R. Salvatore - The Companions

Ruqiah shrugged and began to cry again. “The thunder hit them,” she said innocently, pointing to the sky and wearing an expression to show that she did not understand.

“The blessing of the storm is twofold this night,” remarked one of the women outside.

“Netherese,” a man inspecting the smaller body said. “Netherese thieves.”

“N’asr take them, then,” declared another, referring to the merciless god of the dead.

“He laughs with At’ar in their coupling,” a woman said. “Or perhaps he was sated enough for this one moment to take the time to kill these dogs!”

Kavita sat up then, although Niraj tried to keep her still. The gentle Bedine woman stared at her daughter intently.

“What is it?” Niraj whispered to her, but she hushed him and shook her head. She brought her hand down her back to the wound, and continued to simply stare at Ruqiah.

And more particularly, at her little hands, Catti-brie realized, for they were covered in Kavita’s blood from when she had healed the wound. She brought them down to her sides sheepishly and cried all the louder.

“Search the camp!” one large man ordered. “There may be other assassins about.”

Catti-brie had to sort it all out quickly, she knew, for the questions would only grow about what had actually happened, particularly when Kavita’s wound was more carefully inspected. The little girl put her head against Niraj’s shoulder, and very close to Kavita’s face.

“I will explain everything when we are alone,” she said, in a somber tone no girl her age would ever use, and her parents stared at her all the more incredulously and wide-eyed then.

Niraj grabbed her hard at the elbow. “Ruqiah? What do you know?”

Catti-brie looked at him with sympathy, fully aware that she was about to shatter his conceptions of the world around him, and worse, those conceptions that he held for his beloved family.

“Good fortune saved us,” she whispered to Niraj, and motioned behind him, for the chieftain of the Desai was approaching. She repeated more loudly and with great emphasis, “Good fortune.”

She went back to her mother’s embrace, as Niraj turned to talk to the man. Niraj was truly shaken, but he relayed Ruqiah’s explanation, offered with the weight of a magical suggestion behind it, that good fortune alone had saved his wife and child.

The chieftain looked around, shaking his head. “Are you well, Kavita?” he asked, and the woman nodded and climbed shakily to her feet.

“A twice-blessed storm, then,” the chieftain said, and he went outside to join in the scouring of the encampment.

In the ensuing hours, many came to help Niraj repair and clean the tent. Many more came with salves and herbs to the aid of Kavita, and to Ruqiah, offering calming words and assurances. The storm-magically conjured, though only Ruqiah knew that-had long blown away, and the night had passed its midpoint before the family was at last left alone.

Niraj and Kavita stared at their little girl.

“Ruqiah?Oh, aye, again the time wandering of lonely world!

Catti-brie considered whether she should dispel him of that moniker, but decided against it. Not now. She had her own nagging questions to deal with, after all, concerning the unexpected arrival of these Netherese. The assassins had come looking for her in particular, so it seemed obvious that they had learned at least part of the truth of her. But how? And why would they care?

“She healed me,” Kavita said. “My wound … it was mortal.”

“No, you were lucky,” Niraj replied. “The sword did not bite deeply.”

“It did,” Kavita insisted, and she looked at Ruqiah, directing Niraj to do likewise. “From back to belly, and I felt my spirit departing. The wound was mortal, but then I felt the healing warmth.”

“The gift of Mielikki,” their child told them.

“You healed her?” Niraj asked, and Catti-brie nodded.

“The lightning strike was no accident,” the child admitted.

Niraj and Kavita sat across from her, staring, unblinking.

The young girl pulled up her sleeves. “The stars of Mystra, the horn of Mielikki,” she explained. “I am twice-scarred, but this you knew.”

Niraj swallowed hard, Kavita began to cry. “Who are you?” her father asked, and surely those words, that desperate tone, stabbed at Catti-brie’s heart.

“I am Ruqiah, your daughter,” she answered.

“Mielikki?” the tribesman asked, shaking his head helplessly. The Bedine did not worship Mielikki. Their goddess was At’ar the Merciless, the Yellow Goddess of the scorching desert sun. “I do not understand.”

“I was born on the spring equinox, Mielikki’s most holy day,” the child explained. “The goddess blesses me, and teaches me-”

“At’ar,” Kavita corrected.

Catti-brie shook her head. “Come with me,” she bade them, starting for the makeshift tent flap. “I will show you.” Her parents hesitated.

“There is a place, not too far from the camp-”

“It is high night,” Niraj replied. “The time of N’asr. The lions are out and hunting.”

The child laughed. “They will not bother us. Come.”

When her parents still hesitated, she added, pleaded, “Please, do this for me. I must show you.”

Niraj and Kavita looked to each other, then rose and followed their little girl out of the tent, out of the encampment, and onto the open plain. Catti-brie led them at a great pace, but they hadn’t gone far before Kavita rushed up and grabbed her child by the arm to stop her.

“It’s too dangerous,” she said. “We will come back when the sun goddess has returned.”

“Trust me,” Catti-brie said. Again there was magic behind her words. And on they went.

They came to the high dune before sunrise, though the sky was beginning to lighten with its approach. Through a narrow entrance between windblown rocks, they came into Catti-brie’s secret garden, only to find one of their tribesmen lying dead beneath the lone tree, I believe.”I the olderon face down in a pool of his own blood.

“Jhinjab,” Niraj said, turning the dead man over.

Catti-brie kneeled beside Niraj.

“No, child,” Kavita said. “This is not a sight for young girl.”

But Catti-brie was not a young girl, nor was she listening. She had already fallen into spellcasting, blue tendrils of magic beginning to creep from her right sleeve as she called upon the power of Mielikki. She put her head close to Jhinjab’s chest and whispered something her parents could not hear, then nodded as if receiving an answer.

Niraj stepped back, and Kavita took his arm, standing very close to him, both watching their little daughter with confusion and more than a little bit of horror.

A few moments later, Catti-brie stood up and turned to face them. “Jhinjab betrayed me to the Netherese,” she explained. “They came for me.”

“No!” Kavita cried.

“How? Why?” Niraj said at the same time, both moving forward to embrace their daughter, who managed to stay away from them.

“They learned that I am different, spellscarred, perhaps, but certainly … unusual,” she explained. “Jhinjab told them this. He just admitted as much to me, though the words of the dead are ever cryptic and not easily deciphered.”

“This is madness,” Niraj wailed.

“You spoke with the dead?” Kavita asked at the same time.

“I am a disciple of Mielikki,” Catti-brie explained. “I am blessed with powers divine and arcane-not unlike either of you in the latter, though my spells date to a time long lost and to a goddess who is no more, I fear.”

Both of her parents were shaking their heads in confusion. They looked to each other helplessly.

“I am your daughter,” Catti-brie said to try to calm them. “I am Ruqiah, but I am more than that. I am not cursed-quite the opposite!”