She closed her hands around it, knowing she should demur, she should refuse. “How do I call on it?”
“Aim it at the devil and say vennela,” he said. “The amulet does the rest.” He hesitated a moment. “This temple is only going to last another half-bell or so,” he said. “And I don’t know how much you heard-”
“Most of it,” she admitted. She smiled uneasily. “I knew you weren’t only a priest.”
“You and everyone under the age of twenty, apparently,” Tam said dryly. “When you add those cultists after you, it’s pretty clear to me that as soon as your sister wakes, you need to get out of Neverwinter.”
She shook her head. “Not without Mehen. Or Brin.” She looked out at the ruined city beyond the entry. “The Ashmadai think the House of Knowledge has insulted them in some way. Something about orcs and a house by the water? They plan to attack the temple.”
Tam frowned. “What do orcs have to do with the House of Knowledge?”
Farideh shook her head. “I don’t know.” She bit her lip. “And there was something else, something Lorcan said. The hospitaler that runs things, Rohini, he called her the biggest viper of all. That hospital’s full of wounded guardsmen and acolytes who are just trying to help. You can’t really suggest we just leave them to be torn apart by all of this?”
“Farideh, you can’t save these people,” he said. “That’s why I came: to assess the stability of Neverwinter. We’ve been here two days and already I can tell you it’s as stable as a landslide.”
“Then we should warn them.”
Tam shook his head. “They knew, Farideh. They knew that coming here. The Wall. The Chasm. The orcs on the road. The mountain is still smoking. Even the Lord Protector’s men …” He shook his head. “And there’s so much more beneath the surface. Things as bad as your cultists and their orcs. There are rough times in Neverwinter’s future. They’re prepared, or they were never going to be prepared to begin with.”
“So you’re just going to leave?” she said, shaking her head. “Why is that better?”
“Because,” he said, “if what you’re saying is true, then this is going to happen soon. If you leave, you’ll be safe. What else are you going to do? Run around knocking on doors?”
“Stop the Ashmadai!” Farideh cried.
“And then what?”
“Stop Rohini.”
“And then? There will be more. There will be devils and dangerous people until their battles are resolved.” He stood. “There is being a hero and there is making a sacrifice of yourself because you imagine it will be better. You’re not the first person to mistake the difference.”
And he wasn’t the first person to tell her she couldn’t change the way Neverwinter would fall, she knew, thinking of Lorcan’s litany of horrors. She glanced over at Havilar, lying still on the stone floor. How many times are you going to lead her into danger? she thought. She rubbed her thumb over the amulet, the shape of an eye on one side, and a spiral on the other. She wound her thumb in to the center of the spiral and back out again. What could she do to protect Neverwinter anyway?
“You’re right,” she admitted. “We’ll go. As soon as we get Mehen and Brin.”
Tam shook his head. “We can come back for them later, but if there are cultists chasing you, I want you both out of the city.”
Farideh bit her tongue. “Fine,” she said after a moment, even though it was not fine. “Do me a simple favor at least? Tell the guards about the bodies in the shop. Send them to … at least put them to rest and watch for their comrades.”
Tam regarded her a moment. “That,” he said, “I will do. Stay here with Havilar. When she wakes, the two of you get to the South Gate and wait for me there.”
She nodded. The South Gate … which passed the House of Knowledge directly. She might not be able to save Neverwinter, but at least she’d warn the ones she cared about.
There were moments when Mehen’s thoughts seemed to clear enough for the dragonborn to realize he was in a terrible predicament. No amount of effort would let him move his limbs-not even to take the healing potion clipped to his falchion’s harness and take care of the broken wrist that lay swollen and screaming across his lap. He could not respond to anything except direct questions. When Brin had stumbled into the room Rohini had left Mehen sitting in, he could do nothing but glare at the boy, willing him to notice the fact that Mehen would never have sat still while his daughters were missing and the fact that Mehen would have told him off instead of giving the boy the silent treatment.
Something is wrong, you kosjor, he fought to roar. But his throat didn’t so much as twitch for all the effort, and Brin had wandered off puzzled.
Fari and Havi were missing-broken planes, why didn’t the horror of that shake loose his paralysis? He had the vague memory, like a dream that he couldn’t quite shake, of Farideh watching him with a worried expression, of Havilar hugging him around the neck, but no more would come. Surely … surely … they’d just wandered off?
That didn’t soothe his nerves at all. How could he have let this happen?
The memory of Havilar throwing her arms around his neck thickened, and he heard her say, “… is a devil, and you’re the only one …”
A devil. Lorcan. Shattered realms, he thought, don’t let this be Lorcan’s doing. He knew he ought to have killed the bastard.
But then there was another memory that crackled and popped and seemed to fight against him: A red-haired woman, a group of orcs, Arjhani … Arjhani, all apologies and promises. Had he any control he’d blush at the shame of still wanting Arjhani, after the way he’d left things. That had to be a dream.
The door banged open, and a young man Mehen had never seen before looked in. Whip thin, in dark armor stained with blood, the man looked at Mehen as if he were the last, lame horse left in the hostler’s string. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and stepped into the room.
“Listen,” he said, “I know you don’t like me, but forget that for a moment. Farideh’s in trouble.” When Mehen didn’t answer, he glanced down at himself and cursed. “It’s Lorcan. I’ll explain the look another time. Now, come help me.”
Mehen would have grabbed Lorcan by the throat and shaken him until he told Mehen what had happened, why Farideh was in danger, and what in the Hells Lorcan had done.
“Did you hear what I said?” Lorcan snapped. “What are you doing?”
“Waiting,” Mehen said automatically. He lifted his gaze to Lorcan’s, but did not stand. “Waiting for orders.” He frowned … the red-haired woman was Rohini … Rohini was the one giving orders …
“Orders?” Lorcan peered at Mehen a moment. “Beshaba, shit in my eyes-Rohini’s dominated you, hasn’t she?” Mehen said nothing, only glared at him. Why couldn’t Brin have been the one to figure that out?
Something lit Lorcan’s eyes, and a slow smile crept over face. “You’re allowed to answer questions, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“But nothing else. That’s rather sloppy of her.” He stepped between Mehen and the lantern and stooped down to look the dragonborn in the eye. “Didn’t give you permission to take care of that arm either.” He reached down and plucked the healing potion from Mehen’s harness. “And, look, she forgot to allow you to defend yourself.” Lorcan shuddered as he drank the potion down.
“Why,” he said, drawing his sword, “you’re practically useless.”
The tip of the sword pricked against the softer scales of Mehen’s throat, but Lorcan seemed to be taking his time. If he thought he stirred fear up in Clanless Mehen, he was sorely mistaken: all the devil did was stoke the dragonborn’s rage.
“It’s not as if you wouldn’t do the same,” Lorcan said. “Rid your little girl of what might harm her, hmm?”
“I haven’t yet,” Mehen replied, not the torrent of threats he’d have liked to unleash at Lorcan’s accidental question, but the simple truth. Much as he’d like to unmake the brazen bastard, he hadn’t.
The sword point eased off.
“You hadn’t the chance,” Lorcan corrected. “I know as well as anyone I’m no one to trust.”