Five Threads

'For too long…' Xan decided, sitting by the campfire he prepared for the night. Since he was a mage and in the Academy his talent in enchanting magic was widely recognized, not to mention the fact, that he survived so many years as an active Greycloak, he thought of himself as fairly intelligent. For too long a time he thought like that. In truth, by Seldarine, what a fool he was... After an entire day of walking, only when he stopped for the night, it got to him what had he done. Again.

Was there no limit, of what a hopeless fool he could be? Truly, to make the same mistake, with a boring monotony of a fly, trying to break through glass, he just had to make an error in choosing his profession. He should have become a jester, only his antics weren't funny.

He left Daria. Again. Almost the moment she woke up. And why? That was the most ironic part – because she told him to. Because she didn't tell him she loved him back and wanted to stay with him forever, after he abandoned her, stepped all over her feelings, treated her like a monster for Corellon knew how much time and openly showed how little, if any at all, faith he had in her. By all gods, he must have thought she would forgive him the moment she opens her eyes! If he listened so attentively to what she was saying, why did he leave her in the first place?!

Of course she told him to leave! She had every reason to, he deserved it for all divines! He deserved much more. But if he was ever to make up for it, he should have been there now, helping her to prepare her equipment and presenting the spells he found in the library. If he ever wanted to atone, he should be making sure she was safe, he could at least carry her backpack, put up at least one serious counterargument, anything!

Anything except abandoning her again.

The dawn would come soon. Good. He was waiting for it now, unable to sleep. In the darkness he would only lose his way and that would add to the time she would be without his support. But the moment the first rays of light would appear on the horizon, nothing would hold him in place anymore. He'd be back in no time. Finally thinking things through, he prepared a haste spell or five. Nothing was going to slow him down.

A sound of orc's grunting came from the direction or the road. Xan sighed deeply. Almost nothing.

It wasn't dark yet, when he finally arrived in Ellesime's palace. The last two days were a flurry of bad luck, one misfortune lining after another, deterring him from the right path. But he made it, tired and covered in dust, but he did. Daria wasn't in her room in the temple, but he expected that, she didn't need everyday healing anymore. All he needed to do now, was to ask the queen where the sun elf resided currently. He probably should have thought not to bother Suldanessellar royalty with such a trivial matter, but somehow it didn't cross his mind.

"Moonblade Wielder, you come back in great a hurry. What news do you bring?" the queen asked seeing the hasty bow he gave her as a greeting. He found her on one of the branches of the Tree of Life, taking a walk. Elven royalty was not as pompous as the human kings, but they were still royalty. That meant it was the time for protocol.

"Where is Daria?" Xan skipped straight to the point. Ellesime lifted an eyebrow trying to hide her amusement. The usually stern and gloomy enchanter now looked like an uncultured hedge mage, with little patience and poor demeanor. All she was able to get from him for three entire months, were well-mannered empty phrases he put no heart into, barely hiding the fact, that all he was thinking about was returning to the one sleeping in the temple. Now he was like a completely different elf.

"The one you look for has left soon after you, after an assassination attempt was made on her life" the queen answered, seeing the elf before her paling more and more every word.

"Assassination? Is she alright? She left already?!" Xan couldn't decide what he wanted to hear first.

"Yes, she couldn't stay here any longer. And she survived unharmed. One of the priestesses, Alveola, died defending her however" Ellesime answered, saddened. The woman that died was his friend as she heard. But enchanter didn't pay any attention to the unfamiliar name.

"Where did she go?" he asked at once.

"This I cannot say."

"Where?!" Xan raised his voice. At once he controlled himself and realized what had he done. He bowed a curt informal bow, as if that was enough to wipe away his indiscretion. "Please, I have to know."

"I cannot say." The elf was full of surprises. He was a paragon of the People, and a Greycloak – a warrior and diplomat of Evereska. He seemed to be fully aware of this before it and acted accordingly. Yet when it came to the Child of Bhaal he was different. As if she had a different value than his duties. The Queen knew the feeling but still, couldn't help him. "Her words to me before she left were: 'do not tell anyone where I have gone, not even my friends. When I am ready, I will search them out myself'."

'Search them out…' Xan though morosely, all energy leaving his body, as if offered to the Tree for offending the queen of elves. Of course, for a diviner it wouldn't be a hard thing, to gather her friends once more. Only she wouldn't search for him. She didn't want to see him again.

"I apologize for the trouble I have caused you, your highness…" Ellesime saw the elf returning to his old ways. He left the palace without as much as looking back. She thought about stopping him, but it was probably for the best, that he didn't find who he was looking for. Love was not as fragile a thing as some thought, it could take roots in one's heart so deep that only removing both completely could free one from its empty promises. Sometimes it was better not to let it grow at all.

That was it. He wasted his last chance. He wouldn't bump on her miraculously like in Athkatla again, she wouldn't just happen to see him on the street or in a tavern. He didn't know as much as the direction she chose.

Xan sat heavily on a bench before the palace. The citizens greeted him, noticing the sword by his belt, but soon realized he wanted to be alone. Truth was, that he didn't. He wanted to be in company of one specific person. He would be now, if he wasn't such a fool. He had no fate, no destiny to blame this time. He walked away on his own legs. And had the gall to wish for her to stop him. Her.

There must have been tears gathering in his eyes, because the world before his eyes began to blur.

The Harpers had little idea what to do with her.

Their first impulse was to execute her on the spot. Even before she entered their hideout in the dock district, many eyes were following her, but no one dared to attack her in the middle of a busy street, even in the place as lawless as the docks. The moment she entered the hideout however, the door closed behind her and she was surrounded by armed guards. The second she tried a spell or show hostility she'd die. But Jaheira had no intention of attacking and her ward taught her a lot about patience. When big enough crowed gathered around her, waiting for what she'd do, the druidess spoke.

"I am here to tell my side of the story" Jaheira said simply, showing no hostility, or pride.

That was when the famous Harpers' superiority complex surfaced over anger. If a traitor came to their hideout and they captured her, it was obvious that she should be trialed accordingly and the error of her ways should be made as public as the secrecy of the society allowed. The druidess spent a week in prison until the Harpers assembled a court impressive enough to satisfy their obvious need for justice. Some even tried to involve Elminster in the entire ordeal, unfortunately the old mage chose the moment to disappear somewhere. In the end all the preparations worked perfectly against them.

During the trial Jaheira was under any lie-detecting spell known. Five judges were brought from Calimshan, Neverwinter and Waterdeep, no to be involved in amnian politics. All was prepared for her quick and unanimous conviction, as well as the subsequent raise to power of the recently appointed leader of the Athkatla's Harpers, an old leader of a local branch named Leren, whom Jaheira knew only by reputation.

The problems started with the beginning of the trial. Jaheira was graciously allowed to tell her side of story and when she did so, openly, without triggering any of the lie detectors the silence was deafening. Because it wasn't what she was supposed to have said. She should have admitted storming into the Hideout, killing everyone inside it and stealing everything of value. She should have had some reason that she thought was enough, like misguided love for her step-daughter, threatened by those lawfully upholding the balance. She should have been emotional and subjective.

Jaheira spoke calmly, using precise words, reciting the exact words of the past conversation. There was no anger, no accusation, but also no leniency, no dismissing what happened.

"On a precise date our group entered the Hideout after being invited by Galvarey" Jaheira spoke looking directly at the judges, sparing not a glance at the guards around her or the Harpers that come to watch her trial. "We were armed, but came in with their weapons sheathed and no intention of using them inside. My ward was subjected to interrogation. The questions were as followed: 'What is your oldest memory', 'Do you think violence is necessary in this world' and 'What is your favorite color'."

The faces of the judges were a testament to their disbelief. But none of the spells found a trace of lie.

Jaheira continued calmly. "Her answers were: 'I remember escaping with my father Gorion, but I don't remember from where', 'Violence is a part of the world, part of the balance' and 'White'. Galvarey decided that permanent imprisonment using a spell is warranted, because of those answers, I disagreed. He ordered me to join him in subduing my ward. I refused. Then he and four others attacked us using lethal force and magic. We were stronger and killed them. Then we left."

Maybe Leren thought that it couldn't get any worse. If he did, he was wrong. Because Jaheira did come here prepared, but not by taking her weapons. She did so by calling in favors. It wasn't easy, but five people came to testify for her. It wasn't much, but before the trial the majority of the Harpers was firmly convinced that she strayed as far from the path of balance as conceivably possible. That small number was enough to change that. Now unanimity was out of question.

Reviane testified, that she knew Jaheira personally and could vouch for her good judgment and strong character, Bernard the innkeeper from the Copper Coronet knew their group and its reputation, what they did in Trademeet and Imnesvale. Three other of her old friends stepped up, each describing her and Khalid's previous missions to uphold the balance.

That combined with her words and so many spells making sure they were truthful, effectively taught the Harpers about chaos in the court.

There were no laws punishing for killing in self-defense among Harpers, any guilt of this kind was considered the matter of one's faith, to be judged by a priest not a court. By testifying that Galvarey was the attacker Jaheira effectively dismissed any blame for his murder and showed the weak spot in Harpers' logic – there was no one to say that she was the assailant. The meeting Galvarey arranged was a secret, the only members that knew about it were present there and died. All of them but her, and she was considered the murderer. Someone must have pieced the facts together before sending people after her, but they could have just as well made them up. There was no other witness and because of the lie-detecting spells her testimony couldn't be claimed false. Either she wasn't at fault or the best spells the Harpers could cast were all worthless.

After her testimony Jaheira was sent to another cell, this time not as Spartan as the previous one. She was locked up for nearly a month now, with no news. Very rarely she got a visitor – a new mage trying out some different spell to determine if she was telling the truth or lying very cleverly. After a month, the Harpers weren't debating about her fate, they even got bored with finding new spells to prove she was lying. They even returned her mace and shield. Perhaps they were waiting for her to try to escape, so they could kill her during the attempt.

'It's not going to work' Jaheira thought, once more trying to memorize the pattern of cracks on the wall of her cell. 'But it also means I'm going to stay here for a long while…' she sighed. For a moment the world lost its focus and she wondered if dozing off was really such a good idea.

And then everything blurred.

'I am not impressed' Imoen decided, rolling on her back in Valygar's bed.

It was comfortable. Too comfortable.

It was as if the pillows united in efforts to be unbearably soft, making it impossible to create a roll of any kind, like she was used to after countless camps in the wild. And the sheets? She had no idea what they were made of, but if this was the satin she read so much about, then she already hated it.

Finally the thief decided to abandon the bed, even though it was barely past noon. Hmph. That must have been Valygar's plan all along. To give her the most comfortable bed in his, a bit shabby, truth to be told, estate, so she would find a different place to crash. Wasn't going to work. Even though most of every night she was spending all over the city messing with the Shadow Thieves, this was the only place she decided to sleep in. Maybe that wasn't what the grumpy noble had in mind when he grunted out an invitation to stay 'if she really needed to'. But it was his fault for not being specific enough.

He was out again, minding his noble business. The Cowled gave him no trouble anymore, apparently they had too much problems, having lost their most secure prison, to mind such a trivial matter as a magekiller walking freely. They gave her no trouble either, but she avoided using any kind of magic as much as she could, even despite the license Jaheira bought her. That gave her a lot of time to refresh her slightly rusty thieving skills. Truth to be told she expected more fun following Valygar to his home, but the ranger was cunning. He said not a word when she burgled in, moved to a guest bedroom without a word when she claimed his bed and not once asked her when was she planning to leave. That sneaky, sneaky man was trying to get rid of her using her worst and fiercest enemy – boredom. And unfortunately, it was working.

'Maybe if I broke into the council chambers and planted whatever I stole in his mansion he would finally take a little interest…' she was beginning to wonder. And then, because she truly had nothing better to do, she began to make plans for the heist. Luckily for one athkatlan noble, she never got to finish them, because suddenly the world blurred before her eyes.

The road was muddy. No, not just muddy. It was the essence of muddiness, with a godlike quality to its puddles and its stickiness and wetness so mighty, countless legends could be sung about a rain that managed to accomplish such a heroic feat.

The berserker that currently walked the road was grumpy. And he wasn't just grumpy either.

"I do not understand you, Boo" he whined heroically. "We are mighty heroes, aren't we? Mighty heroes serve evil glorious butt-kicking, marinate it and keep for other, even more glorious days! Why aren't we butt-kicking? Did something change? What was it, Boo? Was there some new plan to bring down the evil ones with a Kick of Mighty Justice served onto their shins? Why is it that Minsc never heard about it?"

The squeak that came from a hamster must have told the giant man something, but whatever it was, it did not ease his mind. He purposefully walked into a middle of the biggest puddle, sending rich, angry splashes.

"So you say, Boo, so you say! But Minsc does not understand. Our friend Daria is sleeping because of Irenicus' vile magic and yet you allow no kissing, which is a certain way to break the spell, as a great witch once told Minsc, when he had trouble falling asleep as a child! You say we should head home and that we should depart on a rainy day, because no other will do. And now Minsc has water in his shoes! What good his Mighty Kicks of Justice will do when they're all soggy and damp? And all you say it's for dramatic effect! What is this dramatic effect?"

"Squeak!" the hamster answered as the lines of the world before the duo's eyes began to look just as muddied as the world around them. In a second all that was left on the empty road was a pair of deep, brown shoe prints.

"The Order cannot send troops to Saradush!" The young knight raised his voice in the sacred halls of the Order of the Radiant Heart. Prelate Wessalen fought to keep his appearance stern, despite the furious arrogance the man before him shown in his every word. Their youngest member would do well to remember his manners when talking to those both older and wiser than him. Once again he commended himself to the virtue of patience and reasoned.

"Sir Anomen, I understand that your previous companions might have put your view on the matter of the spawn of Bhaal into a different perspective, but it is better to err on the side of caution. While it is true, that not all of the Children show violent tendencies from the start, situation demands a stabilizing factor in the area, someone who would ensure that common people's lives will be protected. A large contingent of knights…"

"If we show our support, the situation will turn into a full-blown witch-hunt! Children of Bhaal are already hunted…"

"Knight Anomen" the prelate was more insistent this time. "Our foremost duty is to protect the innocents."

"What guilt does a child hold for its father's sins?" Prelate stopped to look at the young knight again. The way he twisted prelate's words was doing him no favors. There was no argument, that recent travels changed the man. Before the words that described the squire best, would be: arrogant, selfish and thoughtless. But now even one of the leaders of the Order had to begrudgingly admit there was some wisdom in his words. So the thoughtlessness was gone. Now, if only the young Delryn would learn the value of diplomacy.

"Very well." He decided to allow sir Anomen his quest. This once. "If you are so sure of your own might, that you will go alone as an emissary of the Order. This is a duty far heavier, but you did ask for it." A contingent of knights could wait. A week, the prelate decided, was enough to give the youngster an illusion of freedom, but not enough for him to spark a conflict that could be avoided otherwise.

"Then I shall depart at once!" The knight beamed like he was just promised his own castle. Then suddenly the silhouette of the young man blurred like a breath on a mirror and he vanished.

A/N Thank you Nikoru Sanzo! Your reviews really help me stay motivated to write!