Brimstone Angels

face.

I didn’t know you could do a priest’s magic.

It had been divine magic. There was no disguising it, no excusing it. The prayer to Torm. The flash of light. The sound of the sword on the whetstone.

Brin’s face was pale, and he was holding his breath. His eyes watched Farideh’s, flickering like candle flames as he tried to discern something-anything-in her gaze.

“You lied,” she said.

“Yes,” he admitted. Then, with a nervous smile, “Well, no. You didn’t ask if I knew any divine magic.”

“I didn’t think I had to.” All this time she’d been afraid of Tam finding out, and she’d revealed Lorcan to not only a priest, but a priest of Torm-in all the Heavens, there wasn’t another god so opposed to the path she’d taken as the god of duty and law.

“I’m not …” he started to say. “I’m … certainly not the sort … to …” He sighed. “What is it? What are you afraid of?”

She blinked at Brin. It couldn’t be true. “The caravan. You didn’t use it on the caravan.”

“Look, I know what it seems like. But I’m not-truly-I’m not a priest. I’m not even a paladin, and I … I had lessons, with holy champions. They taught me some things. But not everything.”

“But this.” She looked down at Havilar, at the wound that was only a scratch and the drying pools of her sister’s blood. “They taught you to heal.”

Brin squirmed. “Sort of.”

“Did you use it on the caravan?” She shook her head. Tam didn’t know. He mustn’t have done anything.

“It … doesn’t always work,” he said. “I told you before. I’m not cut out to be Tormish.”

“But you didn’t even try. ”

“I would have been in the way. I would have-”

“You didn’t even try,” Farideh said. The shadow-smoke swirled around her as she surged to her feet. “You guess at my virtue, and look down on my choices, when you lie about everything, because …? Because you didn’t want your tutors tracking you down? Is that it?”

“You kept your secrets!” Brin said, raising his voice. “And I kept mine.”

“No one died because I kept my secrets,” Farideh said.

“And you don’t know anyone died for mine,” Brin said. “Besides, if I’d told you I knew a little divine magic, you wouldn’t even have spoken to me! You made that very clear in the woods.”

“I said I never met a priest who gave me a reason to trust them,” Farideh said, “and you’re just proving me right.”

“I’m not a priest!”

“Could you both just shut up?” Havilar said, still a little dazed. She pushed herself up. “I’m not dead. Who cares if he’s a priest?”

“Mehen, to start with,” Farideh said. “Lie down. You’re not dead, but you’re still hurt.”

“Mehen’s not going to care,” Havilar said. “Probably. I mean, he let Tam come along. Tam’s more of a priest than Brin.”

“Lie down!” Farideh said. “Gods, please, lie down before you rip what’s left of your wound open.”

She did so, but added, “Is this what you meant when you said I was getting upset because I was scared? I think you’re doing the same thing.” Havilar lifted her head, her speech a little surer, her eyes a little more focused. “If this is a lesson, you’re still a henish and I get it. You win.”

Farideh nearly shrieked in annoyance, “No one’s winning anything here,” but she gritted her teeth instead and covered her face with her still-bloody hands. They were shaking and her breath was uneven. She wanted more than anything to throw up, as if doing so would rid her body of the fear and the shock, and the virulent magic that churned through her, boiling up, looking for an outlet-

With a great, infernal shout, she flung her hands toward the woods, away from Havilar and Brin, away from where the archer had flown. The air cracked and a great gout of roiling flames streamed from her into the night.

She turned on her sister and Brin, panting. They were both staring at her.

“Fine,” she said. “Havi, you’re right. I was frightened. Watching you nearly die, almost being killed myself, and then having to cut arrows out of my sister’s bleeding gut is exactly the same as you feeling left out. I’m sorry. And you,” she said to Brin, “I’m still angry at you. You can say a hundred times you’re not a priest, but when Torm just handed you a miracle, I don’t believe it.”

“You don’t have to,” Brin said. “But it’s true.”

Havilar chuckled, half to herself. “Do we have to call you ‘Brother Brin’ now?”

Brin wrinkled his nose. “If you do, I’ll never buy you whiskey again.”

Farideh frowned. None of this was making sense.

“You’re not a priest,” she said, “or a paladin, but Torm grants you magic? Even though you know good and well you stole that whiskey?”

“And I ran away from the orcs?” he added when she did not. Brin shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, to be honest. I told you, I make a terrible holy champion, but sometimes … it works.”

Her heart was racing now. “Sometimes? You had me pull arrows from her gut for a possibility? ”

“I had you pull the arrows because they were poisoning her,” Brin said. “If I couldn’t do it, I would have run for Tam.”

“And if the archer’s killed Tam?”

Farideh looked out into the woods. She’d said it only because it might have happened, because both of them were too reckless and she was already so used to pointing these things out to Havilar. But Tam and Mehen were still not back.

How far could the fire have thrown the archer? She turned back and realized Brin was watching the forest as well.

Gods, what idiots, she thought, snatching up the rod. Brin grabbed his short sword, and they stood over Havilar. The orc could have easily doubled back and followed the sounds of their arguing. He could have killed them, all three, while they shouted.

And it would be all her fault.

“Brin,” she said, so quietly that even Mehen couldn’t have faulted her. “I’m sorry. You’re right. We all have secrets.”

“I’m sorry too.” He paused. “Have you told all of yours?”

“Yes,” she said. “I swear.” She swallowed. “Have you?”

The portal opened with a great gust of smoke and heat. The campfire swelled briefly as Lorcan stepped through. His gaze swept over the trio, but locked on Farideh. Whatever smugness, whatever gall had been in his expression fled and he ran to Farideh. He seized her by the arm and wiped at the streaks of Havilar’s blood that now smeared her face.

“What happened? Are you hurt? Get off your feet.”

“I’m fine,” Farideh said. She looked down and realized there was blood all down the front of her, soaked into the leather. “Oh. It’s Havi’s,” she said, but at those words she started shaking.

Lorcan let out a long sigh and gathered her up in his arms. “Heavens to Hells, I thought you were hurt.”

For a breath, Farideh let him. She was tired, her nerves shattered, and she just wanted to hide from the world. I won’t let anyone catch you, darling. For a breath, it felt like the safest place in Faerun, and she was so glad someone had asked if she was all right. This close, he didn’t smell like the portal. He smelled faintly musky, and like some exotic spice she didn’t know-

No-she pulled away, nervously smoothed her bloodied jack. “Havilar … Havi’s fine as well. Now.” Lorcan’s expression seemed to close, and he looked away.

“Of course she is,” he said, cool and unconcerned. “If she weren’t, you wouldn’t be nearly so calm, now would you, darling?” He crouched down on the ground beside Havilar. “Besides, you’re a tough one, aren’t you?”

Havilar’s mouth had fallen open. “Yes?” she ventured.

Lorcan looked over at Brin, his wicked smile turning into a sneer. “I see you’re