Brimstone Angels

She drained her wine and dabbed at her mouth, staring down Vartan. He would not become useless to her now. Not with Invadiah breathing down her neck, not with everything breaking down and everyone ready to look for a scapegoat.

“You seem …” She held the pause for long enough that she seemed uncertain and worried. “Preoccupied. I do hope the, ah, gentleman didn’t trouble you yesterday.”

“Oh,” Vartan said. “No … No more than usual.”

“Vartan,” she said, her mouth stern, but her eyes soft-pleading even. “I don’t appreciate being lied to.”

“What?” he said. “Whyever would you think I’ve been lying to you?”

“I had thought,” she said, “I had hoped. That we were carrying on Anthus’s work together. But that isn’t so. You see me as a hindrance. As a nuisance.” She forced her lower lip forward in a pout so slight he would think it unintentional. The force of her feelings.

“No! No, not at all,” he said. He laid a hand on hers, the guilt in his gray eyes exactly what she was aiming for. “You’re right, I am distracted. Anthus’s … work is more complex than I expected, and points in different directions. But I assure you no one thinks you’re a hindrance.”

“Has the Sovereignty turned you away?” she said.

Vartan startled. That had him, she thought. “How do you know that name?” he demanded.

Rohini made sure her eyes sparkled with admiration as she said, “You ask me how? I learned from the most intelligent man on the Sword Coast and you ask me how?” She clasped her hand over his and held him there. “A bit of information here, a careless word there, a feverish tale told too loudly at a tavern. It’s true then? What they say? That they are creatures of astonishing knowledge?”

Vartan eyed her a moment. “You mustn’t go around speaking of this. It could be dangerous.”

“I’ve spoken to no one but you, I swear it. But that is … that is who Anthus was speaking to.”

Vartan didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Rohini knew his part almost as well as her own, and didn’t need any cues to say all the right things.

“You are … brilliant, Vartan,” she said earnestly. “Wiser, I sometimes think, than Anthus ever was. And if their agents have not realized it and taken you into their confidence, then it is their blindness and nothing more.”

“You are kind,” he said. “But courting the Sovereignty is not akin to gaining a lordling’s attention. Even their servants are wiser than most people dream of. They know things … Even the weak-willed servitors they craft know things I cannot. My approaches have not been favored.”

Of course they hadn’t-Vartan had no doubt been coy and subtle as an old maid. Rohini sighed. “Would that there were some way, somehow, that you might channel your knowledge, your theories of the Chasm and the planes, into something grand. Something to astound them and make them take notice. Something to make them realize all they have lost by not hearing you!”

“I very much doubt the Sovereignty has any interest in curing spellplague, or reviving the gods.”

Rohini’s smile was small and sad, but inside, she felt like a wolf with bared teeth, gloating over a kill.

“I suppose they’d rather you infect people to get their attention,” she said offhandedly. A poor jest. A comment without any thought at all behind it. A comment that sparked something in Vartan’s thoughts.

He gave her a considered look. “That … Perhaps. They want servants to walk abroad for them, I believe. Improving them would doubtless please the Old Ones.”

“Stronger,” Rohini said, her voice high with wonder, “cleverer, faster, and imbued with spellscars. They would be well-protected by such, considering the fear of the Chasm.”

“Precisely.” Vartan turned to her, his features troubled still. “I … it would be dangerous. The odds-”

“You could, Vartan,” Rohini said. Passionate here, she thought. A touch overbold. Spread it thick. She laid a hand over his. “If anyone could, it is you. You are the wisest man I have ever known. Or ever will, I suspect.”

“You flatter me. There is so much I don’t know. They have reason to turn me away …”

Rohini nearly snarled-ages of this, and suddenly, Vartan was humble? To the Hells with subtlety. She thrust the domination over him.

“Harness what they have not,” she said, pulling the charm tighter, “and they cannot deny you are worthy of their knowledge. Their minds may be great, but they do not understand what it is that mortals fear-only they come upon it by their nature. Your servitors would show you can supply what they lack. In exchange for their knowledge of the rift. How to harness the rift.”

“You speak of madness,” he said, but there was no reprobation in his voice. He wanted to be convinced.

“I speak of your destiny,” Rohini said, letting the net of her charm close around him completely. “You were not made to play nursemaid to the Lord Pretender’s guards. I have seen your and Anthus’s notes, I have seen your work. You know how to all but guarantee a spellscar, and keep the infected from dying.” She placed her mouth close to his ear. “And I know how to make certain it inspires loyalty.” She kissed him, and like countless others before him, Brother Vartan was lost.

“And I will aid you,” Rohini said, as Brother Vartan nodded to her words like the puppet he was. “I will gather the army that it will take to prove to the Sovereignty you are worthy of their secrets.”

And get Invadiah, she thought, her damnable aboleth.

CHAPTER SEVEN

South of Neverwinter 11 Kythorn,the Year of the Dark Circle (1478 DR)

Farideh and Brin did not speak until they reached the camp. The sun had set and Mehen and Tam were strapping on their armor by the firelight. Havilar paced-already armed and armored-her face drawn and pale. When she saw her sister and Brin break through into the clearing, she dropped her glaive and rushed at them.

“Gods!” she cried. “There you are! What happened? I lost you!”

“Nothing,” Farideh said. “We just got separated.”

“Right,” Brin said, too quickly. “Just a little turned around.” Havilar stared at both of them.

“You got a little turned around?” Havilar said, her voice slipping into a panicked pitch. “I didn’t know where you were. You might have been lost!”

“We weren’t,” Farideh said, waving her off.

“We were for a little bit,” Brin said. “But we’re fine.”

“And even if we were,” Farideh said, “you couldn’t have done anything about it that we didn’t already do.”

“She might have killed the owlbear,” Brin admitted.

“Owlbear?” Havilar shrieked.

Farideh pursed her lips. “Thank you, Brin. All right, you might have killed the owlbear that chased us, but we got away. Everything’s fine.”

“Everything is not fine, and don’t you dare pretend it is!”

“Calm down,” Farideh said. “You’re getting upset about nothing.”

Havilar’s cheeks turned red. “You think you’re the only one who matters? You think you’re the only one who gets to worry about anyone? First you throw yourself out into the middle of that fight and then-”

“Oh for the Hells’ sake,” Farideh snapped. “Havi, we’re fine!”

“Oh course you’re fine,” Havilar retorted. “Lorcan was watching out for you, wasn’t he?” She turned to Brin. “She lied before. She’s not a sorcerer.”

Brin flushed. “I … I, um …”

“Gods damn it, Havi, he knows, all right? Calm down and stop shouting.” Farideh’s chest tightened and she was all too aware of Tam, standing at the far side of the camp. “You’re embarrassing both of us.”

But Havilar kept her eyes on Brin. “Did she tell you I was the one who called him? That she snatched him up from me? I’ll bet she didn’t. I’ll bet-”

“Gods, Havi, stop it! You’re being jealous. No one left you behind.”

Havilar shoved her. “You’re being a henish. We’re supposed to be a team.”