The Crystal Mountain (22 page)

Aliisza laughed, and it was genuine. Pharaun, Kael noted, was decidedly less amused. “Actually, yes,” she said. “He was. Is. But don’t hold it against him, Kael. If you had ever seen Menzoberranzan or met a matron mother, you’d understand.”

Pharaun turned to Aliisza, feigning a pout, and said, “Just what have you been teaching our son, you troublesome tart?” he asked. “Clearly not any of the important things, that’s plain to see. And will someone please explain to me why he’s dedicated his life to the likes of such a stuffy, overblown cad as Torm?”

Incensed, Kael took a step toward the drow, his grip on his sword tightening.

Pharaun, his eyebrows raised in surprise, retreated a step, his hand slipping inside his tunic.

“Stop it, both of you!” Aliisza said, stepping between the two and planting her hands against their chests.

Rage still burned within Kael at the insult, but he grudgingly relaxed, and when his counterpart did likewise, Aliisza sighed and dropped her hands.

“Men,” she grumbled, returning to the bench. “Come, sit with me, both of you. I don’t know how much time we have, and I don’t want to waste it watching your egos clash.”

Kael grimaced, but he took a seat next to his mother. Pharaun positioned himself on her other side. The three of them sat in silence, staring at the water before them.

Finally, Aliisza spoke again.

“I’m going to tell you both a story. Each of you has heard some of it before. Neither of you has heard it all. When I’m finished, maybe each of you’ll understand the other a bit more.” She paused, drew a deep breath, and began.

The alu spoke of her time in the deep halls far below the surface of Faerűn, when she and Vhok had been together. She told the tale of how she’d met Pharaun, and of following him through what seemed like the entirety of the Underdark.

“Why?” Kael asked at one point. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that the alu would care that much about the drow. What could she possibly see in him? he thought.

Aliisza shrugged. “He made me laugh,” she said, as though hearing his thoughts. “He was witty, and when we were together, even though he knew I was fishing for knowledge, he didn’t care.” She sighed. “I think, looking back on it, that I liked the fact that he enjoyed my company so… honestly. I had never felt that from…” She trailed off, and there was a hint of wistfulness in her tone.

“Not even a little bit because I’m so irresistible?” Pharaun interjected. “You certainly seemed to act that way at the time.”

Aliisza giggled, and she sounded like a giddy girl to Kael. He cringed. I don’t want to know about that, he realized. The alu continued, explaining all the way to how the two

of them had wound up trapped within the dark recesses of a cave in a chunk of what had once been the Blood Rift. Her voice grew hoarse briefly as she spoke of Vhok’s trickery and ultimate betrayal.

When she finished, the three of them sat quite still for a long time. “What a strange, mixed-up life this has become,” she murmured. “How did things turn out so… convoluted?”

“Life just has a way of performing such tricks, Aliisza,” Pharaun answered. “Whether because of the capriciousness of gods or the ambitions of others, you often find yourself tangled in a web of complicated design, wondering how you managed to get there. Look at me. I thought I was destined to rule Sorcere, but I wound up here, sitting in a make-believe enchanted garden, a prisoner of Tyr’s servants, all because you decided to save my finger.

“Speaking of which,” the drow said, changing the subject, “Just what do we expect to happen next? While this is a much improved prison compared to the one I enjoyed as a guest of the Spider Queen, I do not think they intend to leave us here. One of our captors made mention of a trial, I believe?”

“Yes,” Aliisza said. “We will be called before the High Council, a collection of angels with Tyr’s direct ear, to answer for our crimes.”

“Oh, well, that shouldn’t adversely affect me much,” Pharaun said. “I have little to do with this whole affair.”

The drow rose to his feet and looked at Kael. “I had what could perhaps be called a friend—if drow were inclined to consider such things—back in Menzoberranzan. A blade-master, one with his weapon and all that. You remind me a bit of Ryld. He saved my life a time or two, and I’m afraid I didn’t always do my best to return the favor.” Pharaun shrugged.

“Such is the way of my people, you see. But seeing as how you remind me of him, I’ll perform the highly unusual act of honoring his memory by giving you some advice I probably should have passed on to him.”

Kael wanted to chuckle. Advice from a father I hardly know? Should I be grateful?

Yet a part of him craved some deeper understanding of his sire. He wanted to see how much of himself might be hidden within the drow.

“Never get caught up too much in duty, honor, and sacrifice,” Pharaun said. “Not because they’re not worth it or because they leave you hollow and wanting in old age.” He drew a deep breath. “No, it’s because those things are inevitably tied to someone else’s agenda, my dear boy. And by the time you discover their agenda and yours are no longer compatible, it’s usually too late.”

Kael considered the drow’s words. “Are you speaking from experience?” he asked.

Pharaun chuckled. “Bright lad we’ve got there, Aliisza. Takes after his father.” He turned to Kael. “You would think so, based on my sad tale, yes? But no, my woes came about purely because of my own selfish agenda. I got greedy. A far more laudable goal, in my esteemed opinion, but one equally as likely to get you into just as much trouble as duty, honor, and the rest.”

Kael did smile, then.

“Listen, my boy,” the drow said, drawing Kael out of his thoughts. “I can see you sitting there, trying to decide how much of me is in you, how much of your mother is tucked away in there, and how much of this angel, Tauran, who raised you, truly shaped you. Based on what I’ve heard tonight, my guess is, you’re not certain how you will feel

about the answer.”

Kael gave the drow a steady look. “Very astute,” he said, but inside, his emotions were churning. Who am I? he wondered. What parts of me are really me?

“The truth is, the answer doesn’t matter,” Pharaun said. “At the end of the day, when the tale has been told and your reckoning is at hand, you’ve still made all the choices. At the end, you’ve only got one person, and one person only, to answer to. Yourself.” His tone grew a bit wistful. “I learned that the hard way, standing on that Abyssal Plane as the spiders kept coming.” He blinked and returned his gaze to Kael. “It’s not me, it’s not her”—he pointed to Aliisza—”it’s not that angel who raised you. It’s not even your god. Unless you’re satisfied with the choices you’ve made regarding them and how you choose to deal with them, none of the rest matters.”

Kael spent a long time thinking on what both his father and mother told him, and it was brightening into dawn when he felt himself being drawn away from that illusory place and back into his own body.

Tauran opened his eyes. The angel was home. Or at least, in a place that felt very much like home. He found himself in a bed in a chamber of white marble and warm sunlight. The scent of fresh flowers wafted through the room, and he spied several hanging baskets overflowing with green and blossoms. The sound of chirping birds and lazy breezes through wind chimes reached his ears from somewhere beyond the room.

I live, he thought. I don’t deserve it, but I live. He pushed the thought that perhaps he didn’t wish to remain living out of his mind and sat up.

Tauran drew a deep breath and sighed. His body felt tired but comfortable. He felt no taint of the evil that had pervaded him. Any residual aftereffects of his ordeal within the confines of that black, wicked cave seemed to have vanished.

The physical scars are gone, he thought. Would that it were so easy to heal the mental ones.

He thought of Kael and Aliisza. Did they survive? he

wondered. They must have. They were there, with me, in the cold. And… others.

Dissatisfied that he could not remember more of how he had returned to the Court, Tauran rose from the bed, found his clothing—but not his mace—and dressed. Though he missed it, it felt somehow fitting that his badge of honor had been taken from him. Still he felt anxiety. What will they do? What will Tyr decree? There is but one way to find out.

The angel headed for the door. He reached for it, but for some reason, he could not make himself touch the thing. Frowning, he tried again.

They have compelled me, he thought, a flicker of panic rising up inside him.

Tauran turned and moved toward the balcony and the sunlight. He passed through the doorway and out into the warmth. The breezes ruffled his hair. Celestia loomed before him, its high peak hidden in a ring of clouds. Suddenly, he wanted more than anything to go there, to glide along its vast surface, to sail over its valleys and ridges. He willed himself to spread his wings and fly out into the blue skies, to soar high above the clouds, but he simply could not.

I have been reduced to a common prisoner, he thought. Shame filled him. I brought it on myself.

Because I was doing what I thought was right! He wanted to rail against his predicament, to scream that he deserved better, but he recalled his vow to accept the consequences. Now the reckoning is at hand, he told himself. Can you no longer face it?

No. Tyr, please forgive me! I was trying to help!

Suddenly, the angel remembered Aliisza, standing in the

rotunda, next to Micus, crying out very similar words. I was trying to help, she had said.

She deserves better than this, even if I do not, he insisted.

The angel stormed back to the door and called loudly through it. “I must have an audience with the High Council at once!” When no one opened the door or even answered, he yelled even louder. “I demand to be heard! I am no forsaken fiend to be broken and remade. I accept my guilt, but the others do not deserve this punishment! Answer me!”

Nothing.

The exertion of shouting made Tauran feel unsteady on his feet. Breathing hard, he sought the bed and sat upon it.

You’ve been sick, he reminded himself. And you no longer enjoy the beneficence of Tyr’s healing presence.

That thought dug into him hard, made his throat constrict.

After a while, when he felt his strength return to him and impatience set in again, Tauran navigated the entirety of the room, examining every detail, seeking some sign of his fate. He followed every wall, studied every piece of furniture. As he walked, the chamber began to feel constricted, too small for him.

This is terrifying, he realized. How could anyone stand this for days on end? He thought of Aliisza, trapped in her own room, desperate to flee, to escape her fate. I did that to her. To all of those I brought here. It was done with a thought to kindness, but now I see how it is but a thin veil. The illusion against the truth cannot hold.

We are not so noble as we like to imagine.

With that thought came realization and acceptance that

he had done everything, that he had defied the High Council and Tyr himself, because somehow, he had come to realize this truth long before then. Even as noble as their purposes might be, angels were imperfect, not without blame.

Their punishment of me—and of my companions—will be imperfect too, he lamented.

When a knock came at Tauran’s door, it was much later in the day. The sound startled the angel out of his brooding. “I cannot touch the portal,” he called, standing.

The door opened and Garin peered in. “I am glad to see you up,” he said. “May I enter?”

“Do I have a choice?” Tauran asked evenly. He was suddenly angry, indignant. You are no better than me, he thought, staring at the visitor. At the same time, he felt self-conscious, unsure of where to put his hands. “Could I keep you out if I wished it?”

Garin’s frown was fleeting. “No, but I am no boor, Tauran. It is your room, and I am a visitor at the moment. Now, may I come in?”-

Tauran motioned for the other angel to enter. He did so, shutting the door behind him. Tauran turned and sat on the bed once more.

“Now that you have recovered sufficiently, I will let the High Council know to summon you,” Garin said, turning and pacing. “Or at least, what’s left of it.”

“What does that mean?” Tauran asked, watching his guest. “What has happened?”

“There was a schism,” Garin explained. “The High Councilor and two others divorced themselves from it over the decision to pardon Eirwyn. Another councilor has vanished, thought to have lost her faith in the aftermath

of Mystra’s death. They are down to five, and they bicker constantly.”

“Over what?” Tauran did not like what he was hearing. Too much instability. Tyr had not yet found his footing again, the angel feared.

“Over how to deal with the waves of wild, uncontrollable magical backlash, over what to do about the demon incursions, over why Tyr seems uninterested in—” Garin snapped his mouth shut. “Enough. I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

“Why not?” Tauran asked, rising to his feet, feeling the old sense of duty and responsibility fill him once more. “It’s still me. I still care. Let me help.”

Garin stopped and stared at him. “Why would you even suggest such a thing? You must account for your crimes against Tyr.”

“I know,” Tauran said, trying to keep his voice calm. Inside, he felt his heart flutter. Perhaps, he realized, a part of me hoped they might follow through with it. Foolish. “But there is still much I could offer. Information, freely given. Not as part a pardon”—to dream of such is too much, he thought—”but because it’s the right thing to do.”

Garin shook his head. “That is not for me to decide,” he said. “You must offer that to the High Council. I wouldn’t hold out much hope, though. Opinion against you has hardened considerably. Everyone sees you as a traitor, Tauran.”

“And what of my companions?” Tauran asked. “They are not bound by the same laws that I am.”

“True,” Garin replied. “Though in this instance, it might be better for them if they were. They are all in similar circumstances, likely to be found guilty of conspiracy against the House. Only you and Kael stand much of a chance of light