The quest had been successful, and the task of unsealing the pouches had fallen to Midnight. It took her the better part of a day to gently undo the many-layered wards the wizards had placed upon the items. When she finally removed the magical traps, the company was saddened to learn that the contents of the pouches were nothing more than what Talbot interpreted as treaties and promises of trade.
Midnight stayed with the company as Talbot paid their salaries from the gold he had amassed on a previous quest. But it wasn't until that evening that Midnight learned of Talbot's secret agenda.
She had just been relieved of watch duty by Goulart, a burly man who rarely spoke, and was settling into a deep slumber, when the sound of raised voices alerted her. The voices died away instantly, and Midnight feigned sleep as she prepared to defend herself. After a time, the voices resumed, and this time Midnight recognized Talbot's voice. She cast a spell of clairaudience to eavesdrop on the conversation, and learned that their mission had not been a failure after all.
Upon the scrolls were the true names of many of the Red Wizards of Thay. The information on the documents had been collected by various spies in the employ of King Azoun as insurance against the growing threat of the eastern empire. With the information found on the parchments, the Red Wizards could be destroyed.
Midnight had been the last member of the company to be recruited, and for good reason. Parys and Bartholeme Guin, twin brothers, were the company's true magic-users. They had refused to be involved in the opening of the pouches, fearing the superior magic of the far-off empire that had sealed them. They forced Talbot to hire another magic-user for the task, with the intent of slaying the new member of the company when the job was done.
Talbot, however, wanted to tell Midnight the truth and give her the opportunity to join them as they sought the enemies of the Red Wizards and auctioned the parchments to the highest bidder. As the men argued, Midnight used her magic to steal the valuable parchments and make good her escape.
Midnight traveled north from the camp on Calanter's Way, worried over the odd behavior of her mount. Traveling at night had never bothered the beast before; its blood-red mane had risen with the winds even in the darkest hours of morning. Yet, that night, the horse refused to break its slow, measured pace as they traversed the final length of the seemingly deserted road that led to the walled city of Arabel and sanctuary.
"We have to make the city tonight," Midnight whispered sweetly, having already tried ranting, raving, kicking, and screaming to motivate the horse into action. After a time, Midnight became worried that the company would catch up with her. There was no one in view on the open road, however, nor were there any woods close to the road that could hide an ambush.
Midnight felt the stolen parchments in her cape. Talbot and his men would be after her for these. Although she had not read the inscriptions, she fully realized the power the parchments held; power to rock far-away empires.
Midnight's mount reared up, but there was nothing within range of Midnight's senses to warrant the beast's alarm. Then she noticed the stars. Many were blacking out, then reappearing in huge clusters. Even as Midnight raised an arm to protect herself, the brothers Guin appeared, riding the air itself as they attacked front and rear. The darkness flanking Midnight expelled Talbot and the rest of his men as they charged.
Midnight fought well, but she was hopelessly outnumbered. Only her ownership of the parchments kept the others from killing her outright. And when she was knocked from her mount, Midnight beseeched the goddess Mystra for assistance.
I will save you, my daughter, a voice said, revealing itself to Midnight alone. But only if you will keep safe my sacred trust.
"Yes, Mystra!" Midnight screamed. "Anything you ask!"
A great, blue-white ball of fire suddenly burst from the darkness, traveling at incredible speeds. It struck Midnight and her foes, enveloping them in a blinding inferno. Midnight felt as if her soul was being torn apart; she was certain she would die. Then the night closed in.
When Midnight woke, the road before her was burned, and the entire Company of the Lynx was dead. The parchments were destroyed. Her mount was gone. And a strange, beautiful blue-white pendant hung around Midnight's tanned neck.
Mystra's trust.
Dazed, the magic-user continued on foot. She was only vaguely aware of the intense storm that raged around her. Though it was night, the road before her was lit as bright as highsun, and she walked toward Arabel until she collapsed of exhaustion.
Midnight remembered nothing from the time she collapsed on the road until she woke in the strange room where she now found herself. She fingered the pendant unconsciously, then set about clothing herself. The star was obviously a reminder of the favor that had been granted her by Mystra, Midnight decided. But why was it grafted to her skin?
Midnight shook her head.
"I suppose I'll have wait for an answer to that question," the magic-user said sorrowfully. There would be answers, in time. She was certain of that. Whether or not she would care for them was another matter.
Midnight was anxious to examine her new surroundings, so she quickly finished gathering her belongings. As she bent over her pack, stuffing her spell book in with her clothes, a slight rush of air warned her that she was not alone in the unfamiliar bedchambers; an instant later she felt hands at her back.
"Milady," a soft voice said, and Midnight turned to face the source of the gentle summoning. A young girl dressed in a pink and white gown stood before her, looking for all the world like a delicate rose blossoming with every movement. Her face was framed with shoulder-length hair, and the expression worn upon her attractive features was that of a frightened child.
"Milady," the girl began again. "Are you well?"
"Yes, I'm fine. Quite a storm last night," Midnight said, attempting to allay the girl's fears with pleasantries.
"Storm?" the girl said, her voice barely a whisper.
"Aye," Midnight said. "Surely you're aware of the storm this land suffered last night?" Midnight's tone was stern. She did not wish to stoke the furnace of the child's fears, but neither would she be mocked by feigned ignorance.
The girl drew a breath. "There was no storm last night."
Midnight looked at the girl, shocked to find the truth in her eyes. The magic-user looked back to the window and hung her head, her waist-length raven-black hair falling forward, obscuring her face. "What is this place?" Midnight said at last.
"This is our home. My father and I live here, milady, and you are our guest."
Midnight sighed. At least she didn't seem to be in any danger. "I am Midnight of Deepingdale. I woke to find myself dressed as a fine lady, yet I am merely a traveler, and I do not remember coming to your home," Midnight said. "What is your name?"
"Annalee!" a voice cried from behind Midnight. The girl shuddered and drew into herself as she turned to the doorway, where stood a tall, wiry man with thin brown locks and a rough growth of beard. He was dressed in what appeared to be a soft brown frock, belted with thick leather. Gold lace adorned the open folds of his collar and the wide expanses of his cuffs.
Annalee floated past Midnight and left the room, the scent of some exotic perfume gracing the air with her sudden passing.
"Perhaps you would be so kind as to tell me what this place is and how I came to be here. All I remember is the wicked storm we suffered last night," Midnight said.
The man's eyes shot open wide and his hands flew to his mouth; he could not mask his surprise.