he was referring to – it was just after she had chased the man outside the Elfsong.

“Did you talk with her?”

Shovel thought for a moment, tapping a claw on her square chin. “Booksh*te was pissy about Beefy. So very very pissy.”

“Well, that’s not a surprise,” said Tav.

“Booksh*te called Beefy a problem. Very annoyed.”

“A problem?” Rolan looked intrigued.

Shel shrugged. “Shovel only went in because Booksh*te had cake.”

“What are you thinking Rolan?” asked Tav.

“Tolna’s been acting strange for a while,” he mused. “I don’t know. I just feel like it all started around the time you arrived.”

“After the man I chased saw Shovel…”

“And after she spoke to you that first day in the shop.”

“She seemed herself then… she called me a burglar.”

Rolan smiled. “That does sound like her. But it’s a bit different to calling you a problem.”

“The next time I saw her was when she was with Shovel. And you’re right: she barely looked at me. In fact, apart from the odd scowl, she hasn’t spoken to me at all since then.” Tav thought about each encounter she’d had with her: nothing. It was as if she didn’t exist.

“Alright,” said Rolan. “It’s a theory. Let’s go and see what we can extrapolate.”

Shovel looked up to Tav.

“It means find out.”

*****

The shop was quiet, save for a dwarf couple speaking to Cal by the scrolls, and a handsome elf chatting animatedly to Lia at the counter. Tav noticed Rolan narrowing his eyes at this, and on inspection, she could see Lia twirling her hair as she chatted. Was that flirting? Good for her.

“No Tolna,” said Rolan, choosing to ignore his sister’s conversation and instead looking around.

“Let’s try the office,” said Tav.

The headed past the constructs which lined the mezzanine, Shovel trotting a little way behind them. When they reached the door, Rolan held out his hand to the polished brass knob and uttered a complicated phrase – presumably a password spell. However, before he could finish, the door creaked open and swung forward as if inviting them in.

“Unlocked,” muttered Rolan, and Tav heard the hesitancy in his voice.

She nodded at him, silently offering to enter the room first, and he stepped back to allow her access as she drew her dagger and crept forward. When she drew closer to him she caught a hint of vetiver and noticed a faint blue glow at the end of his fingers.

The room beyond the doorway was in darkness, and although her eyes were used to dark places, she still found herself having to blink away an unnatural murkiness which seeped out towards her in curious tendrils.

“Get Back!” she cried, pushing her weight on to her heel and propelling herself backwards into Rolan’s chest. She slammed the door shut behind her, but as she did so, a faint cry came from the centre of the miasma.

Tolna.

“sh*t,” Tav breathed. “I think she’s in there. Looks like a darkness spell, but it’s different. It feels alive.”

Rolan stepped forward. “On the count of three, open the door. I can dispel the magic.” He adjusted his stance a few paces away and waited for Tav to get into position, kneeling so that she could open the door then duck away from any danger. She gripped her dagger and signalled that she was ready. He looked glorious – a far cry from the arrogant, drunken fool she had rescued from shadows so long ago. He was strong now, the sinews in his forearms glowing with Weave, and his eyes crackling in concentration. His lips had parted into his signature sneer: the points of his teeth visible above his lower lip. She picked up dewberries amongst the heady scent of vetiver now, and it was like a sweet punch to the gut which made her breath catch and her heart race. Gods, she loved him. And now he could fight with her, as an equal and as a comrade. There was nothing new left for them to share – the last piece of her life she had to give away was about to be accepted avidly and made into something stronger and more beautiful than before. Every compartment of her life now contained him, and she felt heart sorry for anyone who would stand against her when he was at her back.

He counted down, quietly. “One…”

She wondered if Cal and Lia had noticed the commotion yet.

“Two…”

She wondered where Shovel had got to.

f*ck. No time for that now.

“Three!”

She twisted the handle and flung the door, and herself, backwards.

Almost simultaneously, Rolan flexed his hands and in a distorted voice cried, “Dath faer!”

She had expected the result to be instant, but despite the rush of arcane energy which extended from his fingers, his arms remained outstretched and his brow furrowed even deeper. She could not see into the room, but she knew that the spell was stronger than he had thought.

After a moment, he seemed to turn the tide, gritting his teeth and leaning into the roiling air around him. It took some effort, but she felt the magic subside and eventually, he dropped the spell. The sudden silence was deafening.

She looked over to him as he sagged, and he gritted out a fatigued laugh. He’d recover in a few moments, but she knew how to fight alongside a wizard, and it was her job to protect him at all costs while he was vulnerable. She slid from her position, and carefully moved around the door so that she could see into the office. Tolna lay on the floor, a pool of wet red around her right hand, moaning and whimpering. However, Tav had another problem.

Shovel.

She peered back at Rolan. “Are you good?”

He gave a decisive nod and she noticed that he indeed seemed to be standing straighter already. He recovered faster than Gale ever had. The thought made her oddly proud.

“Tav, I can’t see Shovel.” His voice was even but she knew how he was really feeling.

“I know. I noticed before. We need to check on Tolna – check it is Tolna – and then look for her. Best case scenario: she’s got bored and wandered off. Worst case…? We’ll need your locating spell. Are you up to it?”

He looked at his hands and then back to her. The reluctance she saw in him was unfamiliar. “Tav, that spell… It was huge.”

She stood, went to him and took his face in her hands. “I need you, Rolan. We need you. If Shovel has been taken, we need to find her. She’s family. Remember?”

His face hardened. “Of course. I just need a short rest. I can use arcane recovery. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Tav kissed him swiftly, and he leaned into her. She shared his concern. This was a greater foe than they had anticipated; she had felt it the moment their enchantment had reached her. It was like no spell she knew.

Cal and Lia arrived at the top of the stairs, panting.

“We heard the commotion and got rid of the customers,” said Lia. “Locked the doors as well. What’s happened?”

Tav noticed that she was carrying her bow. She must have stashed it under the counter. She was a warrior at heart. “Tolna’s in there. Someone has hurt her so we need to make sure she’s all right.”

“I’ll get a few healing potions,” said Cal, and he made to set off.

“That’s not all,” said Tav, gravely. “We need to look for Shovel. I think the office was a distraction. I think she’s been taken.”

Chapter 32: Level Up

Chapter Text

Tolna’s right index finger was gone, but more shocking was the fact her other hand was still clutching a long silver knife which was covered in blood.

“She – she did it to herself?” Cal was incredulous. He was kneeling next to her with a healing potion, gently tipping small mouthfuls to her lips. She was swallowing each one, but showed no signs of regaining full consciousness. In fact, her soft mumblings seemed to be getting weaker and weaker still.

Tav leant against the door frame, watching as Lia cleared the store. Her keen eyes were on everything and everyone, searching desperately for something out of place which might yield an answer. She knew it was hopeless, really. Whoever they were dealing with was fast, efficient, and most of all, clever.

“Something is very wrong with all of this,” she said, almost to herself. “I don’t like it. I thought it was just some gang who thought they’d got lucky, but if they’ve managed to pull something like this off, we could be dealing with something far more complicated.” She pushed away from frame and turned to look at Tolna and Cal. “Is she not waking up?”

“I think we need Rolan,” he replied. “This feels like some sort of enchantment. It’s like her body is functioning but her mind is gone.”

Tav shook her head. “He needs to rest a while. I want his magic at full strength in case we have to fight.”

A frown appeared on Cal’s face: something so unfamiliar that Tav thought he suddenly looked very young. She wondered how old he was. She knew that tieflings came of age a little later than humans, but she had never thought to ask how old they all were.

“Where do you think we need to start looking?” he asked.

“We aren’t looking anywhere,” she said firmly. “I wouldn’t even be taking your brother if I didn’t think that there was a particularly powerful mage involved. None of you are really ready for the kind of fight this could end up being.”

“Well, I’ll try not to take offence. Lia won’t be so happy about it though.”

“I’ll cope. We have to move Tolna though. She needs a healer.”

Cal gently scooped her up in his arms with little effort. “Gods, she weighs nothing. Has she been ill for a while? It’s hard to tell when she’s always wearing robes.”

“I think it’s safe to say that,” observed Tav. He was correct – now that she could study the older woman more closely, she saw that her skin was stretched too thinly over the bones in her face and her wrist, above the fist which still grasped the silver knife, was barely thicker than the stem of a wine bottle. Tav felt a twist of guilt. She had been so worried about Tolna’s ire that she’d been avoiding her. There was no way she would have missed the signs that something was wrong if she had been paying attention.

Cal made his way through the door and over to the portal. Before he stepped through, he turned back. “Are you coming?”

Lia appeared at the top of the stairs as he spoke. “Everything is locked up. How’s Tolna?”

“Not good, said Tav. “We need a healer. One we can trust.”

Lia’s eyes widened suddenly. “Sister Rose is up from the Open Hand Temple! We met her when we were staying in Rivington and I saw her yesterday in the market. Gods, she said she was staying in a guesthouse by the docks. I can go and get her!”

“Do it,” said Tav. “Cal, can you make Tolna comfortable in the library? She might need another potion and some water. Not too cold. You could add a little honey, if you like.”

Cal nodded. “Where will you be?”

“Rolan needs to rest to get his strength back. He said he was going to use arcane recovery, too, so I’ll see how he’s getting on. If everything is okay, he can try finding Shovel with his location spell and we can go and get her.”

“Are you sure he’s up to it?” said Cal, and she could detect the hint of irritation behind his words, although it did not bother her. She would have felt the same way, in his place.

“Your brother is incredibly powerful,” she said honestly. “Even if he’s not been in many battles, I have every faith in him.”

Lia groaned and rolled her eyes. “For the love of all the gods, Tav, please don’t tell him that. He’s already insufferable, and coming from you, that might tip him over the edge into truly unbearable.”

*****

Rolan was standing at the counter with his hands behind his back as she came down the stairs. He couldn’t see her from this angle, so she stalked quietly, enjoying the way his tail switched behind him. She had learned that it was a sure-fire sign that he was deep in thought and she loved the fact that he could be completely consumed by his thoughts and yet his tail remained alert.

“How are you feeling?” she asked as she approached.

He turned his head to look over his shoulder, and she was taken immediately back to the Last Light Inn – the way he had dismissed her cruelly with his head turned at the same angle.

This time, however, his words were laden with affection. How far they had come from those dark and fraught days.

“Hello, my love. I feel good. I found a potion of spell recovery in the alchemy cupboard and I think I’m rather better than I was this morning.” His speech was relaxed, more so than she would have expected. When she reached him, she took his hand. It was deliciously warm; she could have sworn that a soft thrumming played across her skin where they touched.

“Rolan?”

He turned so that they faced one another and his expression made her take a sharp breath in. He was positively radiant: his red skin seemed to glow and the golden rings in his eyes shone like twin suns. He raised his free hand and a crackle of blue Weave danced through his fingertips.

“That spell I dispersed… It was so powerful. I think it unlocked something in me.” He smiled as he spoke and the way his lips parted over his teeth made him look dangerously beautiful. “I feel like I could take on the world.”

Tav tentatively touched her free index finger to his, and she felt the cool fizz of the magic there. Her own magic had always felt so connected to the natural world – more druidic in character, she supposed – but this felt closer to the velvet gut-punch of the pure Weave which Gale had once shown her. She blushed a little at the memory: the feeling of being wrapped so intimately in Mystra’s embrace had led her to imagine a passionate embrace with her friend and they had barely been able to look one another in the eye for a day or two afterwards.

This time, however, she relished the feeling. Once they had Shovel back and had stopped whoever was behind this plot, Rolan’s new mastery of his powers was worth a more… considered exploration, to say the least.

“Do you think you can cast the spell to find Shovel?” she asked, pushing away any thoughts which were not immediately related to finding her quasit.

He laughed gently and watched as he traced tiny lightning bolts across her hand. “Let’s see, shall we?” He snapped his eyes back up to meet hers. “I hadn’t had a chance to discuss this with you, but I actually intend to cast it on you, Tav.”

“Me?”

“No one better.” He let go of her hands and gently took hold of her arms just above the elbow. “Rangers already have a unique connection to non-humanoid creatures, and even if she is technically free, you have a bond with Shovel. Consider everything you have been through together.”

Tav thought about the year since they had first summoned Shovel in Toth’s cellar. She recalled a hundred fights, where the little fiend had scrapped alongside them with courage, loyalty and a violent bloodlust which wouldn’t have been out of place in the Temple of Bhaal. Then she thought about the Temple of Bhaal, and recalled Shovel hurtling towards Orin as her body contorted into its Slayer form – utterly unphased by the fact that she was a twenty-pound quasit against the immense living avatar of the literal God of Murder. It made Tav smile.

“Let’s do it,” she said.

“Alright.” Rolan took a step back and shook his wrists. “It will happen quickly. I’ve been experimenting with a summoned cat and I’ve managed to extend the spell to quite some distance. If my calculations are correct, with your innate connection to Shovel and your pre-existing skills in the field of summoning, you should be able to connect with her up to a distance of six miles, depending on – bizarrely – the weather, although it does appear to be a fine day, so-“

Tav held up a hand. “Rolan.”

He paused, then nodded apologetically. Tav wondered if the prospect of casting a spell on her instead of himself was weighing on him. “It’s going to work. Don’t worry,” she said.

“You’re right. No need for preamble.” He gestured to her. “Lean against the counter. You might feel a little disorientated at first.”

She did as he suggested and gave him a reassuring smile. “Go for it.”

All it took was a complicated wave of his right hand and –

Bound. Gagged. No, SILENCED. Ropes cut into flesh at her wrists and ankles – legs forced together and tied in a way which made her hips ache – her body unfamiliar and weird. Her eyes closed, heavy with unnatural sleep and fear – yes, fear – a sensation which surprised her in the body of her brave little companion who would bite a dragon for fun and run away laughing but who now in this dark place cowered and shivered.

Open your eyes, she thought. Let the light in. Let me see. Let me help!

Slowly, the thought took root and began to wend its way into nerves and sinews and flesh, and slowly – agonisingly slow – she felt eyes begin to pull apart: eyes which were too big for her face by far. The effort parted her lips (no lips! Just mouth! TEETH. BITE!) and after time and some more time and a little more, light seeped into her head, growing like heat until it made her blink and squint.

Movement.

A man. Blurred square shoulders and black hair. Moving around in a brown room – WOOD. A table. And pink. And red.

And then smells: a sudden influx of nose sense, so present it felt like the wind itself, and she smelled the must, the incense of a place she knew. Carpet and death-scent. Wet flesh beneath the perfume.

Her eyes began to see and she saw the man she had expected – saw his moustache and his doublet and he was smiling as he worked. Smiling as he carved.

Carving as he smiled. BITE HIM. CLAWS. SCREAM AND TERRIFY. She could not see what he was cutting. She could not see what he cut with, but it was all sickeningly, unmistakenly, RED.

FIST HIS f*ckING sh*tING HOLE.

Shovel.

SHOVEL.

I am on my way.

BEEFY…?

TAV!

HELP. HELP SHOVEL. PLEASE-

Her mind felt as though it snapped. And then she was blinking at Rolan. Tears stung her eyes for a tentative moment before spilling freely onto her ashen cheeks.

He dashed forward and caught her as she fell, swooning from the intensity of temporarily inhabiting another body. She heard him call her name, but he sounded far away, and for a wild moment she wondered if she would ever be the same. Everything she was seemed unreal – as though her entire being had been ripped out of her and forced into a smaller, alien space.

“Looks like there are some side effects I hadn’t anticipated,” said Rolan urgently. Even in her weakened state, Tav could hear the fear in his voice. “Zurgan! I’m a bloody idiot. A bloody arrogant idiot!”

“I’m fine,” she said, but her voice sounded too high, too light, too human.

“I think we both know that’s not true,” he scolded. He lowered her to the floor, and she managed to prop herself up against the coffer. The leather felt warm against her back and it was encouraging. “Did it at least work?”

She focused on his eyes – the crinkles around them made by his concern and the pitch black of his pupils. “It worked better than you could have hoped. I didn’t just see through her eyes, Rolan. I felt what she felt. I was in her body.”

Tav had never seen Rolan wear the expression which now crossed his face: a mix of surprise and disbelief. However, it did not last long, as he seemed to realise what he had achieved. Then, classic Rolan pride took its place.

“Are you saying that I managed to somehow transplant your consciousness into Shovel’s body?”

Tav couldn’t help but huff a laugh. It was a nice feeling – far more like something she would do. Shovel’s presence was ebbing and she could feel the strength returning to her limbs. “Yes Rolan. Your spell was remarkable.”

He sat back on his ankles, lost in thought, but his tail slipped over her shin and wound up to her knee. “Well I never…” he muttered.

She took a moment to breath and regulate, feeling more like herself with each passing second. When she felt well enough to stand, she began to pull herself up and the mage snapped out of his reverie.

“Steady on,” he said. “Don’t go over-doing it.” He supported her as she made it to her feet and then he pulled her into a hug. “You’re amazing.”

She laughed into his shoulder. “I’m not the one who just pulled off the spell of a lifetime. Not only did you manage that, but I know for certain where they have taken her.”

“Oho! This just gets better! Where are we headed?”

Tav stepped away from him and flexed her neck. “If you’re sure you’re not too depleted, we’re off to the docks. They’ve taken her to Philgrave’s Mansion.”

Chapter 33: Philgrave’s

Chapter Text

Rolan used the sending spell to let Cal and Lia know where they were going and as soon as he received their replies they were heading out of the doors and locking up again after themselves.

There were a couple of customers milling around outside, and one called over to ask why the shop was closed so early. Rolan simply held up a hand and told them it was “important business,” but when they realised that he was with Tav - in full armour, no less – their eyes widened and they took off across the square as though there were goblins at their heels.

“They probably think there’s some huge, imminent danger,” he said, walking at a clip down past the stalls and tenements which lined the alleyways to the south of the shop. “No one has seen you dressed like that since the world nearly ended.”

He was right. Everywhere they went, people took one look at her and stared open-mouthed as they passed. She was so used to being unnoticed in her plain, unadorned clothes that the sudden attention felt alien and uncomfortable, but it was easy to put to the back of her mind when she remembered that she needed to be on high alert as they came to the vicinity of the docks.

She recalled the secret entrance into the ground floor of Philgrave’s place and wondered if it was still in use. This was where she could really use a rogue. Wizards and rangers were well and good, but there was a special sort of mischief required to really get by in a pinch.

Heapside Strand was not as busy as she had feared, but as they came around the corner towards their destination, she saw that there was a trio of people looking ever so slightly suspicious on the steps. To anyone else, they may have looked like workers taking a mid-afternoon break, lounging around and chatting idly, but to her, they seemed a little too keen to look casual. There was something in the way they tapped their fingers against the stone wall, or looked around once too often. She knew a lookout when she saw one.

Halting behind a parked wagon, she pressed her hand back and caught Rolan’s arm to still him. He took the hint and leant in behind her.

“There’s three men outside the entrance. We’re not getting in that way.”

Rolan peered past her around the corner. “What do you suggest?

“There’s a window we can get through on the top floor. Can you climb that scaffolding?” She gestured over to the corner of the mansion where a wooden frame had been erected to allow repairs to be made.

“I’m not exactly adept at such things,” he said, with a rare hint of uncertainty. And then he looked back at her. “I can misty step, though.”

“Good man,” she smiled. “But let’s make sure we can get in that way. No point in heading up if it’s locked.” She muttered an incantation and waved a gloved hand, summoning a sleek cat. “Go on,” she whispered, and it was off across the cobbled street and up on to the scaffold.

They followed its progress closely, but as she watched it slink through the beams and jump onto each platform, a slow trickle of anxiety began to wend its way through her. They were likely walking into a fight, and fights meant one thing – death. Rolan had only ever seen her fighting shadow monsters and evil wizards: he had never witnessed her cutting down foot soldiers or hired goons. To him, she was every bit the hero of Baldur’s Gate. Would that change as he watched her slice into the flesh of a misguided zealot? She recalled a goblin who she had found reading in the ruined camp near the Grove – he had later died screaming with an arrow in his eye and another in his throat. What had he done but defend his camp and his friends? She felt a new sort of discomfort at the thought of the man she loved seeing her in the heat of battle. Would the sight of her taking a life remind him of what she was at heart: a murderer?

Her heart began to beat faster, and her armour felt hot. Then she found herself bending at the waist to stop the roiling of her stomach. He hands were on her thighs and she squeezed her eyes shut against whatever it was taking over her mind, but it was almost too much to bear. She felt like crying – why was she crying? She did not feel sad, or angry, or anything other than sick and hot, so why were her eyes watering? What was happening to her?

“Tav.” A hand on her back. “Tav.” She focused on the sound of his voice; the deep timbre she loved so much. “What’s happening? Is it your summon?”

She straightened and leant against the cool wood of the wagon. “M’sorry,” she breathed. “Not sure…”

She felt him move in front of her and take her face in his hands. Her eyes were still tightly closed and she dared not open them, although she could not have said why. She felt his tail wrap around her wrist, and she clasped its pointed end in her hand – using the feel of its muscular texture against her skin to ground her.

After a minute or so, she began to breathe more steadily, and she leant into the feel of his hands. Sensing her need for contact, he ran the pad of his thumb across her lips and that helped too.

Finally, she opened her eyes. His face was a mask of concern, making her feel immediately guilty. Gods, why was she acting like this? She had done this a thousand times, in worse situations – why did the thought of fighting alongside him send her into a tailspin?

“You’re worried about having to protect me, aren’t you?” he said, searching her face with his golden eyes for any trace of something would prove his suspicion. “You don’t think I can handle it.” His tone was flat; defeated.

She wanted to laugh. Of course he would assume that she was worried about his ability! He was just as insecure as ever. How could she convince him that it was about as far from the truth as he could get? Perhaps by telling him the truth.

“I’m scared that you’ll watch me kill someone and you won’t see me the same way afterwards.”

He wrinkled his nose and looked at her like she was mad. “I’ve seen you kill people before. You killed Miklaur.”

Tav recoiled at the memory. He was right. The halfling was only defending his master and she had set Corvus on him and then finished him with a fire arrow.

“He was running at you with a dagger,” she stated. It was true – she had acted to save Rolan, and had needed to be decisive.

“I know,” he nodded, “that’s the point. You only kill people when you have to. You aren’t responsible for their choices or their alliances.” His hands were still on her face. He wasn’t phased by the prospect of seeing her do what was necessary to save Shovel, and that meant that she didn’t need to be either.

“Alright. I’m sorry. This… hasn’t ever happened to me before.” She admitted her embarrassment freely and felt almost delirious at how easy it was to be vulnerable in front of him.

He rolled his eyes. “Psht, I think it makes a rather nice change for you to be the emotional wreck for once. It’s usually me.”

That did make her laugh, and that in turn, made him smile.

“Are you ready?” she asked, freeing herself from his hands. She focused her mind on the summoned cat and saw that it had found a suitable window – the one she recalled from her previous visit.

“Say the word.”

“Alright: I’ll climb and you misty step onto the top level.”

“I could use dimension door and take you up if you’re still feeling -”

“I’m okay,” she interrupted. “I’m fine. The effort of climbing will shake the last of it off. Plus, dimension door is a big spell and I need you to conserve your energy.”

“Understood. Say when.”

“Looks clear…. Go!”

A Weavish draft from Rolan’s spell urged her across the road, and as soon as she got within reach of the scaffold she leapt forward and up so that she reached the second level railing without having to begin climbing. Her feet found their marks on the rungs below and after a breath, she pulled herself up, finding the rhythm of the ascent as easily as breathing: foot, hand, foot, hand. The stretch of her muscles felt like an old friend, even though she felt months of inactivity weighing upon her. It was a comforting pain, which she knew she could push through, but nonetheless by the time she had reached the top platform, her breathing was markedly heavier.

Rolan was waiting there, leaning against the wall by the oriel window with the summoned cat, who was cleaning itself with its paw. Tav hurried silently over to him and flicked her wrist to dismiss the cat as she did so. It looked up, blinked, and disappeared.

“I rather liked that one,” whispered Rolan. “We should have kept it. A nice quiet pet which probably won’t get kidnapped by murderous necromancers. It sounds lovely.”

Tav chuckled as she peered around into the window. It was closed, but the latch was basic, and with a quick slide of her dagger, she was able to push the pane on its pivot and open it enough for them to crawl through.

She paused, crouched and alert. The mansion’s air was still rank, although mercifully, it seemed as though the piles of flesh and viscera which had littered the place on their last visit had been removed.

“I can’t see anyone in there,” she said, “and it all seems very quiet. When I connected with Shovel she was in the living room, so we’ll have to get down there without attracting attention. I know we’ve only dealt with two people so far but there could be a lot more. I...” She paused, feeling a tightness in her throat. “...I try not to make the mistake of assuming anything before I go in.”

Rolan’s tail made contact with her hand. “I understand,” he nodded.

“We’ve got a choice,” she continued, “head down the stairs, which might lead to a fight. We’ll have the high ground, though... or there’s a ladder on the first floor behind a door which leads to a secret room behind the one they’re keeping her in. That might be better, although we could be wasting time if the door is locked and get caught.” She looked at Rolan. “It’s your call.”

He was taken aback. “Mine? You’re the one with all the experience.”

She met his surprised look with a steely stare. “You’re the one with all the magic. I support. That’s how it worked best with Gale. You’re going to be the target and it’s my job to protect us both while you attack. Tell me what you need.”

Rolan blew air through his cheeks and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. Six months ago, he would have either charged in full of bravado or angrily demanded that she take the lead. Bu not now. He was thinking.

“I need space. I think can take three or four people down at once if I have a wide area.” He smiled a little ruefully. “I’m no assassin.”

Tav was proud of him. He was exactly right. It had been a long time since she had seen him fight, but his Thunderwave was a wide, broad thing – able to knock three enemies prone at once. In a small space it was useless.

“Okay, we’re taking the stairs,” she said. No need to go gung-ho, just follow me. We come across anyone, blast them out of their shoes, but don’t overextend yourself until we know what they’re capable of – it might be that we can take them out with arrows alone and you can save all that power for later. Just in case.”

She stood and gave him a kiss. He chased her mouth with his, but she simply smiled and ducked back down. “You’ll get the other half of that kiss once we’re done. Believe it.”

“I'll be asking for more than a half a bloody kiss,” he teased, following her through the window.

Once they were in, Tav pulled a couple of small vials out of her pouch. “Here: elixir of necrotic resistance. I’m thinking we might need it.”

“Good idea,” said Rolan. “For once you’ve chosen the right elixir.”

She gave him a look and downed the liquid from her vial. It filled her mind with violets and lemongrass, and she felt a warm lightness pulse into her veins and then settle in her joints. Rolan looked at her with heavy-lidded eyes. They should fight necromancers more often – this was a delightful concoction.

The room was deserted. Once they had stowed the empty vials and steadied themselves a little, they set off. Although the place had indeed been cleaned up, it was an incomplete effort, and in places the thick, expensive carpet was suspiciously sticky. The tang of iron and sulphur hung all about them, causing Tav to wrinkle her nose. She wondered if Thrumbo and his friends still lived here and found herself hoping that they were not somehow complicit in this mess. She had liked him enough to trust him when they were working to bring down Mystic Carrion and so the idea that he would betray her felt grim.

They had reached the stairs, now. Tav indicated that they should move down slowly together and Rolan nodded. If he was nervous, he was not showing it. He looked ready for anything, flexing his fingers and stalking alongside her.

They met no one. Tav began to wonder whether the kidnappers had posted everyone out the front of the building, but took a breath and reminded herself not to make assumptions. Her ranger’s instinct demanded that each moment in time be analysed as it happened; not in advance, and not in hindsight until the job was over. Focus on now: exclude all else.

The first floor was cleaner and the air a little easier on the nose. They made no noise as they crept through the hallway and over to the next set of stairs, but as they grew closer to them, she picked up a vague murmuring from the floor below. It sounded like the speech of a mad fool – a high pitched stream of susurrant nonsense which rose and fell in excited waves.

This would be the first target that they had identified in the entire house and it sounded like a challenge. Tav had met and fought plenty of people who could generously be described as unhinged, and they were never easy opponents. She unslung her bow and nocked an arrow, then nodded to Rolan and started down the last flight of stairs into the wood-panelled foyer of the mansion, where the iron-scent hit them like a wall. It was fresh here, and sickly, and Tav heard Rolan cough softly beside her.

They rounded the corner and she took a peek around the doorway. It was exactly as she had seen in her vision, although this time the scene before her was in full focus, with no blurred ambiguity hiding its awful reality. Shovel was bound with her back against a wooden board affixed to the west wall: her arms were spread apart and tied at the wrists with loops of stiff rope. Her legs were tied at the knees and ankles and then similarly secured to the board. She was utterly immobile, and appeared to be unconscious. The sight of her made Tav’s heart break a little. She was so small and helpless like this – the silencing spell even taking her words from her. Her lovely, horrible words. The only reassuring thing that Tav could see was that she still wore her mail, but that was where her optimism ended.

The voice she had heard did not belong to anyone she had ever seen before. In fact, it belonged to someone she immediately wished she had never laid eyes on. Just as she had seen in her vision, the room had been converted into a makeshift slaughterhouse – the large ornate desk which had once sat in front of Mystic Carrion’s public office had been dragged to the centre of the room and used as a butcher’s block. A headless, limbless torso lay upon it, with a huge flat-bladed knife lodged in its ribs. Blood covered every surface, from the floor to the ceiling, casting a sickly red glow from the shades which covered the oil lamps around the place. The hooded figure lurked amongst the ichor, picking through a pile of limbs, humming and reciting snatches of verse which reminded Tav of Shovel’s song. Thayan.

And if that wasn’t enough, this figure was clad head to foot in red: so much so that it would occasionally turn away from her line of sight and seem to get lost amongst the crimson which painted the room. A Red Wizard, with grey tattooed hands. She wondered if they stood any sort of a chance against such as foe, and had to admit to herself that the odds were slim.

Just as she was turning over the predicament in her mind, the wizard turned its attention to the desk and it was then that she finally saw its full face in the light and knew instantly that something was very wrong. She had seen zombies, ghouls, ghasts, nightwalkers, a bodak and even a lich in her time, but the sight of this creature made her recoil. It had unmistakeably been human at some point, but its face was barely more than a skull with bulging, infected looking eyes and an almost pathetic grin. In fact, as it sang and chuckled softly to itself, it seemed almost childlike. There was a naivety to its movements – it would pick up a piece of flesh and examine it like a jewel, smile as it turned the lump in its hands then drop it, giggle, and clap softly at the wet splat sound of bleeding muscle meeting wood.

Tav wanted nothing more in that moment than to put an end to the monstrous thing, but there was no telling what it could do. If it had indeed been a Red Wizard at some point, then simply accosting it wasn’t an option: they would be dead before they could get through the door. Could it be reasoned with? Her impatience to get her quasit back hovered at the edge of her decision-making.

Rolan had also chanced a look by this point, and she heard the soft utterance he made when he too, saw the creature’s face. “Gods.”

She was just about to turn to him when she felt the point of a sword slide into the space between her chest piece and her underarm.

“Hello Clarrin,” came a smooth voice from the other end of the sword. Slowly, she raised her hands and gave Rolan a look warning him not to make any sudden moves. The man’s blade was already cutting into her flesh and it felt wickedly sharp.

“Hello,” she said. “I’m assuming we’ve met before? In the alley?” She returned her gaze to the Red Wizard and now watched as he opened his robe to reveal a naked, skeletal frame. He took the huge knife from the block, and cackling, proceeded to pull at the slack skin around his hips. Once he had managed to pull an inch or so away from his bones, he began to laugh harder as he sliced at himself, severing a long strip of skin which dangled wetly between his fingers. There was a hole left just above his hip and Tav saw the white of bone poking through, but the wizard seemed to feel no pain. In fact, he continued to laugh as he made his way to a large clay urn which sat by the curtained window. He removed the lid, dropped the lump of flesh into the neck of the pot and resealed it.

“Would you like to meet my master properly?” asked the voice behind Tav. “We’ve been waiting for you both.”

“What in the nine hells is going on here?” hissed Rolan. His patience seemed to have worn out. He was not good at keeping quiet, but she supposed it didn’t matter now. One way or another, they were about to find out the truth.