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Chantal sat at the table in the kitchen of her little house in the Mere, her lunch in the form of freshly baked bread and cheese in front of her, plate pushed back untouched. She just did not feel hungry. She had seldom felt hungry the last days.

She just sat, looking down at the little wooden carved wolf she held in her hand. She had spent a lot of time doing that since she had found it on the ground in the woods. Somehow, the days spent in Bishop’s company seemed like a dream to her in hindsight, unreal. So she often sat, holding the wolf, stroking the smooth wood, because it was the only proof that it all had actually happened.

The way back home after Bishop had left had been bad. She had felt so torn, ripped in half somehow.

How could you let yourself fall in love with him?

She could not understand. But something drew her to him like the proverbial moth to the flame.

And we all know what happens to the moth, don’t we?

She should be happy she got off so easily this time. With all her innards still safely tucked inside. But she only felt lost, lonely, miserable. She had never cried so much in her life. When she was alone, that was.

On the way back to the Mere, she had to keep up the façade. It had been hard, really hard. Casavir was so glad Bishop was gone, he was almost cheerful. Chantal had had to pull herself together not to constantly snap at him. Had to tell herself that it was not his fault, but hers. That he was right, that it was a good thing Bishop was gone, and it was herself who was wrong about this.

Neeshka had been unusually quiet the whole time, just regarding Chantal with so much pity in her face she had to avoid the tiefling’s eyes entirely, or else she would have burst into tears.

So she had tried to shove all the feelings, all the misery and longing, deep, deep down. But they would not stay down, no matter how hard she tried. It was even worse than last time, because this time, there was no fury, no betrayal to help her over it. This time, she only remembered his kisses, his scent, the way he held her close, the warm glow in his usually cold eyes.

And gods, how she missed him.

Get over it. He’s gone. No use in pining.

Somehow, the thought did not help at all.

She sighed, got up and started to carry her untouched plate back to her pantry, when she heard a plopping noise behind her and whirled around.

Neeshka was standing in her kitchen, eyes round, big grin on her face, some piece of parchment in her hands.

“Oh wow, this is so cool”, the tiefling squealed, awed.

“Neeshka! What the hells are you doing? And how did you get here?”, Chantal said, stunned and momentarily shocked out of her misery.

“Teleport scroll! I never used one before, but it is really cool! I’m still tingling all over!”

“Teleport scroll? Isn’t that a bit expensive, just for a visit?”

That seemed to make the tiefling remember that there was some reason for being there. She looked at Chantal for a moment, indecision in her face. Then she sat down at the table, saying ominously: “I was in a hurry. You might want to sit down, too.”

Chantal rolled her eyes. Neeshka sure had a love for theatrics. She sat down and looked at the tiefling, eyebrows drawn up. Neeshka returned her gaze, opened her mouth, and closed it again. Chantal started getting impatient. She was not in a good mood anyway, and this beating around the bush really tried her patience.

“Are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?”, she asked, her tone a bit harsher than she intended.

But Neeshka did not seem to notice. She still regarded Chantal hesitatingly. Then she said: “First, I have to tell you that Casavir does not know I am here. He would go spare if he knew.”

Chantal’s stomach clenched. This did not sound good.

“Neeshka, what is it?”, she said, anxiously.

“It’s Bishop”, Neeshka said, bluntly. “He’s been caught, and he’s going to hang. And I thought someone should tell you.”

Chantal felt the blood drain from her face. She sat, frozen for a moment, her blood running cold. “Hang…?”, she said, her lips not wanting to move.

“Yes. Kana brought him to Neverwinter three days ago. His trial is tomorrow. But there is no question how this will turn out. They have hanged people for treason who have done much less to deserve it than him.”

“Kana…? But… why? How?” Chantal’s brain seemed frozen too, not working properly.

Neeshka shrugged. “As far as I know, and I know a lot, because I’ve been asking around, he’s been caught in Crossroad Keep. He attacked a Greycloak, that blew his cover.”

“At Crossroad Keep?”, Chantal asked incredulously. “Attacking a Greycloak?” It made no sense at all.

“Yes. Obviously, he’d been totally smashed.”

Chantal had the feeling that she was living in some kind of nightmare. This was all too absurd to be real.

“Drunk? He got drunk in Crossroad Keep and attacked a Greycloak?”, she said, incredulity still thick in her voice. This sure must be a bad dream. Bishop would never be that stupid.

Neeshka regarded her fingernails. “That’s what I heard.”

“But… why?”, Chantal asked, helplessly. “Why would he go to Crossroad Keep? That’s insane! He knew he could never show his face again there! And even if he did, why should he get drunk, why did he attack someone? It’s madness!”

“Yep”, Neeshka said, still regarding her fingernails intently.

“Neeshka”, Chantal said, threateningly. “If there is something you’d like to tell me, just do so.”

Neeshka looked up from her nails, the corners of her mouth turning up. “Well, I don’t know of course, but to me it seems there’s something he can’t handle. Something that’s driving him to act stupid. Even more stupid than usual, I mean. Got any idea what that may be?”

Chantal stared at Neeshka, uncomprehending. What could the tiefling mean with that?

Neeshka just shook her head, in disbelief. “You really don’t know what I’m talking about, do you? Well, I’m not going to explain. I just thought I better tell you what’s going on, even if Casavir decided not to.”

Chantal felt anger rise. “Casavir wanted to leave me in the dark about this?”

Neeshka shrugged. “He reckons that what you don’t know don’t hurt you. And I guess he’s afraid you would try to interfere somehow. He’s really keen on seeing the ranger hang.”

“He’s done nothing to deserve Casavir’s wrath, this time”, Chantal said, quietly. “In fact, he saved all our lives. We should be thankful to him.”

“Oh please”, Neeshka said, rolling her eyes. “You know very well how Casavir feels about you. And it’s driving him nuts that you chose Bishop over him. Especially since Bishop did not really seem to appreciate it, don’t you think?”

Chantal blushed. “Casavir does not love me anymore!”

“Yes, he does”, Neeshka said, matter-of-factly. “He may not want to bed you anymore, but he still loves you. And that’s why he hates the ranger so much. He just can’t stand the thought of you with him. He would be jealous of any other man, I think, but with Bishop, it’s worse, because of him being all traitorous and evil, and trying to kill you, you know.”

Chantal blushed even deeper at Neeshka’s forthright speech, not knowing what to say.

“Oh, don’t worry”, the tiefling said, cheerfully. “I’m ok with it, I’m not the jealous type. Well, I am actually, but not in that case. You’re like his sister or something. And I know how much he loves me. So that’s fine. But I thought, this time he’s wrong about things. You should know. Sooner or later you’d hear, and I thought I’d better face Casavir’s anger because I told you than your wrath if you found out we knew but kept silent.”

That line brought Chantal’s thoughts back to more pressing matters.

Bishop, dead...

She could not stand the thought.

The beautiful wolf eyes, broken, lifeless... all that nervous energy, gone... even his sneer, the scowl on his face, extinguished forever...

No! Please gods, not that... I can’t bear it.

“I have to do something”, she said, helplessly.

Neeshka looked at her, pity in her face. “I know, but I can’t think of anything. They keep him well guarded, and I think even chained. They want to make sure he does not escape. At least, that’s what I could find out. And we can’t just barge in and bust him out, now, can we? And I don’t think we will find someone in Neverwinter we can bribe to let him go.”

Chantal got up abruptly, her chair falling to the ground. “I have to get out. I can’t think in here!”

Neeshka got up, too, but Chantal held out her hand. “No, please... could you just wait here? I need some time alone. Please?”

Neeshka just nodded and plopped down on the chair again. Chantal turned and nearly fled out of the door, out of the hut, into the comforting sounds of the Mere.

Sitting in her favourite spot, under an old willow tree by the small brook that passed her hut, Chantal waited for the familiar sounds to soothe her mind. But this time, the chirping of the birds, the humming of the insects and the murmur of the brook were not enough to calm the turmoil in her soul.

Her stomach still was knotted into a small, hard ball of fear, and her heart was aching so much she thought it might just stop beating.

Knowing Bishop was gone from her life had been bad enough.

Knowing that soon he would be dead was simply unbearable.

How could he have been so stupid? Wandering into Crossroad Keep, of all places, where so many people were thirsty for his blood after he let Garius and his army of undead in? What ever could have moved him to do such a thing? And why, for the love of the gods, did he have to get drunk in there and pick a fight?

That was more than stupid. It was suicide. And that did not sound like Bishop. If there was anything Bishop was good at, it was staying alive.

So why?

Seems there’s something he can’t handle.

That’s what Neeshka had said. Something he could not handle? Bishop prided himself on being able to handle everything.

Except one thing.

She could only think of one thing the ranger could not deal with.

Bonds.

Emotions. He regarded them as weakness. And he would not allow himself to grow weak. Would not allow himself to get attached. Would not allow himself to...

...love.

Her heart started to beat painfully fast. Could it be?

Something he can’t handle.

His mysterious return. His insistence on helping them into Luskan. His strange, constant mood swings. The warm light that sometimes shone in his eyes.

Something he can’t handle.

He tried to gut you! Hardly a sign of undying love!

Except that maybe, it was. At least, for Bishop. If he really felt something for her, would he not feel trapped?

Oh yes, he would. He would panic. So he had done something very Bishop.

Tried to cut the bonds.

Literally. By cutting her up. It seemed so clear now. Even made sense in its own, twisted way. Why had she not seen that before?

Because you let yourself be fooled by his angry mask.

I knew there was loneliness and hurt hiding behind that!

But she had not understood how far that hurt would push him.

So now you know. Or think you do. So what?

Yes, so what. What did that insight gain her, besides a racing heart and the pain that thinking of missed chances brought? He was still going to die in a couple of days. Because of what he had done. What he had done because of... love?

No! If she was right, she had to find a way. She just had to. There had to be a way!

Do you really want him back, someone who would kill you, just to be free of you?

It was a valid question. Her mind sure said no. Told her to keep as far away from Bishop as possible.

But her heart screamed yes. Sang at the thought of having him close again. Somehow, she felt that he had changed. That the last year had changed him.

He risked his life for us. The old Bishop would never have done that.

He had changed. The question was, how much?

I’m going to find out! I don’t care about the risk.

But she had to find a way to save him first.

I’m not going to let them take him away from me now.

Her mind racing as fast as her heart, she sat under the willow, staring into the water hopping over stones and forming little swirls at her feet. She willed a solution to come to her. But nothing would show.

Neeshka was right. Barging in and freeing him was out of the question. As was bribery. She could not think of anyone who would be willing and able to let someone like Bishop go. But there must be a possibility!

Then, suddenly, the thought struck her. Slowly, tentatively, she turned it in her mind, trying to examine it from every angle, not daring to feel hopeful yet. But the more she thought about it, the more she thought it might just work. It would be risky. But it might work.

Besides, she could not come up with a better plan. So it would have to do.

Excited, she jumped to her feet and ran back in the direction of her hut.

Description
News

Chantal sat at the table in the kitchen of her little house in the Mere, her lunch in the form of freshly baked bread and cheese in front of her, plate pushed back untouched. She just did not feel hungry. She had seldom felt hungry the last days.

She just sat, looking down at the little wooden carved wolf she held in her hand. She had spent a lot of time doing that since she had found it on the ground in the woods. Somehow, the days spent in Bishop’s company seemed like a dream to her in hindsight, unreal. So she often sat, holding the wolf, stroking the smooth wood, because it was the only proof that it all had actually happened.

The way back home after Bishop had left had been bad. She had felt so torn, ripped in half somehow.

How could you let yourself fall in love with him?

She could not understand. But something drew her to him like the proverbial moth to the flame.

And we all know what happens to the moth, don’t we?

She should be happy she got off so easily this time. With all her innards still safely tucked inside. But she only felt lost, lonely, miserable. She had never cried so much in her life. When she was alone, that was.

On the way back to the Mere, she had to keep up the façade. It had been hard, really hard. Casavir was so glad Bishop was gone, he was almost cheerful. Chantal had had to pull herself together not to constantly snap at him. Had to tell herself that it was not his fault, but hers. That he was right, that it was a good thing Bishop was gone, and it was herself who was wrong about this.

Neeshka had been unusually quiet the whole time, just regarding Chantal with so much pity in her face she had to avoid the tiefling’s eyes entirely, or else she would have burst into tears.

So she had tried to shove all the feelings, all the misery and longing, deep, deep down. But they would not stay down, no matter how hard she tried. It was even worse than last time, because this time, there was no fury, no betrayal to help her over it. This time, she only remembered his kisses, his scent, the way he held her close, the warm glow in his usually cold eyes.

And gods, how she missed him.

Get over it. He’s gone. No use in pining.

Somehow, the thought did not help at all.

She sighed, got up and started to carry her untouched plate back to her pantry, when she heard a plopping noise behind her and whirled around.

Neeshka was standing in her kitchen, eyes round, big grin on her face, some piece of parchment in her hands.

“Oh wow, this is so cool”, the tiefling squealed, awed.

“Neeshka! What the hells are you doing? And how did you get here?”, Chantal said, stunned and momentarily shocked out of her misery.

“Teleport scroll! I never used one before, but it is really cool! I’m still tingling all over!”

“Teleport scroll? Isn’t that a bit expensive, just for a visit?”

That seemed to make the tiefling remember that there was some reason for being there. She looked at Chantal for a moment, indecision in her face. Then she sat down at the table, saying ominously: “I was in a hurry. You might want to sit down, too.”

Chantal rolled her eyes. Neeshka sure had a love for theatrics. She sat down and looked at the tiefling, eyebrows drawn up. Neeshka returned her gaze, opened her mouth, and closed it again. Chantal started getting impatient. She was not in a good mood anyway, and this beating around the bush really tried her patience.

“Are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?”, she asked, her tone a bit harsher than she intended.

But Neeshka did not seem to notice. She still regarded Chantal hesitatingly. Then she said: “First, I have to tell you that Casavir does not know I am here. He would go spare if he knew.”

Chantal’s stomach clenched. This did not sound good.

“Neeshka, what is it?”, she said, anxiously.

“It’s Bishop”, Neeshka said, bluntly. “He’s been caught, and he’s going to hang. And I thought someone should tell you.”

Chantal felt the blood drain from her face. She sat, frozen for a moment, her blood running cold. “Hang…?”, she said, her lips not wanting to move.

“Yes. Kana brought him to Neverwinter three days ago. His trial is tomorrow. But there is no question how this will turn out. They have hanged people for treason who have done much less to deserve it than him.”

“Kana…? But… why? How?” Chantal’s brain seemed frozen too, not working properly.

Neeshka shrugged. “As far as I know, and I know a lot, because I’ve been asking around, he’s been caught in Crossroad Keep. He attacked a Greycloak, that blew his cover.”

“At Crossroad Keep?”, Chantal asked incredulously. “Attacking a Greycloak?” It made no sense at all.

“Yes. Obviously, he’d been totally smashed.”

Chantal had the feeling that she was living in some kind of nightmare. This was all too absurd to be real.

“Drunk? He got drunk in Crossroad Keep and attacked a Greycloak?”, she said, incredulity still thick in her voice. This sure must be a bad dream. Bishop would never be that stupid.

Neeshka regarded her fingernails. “That’s what I heard.”

“But… why?”, Chantal asked, helplessly. “Why would he go to Crossroad Keep? That’s insane! He knew he could never show his face again there! And even if he did, why should he get drunk, why did he attack someone? It’s madness!”

“Yep”, Neeshka said, still regarding her fingernails intently.

“Neeshka”, Chantal said, threateningly. “If there is something you’d like to tell me, just do so.”

Neeshka looked up from her nails, the corners of her mouth turning up. “Well, I don’t know of course, but to me it seems there’s something he can’t handle. Something that’s driving him to act stupid. Even more stupid than usual, I mean. Got any idea what that may be?”

Chantal stared at Neeshka, uncomprehending. What could the tiefling mean with that?

Neeshka just shook her head, in disbelief. “You really don’t know what I’m talking about, do you? Well, I’m not going to explain. I just thought I better tell you what’s going on, even if Casavir decided not to.”

Chantal felt anger rise. “Casavir wanted to leave me in the dark about this?”

Neeshka shrugged. “He reckons that what you don’t know don’t hurt you. And I guess he’s afraid you would try to interfere somehow. He’s really keen on seeing the ranger hang.”

“He’s done nothing to deserve Casavir’s wrath, this time”, Chantal said, quietly. “In fact, he saved all our lives. We should be thankful to him.”

“Oh please”, Neeshka said, rolling her eyes. “You know very well how Casavir feels about you. And it’s driving him nuts that you chose Bishop over him. Especially since Bishop did not really seem to appreciate it, don’t you think?”

Chantal blushed. “Casavir does not love me anymore!”

“Yes, he does”, Neeshka said, matter-of-factly. “He may not want to bed you anymore, but he still loves you. And that’s why he hates the ranger so much. He just can’t stand the thought of you with him. He would be jealous of any other man, I think, but with Bishop, it’s worse, because of him being all traitorous and evil, and trying to kill you, you know.”

Chantal blushed even deeper at Neeshka’s forthright speech, not knowing what to say.

“Oh, don’t worry”, the tiefling said, cheerfully. “I’m ok with it, I’m not the jealous type. Well, I am actually, but not in that case. You’re like his sister or something. And I know how much he loves me. So that’s fine. But I thought, this time he’s wrong about things. You should know. Sooner or later you’d hear, and I thought I’d better face Casavir’s anger because I told you than your wrath if you found out we knew but kept silent.”

That line brought Chantal’s thoughts back to more pressing matters.

Bishop, dead...

She could not stand the thought.

The beautiful wolf eyes, broken, lifeless... all that nervous energy, gone... even his sneer, the scowl on his face, extinguished forever...

No! Please gods, not that... I can’t bear it.

“I have to do something”, she said, helplessly.

Neeshka looked at her, pity in her face. “I know, but I can’t think of anything. They keep him well guarded, and I think even chained. They want to make sure he does not escape. At least, that’s what I could find out. And we can’t just barge in and bust him out, now, can we? And I don’t think we will find someone in Neverwinter we can bribe to let him go.”

Chantal got up abruptly, her chair falling to the ground. “I have to get out. I can’t think in here!”

Neeshka got up, too, but Chantal held out her hand. “No, please... could you just wait here? I need some time alone. Please?”

Neeshka just nodded and plopped down on the chair again. Chantal turned and nearly fled out of the door, out of the hut, into the comforting sounds of the Mere.

Sitting in her favourite spot, under an old willow tree by the small brook that passed her hut, Chantal waited for the familiar sounds to soothe her mind. But this time, the chirping of the birds, the humming of the insects and the murmur of the brook were not enough to calm the turmoil in her soul.

Her stomach still was knotted into a small, hard ball of fear, and her heart was aching so much she thought it might just stop beating.

Knowing Bishop was gone from her life had been bad enough.

Knowing that soon he would be dead was simply unbearable.

How could he have been so stupid? Wandering into Crossroad Keep, of all places, where so many people were thirsty for his blood after he let Garius and his army of undead in? What ever could have moved him to do such a thing? And why, for the love of the gods, did he have to get drunk in there and pick a fight?

That was more than stupid. It was suicide. And that did not sound like Bishop. If there was anything Bishop was good at, it was staying alive.

So why?

Seems there’s something he can’t handle.

That’s what Neeshka had said. Something he could not handle? Bishop prided himself on being able to handle everything.

Except one thing.

She could only think of one thing the ranger could not deal with.

Bonds.

Emotions. He regarded them as weakness. And he would not allow himself to grow weak. Would not allow himself to get attached. Would not allow himself to...

...love.

Her heart started to beat painfully fast. Could it be?

Something he can’t handle.

His mysterious return. His insistence on helping them into Luskan. His strange, constant mood swings. The warm light that sometimes shone in his eyes.

Something he can’t handle.

He tried to gut you! Hardly a sign of undying love!

Except that maybe, it was. At least, for Bishop. If he really felt something for her, would he not feel trapped?

Oh yes, he would. He would panic. So he had done something very Bishop.

Tried to cut the bonds.

Literally. By cutting her up. It seemed so clear now. Even made sense in its own, twisted way. Why had she not seen that before?

Because you let yourself be fooled by his angry mask.

I knew there was loneliness and hurt hiding behind that!

But she had not understood how far that hurt would push him.

So now you know. Or think you do. So what?

Yes, so what. What did that insight gain her, besides a racing heart and the pain that thinking of missed chances brought? He was still going to die in a couple of days. Because of what he had done. What he had done because of... love?

No! If she was right, she had to find a way. She just had to. There had to be a way!

Do you really want him back, someone who would kill you, just to be free of you?

It was a valid question. Her mind sure said no. Told her to keep as far away from Bishop as possible.

But her heart screamed yes. Sang at the thought of having him close again. Somehow, she felt that he had changed. That the last year had changed him.

He risked his life for us. The old Bishop would never have done that.

He had changed. The question was, how much?

I’m going to find out! I don’t care about the risk.

But she had to find a way to save him first.

I’m not going to let them take him away from me now.

Her mind racing as fast as her heart, she sat under the willow, staring into the water hopping over stones and forming little swirls at her feet. She willed a solution to come to her. But nothing would show.

Neeshka was right. Barging in and freeing him was out of the question. As was bribery. She could not think of anyone who would be willing and able to let someone like Bishop go. But there must be a possibility!

Then, suddenly, the thought struck her. Slowly, tentatively, she turned it in her mind, trying to examine it from every angle, not daring to feel hopeful yet. But the more she thought about it, the more she thought it might just work. It would be risky. But it might work.

Besides, she could not come up with a better plan. So it would have to do.

Excited, she jumped to her feet and ran back in the direction of her hut.