Work Text:
The ogres had been dead less than five minutes and already the bodies reeked. Not that they had smelled pleasant before. The body odor of Lump, the so-called Enlightened, could have felled a hag. Tadeous had seriously considered running from the smell alone.
Taking shallow breaths in a fruitless attempt to avoid the scent of offal, blood and shit, she collapsed next to Gale. The wizard, white as a sheet, leaned drunkenly against a broken wooden post. It was the same one he had kicked to send the roof crashing down on Lump. The ogre had collapsed, pinned under the weight of the beams, giving Astarion the opportunity to dart in and stab the noxious creature in the heart.
“It seems as if Gale has some uses after all.” Astarion smirked from where he was standing over the body. “And here, I thought he was only good for frying fish and making people laugh.”
“He also conjured the ball of ice that caused the ogre chasing you to slip and fall before it could bash your head in,” Tadeous said wearily as the rush she’d felt at the start of the skirmish wore off. She would have some nasty bruises in the morning, and she thought one of the ogres might have scratched her leg with a fingernail.
“I can hear you,” Gale complained. “You should be grateful all I did was bring the ceiling hurtling down on our heads. I could have hit that ogre with rays of fire, which would have killed him but not been pleasant for you Astarion if I had missed.”
“I’m sure I could have dodged out of the way,” the vampire sniffed. He skirted the pool of acid conjured by the late, unlamented Lump and went to examine the body of the tiefling the ogres had been feasting on.
“I suppose you are going to want me to heal that.” Shadowheart knelt beside her, face unreadable, tone as long-suffering as always. Healing was a chore Shar's cleric seemed to despise.
“Heal what?’ Tadeous asked. She followed the woman’s eyes down to a large gash on her calf. A small pool of blood was spreading beneath it. She blinked. Where had that come from? She let out a strangled gasp as the pain caught up with her and fumbled for the healing potion strapped to her hip.
“No need for that,” Shadowheart said. She placed her hands on the wound and murmured a prayer to her goddess. Tadeous shuddered. She was no stranger to clerical healing. Normally the magic was warm and comforting, just what you needed as you stared at ragged flesh and bone.
Shadowheart’s magic was as cold as the grave. It numbed the wound then infiltrated the rest of the body, leaving the patient shivering. Tadeous and the others had started carrying extra healing potions whenever they could to avoid being the recipient of Shar’s mercy.
When the pain and ice faded and the wound was closed, Shadowheart turned her attention to Gale. “Let me look at that head wound.”
There was a deep cut on his forehead. Blood oozed from it and dripped onto the collar of his robe.
“Really, it’s not bad at all,” he said, making a warding gesture with his hands. “Head wounds always bleed copiously. A healing potion and a bit of a respite will do wonders for me.” It would have been more believable if his usual genial smile hadn’t morphed into a grimace.
Shadowheart scoffed. She put her hands on his head and whispered another prayer. The wound closed immediately.
“There,” she said, her voice laced with amused satisfaction. “Patched up and ready to move on.” She looked at Tadeous. “And we should be moving on, Tav. I’m surprised the noise we made didn’t attract goblins.
Tadeous shrugged. “They think we’re True Souls, so they assumed we were acting under orders. Besides goblins aren’t known for their intelligence or bravery.”
Feeling more stable, she rose, went to Lump’s body, and began looting it.
Astarion had somehow managed to rip a hole in the ogre’s stomach. It hadn’t slowed him down much, but Tadeous had caught an odd glow when the rogue opened him up.
Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she thrust her hand inside. Hard metal met skin. She pulled it out, staring at a circlet covered in yellow slime with pieces of half-digested mutton stuck behind the blue gem at the center. She could feel the magic radiating off it.
Tossing it in Gale’s direction, she called, “What do you reckon, wizard?”
“I have a name,” he answered with an exasperated sigh. Focusing on the delicate circlet, he waved a hand sending blue sparks skittering over the band. “My word, it seems to be a headband that increases a creature’s intellect. No wonder our fragrant friend was able to do more than grunt.”
“Something you could use?” Tadeous asked.
“I think I have more than enough intellect without magical enhancements, thank you,” Gale said, a sour expression crossing his features. You might be able to use it, though.”
“Excuse me? What exactly are you trying to say?”
Gale reddened. “I didn’t mean… of course you don’t need it…” he floundered looking to Shadowheart for help. The cleric sniffed and went to stand next to Astarion.
“I only meant that you might be able to sell it. Gods know we could use some coin. Our coffers and our food stores are both lacking.”
She smiled and patted him gently on the shoulder. “I was just teasing Gale. I know what you meant.”
Gale let out the breath he was holding, then winced. His head wound was healed but it was clear the wizard wasn’t going to last much longer. She knew he had kicked the post because he had run out of the energy he needed to cast anything more than a cantrip.
She wasn’t doing much better, if she was being completely honest. Everyone needed rest, but they also needed to scout the derelict temple goblins had turned into a base of operations. They had promised they would find Halsin but it wouldn’t do to go in half blind.
Making up her mind she called to Astarion, “You and Shadowheart are the best at sticking to the shadows. Why don’t the two of you scout out the goblins. Gale and I will search around, see if we can find food and potions —maybe some gold if we’re lucky.”
Astarion cocked his head. “If the two of you want to be alone, you don’t have to make up excuses.”
Tadeous looked at him, eyes unblinking.
“Fine,” he said, rolling his shoulders in discomfort. “I should have known you have better taste than that.”
The vampire and the cleric gathered the packs they had tossed on the ground when the fight began and headed toward the temple.
Reaching down, she offered her hand to Gale. He grasped it and stood, grunting with the effort. “Thank you,” he said. “I would have gone of course, but I don’t know how much help I would have been. You at least know how to use a sword.”
She smiled. “I can teach you if you like. Or Lae’zel can.”
Gale shuddered. “No, I think I’ll leave the sharp objects to those better suited to using them, if you don’t mind."
He turned his attention to the matter at hand. "Now, we could investigate those barrels, but I would be highly suspicious of any meat we find stuffed into them.”
Tadeous agreed. She remembered that one of the houses had a cellar. If anything could be scavenged it would be there. She led the way.
The house in question held nothing more than a few slices of what could have been beef on a sagging table in the main room. The cellar had, indeed, proved more promising.
The crates were old and dusty. The burlap sacks had seen better days, but Tadeous was certain something could be salvaged if they looked hard enough.
“What are you doing?” Gale asked, a look of horror on his face as Tadeous tucked a moldy wheel of Waterdhavian cheese into her pack. He strode over to where she was precariously perched on a rotting chair.
“Trying to find enough food to feed us all. Why? What are you doing?” Gale had been muttering to himself the entire time they had been down here. She guessed that the rotten food did not meet his high Waterdhavian standards.
She continued to sort through the crate, putting aside a few withered apples and a loaf of bread that could have done double duty as a bludgeoning weapon for Karlach.
“That isn’t food anymore, just a recipe for a long night in the privy — at least it would be if we had one.” The wizard wrinkled his nose in disgust.
Tadeous glanced over at his pile of discarded oranges and carrots. The musty oranges were dusted with green mold. The carrots were limp. A horrible smell wafted from the corner, probably due to rancid potatoes with more eyes than a statue of Selune had moons.
“Those are still good,” she said, nodding in the direction of the depressing pile of fruits and vegetables.
“How could they possibly still be good?” Gale sounded exasperated, but he also sounded healthier.
“Cut the moldy bits off the cheeses, slice the worms out of the apples and peel the oranges,” she answered, speaking slowly as if to a dimwitted child. “I’ll admit those potatoes are a loss but if we keep digging, I’m sure we’ll find a few worth salvaging.”
Gale threw up his hands. “It’s becoming increasingly clear why I have settled into the role of camp cook. The rest of you would have died days ago if I weren’t here to explain the concept of food contamination.” He picked up a rotten tomato. "What in the hells am I supposed to do with this?”
Tadeous stood, brushing the dust and mold off her hands. She moved closer to Gale and ran a lazy finger down his jaw, feeling the coarse texture of his beard. As always, she wondered what it would feel like on other parts of her body. “You’re the greatest wizard in Waterdeep," she purred. "I’m sure you can think of something.”
Gale quickly stepped away, face flushed — whether in embarrassment, desire or anger, she couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter, she’d managed to disconcert him again, which was always fun.
“You enjoy doing that, don’t you?” he said.
“Enjoy doing what?” she answered, opening her silver eyes wide, the very picture of innocence.
“You know what I mean, Tadeous. Using your charm and…” he sucked in his breath, “um, other things, to keep me decidedly off balance.”
He retreated to his corner, opened a rotting burlap bag and began exploring its contents. “You know, there are a lot of rumors about Tadeous Valmenor in Waterdeep. I didn’t give them much credence, but I am starting to wonder.”
It was Tadeous’ turn to be annoyed. His use of her real name, even in private, rankled. There was also the matter of the rumors. She’d started a few herself but she suspected those weren’t the ones he referred to.
“What rumors would those be?” she said, her voice dangerously low.
Gale’s eyes immediately flitted in the direction of a truly terrible painting of a ship docking at Grey Harbor. He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I apologize. That was most ungentlemanly of me. Forget those words had the indecency to ever leave my lips”
“No, I’m very curious as to your meaning,” she said, her voice as soft as silk. She walked toward him.
“Is it the one where I am supposed to have made a pact with a devil so I can ensnare souls with my voice?”
Gale eyed her warily and retreated backward.
“No? Perhaps it’s the one that claims I stole my harp from Milil himself?”
Gale swallowed, his throat working convulsively as he tried to extricate himself from the situation, his back flush against the wall. “There is no need for that. I spoke out of turn.”
Halting in front of him, she ran a hand slowly down the front of his robe, resting it just below his navel. Gale’s eyes darted wildly, looking for escape.
Speaking in a husky whisper she said, “I know, is it the one that says I’m very free with my favors? Or maybe it’s the one where I’m supposed to have bedded every Masked Lord in Waterdeep?”
Straightening his body and setting his jaw Gale said, “Neither, although I have heard those. No, I was thinking more about your patron, Lord Hedare —or should I say your former patron.”
She paused, snatched her hand away and stepped back, feeling as though Gale had slapped her. Memories she had consigned to the dustbin of her past resurfaced. “That was a long time ago.”
Gale pressed his advantage, stepping into the space she had vacated. “Yet the stories persist. Although they were eventually superseded by the tale of his treason.”
There was an awkward silence. That, she thought, was what you get when you play with fire. She had flirted with and teased Gale mercilessly ever since they met. Of course, he would want a bit of his own back.
“You had to have been firmly ensconced at Blackstaff at the time,” she temporized. “What would you know about it?”
“I was a senior apprentice, well on my way to graduation,” Gale replied. “Tales of your exploits consumed everyone at the Yawning Portal for a time — which is an extraordinary feat given there’s a gaping hole leading to Undermountain at the center of the tavern.”
“Well, being young, pretty, and a favorite of the nobility is always a recipe for notoriety, I suppose,” she joked, a weak smile curling the corners of her lips.
“You are more than pretty,” Gale said, gazing at her with appreciation. “Songs were written — are still being written —about your ethereal beauty and the music that accompanies it. Although I’m certain the murders contributed to your infamy.”
“I was pardoned by Lord Neverember,” she reminded him. “But that’s old news. Why bring it up, now?”
“Everyone talked about your beauty, music, wit and charm; your quick rise from poverty to riches. The story of you and Lord Hedare was the only one that painted you in a dangerous light. It was quite thrilling,” Gale said. “I didn’t believe it then. Here, now, covered in ogre blood with a captivating smile on your lips? I think the rumors didn't do you justice.”
Her answering laugh was forced. Out of all the rumors surrounding her, he had uncovered the one tale that was true. Mostly true. She knew that if she told him to fuck off, he would. It was tempting. The words were already on her lips. She bit them back.
“What exactly did you hear,” she said instead.
“I’m sure you know,” Gale mused. “It’s a fairytale, albeit one with a very dark ending, about a dashing young lord plucking a beautiful maiden with the voice of a celestial out of a brothel. How he made her famous. How he fell in love. How she deceived him.” He looked at Tadeous, assessing her reaction. She merely motioned for him to continue.
“Back then they called you Lord Hedare’s Songbird. On the day he asked you to marry him, in a gorgeous music room he built just for you, you knocked him unconscious, murdered two of his guards, stole a priceless magical object and fled the city. “
“I didn’t steal anything!” Her voice echoed through the small space.
“But you did kill his guards. According to my sources, and some time spent in Waterdeep’s largest archives, you never denied it,” Gale said.
“Why deny something so easily verified? They cast a spell to speak with the dead guards, who confirmed what I’d done. As they understood it. Like most little fish there were currents they weren’t allowed to swim in.”
She rubbed her face, avoiding Gale’s gaze. It was the first time she had ever killed. Sadly, it wouldn't be the last.
Her legs felt weak. Eschewing the broken chair, she sat on one of the crates. Tipping her chin toward the ceiling she said, “Stories always grow in the telling. Eventually it is difficult to know fact from fiction, even for the original participants.”
Gale sat down. Her admission had discomfited him. He took her hand, drawing her attention to him.
“I have been accused of verbosity, on more than one occasion. Even other wizards have politely asked me to stop talking. Despite that, I am a good listener —if you are interested in setting the record straight, that is.”
Tadeous tugged on her curls, thinking. She barely knew Gale. On the other hand, telling him might encourage him to open up. She didn’t begrudge him the magical trinkets he needed to stay alive, but she was frustrated by his refusal to tell her why.
“Why not?” she said, her voice tinged with a sadness she thought she'd put to rest. “The first thing you must understand is that I wasn’t his songbird. I didn’t belong to him, although he eventually decided I did.”
Gale nodded. “I pity the person that would ever try to claim you, even with your consent.”
She let that pass. Pursing her lips she began. “I was plying my trade in a brothel in the Dock Ward,” she began.
Gale raised an eyebrow.
“Not that trade,” she said, shaking her head in irritation. “Not that there would be anything wrong with it. My ship had docked in Waterdeep Harbor. I needed a bed, food and some coin, easily garnered if I played for a night or two. Finding a place to do that was more difficult than I had anticipated.”
“I’m not surprised,” Gale said. “The City of Splendors attracts artists from every corner of Faerûn. Even someone with your talent might have trouble for a few days at least.”
“So I discovered,” Tadeous said ruefully. “I was passing by a brothel, instrument on my back, when the madam came running out. Her regular entertainment had canceled; would I be interested in earning a few coppers.” She shrugged. “She offered me a bed and food, as well as allowing me to keep everything I earned. It was as good a deal as I was going to get at that moment.”
She closed her eyes, remembering the smoke-filled room, chattering whores, the smell of sweat, and the raw taste of whiskey.
“Like many nobles, Adie enjoyed coming down from North Ward to 'mingle' with the common folk. That night he and his friends stumbled into the brothel. During my break, one of them handed me a gold coin and insisted on a private concert in one of the upstairs rooms. Adie stopped him.”
“Helping a damsel in distress? He seems like an honorable sort despite his ignominious end,” Gale said.
“Oh, he wasn’t helping me. Do I look like a damsel in distress? I had a dagger at my unfortunate suitor’s belly before he could ask again. Adie saved his life. Afterward, he suggested that someone with my talent should find a more wholesome place to work. He said he knew someone, who knew someone that might give me a job.”
Gale considered the implications. “It’s a fine thing to nurture talent, wherever you find it. A good mentor can bridge the gap between natural ability and greatness.”
“Yes,” Tadeous drawled. “Adie offered to help me out of the goodness of his heart, with no ulterior motives whatsoever.” Gale, realizing his mistake by the sarcasm in her voice, squeezed her hand in a silent apology.
“How old were you?” he asked
“Eighteen,” she said. “I wasn’t a naïve young virgin by any stretch of the imagination. If a powerful person like Adie offers help to what to he takes to be a winsome prostitute, you can be sure there will eventually be a reckoning.” She looked down at her hands. “I was just too young to understand what type of reckoning I was courting.”
In hindsight, she realized she had been too quick to take him up on his offer. At the time, the blackness sat just on the edge of her mind. It had yet to become all consuming. She could have waited, explored the city, enjoyed its wonders. But she was tired and lonely. It had been an easy fix for all her problems. Lost in thought, it took her a few moments to realize Gale had asked her a question.
“When did it become more?” he repeated.
“It never did on my part,” she said. “Adie felt differently on the subject.
Gale's face became a study in neutrality, but she felt the judgement radiating off him.
“I never led him on," she snapped. "I told him it could never be more. I enjoyed his company. If he had just kept it to sex, we would have gotten along famously.”
“He couldn’t stop wanting more,” Gale said.
“He started to believe the stories,” she said acidly. “That I was his songbird. When I took other lovers, he became enraged. He grabbed me by the neck, shook me, told me that because he was responsible for my success, I belonged to him.”
Gale stood and began pacing in front of their crates, his face moving from shock to anger in the blink of an eye. “That reprobate! To consider anyone his private property. To become violent when he didn’t get what he wanted.”
“I told you, I am not a damsel in need of rescuing,” she said, touched by Gale’s outburst. ”I cast a spell to calm him, then I put him to sleep. When he awoke, I was gone.”
“A much kinder fate than I would have accorded him,” Gale said, darkly. "He would have been nothing more than ash, once I finished teaching him manners! However, I understand the ramifications. If you had left the dead body of a lord on the floor of your room, the City Watch and the magistrates would have been unlikely to believe it was self-defense.”
“There are truth spells,” she said. “Of course, anyone can get around those. Adie left me alone after that. I thought I was free of him. Then he sent me a note.”
She hadn’t wanted to answer it. But there were considerations. Considerations she refused to think about. Considerations that had led an innocent man to the executioner’s block.
“He apologized for his behavior, asked me to forgive him. He had built a beautiful music room and wanted me to be the first to play in it. He asked me to visit, to see it before the concert.”
She ran her hands through her hair. She had kept her voice steady, but Gale knew her well enough by now to recognize it as a sign of distress. He returned to his seat and put a comforting hand on her knee.
"I went. It was the most fantastic music room I had ever seen. Parquet floors, stands filled with instruments crafted by the most skilled artisans. It took my breath away. It would have taken any bard's breath away. Then he got down on one knee and proposed.
Gale’s brows knit together. “He built a cage, a golden cage to be sure, but a cage nonetheless and thought you would happily walk into it?”
“I told you. He wanted a tame songbird.”
“Well, I hope you sent a firebolt where the sun doesn’t shine,” Gale said.
“No firebolts. What would have been the point?” she said. “I told him no and started to walk out. He called his guards."
“He was going to imprison you just because you wouldn’t marry him?” Gale looked horrified.
“No, he was going to kill me,” she said, keeping her tone matter of fact. “I didn’t want to kill the guards, but I had no choice. Adie ran to the door to call more. I sent him to sleep again. The one thing I didn’t do was steal a priceless artifact. After I escaped, Adie told everyone I was an ungrateful little guttersnipe who had used him — thus the rumors."
She felt Gale's gaze on her, raised her head and looked into eyes that held neither pity nor judgement, just respect. He placed a hand on her cheek, which to her surprise was wet.
“I couldn’t stay in Waterdeep, of course. Some Harper friends smuggled me out. I returned the day he was executed.”
They sat in silence for a long moment. Then Gale wrapped his arms around her. She leaned into the hug. It had been a long time since she had felt safe, yet here in the arms of a man she sometimes found insufferable, she did.
“Thank you,” he whispered into her hair. “I insulted you and invaded your privacy, but you still trusted me with your story. It will not go unrewarded. I promise.”
“I will hold you to that,” she said, wiping her eyes. Forcing a brittle brightness into her voice she said, “That’s enough stories, I think. We’ve probably found all that’s even remotely edible. It’s time we headed back to camp.”
Gale nodded and retrieved his pack. “You know, they say the object you stole was your harp.”
Her laugh was bitter. “No. This harp and I have been together a long time. I had it when I arrived in Waterdeep and I will have it the day I die.”
For some reason the admission restored her equilibrium. She tossed Gale a wink. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t steal it in the first place, of course.”
With that she headed to the ladder leading to the outside world.