Bhaal tied the mage’s thumbs together, pausing to consider his response. Finally, he answered, “You’re going to kill Helm.”
He spoke the words so rapidly and quietly that Midnight thought she had misunderstood him “Kill Helm?” she asked. “Is that what you said?”
The Lord of Murder tied her little fingers together, then repeated the process with each of her other digits. It was obvious to Midnight that the god was binding her hands so she could not trace the gestures necessary to call on her magic. “Yes, kill Helm,” he finally confirmed.
“I can’t kill a god!” Midnight yelped, astounded.
“You killed Torm,” Bhaal growled. “And Bane.” He pulled the thongs painfully tight.
“All I did was ring the Bell of Aylan Attricus! I saved Tantras. Bane and Torm killed each other.”
“There’s no need for modesty,” Bhaal said. He finished binding Midnight’s hands and stepped away. “Lord Myrkul is the one who’s angry about the Black Lord’s death. After Bane destroyed my assassins, I was happy to see him die.”
“But I didn’t kill him … or Torm. And I can’t kill Helm!” Midnight insisted, gesturing with her bound hands. Bhaal’s misconception both angered and frightened her. If he had abducted her in order to destroy Helm, the fallen god had made a terrible mistake. “It was the bell!” she insisted.
Bhaal shrugged and removed her horse’s saddle. “It’s all the same. You rang the bell when nobody else could. Now you will kill Helm.”
“Even if I could,” Midnight replied, finding a place to sit, “I wouldn’t. You must know that.”
“No,” Bhaal told her sharply. He tossed the saddle on the ground near his. “We know you’ll do as you’re told.”
“What gives you that idea?” Midnight asked. She found it interesting that Bhaal had referred to Myrkul as an ally. The mage decided to make the most of her captivity by learning as much as she could from the Lord of Murder.
Bhaal stared at the mage with a steady gaze. “Though you left your friends, we know how much you care for them.”
“What do you mean?”
Bhaal walked around to the other side of her horse and removed its bit. “It’s rather obvious, don’t you think?”
“Kelemvor and Adon are no longer part of this,” the magic-user snapped, fear growing inside of her.
“We understand that,” Bhaal sighed, squatting to tether the horses. “And it will stay that way—providing you do as we wish.”
“I can’t do what you want!” she yelled, rising to her feet. “I don’t have the power. You’re supposed to be a god—why can’t you understand a simple thing like that?”
Bhaal studied her with his dead, coal-black eyes. “You don’t lack the power,” he said. “You just don’t know how to use it yet. That’s why you need Myrkul and me.”
“Need you?” Midnight cried. The idea of “needing” the Lord of Murder and the Lord of the Dead sent shivers of revulsion up the mage’s spine.
“You think it will be easy to wield the might of a god?” Bhaal asked, walking over to her. “Without us, you’ll burn up. The Goddess of Magic was very powerful when she transferred her power to you.”
“The might of a god?” Midnight repeated. Her mind wandered back to the night she had collapsed praying to Mystra—the night of the Arrival. That had been when her life changed, when the Realms themselves had fallen into supernatural disarray.
For several weeks now, the suspicion that she carried Mystra’s power had been growing in the mage’s mind. Midnight had tried to blame the changing nature of her magic on the chaos infecting the Realms, but it had grown increasingly difficult to ignore the evidence: her power over magic was expanding; she no longer needed her spellbook; and finally, she could now use incantations she had never studied.
But having suspected the truth did not lessen the impact of its confirmation. The Lord of Murder’s revelation left Midnight stunned and frightened, and she could not help retreating from all that it implied.
Bhaal took advantage of Midnight’s dazed state to pressure her. “When he exiled us, our master stripped us of our power. Now, you alone are Helm’s match.” The God of Assassins turned away from Midnight and looked toward the sky. “If we are to return to the Planes, you must destroy the God of Guardians.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to give Helm the Tablets of Fate?” Midnight asked, speaking to Bhaal’s back. “Won’t Lord Ao open the Planes to the gods when the tablets are returned?”
Bhaal whirled around, his eyes flashing with rage. “Do you think we enjoy being trapped in this puny world? This facade has cost me all of my worshipers!” he snapped. “We’d return the tablets in an instant if it were possible.”
Midnight was not sure she believed the Lord of Murder. From what she had learned, the gods were fighting over who would get credit for returning the tablets. But Bhaal’s words gave her cause for doubt.
“Are you saying it’s impossible to return the tablets?” the mage pressed.
The god pointed at the saddlebags on Midnight’s shoulder. “Why do you think we’ve permitted you to keep that one? It’s useless.”
“Useless!” Midnight gasped, her heart sinking.
“We can’t get the second one. Nobody can,” Bhaal explained, waving his hand angrily. “Without both tablets, Helm won’t let us back into the Planes. That’s why you must kill him.”
“Where’s the other tablet? Has it been destroyed?”
Bhaal sneered. “In a manner of speaking, yes. It’s hidden in Bone Castle, in Myrkul’s Realm of the Dead.” He pointed at the ground. “And there it will stay until we are freed from the Realms.”
“If you know where it is, why don’t you—” Midnight stopped in midsentence, realizing her question was silly. The gods had been banished from the Planes. The Realm of the Dead, being Myrkul’s home, was undoubtedly closed to them since it was in Hades.
Bhaal allowed Midnight a moment to consider what she had learned so far. Finally, he said, “You see? We’re on the same side: we want to return to the Planes, and you want to get us out of Faerûn. But you’ll need to kill Helm before that happens. Do you see that now?”
Midnight did not answer immediately. It had occurred to her that if she could destroy Helm, she could also recover the other tablet from Bone Castle. But the mage did not want to reveal her idea to Bhaal, although he claimed that he also wanted to return the tablets. Even after thirty hours in the saddle, she was not muddled enough to believe she could trust the word of the Lord of Murder.
Still, if her plan was to work, Midnight needed more information. “If I must kill Helm in order to save the Realms, then I will,” Midnight lied. If she was going to learn what she wanted from Bhaal, he had to think she was convinced. “But before I agree, you’ve got to answer some questions. I want to know that you’ve tried every other possibility.”
“Oh, we have,” Bhaal replied, using his saddle as a chair.
Midnight did not believe the fallen deity’s words were sincere, but she pretended otherwise. “The gods are barred from the Planes, not anybody else. Why haven’t you sent a mortal into the Realm of the Dead to retrieve the second tablet?”
Bhaal’s jaw dropped just for an instant, but long enough to betray his surprise. “That’s not as easy as you make it sound,” he said.
Midnight did not miss the shock on Bhaal’s face, but was unsure what to make of it. She could not believe that the Lord of Murder and the Lord of the Dead would not have thought of something so simple.
“Answer the question,” Midnight demanded. “Why haven’t you sent some mortal after the tablet? There must be ways for humans to reach the Realm of the Dead.”