Page 70 of Astarion

“This is a lot to take in,” Lief said.

“It was a lot to experience, too.”

“And you want my help to get you this relic?”

“That’s the long and the short of it, my dear colossus.”

“Huh.” Lief gazed at the ceiling, thinking, while den Suriel fell on his food like a starving man and Astarion sipped from a cup of watered wine that contained no actual water. He recognized the taste of pig blood. Somebody in the kitchen had probably had their preparations for black pudding set back by at least a day.

It did nicely solve the question of whether Lief knew what he was. Astarion would have been much more worried about that if the blood hadn’t gone down so smoothly. He could feel his muscles unknotting and a legion of tiny nicks and scratches beginning to heal. The deep ache in his ribs that had been background noise for hours began to fall silent.

While the two of them ate, Lief began sketching out a map with thick, nimble fingers. She had a cartographer’s skill, roughing in elements as Astarion and den Suriel described them. By the time the meal had ended, she had a basic map of the cavern inhabited by the Cult of the Undying Blood.

“Hmm,” she said, mostly to the map. “I can see how to get you to the relic. I’m not sure how to get you out again.”

“Get me in there, and I’ll worry about getting me out again. Though I may need your people to cause a distraction.”

Lief raised a slate-colored eyebrow. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather pay the Guild for this?”

“Anyone in the Guild worth their salt will start thinking that the relic might be worth double-crossing me.” Astarion examined his cuffs. The embroidery had so many stray threads that it looked like he was wearing a brightly colored jellyfish. “Also, they don’t owe me a favor.”

The goliath smoothed down the map. “The mistress would be glad to see her favor discharged.”

Astarion offered his hand. “Help me acquire that relic, and the favor is returned, free and clear.”

Lief engulfed his slender white hand with her own large gray one. Astarion could feel her calluses like sandpaper against his knuckles.

“Must be quite a favor,” den Suriel said, “if you’re willing to help us with something this dramatic.”

“For some, a debt owed grows heavier with each passing season.”

The paladin shook his head. “Better to do good with no expectation of being repaid.”

Even though Lief was probably younger than the aasimar, her eyes were briefly as ancient as the sea. “Better for you, perhaps. To leave someone with a debt they have no way of repaying can be a cruel act.”

Den Suriel frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Astarion thought of Violet and her hatred for Yousen. “I’ll explain it to you later.”

Lief tapped the map. “Give me the daylight hours to consider and to reach out to some people I know. You may have the hospitality of the house until then.” She rose to her feet, and the two men followed.

—

The hospitality of the Rat’s Run was resoundingly adequate. Astarion knew that they were receiving the best the house had to offer, and so he did not complain. There was plenty of room, even after another bed and washbasin were hastily dragged in, though the décor might best be described as post-nautical chic. Frayed fishing nets were draped across the ceiling, dangling glass weights below them, and the light fixtures were shaped like a ship’s figurehead.

Astarion peeled off his jacket, checked the enchanted vials again to make sure they were still safe, and was working on a mental checklist of equipment he needed to replace when den Suriel cleared his throat.

“Hmm?”

“I am afraid I need to visit the privy.”

“Downstairs in back. Look for the black curtains.”

“Ah…” The aasimar rubbed the back of his neck, looking desperately uncomfortable. “That is…err…would you mind coming with me?”

“To the privies?” Astarion turned to stare at him. “My dear paladin, I have embraced any number of perversions, but I assure you, that is not among them.”

“No! Not for any—that is—it’s certainly not one of my—” He stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am worried that if I let you out of my sight, that will count as letting you live, and my oath will be broken.”