Liberty Journal 15

25 Flocktime, 595 CY

Dear Connie,

After dealing with Ilya’s doppelganger, we went back to the Sodden Hold, where Xan (the real Xan, this time) found a secret passage leading deeper into the lair. We found ourselves in a twisty maze full of pressure plates, dropping doors, and hostile doppelgangers that reminded me of the kenku maze under Dourstone Mine. Our experience in that hellhole seems to’ve helped us survive this one… I still find it strange that I’m getting good at this. I’ve come a long way from the bakery.

We came to some sort of throne room, where they kept the apparatus they’d used to steal Xan’s memories. It made my skin crawl, and my blood boil, to think of my friend strapped into that engine of pain. Which makes me think about what they did to Ilya, and Charles Quinn, and Tarquin. Which makes me wonder who else they’ve killed, how many lives they’ve destroyed, that we don’t even know about yet.

The more I see of this conspiracy, the more my resolve to unravel it grows.

I want to take all these documents to someone who can DO something about it, but the doppelgangers have certainly infiltrated the watch, and the courts, and gods know what else. I might try to get the attention of the Circle of Eight… I doubt even these creatures could trick someone like Mordenkainen. But this isn’t the time.

The boss doppelganger, Telakin, was in the throne room, wearing Allustan’s face – but I’d been through enough of their tricks, and knew the sage well enough, to know what they were up to this time.

And that made me really, really mad.

The battle was a hot mess, to say the least, thanks to Telakin’s confusion spell, but we won. We found documents in his hidden bedchamber which lent further proof to what we already knew – that this conspiracy is everywhere.

We also found a note from Telakin’s master requesting a meeting “at the sewer junction beneath the cold forge.” This master marked the message with a strange and unfamiliar symbol, the same one that marked Telakin’s forehead. If we can figure out where that meeting was, maybe we can track this master down and show him that our “troublesome small minds” aren’t that easy to “remove.”

Even leaving the Sodden Hold turned out to be vexing, when a group of gods-damned dark elves attacked us! I never thought I’d see a drow – certainly never thought I’d fight one – and now I’ve killed some. I felt sick to my stomach, when I realized that the most wicked creatures in all of creation are just as beautiful as surface elves. All kinds of wickedness went through my mind before I remembered that I have an elf of my own, now.

I just realized that I didn’t mention it at the top of the letter, but Ilya agreed to let me court her. I wish the timing were better – all my thoughts of her distract me from the task at hand, and the task at hand keeps me from feeling what I feel. Still, I’ve never felt like this before… and if you hadn’t encouraged me to talk to Tirra, who knows if I’d be where I am now?

Tomorrow we’ll start searching for this cold forge. We have a couple of leads; we’ll just have to see where they… lead.

Words are hard. I guess I need to sleep. Will write again soon.

All my love,

Libby

Liberty Journal 14

24 Flocktime, 595 CY continued

Dear Connie,

There is nothing worse than doppelgangers.

A giant octopus guarded the second level of their lair, who wrestled with us until we drove it away. Xan found an illusory wall, which led us to a hall of black glass, where the doppelgangers had bound and gagged duplicates of us. The captives seemed to think they were us… the other me wept with pleading eyes while Drake shouted at himself… I was so weirded out that I halfway believed that the mirror people were innocent captives, until Mom tried to break through a glass wall and they jumped up to attack us.

All of them but Xan, that is. He was the real Xan. The one who’d been with us was another doppelganger!

So, naturally, once we’d slain the facedancers, I had more questions than answers. But there was no time to ask them; Xan feared for the safety of his mother and sister, for a doppelganger had been impersonating his father.

I’ve never known anything about the Quinns – something about them leaving Diamond Lake in the middle of the night, never to be heard from again. Xan never talked much about them, and we weren’t exactly close before the Whispering Vault. Since Xan’s dad had the same boss as mine, I figured they were more casualties of Smenk’s ambition. I now know this isn’t the case.

But there were still more surprises. There was a crazy old man in the same prison where we found Ilya Starmane (I know, I should have mentioned him before); he’s Charles Quinn, Xan’s real father. A year in captivity had shattered the old man’s mind, and Xan asked us to help him decide whether to put Charles out of his misery, or to hold out hope that anything of his father remained to save.

Xan loves his father, I know it. I could never render that kind of mercy to you, or to Mother or Father, or… anyone, really. Our world is full of miracles, Connie. I’ve seen impossible things, things that make anything, or everything, seem possible. And if there’s even the glimmer of hope, then I always choose hope. Drake and Mom told Xan the same thing, even if their reasons weren’t the same.

I didn’t change my mind when Xan added that Charles was responsible for the mine collapse that killed Father.

I’m not sure why, either. I was so angry – the angriest I’ve been since you died – and avenging the man who prayed to the patron saint of retribution seemed so… right. But I couldn’t – and I couldn’t let Drake do it, either. For one thing, nothing of Charles remained in that shell… there was nothing TO punish, nothing to avenge. It isn’t like killing him would bring Father back. For another, he was Xan’s father, once, and he could be again. And, most of all, Charles has paid for his crimes. If he’s healed, maybe… I don’t know… We all make mistakes, after all. Maybe he can atone.

I don’t know. I only know that killing him wasn’t the answer.

We went to the Quinns’ house, where we got a chilly reception from Quinn’s mother and younger sister, Liza. Gods, it wasn’t that long ago that I was her age… I couldn’t tell why his mother (whose name I didn’t get) was so upset, though it must have had something to do with the night they left Diamond Lake. I figure Xan will tell me if it’s my business.

We spent the rest of the day chasing doppelCharles all over the Free City before finally ambushing him at the Quinn house, like we’d originally planned. I thank the gods that Mom and Drake had enough self-control to keep us on track, because Xan’s feelings, and mine, were getting in the way of our thinking.

Catching and killing the doppelganger went as well as we could have hoped. Xan’s mother changed her tune enough to let us stay the night… I knew they couldn’t stay cross forever. Blood will tell; it always does.

We stayed awake awhile catching up. Xan seems interested in my… interest in Ilya, and gave me some advice I’ll take to heart. I’ve never seen him so honest and open with us; his time in the Sodden Hold seems to have changed his priorities. Another crime the doppelgangers have to answer for.

Now I’m lying here, writing to you instead of sleeping, as seems to be my way now. Tomorrow we go to the Starmane estate, to kill the facedancer impersonating Ilya. I get to see her… I get to help her… and, gods willing, I get to tell her how I feel.

How could anyone sleep at a time like this?

All my love,

Libby

Worms Interlude: Tangled Up in Violet

25 Flocktime, 595 CY

Liberty climbed the creaking stairs to the Crooked House’s second floor and softly knocked on one of the doors. “Ilya? Ilya, it’s Liberty. May I come in, please?” After a moment, a key turned, and the door opened.  Liberty entered and closed the door behind her before turning back to take in the sight of her.

To say that Ilya Starmane cleaned up well was an understatement. Her pale blond hair shone in daylight streaming from the open window. The simple white blouse, knee-length skirt, and sandals she wore seemed almost elegant against her fair skin. And when Ilya’s face broke into a genuine smile, Liberty nearly lost all ability to think.

If this is Ilya, she reminded herself. Don’t get sloppy. Not yet.

“Miss Liberty! I’m so relieved. I thought that, perhaps, the doppelgangers had gotten the better of you.” Ilya was not relieved enough to make a move toward her, though. Either doubts clawed at the elf, or this facedancer was as gifted an actor as the others Liberty had encountered.

“They nearly did. They played one of their tricks on us… a big one. I started questioning reality, sanity… everything that happened in the Sodden Hold.”

Ilya’s smile faltered, then vanished. “I see.” She took a chair next to a table, just large enough to support the plates left behind from breakfast. The elf’s hand was close to a table knife, if not too close. “Then you wonder if I am, indeed, Ilya Starmane. Or if the facedancers found me before you did, and I’m one of them, trying to lure you into another trap.”

“It’s possible, yes. It’s also possible that the Ilya Starmane I met was a doppelganger all along. They knew everything about us, you see. And it’d be just like someone who knows everything about me to mess with my head by sending a pretty elf my way.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Ilya blinked. Her features had a slightly boyish quality, the androgyny found in so many elves.

“I think Ilya is pretty.”

“I see.” The two words seemed suffused with the quality Liberty later came to think of as Elven Mystery. “I don’t blame you for being suspicious. Indeed, I would be disappointed if you weren’t. And if they wanted to trap me again, who better to send than the one face I trust?”

“Trust me? You don’t even know me.”

“I know that Liberty spoke kind words to me, even as I shouted at her and called her a monster. I know that she killed two facedancers with fire. I know that she valued my safety enough to warn me not to go home without her help. I know that she didn’t ask me where I was going. I know that she gave me some coins, and let me borrow her magic hat.” She gestured to a smart-looking cap perched on her bedpost. “And I know that she set me free. I can’t think of any reason for a facedancer to do any of those things.”

“Ilya, I – ”

“What I don’t understand is why Liberty did all of these things and didn’t ask for a reward. My understanding has always been that adventurers are a mercenary lot.”

“I’m not really interested in rewards.” Liberty wasn’t above refusing rewards, but now she had enough gold that she didn’t need to ask for them.

“So I gathered.” Ilya crossed her legs. “I asked about what happened here… about how you and your friends saved Tarquin from the doppelganger. You didn’t ask them for a reward, either. You even took pains to comfort Marta.”

The memory of Marta in her arms took on a different color, now that Ilya had grown so important in her mind’s eye. “Anyone would have done the same.”

Ilya’s laughter, though subdued and brief, sounded absolutely musical. “I very much doubt that. My point, though, is this: Liberty is a girl I can trust.” She looked right at Liberty for the first time, her eyes the color of wild violets. Gray elf, Liberty thought. Burn me down, she’s a gray elf. Noblest of the species… and she does make me feel more girl than woman.

“So it falls on me to prove myself to you.” And let that have whatever double meaning she sees in it. When the elf nodded, Liberty willed wild, bright flames into being around her hands. “Could any of the doppelgangers you saw do this?”

Ilya shook her head, then stood up to fetch the hat of disguise for Liberty. Once she’d put it on, the sorcerer willed it back to the semblance of the battered old top hat Constance had given her years before. “And if it’s an illusion, it’s a convincing one. So, what happens now? You still have no reason to trust me.”

“Take me to your home. We’ll find your facedancer, and I’ll burn it to ashes. And if you turn out to be one of them, too, then may the gods help you, because I sure as Hells won’t.”

“I find this proposition acceptable,” Ilya said.

***

The group walked awhile in silence. Liberty made a couple of attempts to engage Ilya in conversation, but the elf remained quiet. She’s been steeling herself for what’s to come since the last time you saw her, Liberty finally reminded herself. Let her have her tower of iron will, if it helps her.

As they got closer to the High Quarter, though, Ilya warmed to Xan’s questions about the Starmanes’ business. Liberty only half-listened to the answers, more wrapped up in the way Ilya said what she said. She was also glad beyond words to have her Xan back – not an impostor, and not the miserable survivor they’d found in the Sodden Hold.

Xan also supported her commitment to pursuing Ilya, even once he’d understood that Liberty wasn’t looking for the sort of casual fling he himself preferred. He’d been full of advice, at least some of which she meant to follow… it was strange, having known him all her life, to finally think of Alexander Quinn as a friend.

No, he was more than that; he’d called her family. Liberty hadn’t been able to tell him how much that meant to her, now that all the other Graces were lost to her, but Xan was smart enough to know it. And it made her doubly glad that she hadn’t fallen into bed with him and Lia that first night at the Crooked House…

Liberty had seen her share of impressive residences, but the Starmane estate’s elven architecture still took her breath away. She scarcely had time to admire it, though, as Ilya led them straight past the confused guards, down a couple of quiet hallways to a dining room, where the monster wearing Ilya’s face sat taking lunch with the rest of the Starmanes. “Ilya” hissed and bolted from its chair at once, trying to slip past the adventurers to escape. But Drake caught the doppelganger in a flying tackle, and Mom buried his greatsword in its chest, ending the encounter before it had even begun. Ilya gasped at the sight and ran off down the hall, leaving the adventurers to explain to the horrified Starmanes what they’d just witnessed.

Fortunately for Liberty, Xan was ready for this task, speaking his impeccable Elven. Once the Starmanes had calmed enough to allow Drake to remove the doppelganger’s corpse (after Liberty searched it for a mindclone sapphire, only to come up empty), Liberty excused herself.

***

She found Ilya in a bedroom that was bigger than some houses she’d visited in Diamond Lake. The bed that the elf sat on would have looked large in a more normal room; here, the silken sheets and delicately embroidered blankets became the focus. At least, they would have been, had Liberty eyes for anything but Ilya, who’d been weeping just moments before. “Oh,” the elf said, sniffing. “Hello, again. Someday, you will see me at my best.”

I’m not sure I could handle that. She closed the door behind her and approached, stopped about ten feet away, not wanting to draw any closer uninvited. “I saw the same thing in the Sodden Hold, Ilya. One of them wearing my face as it died…I was already having nightmares, and now I’ve been seeing that, too.”

“It’s not just that. She – it – stole my life from me... Nobody even noticed I was gone. And, in a way, that hurts more than anything they did to me in the Sodden Hold.” Ilya was on the verge of breaking down.

Liberty approached and sat on the bed, leaving a fair amount of space between them. “I know, Ilya,” she said, hoping her compassion came through. “I’m sorry this happened to you. It was never going to be easy for you to come back here. But you’re strong, and you’ll get through this.” I started talking without knowing where I was going with this, didn’t I? “And… I’ll help you. I still have work to do, but I’ll be here for you. As much as I can.” Gods, that sounds stupid.

She didn’t notice the presence of Ilya’s hand over hers until the elf gently squeezed. “Thank you, Liberty,” the elf said, a warm smile finding her face. “I am very fortunate that you and your friends found me. I don’t have many friends – many real ones, I mean.”

As if on cue, a large, sleek cat emerged from under the bed. Gray-brown with deep black stripes, it twined itself around the elf’s bare calves before butting its head against Liberty’s boot. “Well, except for Marlevaur, here,” Ilya said. “He’s always there for me. Not that he could tell the difference between me and the facedancer, the big dummy.” She playfully nudged the cat with one slender foot, causing him to half-meow/half-purr.

“That’s how good the doppelgangers are,” Liberty said, leaning down to pet Marlevaur. The cat rose on his back legs to meet her hand, landing with a thump. “He’s beautiful.”

“Thanks. He likes you!” Ilya seemed genuinely surprised. “That is so odd; he never likes anybody but me.” She slid off the bed to kneel on the floor, next to the cat. In a sing-song voice, she said, “You are so smart, Marlevaur! We are all friends, here.” Marlevaur tipped over onto his side, becoming putty in her hands as she switched to Elven: “Liberty has exquisite taste, does she not? She thinks we are both beautiful.”

“I do,” Liberty said in Common. She moved to join them on the floor, then she switched to Elven, too. “I have never seen anyone like you before.”

“I didn’t know you spoke Elven.” Ilya blushed fiercely, but kept using her native tongue.

Liberty used both hands to pet the parts of the cat that Ilya left neglected; there was plenty of him to go around. “I speak enough to get by. How much can you really know about me, anyway? We just met.”

“I know that, when you said ‘beautiful’ in the Sodden Hold, you weren’t talking about my name.” Ilya aimed a quick violet glance at her before looking back down at Marlevaur. “Well, not just about it.”

“You are beautiful, Ilya. I can’t be the first person to tell you that.”

“It seems different, coming from you.” Ilya smiled. “I know you mean it. Maybe we haven’t known each other for long, but already I think of you as… as a true friend.”

Liberty placed her hand atop Ilya’s, sure she could feel the blood coursing beneath the elf’s skin. “I am glad to hear this, but… could you think of me as anything more?”

“I… oh!” The elf’s blush returned, her eyes locked on their clasped hands. “You mean, as in a courtship?”

Liberty cursed the formality of her Elven lessons; she lacked the vocabulary to discuss this more casually. “You can call it that, of course. You aren’t married, are you?”

“N-no.”

Are you betrothed, Ilya Starmane? Spoken for?”

When she found herself unable to speak, Ilya shook her head. Then: “No. No, there is nobody serious. Despite Mother’s incessant meddling.”

“I know how brave you are. This cannot be as frightening as all that.”

Still looking at their hands, Ilya said, “I have never been courted by a human.” She paused. “Or a woman.”

”Woman” is good. This would be a bad time for her to think of me as a girl again. “I don’t want you to agree to this because you feel obligation to your rescuer. If my intention offends you, you have but to say so. I will happily be your friend, instead.”

“No!” the elf exclaimed, loud enough to startle Marlevaur. As the cat disappeared under the bed with his tail puffed up to an impossible size, Ilya finally met Liberty’s gaze. “No. I never said that. But you must understand, my parents… they would not approve.”

“You would not wish to offend them.” Liberty’s heart sank toward her navel. Blood will tell. It always does.

“Not after I just got them back, no. Not when I spent every waking moment fearing that I’d never see them again.” She seemed back on the brink of tears. “But then, they have always decided every part of my life for me. Trying to make me into a responsible businesswoman and a proper lady, when they’ve already got Ilrune to run the house when they’re gone. He’s already married and everything, sure to have whole litters of heirs. They don’t need me, Liberty, but they won’t let me go.” She made a fist with her free hand, weakly bringing it down on the rug. “Especially now that they’ve almost lost me forever.”

Liberty moved a little closer. “Not long ago, my life was all laid out for me, too. But I realized that it wasn’t my destiny; none of it was. I left it all behind for what I was really meant to become.”

Ilya gave her a dubious look. “Are you saying that you’re my destiny?”

“No. But I’m saying that you, and only you, have the right to answer that question.”

The elf nodded, sighed, then sat up straight. “Then my answer is yes. I would be honored if you would court me, Liberty…” She paused. “Do you have a family name? If you do, I still don’t know it.”

She said yes. She said yes! “It’s Grace.”

“Liberty Grace?” Ilya smiled. “It sounds so meaningful.”

“My mother was fond of the ‘virtue names,’ even before she married my father.”

“Interesting. I’ve never met anyone like you, either. I have so much to learn about you… but surely your friends must be waiting for you.”

Liberty had nearly forgotten about them, hypnotized by Ilya’s violet spell. “You are right, of course. We still have much to do! But you should be safe here.”

“Of course! Marlevaur’s with me, now. As long as there’s only one of me around, he’ll protect me. Father says he has the blood of the cat sith, you know.” She leaned forward, bringing her mouth to Liberty’s ear. In Elven, she whispered, “But send word when you’re free, and I will come to you.” Ilya’s breath was warm on her neck, yet her flesh still broke out in goosebumps.

“I will,” Liberty managed. She raised Ilya’s hand to her lips, placed a tender kiss upon it that made the elf shiver. “Though I suppose I could stay a bit longer.”

At that, the door opened, allowing Ilya’s mother into the room. She, too, was beautiful, with the same pale golden hair and boyish features, unmarked by her extra century or two of life. Her silver gown was exquisite, her jewelry very tasteful, her graceful movements somehow measured and carefree as she approached. “Are you well, Ilya?” she asked in Common, presumably for the human’s benefit.

“I am. Or I will be. Mother, this is Liberty Grace. I owe her and her friends my life. Liberty, this is Veranis Starmane, my mother.”

Veranis made a very small bow, causing Liberty to do the same, though she still sat on the floor, holding Ilya’s hands in hers. “Your home is very lovely,” Liberty said in Elven. “I’m sorry that I ran off, but I was worried about Ilya as well.”

“Of course. We had no idea she had been taken from us. We are in your debt, Miss Grace.”

She doesn’t like being in anyone’s debt, especially a human’s. Liberty hated herself for thinking this, but she couldn’t quite shake it off. “Think nothing of it, really.”

“We were… well, we were about to have lunch. Have you eaten?” It took Veranis great effort to ask, but she still made the effort. Maybe Ilya was wrong about her parents…

Liberty shook her head. “That’s very kind of you; sadly, we don’t have time. There are more of those creatures loose in the city, and we’ve got to find them.” She let go of Ilya’s hands, touched her on the shoulder as she got to her feet. “We really should be going. But I know you and Ilya will have much to talk about.”

Ilya stood up as well, giving Liberty a hug so light that it almost seemed ethereal. “Goodbye, Liberty. Sweet water and light laughter until next.”

“May it be so, for us all,” Liberty said with a smirk.

***

She found Xan talking business with Ilya’s father and brother, while Mom leaned against the wall, bored to tears. Drake had returned from his grisly errand, but he, too, waited in the corner, uncomfortably biding his time. “If you fellows are ready,” she called, “let’s go finish this.”

She dodged everyone’s questions about her time with Ilya the whole way back to the Sodden Hold, though the spring in her step and the smile on her face told them just what they needed to know.

Liberty Journal #13

24 Flocktime, 595 CY

Dear Connie,

The Sodden Hold is downright hostile. We’ve already fought more doppelgangers, invisible stalkers, and mimics. We’ve fallen into spiked pits, and blade-choked pools. We found a raving lunatic who might be beyond all hope. It’s like another world in here, even though I know the Free City is just outside… I want to leave so badly, to go back to the Crooked House and talk about the Champion’s Games. But the awfulness of the place isn’t the real reason I want to leave (well, not the only reason).

I met someone.

Down here, of all places. Ilya Starmane was a prisoner for a month or more, so tormented by the doppelgangers that she didn’t believe we were rescuing her. I guess she believed us when we rescued her!

Even dressed in rags, after thirty days without so much as a hairbrush, she was so pretty. I even said “Beautiful” before I could stop myself; I told her that I meant her name, but I can’t be sure if she believed me. Elven mystery is so intoxicating… it’s more than that, though. Remember what I said about Firlis being ordinary? Ilya is NOT ordinary.

She says she comes from a family of influential merchants (not that I’m interested in gold, but it certainly doesn’t hurt), so I bet the doppelgangers have replaced her, either for money or power. I told Ilya not to go home until we could go with her, because she’ll need adventurers’ help to root out a dug-in doppelganger. To be fair, I also didn’t want to risk never seeing her again. I’m not proud of myself, but I do think she needs our help.

Or maybe just MY help. The fellows don’t seem to like Ilya; Mom seemed really mad at me for lending her my hat of disguise. Hey, I just found the thing; it’s not like I was attached to it. Hells, maybe I’ll let her keep it and go back to wearing the hat you gave me. It can be a token of my favor or… something.

I don’t know anything about elven courtship, but I’m going after her as soon as I get her back to her life. After what I’ve already seen, I bet the sight of her all cleaned up would just about stop my heart.

I need to be careful, though. I keep taking stupid risks and getting hurt, which is driving Mom and Drake up the wall. It really is insanely dangerous down here… and now I’ve got a new reason to return to the Free City.

And that’s the other problem, isn’t it? Mom and Drake can’t stand me growing up. It bothers them, I know it does, that I’m a woman now, with a woman’s needs. I’m fine with them protecting me – especially Drake, since it’s damn near all that’s keeping him from going crazy – but neither one of them is our Dad, and there’s NO WAY they get any say in who I fall in love with.

Gods, I think I am falling in love with her.

All my love,

Libby

Liberty Journal #12

23 Flocktime, 595 CY 

Dear Connie,

I can’t sleep again, and it’s not just because I know the chimera is still waiting for me in my dreams. No, tonight I was at the Crooked House again, chatting with an attractive elven man named Firlis, when Mom came down the stairs, stabbed Tarquin the innkeeper, and went back upstairs.

You didn’t know Mom very well, but even you know that he’s not a murderer. And you’ve seen enough magic to know that you can’t believe everything you see. But before I could do anything, the merchant, Fargus, accused all four of us of murder. Now I knew someone was trying to frame us… and as Fargus tried to turn the patrons against us, I knew he was part of the frame-up, if not the man behind it.

To make matters worse, Drake was the only one with me. Mom and Xan had already gone to bed, and I had no way of knowing if Mom was dead or compromised. Drake was never much for oration, even before his… well, I knew it was up to me.

I argued against Fargus, which was enough to keep Mallak from arresting us on the spot. But the merchant drew a short sword and came after me like a mad dog, stabbing me until I gave up on a peaceful solution and started trying to burn the flesh from his bones. Finally the tide turned, and Fargus tried to escape, but he had pissed me off, and I needed to see him pay.

I burned him down in the Crooked House’s doorway.

I didn’t feel bad about it until afterward… knowledge of spells just comes to me spontaneously, so I don’t have any control over what I know how to do, and I just don’t know any spells that don’t inflict lethal damage. Even if I did, though, I somehow doubt I would have used them on Fargus. Like I said, he pissed me off.

But he changed shape after he died, becoming something Drake called a “doppelganger.” It’s a kind of face-changer, which makes me wonder. Was there ever a real Fargus? If so, how long ago did this creature take his place? If his sweet wife is real, should we tell her? Would the doppelganger have killed Mom to take his place? Could it have fooled us? For how long?

This is why I can’t sleep.

Fargus, or whatever it was, had a strange key. We think it’ll unlock a warehouse in the River District… I hope we can find out who’s trying to frame us, and why. I got a nice hat of disguise out of the scuffle; I hate to wear it instead of the one you gave me, though, so I just make it look like yours.

And it didn’t occur to me until I’d been in bed for an hour that I missed having Firlis join me up here. It’s just as well, really. Pretty as he is, he’s kind of… ordinary. I never thought I’d say that about an elf, but I guess that’s life in the Free City for you!

I’m just not interested in something physical and meaningless. I can have that whenever I want, now. Hells, the comfort I gave Marta the barmaid could easily have blossomed into something more if I’d wanted.

No, I want…  I need something more.

We saved Tarquin’s life tonight. He’s a good man, and one I already think of as a friend despite the short time we’ve known each other. I would’ve hated to lose him, especially when it was in my power to stop it. We didn’t even ask for a reward – the man’s already giving us cheap room and free drinks, and I got that hat, so why ask for more?

Doing “good” things doesn’t feel half-bad.

All right, I think I’m ready to brave the chimera. I’ll write again soon.

All my love,

Libby