She examined the nails on her left hand. With her right, she held up three fingers.
"Aye?"
"No stabbing me in the back, and I won't return the favor." One finger uncurled.
"Simple enough." Liet shrugged. He pointed at her last raised finger. "And?"
A brief smile flickered across Twilight's face. "No falling in love with me."
Liet snorted. "Well, that's easy," he said. "I assure you, oh lovely hipskirts…"
He paused, perhaps to see if she had taken offense to that remark, which she hadn't. It was a somewhat more polite version of the phrase "pretty woman" than she was used to on the streets of Waterdeep or Westgate.
This was not, of course, to imply that she failed to address it.
"Oh, come now, lad," she said. "Longclaws, that's more appropriate, or slickhips, perhaps-as opposed to lickhips, which I don't recommend saying to anyone. Or, kisscloak, if you're feeling flirtatious. Or, if you feel witty-"
"Ahem!" Liet went even redder and hurriedly finished his thought, cutting her off there. "Oh, lovely hipskirts who shows little regard for my manhood-I shall have no difficulty with your rule the fourth." He thought he was being funny.
Twilight pursed her lips and nodded. "Oh, I have no doubt."
"You don't believe me?"
"About as much as I believe any jack on thy side of the court with oiled and sharpened arms." This was as if to say not at all. "But I digress. You believe you can follow these rules?" Languidly, she put out a delicate hand.
"To be certain," said Liet as he took it. "But why?"
"Welcome aboard," said Twilight, "partner."
"Partner in what?"
"Our grand escape."
Now it was Liet's turn to look unconvinced. "Very well, then-excellent jest."
"You don't believe me?"
"Oh, I have no doubt," Liet said, imitating her sarcastic tone.
"I see." Twilight drew out the shard of iron she had taken from the torture chamber and twirled it between her fingers. "Well, I shall simply have to disappoint."
"Did you see that mountain of a guard? With the big hammer, aye?"
Twilight shrugged noncommittally. "I've seen stranger things."
She lay back. Reverie would not come-she knew that, of course-and her mind was too active to permit sleep, but it didn't matter.
"So why'd you return?" Liet asked after a five-count. "You could've escaped."
"That was just scouting."
"Scouting." Liet laughed ruefully. "I don't think he'll fall for that again."
Twilight just smiled and closed her eyes.
Torchlight flickering, Gestal stared at her, eyes not a hand's breadth from her face. Lord Divergence knew she feigned sleep-her breath was soft and regular. She waited to enact her plan.
Rid of her troublesome amulet, he could watch the elf directly. He'd taken steps to ensure that would not change when she found it again, as well. For now, though, he could not reach into her mind-only cut through the webs she weaved so deftly.
"Your lies fail to impress," he mused.
Gestal considered how she had dealt with the boy-ruthlessly, brutally. The scarred hand hovered over her cheek, wondering at its softness.
Was this the one? he wondered.
He would soon find out.
CHAPTER TWO
Liet awoke with a yawn, opening his mouth almost as wide as the cell door.
He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, wishing he still dreamed-a welcome state, compared to this cell. Tragically, no gold dragons burst through the ceiling to rescue him, and no scantily clad warrior maidens manifested to resolve his… concerns. He sighed.
The door.
Liet blinked, wondering if he were still dreaming and the maidens were just playing coy. Sure enough, the portal stood wide open, admitting smoke from the guttering torches into the cell. He was suddenly afraid.
"Ah?" Liet rose unsteadily. "Uh-lady? Elf? Where-?"
A serious face appeared around the side of the door, a face that seemed familiar. The one who had pummeled him. "You're awake," the elf said.
He realized he should probably be angry, seeing how she had him so unfairly, but he kept calm. "Uh, I–I am. Awake. Yes. Aye."
"I was wondering if you'd need a kiss."
Liet blinked. "Wh-what?"
"Silence, lad," Twilight said. "Trolls are notoriously light sleepers."
"Truly?" Liet asked, freezing.
"No," she replied, "but silence anyway."
She vanished, but returned an instant later. Seeming to glide through the shadows, she clutched his arm, making him start, even though he had been watching for her.
"Is… is it safe?" His voice was meek.
"Safer than staying there," Twilight said. "You'd best stay by my side, boy." Her eyes narrowed. "Don't worry-I won't pounce on you any time soon."
"Pounce on me?"
She winked. "Keep up!"
Then she was gone.
Liet fumbled after her, groping his way into the darkness. "Wait!"
Twilight abandoned the youth in the dank cell and returned to where she'd left the gigantic key ring in front of the door opposite her own. She knelt beside it and tested the twenty-second of the thirty or so keys. The cell was completely silent, though a small form huddled on the pallet across from her, watching her activities keenly.
After a time, a gasp came from behind her, and Twilight glanced back. Liet was standing there, hand on his chest. " 'Tis merely me." Twilight tried another key. It fit, but wouldn't turn. "Though I'm never 'merely,' as you shall discover."
"I'll take your word." He scurried to her side and knelt down. "Wh-where…?"
"Asleep at the end of the hall," Twilight said. When Liet sucked in a breath, she rolled her eyes. "Easy-I've secured him."
"Secured him?"
"That's what I said." She tried the twenty-fourth key. No good. It might have been faster to pick this lock. "At least a candle's life, I think, before he comes after us."
"Then what?"
"I imagine we'd do well to escape by then, eh?" The padlock clicked open finally, and the door shivered. She wondered why this prisoner was kept in silence.
Then a small form struck her in a flying tackle. "Oh, thank-you-thank-you-thank-you!" the prisoner said in a girlish voice. She squeezed Twilight as though to choke the air from her lungs. "Oh gods, it was dreadful! Dreadful! But now I'm free! Thank you, most divine mistress! Oh, thank Yondalla for you!"
"Well… met," Twilight managed, her words stifled. "I'm… Twilight…"
"Well met!" cried the prisoner, ignoring Liet entirely. "I'm Billfora Brightbrows, but my friends call me Slip, and you can, too, as it pleases you, Mistress Twilight!"
Liet chuckled-for which Twilight vowed to knee him again.
"Yes… just…" she choked. "Get… off."
Slip was off her with a bound, and blessed-albeit stagnant and putrid-air returned. "Yes, Mistress!" she said. "Thank the Mother! Thank all her daughters! They kept me in that silence for so long, but you freed me! Oh, what a great, joyous day!" She looked around. "Where are we?"
"That's Liet," Twilight said, pointing at the youth hesitantly, but the little woman was gazing all around, completely oblivious, her mouth running at fifty leagues a candle. Now Twilight understood why she'd been given the silent treatment.
"You're a halfling?" Liet asked.
"Halfling?" Slip asked without looking. "Half-human? Half-elf? Dwarf? Troll?"
"Ah," Liet said. "You know… like a… halfling. The wee folk."
"Oh." Slip finally looked at him, and blinked. She stared at him for a long time, as though struggling to recognize him-or his words. She shrugged. "Well, yes."
Now it was Twilight's turn to grin. "Do you know anything about picking locks?"
"Yes, yes!" Slip laughed. "Back in Crimel, I was the best lock-picker of the whole lock-picking bunch. We had contests! Though…" She looked at the tattered robe she wore. "Usually I had my tools."