((Noo!))

Jashen arrived at the Guild Hall quite perplexed. He had thrown every resource he could master into the search for information about was able to find out a few things. First and foremost, he now knew for certain that Crispian WAS in Camelot when Pompin was assaulted. However, most people placed him at Ye Mug most of the night. He had also found out that Coewyr and Arcalan had been around for the Guard call regarding the assault, and Ceowyr had resurrected Pompin.

That bothered him greatly. The two seemed to move too much in unison. And he really did not favor any cleric who would spend time with one such as Arcalan. There was just something wrong with that, he felt in his gut. He was pleased to see so many about the League hall as he entered, for he was in sore need of his family-of-choice just now. Word had come to him that Crispian had passed into the city in the custody of the King's Own Guard.

"Hail, League!" he called as he crossed the threshold.

The chorus of replies was led by Nydori, then Mithralin, and Ceomyr, brother to the cleric Ceowyr.

Azaeli looked at him coolly. "Jashen," she said with a nod.

"How are we all?" he asked as he measured out a tankard of ale. "Ceomyr! How are you doing?" He had not seen the younger Kelson brother in some days.

Iphemiar called, "'Ali tae ye Jashen!"

Ceomyr looked up from the minor mending work he was doing to his armor. "Doing quite well, at the moment. 'Tis a shame, though, that we longer have access to Darkness Falls," he said, speaking of the demonic caverns that opened into all three realm, but were not always accessible to all.

Azaeli stood and met Jashen part way into the chamber. "Jashen," she asked a bit harshly, "where is your brother?"

He smiled at her. He had heard of her odd return to the merchant outpost in Cornwall ealier, and her downing wine rather expertly. He also was a bit concerned about the Tome. "Hail, Azaeli!" he replied as he sat on the edge of a table. "I think he is visiting with the king," he said with a smirk. Then his face got serious. "ou left Cornwall quickly earlier." He watched her face closely. His long association with her would help him notice anything odd about her.

She favored him with a frosty glare. "That I did," she said, but seemed to not know what to say next.

"I heard," he continued, one leg swinging under the edge of the table, "ye came back in but your night shirt." He could not help but smirk.

Azi drew herself up in anger. "So what of it?" she snapped at him. This little sell-sword of a boy did not know the full foe that he faced and she would not be toyed with!

Jashen's eyebrows went up in surprise. "Nothing." He shrugged. "Just seemed a bit, uh, immodest of you is all." He was not sure how he should be reading this.

Azi's head rolled back as she let out a bark-like laugh. "Immodest?" she said. "I'll bet you wish you were there to have a glimpse, don't you?" She placed her hands on her hips and struck a bold stance.

Jashen grinned, keeping close check on the emotions he really felt, for he suddenly felt he should be guarded with Azi. "Care to get immodest together sometime, Azi?" he said. He let his eyes roll down her body.

Azi scoffed, turning her head away. "With you?" she asked, a note of disdain in her voice.

Jashen continued to act bemused. "Why not?" he said, leaning toward Azi now that they were facing each other again.

It was her turn to eye the mercenary over. Her liquid blue eyes swept down his lean form and images of Crispian came unbidden to her mind. She had seen him in a most immodest moment. The dingy basement, Crispian naked, bruised, battered. A certain thrill rushed through her at the thought. A deep shudder ran through Azi as she felt the near frenzy of pleasure that suddenly washed through her. She knew it was D'Vena tapping into those images and playing them out.

It was revolting to Azi the way she herself felt the pleasure that D'Vena was feeling from seeing the young, proud lord so debased and misused. She reveled in the way he had pled and groveled. The weak voice he used, so childlike and needy. The excited joy at how he had pled, clinging for support and needing the approval of another. A cruel laugh filled Azi's head as D'Vena drank in the experience, and then nudged a response from Azi.

"Of the two of you, Jashen," she said almost mockingly, "I'd say yes to the elder first, you know." Her lips curved in a cruel sneer at him,

Jashen shrugged. "Well," he countered, letting a leer fill his voice as well as his face, "since he is not here?" he looked around the hall with a bland expression on his face.

Azi's face clouded over and her expression hardened. This boy was toying with her! How dare he! "And where IS he?" she asked again. Her ire was getting raised and fed by D'Vena, she knew and yet she was helpless to stop it. If only she could find some way to fight back.

Jashen ran a hand over his chin as if in thought, wondering what Azi had thought he meant earlier when he had said that Cris was visiting with the King. Surely, she could not think that Crispian would really go to the Palace of Constantine for some social visit. "Uh, I think he was arrested," he said sarcasticly.

Tinowan entered the hall at that moment in a great swirl of robes. The sorcerer had a flare for style in making an entry. "Aye," he said with a note of mirth, "but the charge on me was overturned on a technicality!" he finished with a laugh. Jasehn could not help but smile at the distraction. "Hail Brother Tinowan!" he said as he rose, for some happy business could be attended to. "Have you heard the good news?" He intentionally turned his back on Azi in a near dismissive fashion.

Tinowan bowed to the assembly. "And a hearty good evening to all as well!" He grinned impishly at Jashen. "I love coming in on the middle of a conversation!" He settled himself onto a high stool with his robes draped about. Others in the hall greeted him. "Nay, brother, I have not and I could use some!" He sat back and watched the younger Pontiff brother, who was mounting the single step dias at the far end of the chamber.

"Well then," Jashen said, as a smile danced on his face, "take a knee brother!"

Tinowan was distracted by the arrival of Heathyr, a young friar who had joined the League but that day. "Ahhh!" he purred out. "Heathyr, you decided to join our Merry Band!" He favored her with a wide, genuine smile. It was exactly this kind of warmth that Jashen loved about the League.

Heathyr smiled back at Tino. "Iphemiar got me drunk and got me to sign before I sobered up!" She laughed.

Azaeli wanted, no needed, to get back to her gathering of information to find Crispian. “What is this news, Jashen?” she asked in a very high-handed manner. “I am on the edge of my seat,” she finished with a heavy false enthusiasm.

Jashen looked over the League members laughing and sharing their company in the hall. He felt a slight pang of guilt for having to act in Crispian’s stead. “Now, then, if I have your attentions, please.” His voice carried well in the small room. Brother Tinowan!” he called the attention of the sorcerer again. “Charges grave and serious have been leveled on you.” The formula, long set in place for the League, was odd this day of all, when some many serious charges had been leveled at Crispian. Jashen noticed Bashir entering the hall,. “Ah, Sir Bashir, join me up here,” he said, indicating a spot at his side.

As he paused for the other knight of the League to join him, he looked over the faces of Heathyr, Iphemiar, Mithralin, Nydori, Ceomyr, Tobyas, and lastly Azaeli. Some of them had undergone knighthood within the League already. Azi’s came from the Guardians of Albion, recieved at Kerriann’s hand before she had joined the League.

“It is the judgement of the Seneschals,” he said, directing his attention back to Tinowan, “that ye be made knight.” He drew his sword, and raised it before him. The lights of the hall caught on the blade.

“Tinowan, Sorcerer of the Realm, I hereby bestow upon thee the charge of Knighthood, and vest you with these symbols of your new rank.” He reached behind him, taking up a length of pure white leather. “This belt, white as a sign of purity,” he next handed spurs to Bashir, who fastened them to Tinowan’s fine cloth boots. “These spurs, as sign of your mastery in battle,” and lastly, he pulled forth a hat, “and this hat, which needs reblocking.” The hat, which had started out as a joke on Crispian’s part, have been part of many knighting ceremonies within the League.

Azaeli even managed a real smile at the occasion, embracing Tinowan warmly. “Congratulations,” she told him, and Jashen thought it was the first honest statement she had made to anyone so far this night.

Iphemiar was smiling a broad smile as he slapped Tinowan on the back. “Och! Yer in trouble nae, lad,” he laughed greatly. “Congratulations!” His hand came down on Tinowan’s shoulder hard enough to make the man wince a bit, but he too sported a large smile.

Nydori called out a loud “Huzzah!” and Mithralin was positvely aglow.

Tinowan, shaking his head at it all, raised a hand for quiet. “Tis rare that one finds being guilty an honor, but this be one of the times!”

Guythus, having just returned from commanding a raid on the isolated keep at Thidranki, called from the back of the Hall “Very well done! Congratulations!” His eyes crinckled as he smiled. He hoped that soon he too could cliam Knighthood within the League as an honor, but for now, he was happy to command an occasional force, and of course, to scout.

Iphemiar, examining the battered hat that Crispian had found somewhere, scowled. “A good try, o’er all, but I dinnae kin why all our ‘ats are broken,” he said, a grin threatening to break his scowl. “Ye been usin’ th’ cheap tailor again Jashen?” he asked with a grin.

Tinowan was still quite taken aback by it all. “I accept this honor,” he said with a grave expression, “ever mindful of my shortcomings.” He bowed to all there assembled.

No longer able to forestall it, he turned back to Azi. “Now, you had questions of my brother?” Jashen asked her, again resuming his seat. His left hand was close to the hilt of his dagger, just in case. There was something about Azi that was setting him on edge. He could not pin it down for sure, but he knew in his heart that it had something to do with he tome that had shown up so mysteriously at Cornwall.

Azaeil settled on a chair near to him, but not too close for she too was on edge. “He is in jail, Jashen?” she asked, quite serious now that she knew she had his attention. The Mistress was most eager to find out news, and Azi felt herself filled with a strange eagerness to please her.

Jashen nodded slowly. “Aye, he was seized this afternoon at Cornwall.” He could still see he guards marching Crispian out like he was a common thug almost. But they had let him retain his honor, and accepted the word of his bound.

Azi felt her own emotions win out for the moment. She was not a total pawn, as she learned during her own trials and problems. “I cannot believe it,” she whispered. But she could feel the thrill of it from D’Vena. She loathed but could not stop the surge of joy she fel.

Jashen looked away, reading the emotion as it played out through Azi’s eyes. He could not believe the woman he knew and had been in the company of so often could be so twisted now. But by who was his question. “Neither could I,” he said quietly. He felt torn at all that he now knew was happening. There had been much that he had not known until today, and much he could not wrap his mind around. And to find out that, despite his beliefs, Arcalan was not really tied to D’Vena, according to those who would know.

“So, now he is in custody?” she asked quietly. As Jashen nodded and barely whispered an ‘aye’, she pressed on. “So what will happen next?” she asked, watching the mercenary to see who he reacted.

Jashen gave a grim shrug. “A trial I imagine,” he said, knowing full well that Azi had to realize that.

She shook her head again. “Poor Crispian,” she said, seeming to be genuine in her concern.

“Aye,” Jashen said, his heart welling in fear. “It could be his death, or at least his titles and rank.” He again watched her closely, feeling that she would do something to tip her motives, which seemed so conflicted.

Aza struggled for control for a moment, almost seeming to laugh, or perhaps it was almost gasp. “I would speak with you alone when we can,” she said quite seriously.

Jashen nodded, rising. “Excuse me friends, for I must speak with Azi alone.” And they exited the hall.


st his titles and rank"

 

-----signature-----

Arcalan stormed up and down in secret, beneath the streets of Camelot. Her mind boiled with frustrations, not least of which was the idea that Jashen would force her to put a Bore Spirit through his brain before he drove her mad.

Countless questions were asked in the shadow quarter, stirring up nests of vipers all over the place. Jashen spent gold freely in an attempt to weed her out, but he'd ended up throwing several of her dealings into chaos. Two men had already died from an overdose of curiosity in the wrong bar.

For all her ire she really didn't want to have to kill that Merc, and idly she wondered why that was. The lad was rude, arrogant and dowright foolish to confront her power, for she now far outstriped him. His cheeky, handsome face haunted her somewhat. Well, not handsome exactly.. more sort of.. bah! He was indeed driving her mad.

Furthermore "little" Azi had taken up D'Vena's spellbook and seemingly rode back to Cammelot with it. That foul witch D'Vena was seriously slipping if she let a book like that go unwarded, and Arcalan cerdited Azi's former scholarly learnings very little. Had it been a mistake to deliver that into her hands?

At least Crispian was arrested. There things went well. She'd already made sure that people talking about the madness of Crispian got hard stares and even threats, thus ensuring that the rumours spread like wildfire. She especially liked the one about him being a pawn of Mirashta who controlled a secret wizard guild in Camelot. WHo thinks these things up? Fantastic stuff, it would bring that whole family into ill repute. Also Phalos the League Sorceror was rumoured to be using his powers and bribes to free Crispian no questions asked. Yes, all was goign well in that direction.


Now what would unfold from Jashen's meddlings? She sat back and waited for the infiltraitors to pour back in. As she sat waiting she heard a

/BUMP from upsatirs

\Early morning bump

Page three? Oh, no no no.


/bump

As he and Azi made their way to Ye Mug, Jashen wondered what she was up to. The swing in emotion over the possibility of trial, and its outcome, concerned him. He found them a cozy spot near the rear of the tavern and ordered an ale, taking a seat with his back to the wall, so that he could observe the door. He was taking no chances right now.

“So,” he started quietly as the drinks were brought. “Whatever did you wish to talk to me about?

Azi considered him dispassionately. Her expression reminded him of a cat considering a mouse for a moment. Then, she smiled tightly, not a pleasant expression at all. “I think you can guess,” she said with a raise of her eyebrows. “I didn’t wish to say these things in front of everyone else.”

He considered her for a moment and shrugged as he settled back against his seat. “I have no idea.” He thought the playing into her want for information might give him some small edge here, and the way she had been acting, he wanted every edge that he could get. Too many things were going on that he wanted to find out more of. Azi was a possible source for more information that he had not yet been exposed to. He quickly reminded himself of all that had come to light this day, and some of the events. A couple of younger inflitrators, not of the League, had turned up dead. There was still no word of Tannir, other than his departure, which it seemed plenty of people knew about.

And lately, there was someone else asking around, in a fashion that Jashen found more than novel. The unthought of sources seemed to be being sought out. He wondered what time of information they provided.

Azi grinned a sly grin at him. By the Almgihty, he admired her look, and generally her poise and nature. But this was so unlike the Azi he was used to. When you fight next to someone as often as they had since she became a paladin, you get a sense of them and what they are about. It was true that the blood of battle was a bound and hard to shatter, or turn aside. As he looked at her, he thought of the motto of the League. “For any who fight with me this day, is my brother!” He pulled himself back to the present matter with a slight mental effort.

“Oh, be honest, Jashen,” Azi was saying. She peered intently at him, and he knew that she too was watching for something.

He sighed and gave her a crooked half-grin. “Then what, Azi?” he asked in as disarming a fashion as he could imagine. There was a small part of his mind that wished Crispian was there, hidden in the room to watch his back, as he had done for his twin. But such was not the course of events these past days, and Jashen suddenly felt very alone against all that was facing him.

“You stand to gain from this, don’t you?” Her tone was casual, almost as if she were discussing armor, or a new blade. “If Crispian goes to trial, surely you succeed him. His downfall would be your moment to come out from behind being the younger brother of a legend.”

Jashen shook his head. “I don’t want it to come to that.” He could not believe that Azi was thinking on these lines. Surely there was something wrong beyond her odd behavior here.

“Then you shall be respected over him, as you have always wanted.” She continued, as if he had not spoke at all. “Won’t you?” Her eyes did not leave his, holding him fast to her. He noticed a kind of look to them that he could not place at first.

He found his anger rising at what she was insinuating. He did not wish to gain in this way, although it seemed a natural conclusion for one to draw, that he would succeed Crispian in the office of Seneschal.

He shook his head. “I would not take his Titles, Azi!” He could not keep the look of offense coming to his face, for he felt very slighted by her words. She know him to be one who did not seek honors, even to the point of not leading hunts, but always letting them be at the discretion of Achou.

She smirked, a cold expression on her face. “You say that now,” she said as her eyes flicked over him. “But would you truly deny them, if they were offered freely?” Her voice was silken, smooth, but odd. More like Mirashta’s tenor and pace than Azi’s.

“YES!” he snapped, then lowered his voice as he looked about. He did not want to draw attention to them here. It had become harder to be unobserved in the city. “I would refuse.” He almost glared at her, but kept his gaze soft just short of it. “The Azi I knew and hunted with would not ask such!” He could not keep the pain from his voice, so great was his hurt at what she put forward in this fashion. To take Crispian’s titles was wrong, although he would serve if pressed.

Azi thought for a moment as she sipped at her wine. A mixed look of unease and satisfaction came over her face as the cool red wine swirled on her tongue. A young vintage, she thought, and not as sweet as Elven wine. Corrath kept a better wine, she thought smugly.

“Jashen,” she started mildly, “have you proof that it was not you,” she inclined her head, “who murdered those men? She looked at her goblet as she finished. That question would sting the mercenary, she knew.

Jashen’s mouth opened in surprise for a moment, not even believing where Azi’s line of thought had just gone. How dare she ask such a thing! He was no infiltrator! He could not even get out the proper response. “No, Azi,” he recoiled from her. He just could not follow. “I would not take his titles! He is my BROTHER!” His mild fell back at the idea of killing to gain.

Azi held up her slender hand. “You are not listening to me, friend.” Again, the wine goblet rose to her lips. She closed her eyes as she drank from it. Other wines came to mind. Reds in Hibernia, a sweet wine brought by a young man unexpectedly to her manor house.

Jashen squared himself opposite her. “Then state your case,” he said evenly, thinking of how often Crispian had done almost the same thing. Temper in check, reason the matter through, he reminded himself. Auntie Mir had always said his temper was bad, and now would not be a good time to prove her right.

Azaeli thought for a moment of what tack to take. What barb would put this young, arrogant mercenary on edge. “You have much love for your brother, do you not?” she asked, finishing the first wine.

ends, "you have much love for you brother, do you not?"

Jashen did not change expression in the least. “I do indeed. I would offer my life for his,” he said, taking a drink from his ale and hoping that such would not be needed in this instance. “Do you know such love?” he asked, knowing that they were sparring to see who would offer what. This was not Azi, he felt certain of that. Azi knew how much the twins meant to each other, perhaps as much as a non-twin could.

Azi’s face contorted for a moment. She felt D’Vena’s presence recoil at the very idea of loving someone. Azi tried to call up images of her love for Ascot, of her parents. She recalled her mother’s vialant death, Tobyas’s quiet pain that night in the cloister garden. She almost felt a moment where she could speak, and then those cruel, wicked eyes filled her brain for a moment. She shook her head, not wanting to, and the visions cleared.

“Do not distract me with questions!” she snapped. “You asked me to plead my case!” Her D’Vena awareness knew that she had to keep control. SHE had to drive the course of this.

Jashen leaned forward. “But do you?” His gray eyes bored into hers. She almost felt like D’Vena and Jashen were going to vie for control. If only she could DO something. “Would you offer your life for Ascot’s?” He held her with his eyes. “Right NOW!” he snapped, low yet harsh.

Her eyes brimmed with tears, and Azi’s own memories of her dear Ascot lying at the Academy, stone slowly consuming his flesh. And the dagger that Corroth expected her to use on him. “You know I would,” she said in a much subdued voice.

He grabbed her hand, pulling her closer to him. “Would you?” he hissed into her face. “Right now?” He could see the struggle she was having, though he knew not the nature of it.

Azi turned her head away, tears on her cheeks. “Yes!” she gasped. “I would!” The pain she felt was hers to own, and she seized on it. It was a pain D’Vena did not want to touch. She could sense that. She did not try to stem her tears. “You know I would,” she whispered, choking on the emotions as she felt the battle pitch in her mind.

Jashen did not relent. He grabbed her shoulders, turning her to face hi, “Ascot, Turning to Stone. WOULD YOU?” he near spat at her. He could tell something was going on inside her, and he hoped he was gambling correctly.

“Stop!” Azi cried, pulling herself free. “Stop!”

Jashen let her go, but still kept his stony gaze on her. “He is my brother,” he hissed. “Would I do aught for him?” She turned away from his gaze a moment, stealing a slight bit of control. “Do you care for him, Azi?” he asked, misreading her. “Or is there else driving you?” He saw a look he could not fathom on her face for a second, and thought she would ploy him somehow. “I am Shadow Born, forget you NOT lady!” he cautioned her. He was having little trouble now seeing Azi as potential enemy, although that did cause a pain to well from deep inside of him.

Azi buried her face in her hands, pulling back from Jashen. The battle she was waging inside caused her real pain and the questions he was throwing at her was causing a different pain altogether. “Jashen, Jashen,” she gasped, “what on earth is happening?” Her sobs were bitter and racking.

Jashen leaned back. He was hating himself for doing this to Azi, but he saw no other course of action open to him. He feared that somehow that tome had compromised her. He had grown up around magic and seen the Forbidden Works of Mirashta’s teacher.

“You tell me,” he said quietly. “Who spoke to you this morn?” He watched her closely, saw her pull back for a second in shock or surprise. “WHO?” he snapped, quickly and harshly.

Azi shook, her shoulders heaving. Her voice dropped to a bare whisper. “I don’t remember,” she said quietly, raising her head to meet Jashen’s gaze, and seeing no warmth there. “I don’t remember,” she repeated. “But who else could it have been? A charred tome? Lyn Barfog?” She could not bring herself to say the name, but hoped that Jashen would for her. Her eyes closed again as she fought for a bit more control. She had managed some with Corroth, why was D’Vena so much harder to resist?

Jashen pulled her around to his side of the closure, settling her near to him. “D’Vena?” he whispered to her. He could feel her tense at the name. He controlled his own want to shudder, knowing that she was a foe to be defeated first, so that Arcalan could be focused on. The choices were grim to his liking, but he knew in his heart that the Sorceress was the one that had to be beaten first so that a focused effort could be made on the new problem, the upstart cabalist who seemed bent on tearing the League apart for her own goals.

Azi looked at him, nodding slow, and mouthed the name, “D’Vena.” Her delicate lips curled as she said it in a display of distaste. The fear in her eyes was unmistakable.

Jashen shook his head. “Think you that she is idle all this time?” he said. He found it hard to believe that one so possessed of skills as Azi could underestimate a foe, but it did seem to be the case. “Silly girl,” he snarled, not able to keep his anger in check on this note. “

Azi looked stunned, her margin of self-control suddenly shaken. Was Jashen too in her grips? “You too? NO!” she gasped, thinking the worst.

“I KNOW she is active,” he said. “Think that I have not FELT what Cris has?” he asked harshly. By the Almighty, so few seemed to grasp the type of bound between one twin and the other.

“Of course,” Azi nearly moaned, “as have I!” She seized on the moment, hoping to be able to hold it like a line thrown to a drowning man.

Jashen grabbed her wrists, turning her full to face him. “Do you think so?” he asked without any pity or understanding in his voice. “When did you cry for him last, Azi?” His eyes bored into hers unrelentingly. “WHEN?” he asked again, harshly.

Azi shook her head, trying to pull back from his grip. “What do you mean, Jashen?” she asked in pure misery.

He held her eyes, even as tears threatened his own. “I cry for him nightly,” he said quietly, but with a fierceness, “and feel his pain as no other.” His jaw muscles danced as he clenched down. “Do you, Miss Azi?” His eyes wavered from one of hers to the other in the intensity of his examination.

Azi swallowed. “I pray for him more often than that,” she said. A part of her was fixed on what he was saying, trying to keep it her focus. She struggled, feeling the will of D’Vena bent full to her now, all other distractions set aside in the far off safeness of her hold. The duel scrutiny she was under, from Jashen before her and D’Vena within, was torment to her soul. “And yes, I cry, Jashen. Yes, I do” she said.

Jashen released her wrists, moving slightly away, though he remained close. “I am sorry, Azi,” he said into the small space between them. “But on this, none can be closer to him than I.”

D’Vena surged into the move away from proximity. It was a mistake, Azi felt, as soon as Jashen had let go of her. A slight smirk rose to her face, and she hated herself for it. “Oh yes,” she purred out. “I know that, Jashen.” D’Vena knew how close the two were, and had wanted an opening like this for some time.

Her reaction renewed his anger at the entire situation, and at Azi right now. “Do you?” he asked harshly. He wished he could tell what was going on inside her, but in that he was unskilled. “REALLY?” he asked, his voice increasing in volume unintetionally.

Azi looked around them, seeing that no others had noticed. “Lower your voice,” she said in a harsh whisper. “I do.” She asserted her answer to him.

Jashen leaned toward her again. “He is MY brother,” he reminded her curtly.

Her eyebrows rose toward her graceful hairline. “Yes? And?” she asked with a haughtiness so not Azi that Jashen almost gaped at her. She leaned away, looking at him quite imperiosly. Azi shreiked in her mind! She would never treat Jashen so, if she could control it.

He laughed, summoning up his resolve. Azi was not acting right, and regardless of what it cost him personally, he was going to push her until she cracked or started to act right. “And you,” he said very quietly, “are just a girl.” He tried to pack as much condescension as he could into every word.

She tried to look injured. That was not an expression that D’Vena herself had ever mastered and the result was rather forced. “Are you saying,” she said in a feigned injured voice, “that you are threatened by me? Little Azi?” She really was putting it on good, Jashen had to admit. But he was also unmoved.

He grinned rather coldly. “No,” he said in a dismissive tone. “With a good blade, you would be no threat at all.” He hated himself the moment the words were out of his mouth, but he held the reaction in check. It was agony to act like this toward Azi for him.

She looked at him blankly. “With a good blade, I certainly would,” she said.

Again, he leaned into her. “I did not mean you had the blade, Azi,” he said as coldly as he could. His heart was aching as he did so. A strange thought had just occurred to him. He loved her.

With a contemptuous toss of her head, she snapped, “I know. You meant that had them.”

“Did you now?” he asked, wanting to make certain he had driven this point home. For the woman he saw before him now was not the Azi he knew, the Azi he loved. Something had been twisted and disordered in her. He felt more wretched than he ever had before.

She shrugged, something she did quite well, he noted. “You threatened me,” she said mildly, as if they were discussing weather, “and I retorted.”

He sat back, calmly observing this new being, this Azi-Not-Azi. What great power some had, and how greatly some abused it. He smiled coldly. “You are not so dumb after all.”

Azi lifted her cup to sip from it. “I was a wizard, or have you forgotten?” She had such a high handed look on her face. Jashen had never thought to see Azi acting arrogently. It further fed his feeling that something was dreadful wrong with her at this moment, far beyond a mere being out of sorts.

He considered her from a moment. “How could I?” He allowed his hurt and pain to come into his voice. The options for keeping Azi off balance were running low.

Her face became smug and snide. “Indeed. How could you forget?” She tried to stop herself, but the compulsion drove on. “You thought I had gone for good,” she threw the words like they were a weapon. “And that you had the full attention of your brother once again.” She paused, looking at him with an expression of pure victory. “And then, I returned.” Somehow, she filled the words with a sensuality, a haughtiness of one who has always returned, and always won.

Jashen smirked at her. “Not even Toby would come between us,” he said, allowing the name of Crispian’s sometimes lover to hang for a moment. If D’Vena was behind this, let her taste a bit of the truth of what was going on.

“So you thought!” she shot at him. “And when I had the key to end Crispian’s curse in my hands, you told me not to use it!” Her words dripped a venom of hatred that Jashen almost pulled back from. This was so not like her.

s, "So you thought! And when I had the key to end Crispian's curse in my hands, you told me not to use it!" She leaned into him, even as he pulled back slightly. She sensed that the upper hand was hers, at least for now. She would make this young mercenary accept his ignorance. “Did you think I was unaware of the risks involved? Did you,” she sneered at him, “think I was that ignorant?” The hatred she packed into the last word shook Jashen.


--to be continued—

 

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so continue it already...


oh yeah bump

 

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/agree with Bashir

Bah! I need to tighten up on my editting!

 

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/bump

I'm on the edge of my seat here!

Come on Crispian, you've no need to go to wrok, just post and we'll pay you...


<Too drunk to posit anymore>