"Why?" Nestrix said blankly.
Because people expect it of you, and you expect it of others-Tennora caught herself before she said it, words straight from her mother's mouth.
"Because if you don't, you are going to have a rather hard time of it in Waterdeep. People won't treat you as well if you look like a beggar and smell like a rubbish heap."
"I don't care," Nestrix said, though she started scrubbing her skin as she said it. "I'll have to leave after Blacklock fixes me anyway. Then I can go bathe properly: sand and ocean water." She smiled at her knees. "The salt dries and polishes your scales when you brush it off."
"In the meantime, then," Tennora said. "And clean your hair."
The shift Nestrix had worn was in such terrible shape that Tennora doubted it could survive a washing and come out the other side in one piece. She was a good head shorter than the dragon, but perhaps she had a skirt and blouse that she could part with, at least until Aundra had her say.
Not for the first time in the last day, Tennora wondered what the Hells she had gotten herself into. But-also not for the first time-the thought of the ritual Nestrix had promised soothed her concerns.
She closed her eyes and imagined how focused she would become, how the Weave would flow through her, how surprised Master Halnian would be. Perhaps he would promote her on to her own studies, so she could read spellbooks at her leisure.
And no one would convince her to be an idle noblewoman or confuse her with a thief.
She sorted through her things and found some clean smallclothes, the loose dress and tunic she'd been wearing the day before, and stockings. Boots would be a problem, she thought, looking over as Nestrix rubbed soap between the toes of her rather large and rough foot. It would have to wait until later.
She folded the clothes neatly on the kitchen table, and noticed the pocket of the skirt held something. A folded piece of paper-she couldn't recall where she'd picked it up for a moment.
Then she remembered the half-orc in the stormcloak from Mardin's, the one who seemed keen to warn her of a coming storm or some such nonsense. She sighed again and unfolded the leaflet, wondering which god or exarch he was so keen to sell.
And found a fair likeness of Nestrix looking back at her.
Crimes, the leaflet read, murder of Ardusk Nagaenil, a wizard of Cormyr; theft, burglary, fraud.
The blood drained from Tennora's face. She set the skirt on the table, still staring at the leaflet.
"Why are you making that face?" Nestrix said. "What's wrong?"
Tennora looked up. "You're wanted for murder."
"Oh," Nestrix said, returning to scrubbing the soap into her hair.
"Did you really kill this man?"
"Yes," Nestrix said blithely. She paused a moment. "Wait, who does it say I killed?"
Tennora wet her lips. "A wizard of Cormyr. His name was Ardusk Nagaenil."
"Oh him. Yes, then." She went back to scrubbing her hair. "Most definitely."
A horrible feeling writhed in Tennora's stomach. "You had to ask who. How many have you killed?"
"Ever?"
"Ever."
Nestrix gave a jerky shrug. "I don't know. It seems vulgar to keep a count."
Tennora fell backward into the chair beside the table. Her ears felt curiously numb and her head felt loose. Nestrix looked her over.
"Are you all right?"
"No," Tennora managed. "You're a murderer."
"You are getting upset over nothing. I am allowed to defend myself."
"No! Not so many times that you can't remember!"
Nestrix gave her a confused look. "I don't know what you're so upset about this time either. You knew I was a dragon. I'm more prone than most to… defending myself." She smiled wickedly and ducked her head under to rinse the soap from her hair. "Anyway, that one was after I was changed. I asked him for help, and he tried to take advantage of me. First as a mate, then as a… how did he put it? An object of interest-he wanted to throw spells at me and see what happened. So I knocked him over, took one of his retorts, smashed it on the table, and cut his throat with the glass. What was I supposed to do?"
"Leave!" Tennora spluttered. "Disarm him and get out!"
Nestrix made a face. "That seems like the same amount of effort."
"It's not about effort!"
Nestrix shrugged again. "Well, no use wringing your hands over it. He's dead and that's that. They should be happy. He was disgusting." She looked up at Tennora and her eyes took on the faint glow they had before. "Are you thinking of turning me over to someone?" she said sweetly-too sweetly. It made Tennora's blood curdle.
"I never said that."
"You could," she said. "Does that one say I'm mad?"
It did. Just under the listing of the crimes. Spellscarred. Afflicted with madness and delusions. Do not approach alone. She's not a dragon, it said between the lines. She's simply insane.
Nestrix was staring up at her, but the glow had faded. "You could," she said again, but there was no threat there. "If they catch you helping me, I don't think it will go well for you. Not at all."
Tennora scrambled for something to say, but her mind was occupied with thoughts of escape. She could run, now-while Nestrix was naked and wet-and what could Nestrix do? She could wait until Nestrix went to sleep, or slip out on any number of errands. She could find the Watch and tell them everything, or track down the half-orc in the cloak and give him the key to her apartment. She could stop everything. She should.
But she wasn't sure she would.
Nestrix raised her eyebrows. "Do you think I'm mad?"
"Not a bit," Tennora said, lightly as she could. "Are you?"
"A little," Nestrix admitted. "A century is a long time to be a dokaal. Are you going to turn me in?"
Tennora watched her for a long moment and then shook her head. She still wanted that ritual. She still wanted Nestrix to be real.
"Good," Nestrix said. She stood, water sluicing off her smooth body. "I believe I smell like the soap now. What am I supposed to do about the wet?"
FIVE
Night fell and grew deep before Aundra Blacklock's reply came. Seated on the floor, Nestrix was once again reading a book-this one a history of Aglarond-and periodically making noises of derision at what she found. Tennora, no longer required to finish her studies at night, found herself at loose ends. She eventually settled on a chair behind Nestrix and occupied her hands with teasing out the knots that years had matted into the dark tresses.
The bath and fresh clothes had certainly done Nestrix a favor-as had tearing her old shift into rags. The faint smell of lightning overlaid by roses wafted through the room, and her dusky skin was even and smooth. She was not pretty in a conventional sense, but Tennora knew if Nestrix were to walk into a crowded hall some brightstarfeast, dressed in something that fit, a great number of eyes would be on her.
Provided this hair comes unsnarled, she thought, tugging at a particularly stubborn knot. Nestrix grunted, but didn't seem to mind the pain overmuch.
Tennora could remember being a little girl, her maid brushing out her blonde curls to many tears and much wailing. She remembered her mother coming into the nursery, her dark eyes stern. She sent the maid out, wiped Tennora's tears, and gently brushed the rest out herself.
"Better not to show them what hurts you," she said softly, and young as she was, Tennora had detected a note of disappointment that she was certain was for her.
The beat of wings outside the window interrupted the memories and presaged the shutters' opening. Nestrix surged to her feet and stepped incautiously before the aperture.