Chapter Text
They had to rest and bandage up their wounds before proceeding; Shadowheart insisted on it. They were poked full of crossbow bolt holes, weeping their own blood all over the floor with the corpses. In the interim, they searched the bodies and the room, coming up with some supplies, weapons, and a weirdly shaped crystal that looked like it might release a magical lock on the other side of the room.
“Eat,” Lae’zel said, pushing a plate of food she didn’t recognize towards her. “You’ll need to keep up your strength.”
She’d been lost in thought examining the crystal, but she realized the others had dug into their own meals, including Astarion, who had politely taken one of the corpses to the corner before sinking into it. “What is it?” she asked, taking it.
“Neogi rolls. A favorite of the githyanki.”
Neogi were large creatures out of a nightmare, but she’d grown up with a flexible diet; she took a bite without considering it too much. It was a large hunk of meat on a bone, and while she didn’t necessarily understand calling it a roll, it was satisfactory enough. There was also a potato with it, which she did recognize easily enough. “You’re eating something too, right?” she asked.
Lae’zel held up a skewer of some large rat-type creature. “Yes,” she said before taking a bite out of it. She had taken a seat next to Tav on the steps, but made no further attempt at conversation.
“Are . . . you okay?” she couldn’t help but ask. Of course Lae’zel wasn’t okay; she’d just killed other githyanki to save a bunch of istiks. But she was too afraid to ask anything else.
“My queen demanded the sacrifice,” Lae’zel said. “The Kith’rak got in the way of justice by not admitting us entry. Besides, that is not the first githyanki I have ever killed, nor the second or third or tenth. I am not as sentimental as you think I am.”
“You’ve killed more?” she asked in disbelief.
“Of course. The weak will not survive. My first year of training, I must have killed twenty of my classmates. They were not strong enough to serve my queen, and so they died.”
Her stomach churned; she barely avoided spitting out the bite of neogi meat in her mouth. Lae’zel had said it time and time again: the weak did not deserve survival. So then why had she drawn her sword against the Kith’rak to protect a bard who clearly would not put up much of a fight herself? Here, in a creche where physical strength and military prowess reigned supreme, she was at her most vulnerable. “I hope the Ch’r’ai gives you the answers you’re looking for,” she said honestly, covering up her own discomfort with the mask she knew Lae’zel wouldn’t be able to see through.
“A Ch’r’ai is a position of honor. They are Vlaakith’s sword of justice. Any true soldier and believer will be protected by a Ch’r’ai. So I do not worry, at least not for us.”
She did. She worried for all of them, but perhaps Lae’zel most of all. What if this went badly? What if the Ch’r’ai didn’t do what Lae’zel was hoping, or what if they also demanded the artifact?
“We are not your surface races,” Lae’zel snapped, as if she could read Tav’s mind. “It is not in the githyanki’s nature to deceive or betray. We are above that.”
She hadn’t met anyone above that yet, so the decision was still out on that one, but she did hope Lae’zel was right.
They ate the rest of their meal in silence. It was awkward; she found herself taking bigger and bigger bites of neogi meat just to try to finish it faster, but all that did was form a meaty ball in her mouth that she had problems chewing.
When they were done, she took the crystal she’d been examining and slotted it into the indent next to the door. There was a whirring noise, and an, “oh, it’s you. I’ve been waiting for you,” before the shining barrier on the door next to it opened.
“That’s reassuring,” Karlach said sarcastically.
“It surely can’t mean anything good,” Halsin agreed.
“If she knew we had the artifact, I can’t imagine this guy doesn’t,” Shadowheart said, motioning to the dead Kith’rak on the floor. “She knew who we were immediately.”
“To be fair, there’s not much you could mistake us for, other than a bunch of asylum escapees,” Astarion pointed out.
She had the urge to put her hand over the artifact in her bag, but resisted it. Someone was watching them, and at the very least, obscurity could be security for a short moment. There weren’t many places to search on her, but there was more than one, and that was precious time.
“Come,” Lae’zel said, waving them inside.
This had likely once been an inner sanctum of the church. Large stone pillars supported the ceiling above them. Rubble and dust was distributed amongst the various decorative pots spread around the area, which meant that this was restricted to cleaners. The rest of the creche had been spotless; no one was coming in here to clean.
At the end of the hall was a heavy, decorative wood door that Lae’zel grunted as she pushed open with her shoulder. Opening that would not be easy; she wouldn’t place money on her being able to open it, or some of their other companions. Gale, for instance, would likely have to use some sort of spell too. As it closed shut behind them, she tried not to think about how it was effectively locking them in.
The chamber itself had vaulted ceilings and a large symbol to Lathander inscribed on the floor. Various safes and display cases were arranged around the room, showing off beautiful weapons and artifacts. A smattering of githyanki were around the room, all of them standing at attention. One stood in the middle of the room, his hair greyed. He may have been old, but there was still lean corded muscle pulsing under his skin as he turned to face them. This was a power that hadn’t been degraded by age, she thought.
“We finally meet,” this mysterious githyanki said. His arms spread wide, as if to be welcoming. Perhaps it as to show off the sword on his belt.
“You know of us?” Lae’zel asked after a glance at the rest of them, as if to confirm she would still be taking point in this exchange. Tav nodded at her.
“I heard there is so much goblin blood on your hands that it soaks their children's nightmares. Not an easy feat, for those who are not githyanki.”
“Ch’r’ai,” Lae’zel said, bowing her head. “Please, we are infected, and upon using the zaith’isk—”
“—I am aware, child.” He waved his hand, as if to dismiss the thought. “We have been tracking your movements.”
“Why?” Shadowheart asked, and then stepped back almost as if the question had burst out of her.
The Ch’r’ai surprisingly didn’t react to her negatively. His eyes searched over all of them, evaluating, calculating, and she steeled herself when his gaze got to her. “You have something of ours, and we would like it back.”
He couldn’t tell who had it, she was pretty sure; he kept his gaze moving between them. He’d figure it out the second he asked the direct question, but for now they had deception on their side.
“What is it?” she asked, pushing herself to interact for some answers if nothing else.
“I don’t believe that’s any of your business,” the Ch’r’ai responded coolly.
Fair enough.
“We will not without purification,” Lae’zel said.
“Of course you’ll be purified,” he told her. “That is your right.”
That was a lie: the first one the Ch’r’ai had told so far, she was pretty sure. He had been evasive, mostly, but that one, he didn’t believe. “You will not purify us. The zaith’isk wasn’t broken, was it?”
Lae’zel sucked in a breath and looked back at her in disbelief.
“It operated just as it was intended to, killing any infected with the Illithid tadpole,” she continued, just to see his reaction. His expression was smooth, and though he seemed surprised, he didn’t seem offended.
“That is heresy,” Lae’zel hissed.
“Who will you believe?” the Ch’r’ai asked her. “An istik, or a Ch’r’ai?”
Lae’zel looked back and forth between them.
“Hand over the artifact.” The Ch’r’ai had settled (correctly) on Tav as the holder and now he looked at her expectantly.
“I will not. And you can invoke Vlaakith as many times as you’d like; I do not subscribe to your god,” she responded, ignoring how her knees felt week at the hostility in his gaze.
“Then you will pray to her upon your death bed.” The Ch’r’ai drew his sword.
“We couldn’t just all get along?” Karlach asked.
“Not with those demands, regrettably.” Gale made a few motions with his hands and fire erupted from them.
The githyanki in the room had armed themselves, but this time wasn’t their first time fighting githyanki. There were a couple of casters—that was new—but it was mostly the same tactics as before. The gith were strong and swift, and quite formidable, but they could be outmaneuvered.
“Prioritize the Ch’r’ai,” Lae’zel commanded them. They didn’t have to be told twice.
Tav was their main target, so Shadowheart hit her with Sanctuary again (with a very stern reminder not to attack) while the others went to town. If nothing else, they were quick learners; they refused to be overwhelmed again. Darkness sprawled over the room, drawing the githyanki in to attack before spells decimated them where they stood. There was no mercy, no remorse, and she could only keep up by aiding them through quick plucks of the lyre strings.
“Your resistance is futile,” the Ch’r’ai declared, and suddenly there was a high pitched ringing sound in her ears. Her tadpole squirmed uncomfortably inside her eye socket. A thin, ephemeral string connected her to the Ch’r’ai, wavering in the air when she tried to grab it. It wasn’t just her; Karlach and Wyll had one too, as well as a few of the githyanki left. Seven threads floated in the air, tethering them to the Ch’r’ai.
“Hit him!” Lae’zel shouted, clearly familiar with the spell.
“But . . . Sanctuary!” she stammered.
“He will sap your strength,” Lae’zel snapped.
“You say that like I have some!”
But on the next set of notes she played, her vision spun, the tadpole squirming again. Her head felt heavy all of a sudden, as if it was too large for her neck to support. After a moment, it faded. Only three threads remained; Wyll and Karlach had both lost theirs.
She had a feeling that dizzy spell wasn’t just normal stress. With a curse, she plucked out a couple of notes and threw them at the Ch’r’ai.
The divine light faded around her, but it was like the cells in her body had woken up, like the first bit of sunshine after being stuck underground. The oppressive force had left, and she sighed in relief.
“I don’t think so!” Karlach shouted, practically in her ear as she came running past with her axe drawn. She collided head on with the Ch’r’ai, both of them wiping out across the tile floor.
“Careful!” Shadowheart said, sending healing magic her way. Some of the abrasions across her arms vanished, leaving unblemished skin.
Tav played notes in time with the Ch’r’ai’s attempted attacks as he tried to pry Karlach off of him, but it was difficult. Resistance met her with every strum, as if someone was protecting him. That was what the threads were doing, she realized. By being connected, he could use their power to protect him, which had probably been the result of her dizzy spell. His mastery of psychic energy was praiseworthy. She only wished it wasn’t being used against them.
She kept her eyes locked on the Ch’r’ai, barely noticing when others joined the fray with him. She studied his movements, learning to anticipate when he was about to strike so she could send another little annoyance his way. He was too good of a warrior to be truly impeded by her party tricks but it at least seemed to soften his blows when he did hit, or just irritate him. Karlach and Lae’zel both stood guard, as if telling him that to get to her he’d have to go through them first.
There was a sudden flash of light and a wave of searing heat, and when the spots cleared from her vision, she looked up at the massive figure that had manifested in the room. A spectral image, tall enough that she almost reached the vaulted ceiling, stood before them. Her cheeks were hollowed out, crepe-like skin stretched over sharp cheeks and chin. Just her top half was visible, the rest of her phased through the floor; Karlach, as the closest person to the illusion, reached up to maybe her lowest rib in comparison.
“My queen,” Lae’zel breathed, her eyes wide, freezing.
Vlaakith cast her eyes across them, as if they were bugs scurrying across her floor. There was no fondness in her gaze, and with the orange outline her projection gave her, there was something even more monstrous about her. Instinctively, Tav took a step back, realizing they were about to be out of their element. If Vlaakith really was the powerful goddess the githyanki claimed, they had little chance of beating her. Escape would be their only option.
The heavy door behind them wouldn’t make that easy, nor would the Ch’r’ai, she imagined.
“Lae’zel. My child.” The way Vlaakith had said it made something clench in her stomach. Any affection was fake; Lae’zel was about to be manipulated by a goddess she loved so much, and she felt rage beginning to build up inside of her.
“My queen!” Lae’zel took a knee, bowing. The Ch’r’ai and the remaining githyanki did as well, while the rest of them merely watched, each of them with varying levels of concern.
“You will show me respect,” Vlaakith said, addressing them directly. Her gaze left no question: obey or be punished.
“Play along,” Gale said under his breath, dropping to one knee. She looked at him, and realized he was watching her with perhaps more apprehension than he’d looked at Vlaakith with. After a moment, she could feel him intrude into her mind with the tadpole, the content of the message delivered in warning. If this really was a god, the punishment would be more than any of them would be comfortable paying.
She bit her lip, and, hating every moment of it, followed suit.
“You have possession of the Astral Prism that has been stolen from us,” Vlaakith said when they had all bowed. “You do not understand what you have, and as a result, it has been tainted. An imposter, a traitor to the githyanki, sits inside on a throne of lies. To listen, to believe, would be nothing short of foolish.”
“Who is the figure inside?” she asked.
Vlaakith regarded her with cold indifference; as someone unrelated to the githyanki, she was perhaps a wildcard in Vlaakith’s eyes. Perhaps that was being too generous: she was unlikely to be an enemy, because if Vlaakith did have divine powers, she would have struck her dead without a second thought. But she was not considered an ally, that much was clear. “You may find that out yourself,” she said. One hand waved in the air, and a projection of the Astral Prism appeared in front of her. “When you kill them.”
The artifact heated up, vibrating against her leg in reaction.
“But . . . they’re protecting us,” she protested.
“What will you require protection from after you have been purified?” Vlaakith asked.
“But . . . my queen, the zaith’isk—” Lae’zel tried to explain.
“—I have no need of the zaith’isk to purify you. You would doubt my power? Do this, and I will give you a home in the Astral Plane beside me, Lae’zel.”
Lae’zel sucked in a breath. “My queen,” she said, bowing her head. Then she turned to Tav. “Hand it over.”
“No.” She got to her feet, taking a step away from Lae’zel.
“I will not allow you to disobey my queen!” she said, her voice raised, her anger wild in her eyes.
“How am I supposed to trust her?” she asked. The walls felt like they were closing in on her suddenly. Lae’zel had protected her this far, perhaps surprisingly so, but this felt like a betrayal.
Lae’zel’s expression softened. “I do not ask you to trust her. I ask you to trust me.” She held out her hand for the artifact.
“A—Are we sure this is the best course of action?” Karlach interrupted.
“I will ensure you all are purified alongside me. I will ensure you are all saved. Please.”
This was Lae’zel’s dream, dangled in front of her. All she thought she needed to do was reach out and grab it. “And the zaith’isk?” she asked. “It almost killed you. I do not doubt you; I doubt what else is in place in the background that waits for us.”
Astarion moved a step closer, as if to remind her that he was very much against giving anyone else the artifact. She glanced at him and gave the briefest nod.
“What could stop my queen? Vlaakith, she who is the sun that blinds us and the void that contains us? If there is any protection from whatever is to come, it is her.” Lae’zel took a step forward, and she instinctively took a step back to maintain the distance between them.
“And the dream guardian?”
“An illusion of the tadpole!” Lae’zel said. “I have said this over and over again; it is nothing but a ghaik giving us pretty words, luring us in, so that it may strike our unsuspecting forms.”
“Then why would it protect us?” she asked. “Why would it give us the power to resist? I used that to save your life! Whether you approve of the method or not, we would not be here right now without their assistance.”
“You would trust them?” Lae’zel asked in disgust.
“No.” The artifact vibrated again in response to her words. “But I don’t trust anyone who would promise to solve my problems magically either, not after knowing they previously tried to assassinate one of us.”
“That’s because there is a traitor!”
“Is there?” she pushed back. “You came up with the traitor idea when the zaith’isk exploded. The Kith’rak had no idea what you were talking about, and accused us of being the traitor.”
“My queen has just proven that there is a traitor inside of the Astral Prism,” Lae’zel said.
“What proof? She has told us that one exists, despite being inside of the Astral Prism this whole time. The dream guardian could not have tampered with the zaith’isk without any of us knowing. If there is a traitor, there must be one on the outside too.”
Lae’zel’s nostrils flared, and she could sense the tadpole inside of her skull again. The temptation rose; she could force Lae’zel to do what she wished. It was possibly their best chance at survival if she did.
“Please,” she said as a last-ditch effort, realizing this was going nowhere. “I understand if you don’t trust me. I probably wouldn’t trust me either. But I have a clear vested interest in keeping us both alive and tentacle-less right now, so you should be able to trust that if nothing else.”
“You would defy our queen?” the Ch’r’ai asked, interrupting them. “A direct order, no less. How many githyanki can say that they have been looked upon by Vlaakith herself, been given a divine directive to complete, and an offer to join her in the Astral Plane? You would discard that all for an istik?”
This was not going well; even if she could convince Lae’zel, they had nothing they could do to escape. She needed a new strategy, and for that, she needed time and information. The look in Lae’zel’s eye at least made it seem like she’d convinced her enough to not immediately attack at the slightest provocation. She glanced back over at Gale, trying to think of something to do and feeling stuck. This felt as insurmountable as when she’d heard Elminster tell him the news from Mystra, and the frustration at her own helplessness was mounting again. How was she expected to outmaneuver a god?
“If we agreed to do this . . . whatever is in there will likely be dangerous,” she said, trying to throw together something as she spoke. “If we don’t equip ourselves properly, we will not return.”
“Uh, Tav?” Wyll asked, looking over at her in surprise.
She ignored him. “This room is full of weaponry. Please, allow us to search through it to aid us.”
Vlaakith inspected her with a scowl, but after a moment nodded. “You will not leave this room until the deed is done,” she said as a warning.
Tav gave a polite bow to acknowledge, then walked over to one of the small antechambers.
“What is the plan here?” Astarion asked, hissing at her as he followed.
“I don’t know; I’m still coming up with it,” she said, glancing around. There were weapons and potions, and even some armor hanging up in one of the display cases, but nothing that would help them. They couldn’t go at a god with a new set of armor and a pointy stick; this plan was quickly unraveling.
The others seemed to have taken her words at face value, and were picking over weaponry and supplies on their own, looking back at her occasionally like she was about to give them a signal to do something.
“Would you stay near Halsin?” she asked him. “If I think of something, I’ll use the tadpole, but he doesn’t have one.”
Astarion stared at her for a long moment, then stuffed two of the ornamental daggers he’d been looking at into his bag and went over to their resident druid.
She surveyed over everything, contemplating all of it. On one table was a sheet of paper tracking their own movements, making it clear ever since the Nautiloid had crashed, the githyanki had been aware of their whereabouts. Another detailed a possible traitor, with Kith’rak Voss listed as the author at the bottom. Fascinating that he’d come to the same conclusion as Lae’zel without the zaith’isk; did he know something? His directives urged the gith to find the Astral Prism promptly, which, considering they’d had it on them when they’d talked to him, there didn’t seem to be some magical link between the githyanki and the artifact. The Ch’r’ai then had to have heard their conversation with the Kith’rak, and the Kith’rak had only known because their party members didn’t have good poker faces. That meant, though, that if they could disappear, the githyanki wouldn’t be able to track them by any sort of magical means. The normal stuff was still on the table, of course, but they could just be careful. Once they got past the restricted area, they were likely (mostly) safe, just based on space.
Just in case her inspection had seemed suspect, she grabbed a shield from a nearby display case, hefting it onto her back. It was heavy, but the lightest thing in the area, unfortunately.
When she walked over to the opposing antechamber, Wyll and Karlach were talking in muted voices to each other, and waved her over when they saw her.
“Statues to Lathander,” Karlach pointed out.
Curious in the creche, considering they’d eradicated the other statues to Lathander. These had to have a purpose then. She knelt down, looking over the inscriptions. One greeted the rising sun. One bid farewell to the sunset.
“Obviously, they’re talking about direction. The sun rises in the east, and sets in the west,” Wyll said. “I’m just not sure what will happen if we move the statues that way.”
She glanced around, looking over their current helpless situation. “I don’t know; let’s do it,” she said decisively.
Neither she nor Wyll could get the statues to spin, but Karlach eventually muscled one to point to the east, and one to point to the west in line with the compass Wyll was carrying. Once she did, she stood back with them, waiting for something to happen.
One breath.
Two.
Three.
Once she was almost sure nothing was going to happen, there was a click from the back wall.
“What the—?” Karlach asked.
Wyll stepped up and pushed against the wall. A section gave way under his hand, swinging open.
An escape.
“Where do you think it leads?” Wyll asked.
She shook her head. “Hopefully outside.” In reality, she had no clue; the only hints they’d gotten were possibly from the Dawnmaster’s Crest they’d picked up mostly on accident when the rest of the party had been entertaining her and Karlach’s interest in the Blood of Lathander (and not particularly patiently, she might add).
“I’ve got Lae’zel,” Karlach said, surprising her. She scrambled to mentally catch up, and realized Karlach had understood something she hadn’t: Lae’zel was still possibly not willing to leave without entering the Astral Prism. Tav felt like she’d given all she could without bringing up Orpheus, who seemed to be a forbidden figure; just his name might escalate things beyond her control. “If you give me just a minute, I’ll talk some sense into her, I promise.”
Karlach was unceasingly honest, and genuine to a degree that she could never dream of; if anyone could convince Lae’zel, it would be her. She nodded.
“Can I have that, just in case?” Karlach asked, pointing to the shield she’d picked up before. “Might be worth throwing around if I need some muscle.”
She handed it off, having to use both hands to hold it steady with how heavy it was. Karlach picked it up like it weighed nothing. With a reassuring nod, she walked off towards where Lae’zel was examining some swords.
Tav took a few steps back, trying to determine where the Ch’r’ai and Vlaakith were looking. This would be the hardest part: if any of them disappeared too quickly, they’d tip their hand. Everyone sprinting towards the same area was risky too. The door likely sealed on the other side, but if any of them didn’t get there . . .
She pushed the information about the door to Astarion first, since he needed to inform Halsin (no one was going to be strong enough to pull Halsin along, but she did hope Astarion had the sense to be discreet in whatever way he told him). Then she looked at Wyll. “What do you think?” she asked, hoping he had some sort of brain for tactics that made the next step clearer than she was thinking.
He shook his head. “We don’t have much in the way of advantage. Surprise is all we have.”
She cursed under her breath and pushed the information out to the rest of them. At the very least, they needed a distraction to buy them some time; the githyanki were fast in all of their reactions.
‘Leave that to me,’ Gale reassured her. “But any assistance you could give would be appreciated too.”
She looked at him, confused, and he simply gave her an enigmatic smile from across the room.
What did that mean?!
“Get ready,” Wyll warned.
She could see Lae’zel glance back at them, and the second their gazes met, she heard the question in her head. “Is this really what you think is best?”
Lae’zel so rarely used the tadpole that this was clearly something important to her to even contemplate it. She nodded.
With a shuddering breath, Lae’zel nodded back.
The next moment, a gust of wind sent items flying. It wasn’t strong enough to take any of the metal, but the unbound books and stray pieces of paper fluttered around the room.
“Go!” Gale pushed to them using the tadpole. His hands formed a few shapes, and she could hear him shout something, and then the room practically burst into flames. The papers in the air caught flame, raining down a small army of dancing fire. Karlach, who had been the furthest away, used the metal shield over her head to protect herself and Lae’zel from damage as they sprinted across the room.
She stood there, transfixed by the sight until Wyll pulled her arm to get her to go through the door. Astarion and Halsin followed, and then Shadowheart, and Gale, and finally Lae’zel and Karlach.
“Behind you!” Shadowheart shouted as Karlach cleared the doorway.
The Ch’r’ai had sprinted through the flames as well, his skin blackened in places as he reached out to stop them from closing their passage off. His face was twisted into hatred, his brow furrowed and his teeth bared as he roared.
Karlach didn’t miss a beat. She slid the shield from her back, and easily doing a 180-degree turn, lobbed it straight at him like it was nothing more than a ball for games. Her aim was impeccable; the width of the door wasn’t much larger than the diameter of the shield, but it flew through without hitting anything, colliding with the Ch’r’ai on the other side.
No one stopped to check whether he’d been delayed by it; anyone who could get a hand on the door was pushing it shut. It clicked, the lock seemingly engaging, and there was loud pounding on the other side, but no entry.
“How long until he figures out that puzzle?” Wyll asked.
She shook her head. “It didn’t take us long, so probably not much time.”
The wall seemed sturdy but thin; they could hear the githyanki on the other side of the door pounding on it and shouting at each other in the Gith language. After a moment, the arguments stopped, and they just kept repeating one word.
“Hshar’lak,” Lae’zel parroted, her face grim. She hadn’t spoken much at all, and, judging by her expression, she was not happy with this turn of events.
“What does it mean?” Shadowheart asked hesitantly.
“Traitor.”
“Lae’zel,” Karlach started, but Lae’zel shook her head to cut her off.
“I have been a loyal warrior to Vlaakith. I have killed in her name, I have followed her teachings. I am no hshar’lak. And yet . . .” She shook her head bitterly. “Yet here I am, branded as an enemy, as a traitor to my queen. This is not right!” Her anger made her voice raise, but there was a tiny tremble in her shoulders.
Tav just stood there silently, not sure what to do. Comfort seemed like a good idea, but she’d been the one who had made the decision for what to do, not to mention she had no idea what to say. There didn’t seem to be anything that would make it better.
“But . . . there are things that did not make sense,” Lae’zel said when no one said anything in the silence. “Things that contradict the teachings. Things that contradict logic. I . . . I do not know what to make of them.” She had seemingly calmed herself down, and now she looked at Tav. “I do not trust whatever is inside the Astral Prism.”
“I don’t either,” she agreed.
The artifact vibrated again, as if to bring attention to itself, but she ignored it.
“I must trust in the fact that you have already shown that you find it beneficial to keep me alive. Otherwise, you would not have intervened during the zaith’isk.”
“You think Vlaakith meant to kill us?” Gale asked, picking up on the unsaid implications.
Lae’zel looked down and shook her head. “Only a hshar’lak would think that way,” was all she said.
