Twinspire. Where we’d met Jaide. She’d said something …
Shark bite.
Jaide had a nick on her ear. She had been wearing her hair to cover it since, and the excuse was unconvincing. A shark had bitten her, she’d said. Wouldn’t a nick from a sword be more likely?
I tried to visualize the nick and found it remarkably ready in my mind’s eye. And it was not clean, not a cut like a fine sword or a dagger would make. It was the sort of thing a serrated blade might make as it pulled past her head and caught her ear.
And there was something she’d said when I asked for a name. “That is for you to do,” she’d told me. It was the second time she’d used that phrase.
The first had been when I’d asked her to kill—
Malchor’s chant rose to a crescendo and the candlelight disappeared, snuffed in a blink. It was time for me to say the name.
Chrysaor, my brain yelled. It must be. It can’t be who you think it is. He’s dead. He’s gone. He’s not the Sentinel.
But I knew it in my heart, and couldn’t stop myself from saying it aloud.
“Asbeel.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“I’m not going with you.” Joen put her hand on the strap of Haze’s saddle as I was tightening it.
“You’ll be cursed with bad luck for the rest of your life unless we destroy these stones,” I said, pushing her hand away and continuing my work. “You have to come with me.”
She punched me in the shoulder, but not very hard. “You’re dumb, you know? Do you even have a plan?”
“Asbeel is in Baldur’s Gate. He’s the other Sentinel.”
“That ain’t a plan.”
“I’ll make him destroy the stones.”
“Oi, make him? Make him how?”
“I’ve beaten him before.”
“We,” she corrected me. “We beat him before—with help from Robillard. And just barely, eh?”
I shrugged. “I’ve learned a lot since then.”
“Not enough, though. He’ll kill you!” She let out a sort of half gasp, half sob, then brought her hand to cover her mouth.
I stopped what I was doing and stared at her. Tears rimmed her emerald eyes. She brought an arm up to wipe the tears away, but that only made her crying more obvious. She tried in vain to keep her sobs down, to keep a straight, tough face.
“I have a say in this,” Joen said, her voice barely a whisper. “We should just move on, you know? We can live with this. We can be free.”
“No,” I answered. “We can’t be free. These stones, these curses, will always be there to bind us unless we do something about it. Unless I do something about it.”
She was shaking her head before I finished. “There’s always something, eh? If it ain’t the stones, something else will make bad things happen. It’s just life.”
“Then we need to make something good happen instead.”
“I’m not coming with you,” Joen said again.
“Fine, then,” I said, turning back to my work. “I’ll just have to do this alone.” Joen turned and bolted for the door. She meant her exit to be dramatic, I knew, but it didn’t go so well. Her ankle tangled in one of the straps of Haze’s bridle that was lying on the floor beside the mare, and Joen stumbled and nearly fell headlong into the door. She, graceful Joen, would have slammed her face into the wood, already-broken nose leading the way, if the door hadn’t opened.
Instead, she crashed into Jaide’s ankles, nearly bringing the elf tumbling down beside her.
I trotted over as Jaide helped Joen back to her feet. The girl brought her hand to her face in a futile attempt to stem the trickle of blood from her nose.
“See?” I said. “Would you have fallen like that if not for the cursed stone you carry?”
“Yeth,” she said, her voice slurred under the gushing blood. “You bwoke my nothe, with ow without the thtone.”
“Yeah, and you’re so clumsy, you always trip over lines and fall into doors. Nothing new there.”
She punched me again.
“I am sorry about the nose, though,” I said. “I had to do it to—”
“Thneak off without me and pewfowm a thecwet witual to find out whewe Athbeel ith, I know,” Joen finished for me.
I stared blankly at her for a few moments.
“She said,” Jaide spoke up, “you snuck off without her to perform a secret ritual to find out where Asbeel is.”
“I know what she said,” I lied. I turned to face Joen. “Does that mean you accept my apology?”
Joen looked at me for a long time in silence. The blood stopped flowing, and she took her hand away from her face, grabbing a rag to wipe up the last of the liquid. Finally, she nodded her assent.
“Good,” I said. “Now, I have work to do.” I went back to Haze, fitting her saddle tightly. There was strength in the horse’s eyes, and she offered no complaint as I prepared her for the road. She would carry me to the Gate and help me avenge Perrault once and for all.
“Maimun,” Jaide said from the door. “There is something we must discuss.”
“Can it wait?” I said, not looking at her.
“I’m coming with you,” she said.
“No,” I answered. “I’ll join you after I’ve finished with Asbeel.”
“You don’t make the rules,” she said.
“My horse won’t carry us both. I plan to go very fast.”
“However fast you can go, I can go faster.”
“And then what?” I asked. “You intend to help me fight Asbeel? I thought you couldn’t fight my battles.”
“I can’t. But you’re forgetting you need both Sentinels to perform the ritual and destroy the stones. And both stones too. I have to come.”
“Joen’s already decided not to come,” I said. “So I’ll have to just capture Asbeel, I suppose, and bring him back to you. You and Joen can go to Waterdeep. I’ll meet you there with the demon.”
“Oi,” Joen said. “Don’t be stupid. I’m going to come with you too so you don’t get killed, you know?”
I smiled at her, but she didn’t smile back. She turned on her heel and walked out of the stable.
We reached Baldur’s Gate on Midsummer’s Eve, just as the sun set. We approached from the east as the sun descended just behind the city, lighting up the towers and spires as if they were beautiful golden candles. The temple district, up on the hill and full of grand structures of marble and stone, looked especially wondrous.
“Where is Asbeel?” I asked Jaide. “You can sense him, right?”
“No, I cannot,” she answered.
“I thought the Sentinels could always sense each other.”
“Not when we’re under the protection of one of the goddesses,” she said, “the blessed sanctum of a temple dedicated to Tymora or Beshaba. When we seek shelter there, the connection is lost.”
“Ah, so that’s why you needed me to do the ritual,” I said. “You knew he was hiding at a temple, but you didn’t know which one.”
“Oi,” Joen cut in, “you mean the ritual where he had to break my nose?” There was an edge to her tone, though I couldn’t tell if it was anger or simply sarcasm.
Jaide laughed lightly, apparently thinking it was the latter. “Yes, that one. Though he didn’t have to break your nose, he just needed some of your blood.”
I shrugged. “If I’d asked nicely, would you have helped me?”
Joen didn’t answer and I cringed at the thought that I’d hurt her for no reason.
“It’s also why,” Jaide said, “I have for so long stayed here, in the Lady’s Hall in Baldur’s Gate.”
“And why you kept the Stone of Tymora there,” I reasoned. “Until you thought I was ready to take it.”
She nodded.
“Oi, does Baldur’s Gate have a temple to Beshaba?” Joen asked.
“No,” Jaide said. “Few cities have organized temples to the Lady of Ill Fate.”
“Well, then we know where he is, eh?”
/> “We should probably find lodgings for the night,” I said. “We’re tired from the journey, after all.”
“Asbeel knows where we are,” Jaide said. “I cannot sense him, but he can sense me and both stones. He knows we’ve come, and he won’t give us a night to rest.”
“We should at least put Haze up,” I said.
“The temple can lodge her,” Jaide answered. “Come, I’ll lead the way.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The tremendous double doors swung open silently with ease and grace that belied their massive size. The chamber beyond was equally massive, its walls and ceiling barely visible in the dim light of our torch and the dimmer light of the single candle resting on the altar at the far end of the room. The floor was pristine marble, white as snow, with swirls of pink and blue dancing across it in no discernable pattern. A single figure wrapped in a white cloak, hood pulled over his head, knelt before the altar.
This scene seemed so familiar, yet so foreign. I’d last looked upon this room two years ago this very night. Then, it had been Jaide kneeling at the altar and Perrault walking through the door. I’d only seen the room through Alviss’s magical crystal ball, and how grand it had appeared. This time, though, from this angle, it seemed far larger and far less grand.
Joen and I stood frozen in the doorway, but Jaide walked confidently, her footsteps echoing in the cavernous room.
“Come,” she whispered to us, and we each took a step forward.
“Yes,” said the figure at the altar, his voice low and imposing. “Do come. It has been so long since I’ve seen you.”
He rose to his feet, shrugged off the white cloak, and turned to face us. He was a mere silhouette against the candlelight behind him, but I knew the shape well enough: bald head, sharp features, pointed ears.
Asbeel.
“Not long enough,” I practically shouted. “You should be dead.”
“Yes, I should,” he answered. “But so should you, many times over. We each have Tymora to thank for our lives.” He walked out from the altar, and the light seemed to follow him—no, to grow with him. The walls, the floor, the ceiling all glowed with a dim white light that only grew as he approached. The light revealed the whole expanse of the room, the white columns lining the walls, and the alcoves with smaller altars and carvings and etchings of words, poems or prayers, I could not tell.
It also revealed the speaker—not Asbeel’s red-tinted skin, sharp-toothed mouth, and twisted face. It revealed the pale skin of a moon elf, one of Jaide’s kin.
I had long wondered what type of creature Asbeel really was. His demonic appearance had certainly suggested he was a being of the lower planes, but he didn’t fit exactly with any of the types I knew about. Could it have been that his demon form was but an illusion? That he was truly an elf?
“Dear sister,” the elf who was Asbeel continued. “At long last you’ve brought them both to me.”
“She didn’t bring us,” I said.
“Oi, we’ve both faced you before,” Joen added.
“Not you, fools,” he said, his voice smooth and calm. “You are not relevant. I was speaking of the blessed stones.”
“The bearers brought the stones of their own free will,” Jaide said.
“Whatever helps you sleep, sister,” Asbeel answered.
“We did,” I said. “We brought them, and we’re going to make you destroy them.”
“Nothing would please me more.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Asbeel laughed, a hearty laugh filled with mirth, something completely foreign to my experience of him. Always before, his laugh had been a horrid, grating thing.
“Have you truly learned so much and yet so little?” he said. “Next you’ll tell me she hasn’t even revealed how the ritual occurs!”
Jaide spoke before I could answer. “One of the bearers must kill one of the Sentinels, the Sentinel who watches his specific stone.”
“Not a problem, then,” Joen said, drawing her daggers and moving toward Asbeel. Jaide reached out an arm and held her back.
“Not here,” she said softly.
“And why would you care that it not be here, sister?” Asbeel asked. “This is not the home of your Lady, after all.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, eh?” Joen asked.
Again Asbeel laughed that mirthful laugh, which I found somehow more unsettling than the wretched chortle I was used to. “It’s worse than even I suspected!” he said. “My dear sister never even told you which goddess she serves? Oh, how cruel!”
My gut clenched tight. I did my best to keep a straight face, to not let Asbeel know his words had surprised me. But they surprised me all right, and the fact that one corner of Jaide’s lips curled up in a touch of a smile, and that she didn’t refute Asbeel’s claim, made the blood run cold in my veins. I was so wrong, for so long, in so many ways. I was wrong about Perrault, then too, wasn’t I? Wasn’t it he who had put me in contact with Jaide, a servant of an evil goddess? Could he have known? Why would he have done that?
“You’ve all been manipulating me,” I said, my voice tight in my throat. “You’ve lied to me over and over again, cursed me, pushed me around, put me in harm’s way, led me here against my will. So she serves Beshaba, and you serve Tymora. That changes nothing.”
“It changes everything!” he said, his manner maddeningly jovial.
“All it changes is who gets the pleasure of killing you,” I said, drawing my magical stiletto—the stiletto I’d inherited from Perrault.
“Not here,” Jaide said again, more forcefully.
“She’s masked the truth from you, my dear sister has, and overstepped her bounds as much as I have.”
“Why do you keep calling her sister?” Joen asked.
“Because,” Jaide answered, “he is my brother by birth.”
“Twins, you see,” Asbeel continued. “The goddesses chose twins to bear their blessing.”
“It is a curse,” Jaide said.
“You no more believe that than I do.”
“Oi, why not just stop, then?” Joen asked. “Just ignore your goddesses, you know?”
“Oh, he did,” Jaide said. “That’s why his appearance is so twisted beyond these walls. That’s the punishment he suffers.”
“You should suffer as I do,” Asbeel said, his voice low and menacing, all traces of mirth gone from it. “You betrayed the charge as thoroughly as I did. More so, even.”
“You seek the bearers of your sacred stone so that you may kill them,” Jaide said, revulsion obvious in her tone.
“To facilitate the passage of the stones to their rightful bearers, this is our divine task. You, though, you tried to stop it entirely.”
“Stop it?” I asked.
Jaide sighed. “I suppose it’s time you knew everything. You see, your parents were my dear friends—as was Perrault, Alviss, and Elbeth. We adventured together—many years ago. And then one day your mother found the Stone of Tymora. And everything changed. Asbeel killed your mother, and your father when he tried to defend her, to facilitate the passage of the stone to someone of his choosing. But the stone bound to you before Asbeel could stop it. Asbeel was furious. And I was horrified. You were so young. Too young. When I heard what had happened, I had Perrault deliver the stone to me and hide you away. When you turned twelve, he felt you were ready to bear the stone and let the goddess’s will reign. I feared the stone’s power would be too much for you, but I felt it could not be lost. I had a responsibility to bear, and I had hoped Asbeel would relent. But then Perrault died.” Jaide glared at Asbeel. “And I no longer wanted to take part in the havoc the stones wreck on their bearers’ lives. Elbeth convinced me she could help, she and the Circle would take the stone back and protect you, but when that didn’t work, and you escaped the island with the stone, I came to find you, to push you on your way. If this was to end, the ritual was the only way. But you had to discover it for yourself.”
I swallow
ed. I had longed for answers for so long, but this was almost too much to bear. And there was still one thing that didn’t make sense to me. “What about Chrysaor? Was he working for you all along?”
Jaide shrugged. “Chrysaor was helping both Elbeth and me to push you on your way, when we couldn’t risk revealing ourselves to you.”
Joen held out the black stone in her hand. “How does this thing fit into all this?”
“Not long after Perrault died, the last bearer of the Stone of Beshaba passed away, of natural causes, and so I hid it away,” Jaide said. “In the one place in all the world where it could not seek a new soul.”
“Twinspire,” Asbeel growled. “I should have known it was there.”
“The place where the goddesses first bound the stones to mortals, and the two of us to the stones,” Jaide continued. “But Alviss discovered it. After Perrault died, I confided my plans to him. I shouldn’t have trusted him. He insisted we should not meddle with Beshaba’s will, and he spent the next year and a half searching for the Stone of Beshaba, aided by Beshaba’s cultists.”
I glanced at Joen and whispered, “The goblins! And those spies in the library.”
Jaide nodded. “He had much help. He and his friends tried to stop you in your quest. And he found the stone first. I’m sorry for what had to happen to him.”
I gasped. “You killed him?”
“It was the only way. My motives were the purest.”
“And that’s why you don’t look like a demon—like Asbeel,” I added.
“Wrong!” Asbeel shouted, his yell echoing in the cavernous temple. “She is not corrupted because she hides away in the sanctuaries of Tymora! Look at her closely in the wider world, boy, you’ll see. She’s turning. She’s changing. She’s becoming just like me.”
“Enough of this talk,” I said.
“Yes, enough indeed,” Asbeel answered. “I tire of you, boy. If the ritual is the only way I can be done with you, then so be it. That is what you want, isn’t it, dear sister? In full knowledge of the consequences?”
Jaide nodded solemnly. “I know now I cannot stand in the goddess’ way.”