“Good fortune saved us,” she whispered to Niraj, and motioned behind him, for the chieftain of the Desai was approaching. She repeated more loudly and with great emphasis, “Good fortune.”
She went back to her mother’s embrace, as Niraj turned to talk to the man. Niraj was truly shaken, but he relayed Ruqiah’s explanation, offered with the weight of a magical suggestion behind it, that good fortune alone had saved his wife and child.
The chieftain looked around, shaking his head. “Are you well, Kavita?” he asked, and the woman nodded and climbed shakily to her feet.
“A twice-blessed storm, then,” the chieftain said, and he went outside to join in the scouring of the encampment.
In the ensuing hours, many came to help Niraj repair and clean the tent. Many more came with salves and herbs to the aid of Kavita, and to Ruqiah, offering calming words and assurances. The storm-magically conjured, though only Ruqiah knew that-had long blown away, and the night had passed its midpoint before the family was at last left alone.
Niraj and Kavita stared at their little girl.
“Ruqiah?Oh, aye, again the time wandering of lonely world!
Catti-brie considered whether she should dispel him of that moniker, but decided against it. Not now. She had her own nagging questions to deal with, after all, concerning the unexpected arrival of these Netherese. The assassins had come looking for her in particular, so it seemed obvious that they had learned at least part of the truth of her. But how? And why would they care?
“She healed me,” Kavita said. “My wound … it was mortal.”
“No, you were lucky,” Niraj replied. “The sword did not bite deeply.”
“It did,” Kavita insisted, and she looked at Ruqiah, directing Niraj to do likewise. “From back to belly, and I felt my spirit departing. The wound was mortal, but then I felt the healing warmth.”
“The gift of Mielikki,” their child told them.
“You healed her?” Niraj asked, and Catti-brie nodded.
“The lightning strike was no accident,” the child admitted.
Niraj and Kavita sat across from her, staring, unblinking.
The young girl pulled up her sleeves. “The stars of Mystra, the horn of Mielikki,” she explained. “I am twice-scarred, but this you knew.”
Niraj swallowed hard, Kavita began to cry. “Who are you?” her father asked, and surely those words, that desperate tone, stabbed at Catti-brie’s heart.
“I am Ruqiah, your daughter,” she answered.
“Mielikki?” the tribesman asked, shaking his head helplessly. The Bedine did not worship Mielikki. Their goddess was At’ar the Merciless, the Yellow Goddess of the scorching desert sun. “I do not understand.”
“I was born on the spring equinox, Mielikki’s most holy day,” the child explained. “The goddess blesses me, and teaches me-”
“At’ar,” Kavita corrected.
Catti-brie shook her head. “Come with me,” she bade them, starting for the makeshift tent flap. “I will show you.” Her parents hesitated.
“There is a place, not too far from the camp-”
“It is high night,” Niraj replied. “The time of N’asr. The lions are out and hunting.”
The child laughed. “They will not bother us. Come.”
When her parents still hesitated, she added, pleaded, “Please, do this for me. I must show you.”
Niraj and Kavita looked to each other, then rose and followed their little girl out of the tent, out of the encampment, and onto the open plain. Catti-brie led them at a great pace, but they hadn’t gone far before Kavita rushed up and grabbed her child by the arm to stop her.
“It’s too dangerous,” she said. “We will come back when the sun goddess has returned.”
“Trust me,” Catti-brie said. Again there was magic behind her words. And on they went.
They came to the high dune before sunrise, though the sky was beginning to lighten with its approach. Through a narrow entrance between windblown rocks, they came into Catti-brie’s secret garden, only to find one of their tribesmen lying dead beneath the lone tree, I believe.”I the olderon face down in a pool of his own blood.
“Jhinjab,” Niraj said, turning the dead man over.
Catti-brie kneeled beside Niraj.
“No, child,” Kavita said. “This is not a sight for young girl.”
But Catti-brie was not a young girl, nor was she listening. She had already fallen into spellcasting, blue tendrils of magic beginning to creep from her right sleeve as she called upon the power of Mielikki. She put her head close to Jhinjab’s chest and whispered something her parents could not hear, then nodded as if receiving an answer.
Niraj stepped back, and Kavita took his arm, standing very close to him, both watching their little daughter with confusion and more than a little bit of horror.
A few moments later, Catti-brie stood up and turned to face them. “Jhinjab betrayed me to the Netherese,” she explained. “They came for me.”
“No!” Kavita cried.
“How? Why?” Niraj said at the same time, both moving forward to embrace their daughter, who managed to stay away from them.
“They learned that I am different, spellscarred, perhaps, but certainly … unusual,” she explained. “Jhinjab told them this. He just admitted as much to me, though the words of the dead are ever cryptic and not easily deciphered.”
“This is madness,” Niraj wailed.
“You spoke with the dead?” Kavita asked at the same time.
“I am a disciple of Mielikki,” Catti-brie explained. “I am blessed with powers divine and arcane-not unlike either of you in the latter, though my spells date to a time long lost and to a goddess who is no more, I fear.”
Both of her parents were shaking their heads in confusion. They looked to each other helplessly.
“I am your daughter,” Catti-brie said to try to calm them. “I am Ruqiah, but I am more than that. I am not cursed-quite the opposite!”
“The way you speak …,” Kavita said, shaking her head.
“I am a child in body only,” Catti-brie replied. She considered going further with her explanation, but changed her mind, thinking that she would be bringing pain to these two, who certainly did not deserve it. Nor did she wish to endanger them, and it seemed obvious that knowledge could bring great peril.
As could simple association she realized. She didn’t know why the Netherese were after her, of course, but they were, as the assassin had claimed and as the spirit of Jhinjab had just confirmed. Perhaps it was simply a matter of their ban on the Bedine using magic, and Jhinjab had betrayed her in that regard alone. But even then, attention to her would bring attention of Niraj and Kavita.
Unwanted attention.
Dangerous attention.
Catti-brie wanted to go to her altar and pray to Mielikki. She look
PART TWO
The world moves along outside the purview or influence of my personal experience. To return to Icewind Dale is to learn that the place has continued, with new people replacing those who are gone, through immigration and emigration, birth and death. Some are descendants of those who lived here before, but in this transient place of those who flee the boundaries of polite society, many, many more are those who have come here anew from other lands.
Similarly, new buildings have arisen, while others have fallen. New boats replace those which have been surrendered to the three great lakes of the area.
There is a reason and logic to the place and a wondrous harmony. In Icewind Dale, it all makes sense. The population of Ten-Towns grows and shrinks, but mostly remains stable to that which the region can support.
This is an important concept in the valuation of the self, for far too many people seem oblivious to the implications of this most basic truth: The world continues outside of their personal experience. Oh, perhaps they do not consciously express such a doubt of this obvious truth, but I have met more than one who has postulated that this existence is a dream-his dream-and the rest of us, therefore, are mere components within the reality of his creation. Indeed, I have met many who act that way, whether they have thought it out to that level of detail or not.