R. Salvatore - The Companions

Again the owl gasped; Catti-brie knew this girl, older than her by a couple of years. She had died several tendays before her battle with the Netherese.

“The grave was newly dug,” one of the Netherese shades confirmed for the others.

“Why did you seek this one? a long while to realize become stopped on” the sultan of the Desai asked. “What purpose might a little girl-”

“Silence!” Tremaine, the burly tiefling shade, demanded. He turned to his associates and they moved off and began whispering secretly-but not so, since Catti-brie’s owl hearing penetrated their circle.

She heard the name “Ulfbinder” and an agreement among them that whatever importance Ruqiah might have held was lost now, and the girl irrelevant.

Only then did Catti-brie come to fully appreciate what her people had just done for her. They had colluded to deceive the Netherese overlords, at great risk. They had come together as a tribe to protect her, and to protect Niraj and Kavita.

Overwhelmed by gratitude, by the love this act had shown to her and her family, Catti-brie could hardly find the strength to fly away. But she had to, she knew, for the magic of her shapeshifting dweomer was fast diminishing.

As she flew out of the camp, she entertained the thought of resuming her life with her parents-the Netherese thought that Ruqiah was dead, after all-but she knew that she would be putting all of the Desai into grave danger by doing so. If they came for Catti-brie and found her, they would destroy her-and everyone she loved.

Some distance away, she became a little girl once more. And she cried.

“They buried her,” Tremaine told Parise Ulfbinder when his scouting party returned to Shade Enclave.

“Along with Alpirs De’Noutess and Untaris?”

“They did not bury our dead. They wrapped them in cloth and put them out in the desert sun. They said they knew we would come for them.” The tiefling’s anger mounted with each word. “They should have brought them to us! Nay, they should not have dared to strike at them!”

“You said Alpirs and Untaris were killed by a lightning strike,” Lord Ulfbinder said calmly. “A burst of lightning from a storm that raged in the area.”

“We should punish them. We must punish them,” said Tremaine, running on as if his master had not spoken a word. “Grant me a force and I will lay waste to the tribe of Desai. Speak the word and I will kill them all!”

Parise Ulfbinder looked at the burly warrior incredulously, and shook his head slowly and deliberately.

“Get out of here,” he said quietly.

The tiefling smiled broadly.

“Not like that!” Lord Ulfbinder insisted. “Not to your coveted revenge! Remain in the city. Trouble yourself no more with the Desai. They are not your concern.”

“But lord-”

“Not your concern!” Ulfbinder said with a low growl. He shook his head in disgust and waved the feebleminded warrior away. The Desai were no minor tribe and it would take a sizable force to attack them. And to what end? Such an act would likely inspire a larger uprising, and that, in turn, would force Parise before the Netherese rulers to explain himself.

He could well imagine that meeting, and a shudder coursed down his spine. Simply having to mention “Cherlrigo’s Darkness” and his various theories regarding Abeir-Toril would bring him great humiliation.

Still, the story his scouts had return sure what to make o repertoireoned to tell seemed far too convenient to him. By coincidence a bolt of lightning from a natural storm had slain Alpirs De’Noutess and Untaris just as they closed in on this Ruqiah child? And it had killed her, as well? That was the tale the Desai were telling.

Too convenient.

“Tremaine!” he called to the tiefling, who was just exiting the room. The warrior looked back over his shoulder and Lord Ulfbinder instructed, “Fetch the Lady Avelyere at once.”

The tiefling stared at him for a moment, as if confused, then hustled away.

Parise nodded to himself as he considered his impulsive decision. Avelyere was the proper choice now. She was a skilled diviner and could speak with the dead. And she could detect magic as well as any in Shade Enclave. If, as Parise suspected, the curious little girl was still out there, Avelyere would find her.

“Ruqiah!” Kavita gasped, the word blurting out as if she had been kicked in the gut. She scrambled from her chair, nearly tumbling over, and started for the tent flap, where her daughter stood staring back at her.

Catti-brie eagerly leaped up into her mother’s arms, accepting the crushing hug.

“We thought we would never see you again!”

“I thought so too,” the girl admitted. “But I missed you terribly.”

Kavita kissed her and crushed her close and swung her around in a great dance that went on and on until they both grew dizzy.

“I saw what you did, what the whole tribe did, when the Netherese came looking for me.”

Kavita looked at her curiously.

“I have been around-as the owl who left you in the secret garden,” Catti-brie explained.

“My Zibrija,” Kavita said, tears streaming down her face, and she wrapped Catti-brie in another crushing hug, and Catti-brie did not begin to protest.

“Zibrija!” sounded the nickname again, spoken in a plaintive gasp, as Niraj entered the tent. The man jumped over to his wife and child and propelled them both onto the bed with a great flying tackle. “Zibrija, you have come home!”

Catti-brie’s weak smile showed the limitations of that happy event, something neither of her parents missed.

“Not for long,” she said. “It is not safe for you … or for me,” she added quickly as stubborn Niraj began to protest.

“But you will return?” Kavita asked.

The question burned at Catti-brie. She knew that she shouldn’t be doing this, that she shouldn’t be here. Not now. She had returned to Faerun for one purpose, and it had nothing to do with the Desai tribe, or with these parents who were not really her parents. She could not afford such distractions and risks. But she loved these two, dearly so, as much as she had loved …

Catti-brie swallowed hard and blew a determined sigh, reminding herself of who she was and how and why she had returned.

“I am well,” she assured her parents. “And I’m grateful for what you and the Desai have done for me in deceiving the Netherese.”

“Zibrija!” Niraj cried. Catti-brie understood the s a long while to realize become stopped onad look on his face. She was his child, and what parent would not take such action in defense of his child?

“My name is Catti-brie,” she corrected, because she had to, because if she did not keep these emotions at arms’ length, she would never find the courage to leave this camp again, which she knew she must do.

Kavita threw her hands up over her mouth.

“Ruqiah,” Niraj insisted.

The little girl squared her shoulders, but in looking at Kavita, she had to relent. What harm, after all?

“Ruqiah,” she said. “But I still like Zibrija.”

That brought back Niraj’s smile, and again he tackled her in a great fatherly hug. Catti-brie didn’t fight it, and indeed, she felt warm and safe in his strong embrace.

She did not want to leave, but she had to. She wanted to return, but how could she justify it?

“You’re wizards,” she said suddenly.

Niraj pulled her back to arms’ length and looked to his wife.

“Both of you,” Catti-brie continued. “I have seen it. I have seen you,” she said to Kavita, “using spells to aid in your daily chores.”

“Kavita!” Niraj scolded, but his anger was surely feigned.

” our skill, perhaps, and that skill led to your curious scars,” Kavita replied, and Catti-brie nodded, though she didn’t agree. Her scars, she knew, had come from a different place and a different time, scars rightly earned, scars paid for dearly.