Sentinelspire

seemed focused entirely inward, a mixture of sorrow and contemplation. 'Suffice to say he was not born into the exalted position he holds. My father grew up hard. Early life for him was not so much living as surviving, and he did not have the benefit of a master who loved him.'

A master who loved him. A sob rose in the back of Lewan's throat, but he took a deep breath and choked it down. Ignoring his trembling hands, he poured himself more water and took a long drink while Talierh gathered her thoughts.

'My father learned that to survive-and later, to protect those he loved-required power. No matter how rich, powerful, and influential he became, he never forgot the hard lessons of his childhood. They… haunted him. And perhaps he was not as careful as he should have been in where he sought power. He became a devoted servant of Bhaal, and when his god died… I think that was the beginning of my father's madness.'

Lewan thought that anyone who would willingly serve Bhaal was well on their way to madness already, but he held his tongue.

'The death of his god reawakened something my father had not known in many years,' said Talieth. 'Desperation. And fear. He began seeking new paths to power-lore, relics, allies. Although I cannot be certain, I believe it was during this time that my father first came into contact with your master's master, Chereth.'

'Chereth would have never allied himself with assassins!' said Lewan. He looked up and forced himself to hold Talieth's gaze.

If anything, she seemed amused by his effrontery. 'I thought you said you never knew Chereth?'

'My master spoke of him often. He-'

'And your master never hid anything from you?' said Talieth, her voice sharp. 'Never, perhaps, chose to withhold certain truths in order to protect you from… harsh realities?'

Lewan held his glare a few moments longer before dropping his eyes to his half-eaten meal.

'In truth,' Talieth continued, 'I could be wrong on this point. I don't know when my father first had dealings with Chereth. And it's entirely possible that Chereth never told your master of this. You Oak Children do seem rather adept at keeping secrets from one another. But I do know that they…' She thought a moment. '… crossed purposes.'

Rather adept at keeping secrets from one another. That stung. Mostly because Lewan knew it to be true. How could his master have hidden so much from him? And why? Did he not trust him? Did he think him some fragile little boy incapable of knowing the truth? Or was it simply shame at his past life? And how much had he truly known about his own master?

'My father and Chereth… I wouldn't call them allies,' continued Talieth. 'Certainly not friends. But they aided one another from time to time when it suited their purposes.'

'A servant of the Oak Father does not aid assassins,' said Lewan, though that particular truth, as much as he wanted to believe it, suddenly felt like trying to hold water with an open hand.

Talieth chuckled, a low throaty laugh with little kindness or humor in it. 'Do you hate us so much, Lewan? You don't know us.'

'I know you kill for profit.'

'So do kings and khans,' said Talieth. 'You are too young to remember when Yamun Khahan's horde invaded the west. You think he killed all those thousands of people out of kindness? Kings kill by the thousands. They'll cloak it in glory or some righteous cause, but make no mistake. Profit is the oldest reason for killing, yet it's alive and well. None are better at it than kings. And in his own way, my father was a king.'

'It's…' Lewan struggled to find the right word, then decided simple was best. 'Evil.'

Talieth threw back her head and laughed. 'Evil? Your dear master never killed?'

'Never for coins!'

'Never?' She gave him a hard look, the demeanor of a queen displeased at an errant servant.

'You mean Kheil,' said Lewan. He chose his words carefully so his voice would not tremble under Talieth's gaze. 'You-'

'I know Kheil killed for coins,' said Talieth, her voice rising to cut him off. 'And many times for far less than that. That man loved blood like some men love wine. No, I am speaking of your Master Berun. He never killed? Nor once?'

Lewan scowled. 'Nor for coins.'

'Then for what?'

'To protect himself,' said Lewan. 'To protect others. He-'

'Others? What others?'

'Villagers sometimes hired him to track bandits,' said Lewan. 'He guarded caravans on the Golden Way a few times.'

'And he did this for free?' said Talieth. 'Out of the kindness of his heart? Or did he do it for coins?'

Lewan turned his gaze away, unable to stomach her smug expression.

Talieth's voice softened. Not all the way to kindness, certainly, but she no longer seemed on the edge of anger. 'Don't misunderstand me, Lewan. You have a code by which you live. Which you honor. I respect that. But we, too, have our code. Do not despise us. Do not judge what you do not know. Would not even your master say such behavior is foolish?'

Lewan could sense the wrongness of her words, but he couldn't reason his way around them. The seed of doubt was not yet sprouted, but it had been planted in fertile soil.

'Chereth,' Talieth continued, 'what interest he and my father shared… I have no idea. But I do know that something happened between them. Again, here my knowledge is incomplete. All I know is that whatever happened was bad enough that my father sent men to kill the druid. Sent'-Lewan caught the faintest hint of a break in her voice — 'Kheil. And you didn't send Kheil for a quiet kill. No. You sent Kheil when you wanted a message sent. When you wanted bloody murder and everyone to know about it. My father sent Kheil and a band to the Yuirwood. They… did not succeed.'

'Kheil was killed.'

'Yes,' said Talieth, her voice carefully controlled. 'And I thought him truly dead. I went nearly mad with grief myself. Had I known…' She stopped long enough to compose herself, then continued. 'But several years ago, Chereth came here. To the Fortress. He came to kill my father, and it says something about the old druid's power- and perhaps my father's early madness-that he came so close to succeeding. Many of our people died. More than a few of Sauk's scars were earned that night. But my father finally managed to subdue the old druid, and he has held him captive all these years. I only knew that Chereth was the man responsible for the death of the only man I ever loved.'

Despite his anger and confusion, Lewan kept his face carefully neutral. It seemed obvious to him that her father was mostly to blame for Kheil's death, but she was well into her tale-telling Lewan things he'd never heard- so he did nothing to contradict her prejudiced view.

'Having the druid here in the fortress only reawakened my grief. I might have killed Chereth myself had my father not protected him. Make no mistake. The old druid was a prisoner. Never unguarded. But as long as he behaved himself, my father would allow no one to harm him. No one except my father. I told you that my father's hunger for power often knew no caution. Though he was once a devoted priest of Bhaal, after the death of his god, he… broadened his interests, studying the arcane, searching lore wherever he could find it. Even this fortress, the place you now sit, is ancient. Built by the Imaskari thousands of years ago, and it holds many of their secrets still.'

'And your father,' said Lewan, 'he used these powers on Chereth?'

'Used them on him, with him-perhaps even for him,' said Talieth. 'As I said, my father's hunger for power knew no bounds. He coerced knowledge from the old druid, by kindness or by torture. My father is an expert at both. But he also found ways to use the druid to leech the powers of the earth itself to serve him. This, I believe, is when his madness fully bloomed.'

'I still don't understand,' said Lewan. And he wasn't sure he wanted to. None of this had anything to do with him. His master was dead. If Chereth truly were alive, the best Lewan could do for him was to escape himself, perhaps seek a circle of druids somewhere, and tell them of the old half-elf's plight. One half-trained novice could do nothing against such powers.

'Tell me,' said Talieth. 'Did you feel the earth tremble not long ago?'

'Yes,' said Lewan. 'It's why I went out on the balcony. I thought it might have been a landslide.'