Neverwinter, hm?” He looked down at Farideh. “My dear, have you ever been to Neverwinter?”
“No,” Farideh said. She stood, carefully, testing her weight on her ankle.
“Waterdeep?”
“Just the edge. Not past the wall.”
“So,” he said turning back to Roglarr, “it seems very unlikely that you have found yourself a secret member of the cult your friend joined, and much more likely you merely find yourself a bit embarrassed about calling down this lass and finding something you weren’t expecting. Put the dagger away, Roglarr. Go back to your drinking and stop hunting for trouble.”
The young man looked as if he’d rather snap the priest’s head off, but instead he jerked his hand away and sheathed the dagger, before stomping back into the inn, his friends trailing.
“Many thanks,” Farideh said once he’d gone. The man gave her a little bow.
“Not at all,” he said. “Of course,” he added, “if you
Farideh blushed, and set her mouth in a hard line. “You needn’t worry.”
“Oh, my apologies,” the priest said, with a chuckle. “I’m merely teasing, and doing a rotten job of it. You’re one of the dragonborn’s girls, aren’t you? Did he tell you we’d be traveling together?”
“Oh,” Farideh said. That was where she’d seen him. The priest from the caravan. “Yes, he mentioned.”
He held out a hand. “I’m Tam.”
“Farideh,” she said, taking his proffered hand gingerly. The man grinned, and Farideh was surprised at how bright his teeth were.
“Well met, Farideh.” He looked back over her shoulder. “Where is Mehen? We were supposed to meet this morning.”
“He’s coming,” she said. “He wasn’t feeling well.” She smiled nervously, careful to keep her own pointed teeth covered.
“He seems trustworthy,” Mehen had said the night before, after telling them of the priest’s offer. “But, Fari, he’s still a priest. Sword only from here on out, and don’t test that. You’ll need to keep Lorcan’s spells a secret.”
But all that worry was making the shadow-smoke start to leak out around her, trying to protect her. She held very still to keep it undisturbed, and tried to slow her breath. The priest kept looking at her.
“You come from Tymanther?” he asked. She nodded-it was close enough.
He grinned. “Whatever they say, I promise I don’t bite.”
At best, the dragonborn had little interest in the gods. At worst, they disdained them, saw them as little better than the dragon overlords and cruel titans their ancestors had escaped when their world had collided with Toril. She knew the only reason Mehen hadn’t dragged her to a priest to see about having the pact stripped away was that he hadn’t run out of options that didn’t involve making him beholden to some god or other.
But the sands in that hourglass were running low-sooner or later, he’d insist they try.
“Oh, well … we didn’t live in the city. We … came from a village on the frontier,” Farideh said. “There were … the midwife was a priestess of Chauntea.”
“Well, I promise you, priests of Selune are just as harmless and mostly just as pleasant.”
Farideh smiled so she would not tell Tam what a horror dealing with Criella had really been. “I’m sure,” she said after a moment.
Brin came out of the stables then, picking straws from his hair. Farideh started to excuse herself, but Tam caught sight of Brin.
“Ah!” he said. “Farideh, I’d like you to meet my apprentice. Brin. He’ll be accompanying us to Neverwinter as well. Brin, you might remember Farideh?”
A look of surprise passed over Brin’s face, and Farideh pursed her lips. An apprentice priest? He’d left that out. Gods, what had she admitted to the night before?
“We’ve met,” she said.
“Yes,” Brin said. “I … we talked last night.”
“Oh good,” Tam said, with a hard look at Brin. “You took my advice.”
“There you are!” Havilar said, bounding up to them. “Why didn’t you wait for me? Good morning, Brin.”
Farideh flushed. “You were still sleeping,” she said to Havilar, even though she didn’t take her eyes off Tam. “And I just wanted to talk to Brin alone.”
“About what?” Havilar said, turning to Brin.
“About Neverwinter,” Farideh said. “This is … Tam,” she said, ignoring the daggers her sister was staring at her. “He’s the one Mehen said we’d escort. He’s Brin’s … master. This is my sister Havilar.”
“Oh,” Havilar said, though Farideh noticed she had the decency to look chagrined at ignoring him. “You were the one with the chain. It’s a very nice weapon. Well met.”
“Well met,” Tam said, “and I return the compliment. It’s not often you find such a spry glaivemaster. And Mehen?” he asked Farideh. “Will he be ready to leave soon?”
“Yes,” Havilar said. “Definitely.” She traded a glance with Farideh. “Before midday at the very latest.”
Traveling that day was faster and quieter than the day before had been. Farideh stayed as far from Tam as she could, lest her nerves overtake her and she do something stupid. It meant she was usually lagging behind everyone but Mehen, who was still nursing a headache.
But it meant she had time to think.
Lorcan had let her be all morning. If she were lucky, he was busy with other things and she could get to Neverwinter without having to worry about how to hide her pact from Tam or Brin. As long as she kept her sleeves down and she used her sword, they wouldn’t have a reason to think about whether or not she was really a sorcerer.
She wished she knew something about sorcerers. All she was sure of was they didn’t need a spellbook the way wizards did. She chewed her lip. In Neverwinter, it might do to buy a large book and a staff, so that she might pass as a wizard.
But with Brin, she would have to broach the subject eventually. She needed help-as little as she knew about sorcerers, she knew less about other warlocks. If Mehen and Havilar left-
He might be afraid. He might run off. If he was learning from a priest, he might do worse.
She watched the back of the Selunite priest, walking along ahead of her. She remembered enough of him from the attack on the caravan to be worried. Not the sort to pray and wait. If he found out about her pact, what were the chances he would run off? Slim, it seemed, remembering the way his chain had lashed out and struck down an orc with an explosion of silver light.
And Brin was his apprentice. What were the chances he was only learning the chain? Or the casting of rituals? Or … whatever else Selunites did? Charting the moon?
Farideh almost wished that Lorcan were there. That she could ask him what to do. As much as he made her stomach twist, he did tend to be right. If she could piece off the parts of his advice that didn’t aid her and keep the parts that did …
If she could do that, she wouldn’t need to find another warlock.
She thought of the way Lorcan had grabbed her arm when Sairche appeared-as if he wasn’t going to let go of her, as if he expected someone was going to physically take her away. And he didn’t want that. He wanted to keep her close. Close as that night in the winter, his fingertips tracing her brand …
The thought sent a little thrill through her, and she shook her head as if she could fling it from her mind. Havilar was right: they needed to meet more people.
With a little distance, Farideh was certain that everything Lorcan had said and done was for Sairche’s sake. Because Sairche was clearly not supposed to know Farideh was Lorcan’s warlock.
Just as Farideh was not supposed to know that Sairche might care whether or not she was. All that teasing was just Lorcan leading Farideh astray. Trying to keep her from worrying. But why would he worry about Sairche
