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Tav squealed out a laugh as Karlach refilled her goblet to the point of overflowing and the wine sloshed out on her sleeve. She stooped forward and drank down her cup’s contents, the drink tart and dry on her tongue.
Around them, the celebration with the Elturelian tieflings was running at full tilt. The camp was filled with the braided aroma of burning firewood and cooking meat—much of which the Emerald Grove druids had supplied them with in a show of gratitude for handling the goblin threat. From here, Tav watched a thick dollop of fat drip off one of the cooking pork shoulders and drop into the fire below. It sizzled, cooked, toughened, and then burnt to a char.
Gale pulled away from the conversation he was in the middle of to rotate the cooking spit, slowly turning the glistening meat.
Zevlor and the others had brought several casks and bottles of wine, claiming that they needed to offload some of their supply before traveling through the mountain pass. And what better way than to share it with the people who had cleared the way for them?
And while Tav wouldn’t go so far as to say that their camp usually carried a grim, subdued atmosphere, she also wouldn’t say that the place was typically abuzz with the added energy of twenty or so visitors.
But it was nice. Wave after wave of discordant voices rose up in song, the magic setting the air alight. And the people. Especially the people.
“Hey,” Karlach said, pulling Tav’s attention back. “You’ve got some color to your cheeks now.” She grinned. “You look healthy.”
Tav touched her face. “You’re sure it’s not the wine?” she asked.
“Oh, it’s definitely the wine.” Karlach took a pull straight from the half-empty bottle, opting to forgo a cup entirely. “But it’s better than you looking like death warmed over. I figured you’d just drop to the ground at some point or other—finally get some sleep.”
“Oh, come off it,” Tav said. “I haven’t looked that bad.” Her cheeks were a bit too warm, and her speech was a shade too slurred for the defensiveness shaping in her chest to gain a foothold and rise up in a tangible response.
“You make Astarion look lively,” Karlach said flatly.
Tav snorted. “Well, shit.”
And they dissolved into a fit of laughter. Karlach slapped her on the shoulder, and Tav’s goblet spewed half of its contents onto the ground—which only made them laugh harder.
“Tav.” The voice cut through their revelry and drew it to an immediate halt.
They turned and watched as Rolan approached them. He fidgeted with the stem of his empty goblet and shifted from foot to foot. The tip of his tail twitched and lifted small clouds of dust into the air.
Tav was surprised that he wasn’t preparing another magic performance for Cal and Lia—every time he tried to close another of his thoroughly choreographed shows, started to take his bows, his siblings would loudly demand an encore. And he would roll his eyes and humor them again and again.
“Catching your breath?” she asked.
He smirked. “Cal and Lia are off terrorizing the others with their antics.” And then his shoulders tensed. His mouth twisted into a grimace, as if he were dreading what he was about to say next. “That illusion you cast earlier—the one where you conjured up the inside of that hag’s house—how did you do that?”
In a moment of alcohol-enhanced theatrics, Tav had humored the tiefling children with a much exaggerated retelling of their run-in with Ethel. And, well, illusion was a useful storytelling tool that Tav couldn’t resist using when she had a captivated audience. And when the young ones kept gasping and cheering and demanding that the story be adjusted with their suggestions, she’d had a grand time of shaping the Weave about them into a more colorful, more absurd version of events, much to the delight of everyone.
“How do you mean?” she asked him. “I cast the spell and pulled the foundation of the illusion from memory.”
“I know that much,” Rolan said peevishly. “How did you manage to cast such an expansive illusion? The scope of the spell work you've demonstrated before this is much too limited to lead me to believe that you could manage a spell of that magnitude.”
Tav and Karlach exchanged a look, both of them trying to suss out if Rolan was intentionally trying to insult her or if he was, well, being himself.
Then again, Tav considered the fact that he was even asking her how she had managed something made her think that he spoke from a desire to understand and learn. …Even if he was being an ass about it.
“I’m fine walking you through the steps,” Tav offered. “I am a bit surprised that you didn’t go to Gale for this.”
Rolan raised an eyebrow. “Does he know how to cast such an expansive illusion?”
Prior to being captured by the Nautiloid and having a tadpole forced into his skull, Gale was capable of a great deal. He hadn’t earned the title of Archwizard by doing nothing, after all. And, knowing of Gale’s penchant for creativity and his appreciation for the beauty in the world, she would have been shocked if Gale couldn’t conjure forth an illusion that surpassed her own.
“I would defer to my most capable companion,” Gale said as he joined their conversation. He smiled at Tav, and the memories of the night they spent channeling the Weave came rushing back to her as quickly as the blush that rose to her face. She hid it behind the rim of her goblet, and Gale chuckled. “Modest as she may be,” he continued, “few could match her skill.”
She might have agreed with Gale if they were discussing evocation magic, but she also didn’t think he was lying. Having now traveled with the fellow for a few weeks, she knew he was capable of many things. But bending the truth? Telling a fib? He wasn’t quite so versed. He genuinely believed in her talent, and that realization sat warm in her chest.
Rolan turned to Tav. “Well, could I trouble you for a demonstration then?”
Karlach made a noise in her throat, none too approving of Rolan’s approach and general demeanor.
Tav appreciated Gale’s faith in her and Karlach’s protectiveness. Were she to say no, they would support her choice. However, she was hardly dealing in trade secrets, and should Rolan and the other refugees find themselves in a bind on the road, perhaps this magic could help them out of it.
“Alright,” she said. “Let’s walk out a ways.”
She passed Gale her wine goblet, thinking she might burn to cinders when his fingertips softly grazed over her wrist.
But then she cleared her throat and gestured for Rolan to follow her out of the camp.
They didn’t go far—they followed the short trail that wound through the rock structure that sheltered the encampment in its outstretched arms. Even from here, they could see the campfire’s orange halo dusting over the stones, and they could hear the song and revelry of their companions.
And as they passed through a line of trees into a secluded forest clearing, the laughter and music faded away as a swell of wind and a percussion of crickets overtook them.
The clearing was silvered in moonlight. Fireflies glowed and pulsed as they drifted and eddied about them, some settling into the thick, unruly grass and others coming to rest on tree trunks.
They paused there, and Tav turned to Rolan, only for her breath to catch when she saw how his features were limned in the night’s pale light. His horns practically dripped silver.
She made herself focus on the task at hand. “So, what questions do you have?”
Rolan considered. “How did you manage to cast with such expanse and detail?”
Tav blinked. She hadn’t thought that she put any real intricacy into the spell—especially since there were certain parts of Ethel’s cottage that she didn’t want to show to a group of children.
“Well,” Tav began, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. “It’s nothing too complicated. Just…”
She reached for the Weave and found it pulsing and moving around them, like threads that need only be woven into an image. And, as if she were wrapping those strands around her fingers, she drew the magic towards her and shaped the spell, slowly. The image was there, and the Weave was willing—she just needed to join the two together.
“I’m not very good at explaining something like this,” she admitted. “It’s… easier for me to demonstrate and work from there.”
She slowly exhaled, and the space around them warped and bent into a vision of the Shrine of Sylvanus at the heart of Emerald Grove.
She started from the shrine’s central point—the wooden idol of Sylvanus upon its stone pedestal with a set of rough-hewn steps leading up to its dais.
And then she permitted the vision to ripple outwards, and vines dripped down from the raised dais into the sacred pool that ringed it. She raised the three stone-cut creatures that guarded the idol—the bear, the wolf, and the elk. Lichen and moss sprouted on the platforms that these animals sat upon. The Weave moved with her, easily adapting to the shape that she guided it into.
She did not expand her illusion beyond the Shrine, feeling that this was a sufficient enough demonstration. Now, it was but a matter of concentrating to keep the illusion from unraveling.
“I’m not sure if this explains anything,” she said with a weak laugh. “I’ve never been much of a teacher.”
Rolan circled the illusion, eyes narrowed as he took in every small facet and detail. He lingered in some places, his hands tracing over the finer intricacies that maintained the image’s shifting tapestry before he moved on.
For Tav, this was quickly becoming an exercise in maintaining focus, especially when she found herself more easily distracted by the smell of rotting leaves and soil or the rustling of a creature in the nearby underbrush.
A bead of sweat ran down the line of her spine, and her head started to throb.
Fortunately, Rolan seemed to have observed and committed to memory everything that he thought was relevant.
So she dropped the illusion. It dissolved into nothingness, and they were, once again, standing in the same moonlit forest clearing.
She sat on the ground with a heavy sigh. “Questions?” she asked. She inhaled sharply, pulling cold, bracing air into her lungs.
Rolan thought for a moment. “It’s rather explanatory, isn’t it?”
She shrugged. She supposed so. She hadn’t done much in the way of explaining, so she would have to take his word for it.
“So if I were to do this…” Rolan replicated her motions, and the Weave, responding to his beckoning call, rushed to him as he shaped it into the illusion of a small, narrow bedroom with a window that peered out onto the streets below. And, in the distance, suspended above a grand building, was a blinding orb of light. It was so bright that Tav couldn’t tell if it was night or not beyond the room.
Tav’s breath caught. Though she hadn’t visited this place, something about it was oddly familiar, as if Rolan was able to convey not only the basic image of the room but also the emotional connection that bound him to it.
She approached the illusion, taking in the detail that Rolan had committed to it. The bed on the left side of the room was large enough for one person to lay down, but not comfortably. The blankets were tucked tightly under the mattress.
A desk was positioned under the window with an open, blank-faced journal laying out. Several reference books were neatly stacked and arranged on its upper left corner for ease of access.
And then, on the other side of the room was a squat bookshelf crammed full of thick tomes—though many did not have titles on the spines.
The floor was unfocused, and she couldn’t tell if there was supposed to be rug beneath her feet or naked floorboards. And if she looked closely enough, the walls seemed to writhe.
And then, with a flick of Rolan’s wrist, it all fizzled away. “Zurgan!” he cursed. “It’s still not—how do you put so much detail into yours?”
Tav considered. “I tend to fixate on small things,” she admitted. “So, when I build out my illusions, that comes through. It’s honestly useless when I’m in the middle of a fight, and if I don’t have the time to concentrate, I may as well try to draw a stick figure in the air—it would be easier.”
“And you just, what, remember everything?”
“Not at all.” She looked down and saw the grass and leaves clinging to her trousers. As she brushed them from her legs with the back of her hand, she said, “But if you can recall a few details—the food on the table, the titles of the books on the nearby shelf, maybe even some scratches in the flooring—it’ll help round out your illusion.”
Rolan’s mouth twisted up, as if he’d eaten something bitter. “I suppose I’ll have to work at this some more. Gods only knows how much time I’ll have while we’re traveling.
Tav tilted her head to the side, in thought. “If I remember correctly, there should be some books on illusory theory in Ramazith's Tower.”
“How would you know what books are there?” Rolan shot back.
She smiled at him, practically impish. “I snuck into the tower when I was, oh, fifteen? Ramazith had been gone for decades at that point, and Lorroakan only laid claim to the place a few years ago, so it was empty. Magically trapped, but empty.”
Rolan laughed incredulously and said, “I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You have a talent for inserting yourself into situations where you aren't wanted, don't you?”
The lightness of the moment immediately shriveled, and Tav’s smile dropped.
She stared at him.
She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but the sickening twist in her chest was urging enough for her to return to the party.
“Good night, Rolan,” she said with an incline of her head. “Safe travels.”
She turned to leave, hoping that there was still enough wine to wash the bitter taste out of her mouth.
“Wait—“
She paused. The crickets were near-deafening in their pitch.
“I didn’t—“ Rolan exhaled. “I am sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to say that I don’t appreciate what you did for us. Had you not intervened…”
She sighed softly. “It’s fine, Rolan,” Tav said. “I have no doubt it was unsettling for a group of strangers to suddenly inject themselves between you and the druids and attempt to mediate a conflict that had been brewing for weeks. And then I had the nerve to butt into the conversation that you, Cal, and Lia were having. A sensible conversation about whether it would be safer to strike out on your own or now.” It was more of a heated argument than a conversation, but Tav opted to not draw attention to that. “If I were in your position, I’d struggle just as much to be even remotely pleasant.”
Zevlor had asked Tav and her companions for help, and perhaps if they weren't so panicked about the tadpoles nestled into the gray matter of their brains, waiting to stretch out and claim the bodies of their hosts, they would have been a bit more delicate about how they approached the entire situation. Maybe they would have considered the opinions of the other refugees before plowing on ahead.
The tension in Rolan’s shoulders lessened.
“Not to mention we could have been just like that prick Aradin,” Tav went on. She crossed her arms to ward off the night's chill. She understood why he would be so frustrated, but she was still stung.
Rolan was quiet. He cast his gaze about, as if searching for an answer.
“I appreciate your understanding,” he said slowly. “But you came out here to help me, and I made an ass of myself.”
She didn’t disagree, even with knowing where his frustrations and anxieties stemmed from. But she offered her hand to him in a gesture of reconciliation.
Rolan was uncertain, but he gently held her fingers against his palm.
And then, with utter sincerity, he said, “Thank you. For this demonstration. It was illuminating.”
Tav allowed herself to smile. He was trying to make amends, and she appreciated that. “You’ll have to put on a magical performance just for me when you’ve mastered it.”
Had she not known better, and were it not for the moonlight tricking her eyes, she might have thought that Rolan’s cheeks burned a darker red than normal.
He chuckled. “I suppose I’ll have to.”
She nodded. “Here,” she said, “Think of this as a peace offering.”
She plucked at the Weave once more, wrapping its threads about her fingers and shaping them into magic warp and weft and envisioning a study—one that was beyond compare.
The grass and soil and brush beneath their feet was replaced with dark red carpets. The trees disappeared and were replaced by towering bookshelves that ran up to the ceiling and down past the level they upon snapped into place, the shelved tomes and scrolls protected by magic wards. A fireplace shaped itself from nothing, but it remained unlit.
Archways thundered up behind the shelves, dragging golden brick walls with them, curving towards a ceiling that did not appear, for her spell could only extend so far. Instead, the columns melted into the star-flecked midnight blue above, the starry sky roofing her illusion.
But Tav made sure that when the study’s balcony swam into view, a cloudless, robin’s egg blue sky was visible
“Ramazith's study,” she said. “At least, this is how it looked when I visited.”
Rolan turned about in place, taking in anything and everything. His breath caught in his throat, and his tail lay motionless behind him.
He was stunned and amazed.
“And this… this is where I’ll study. This is where I will learn to master the Weave,” he said as the realization dawned on him. “I’ll get to read these books. Practice with those scrolls.” He laughed in disbelief. “This is… this is incredible.” He cleared his throat. “Of course, any master of mine would have nothing but the best to offer his pupil.”
She nodded. She could only hope that Lorroakan would prove to be more than the cad that the rumors shaped him out to be. And she pressed a hand to her throat to tamp down on her rising panic.
She watched Rolan take in every detail and facet, not so much prodding and examining her spellwork so much as taking in the image and committing it to his memory… something to keep him going when the road proved cruel.
She held the illusion for as long as she could manage, slowly letting it fray around the edges but keeping the study floor in focus for him.
“I hope that you will find everything you want here,” she said to him. “Everything you need.”
“I don't see why I wouldn't,” he replied, a touch surly.
And she released the vision. The study melted away, leaving them in the forest clearing once more.
“Rolan,” she began.
“Yes?”
“That room that you created—where was it?”
He was quiet, as if considering whether or not he should tell her. “It was my bedroom back in Elturel,” he said finally. “It wasn’t much, but it was home before, well…” He didn’t finish his sentence—he didn’t need to. The Descent had taken near everything from him and his family.
And though she would have liked to offer him some sort of kindness, perhaps an embrace, she knew that Rolan would rankle at it. He despised anything that remotely resembled pity.
So instead, she said, “Let's head back."
Rolan stared at her, his yellow eyes bright. “Yes. We—we should go before the others start to worry.”
They fell into companionable step with one another, slowly retracing their trail until they stood at the edge of camp together.
Tav reached for Rolan, and as if it were second nature, he clasped her palm to his. And then he started, as if surprised by his own forwardness.
“Take care, Rolan,” she said. “And… send for me if you need anything.”
He swallowed roughly. His mouth opened but the words wouldn’t dislodge from his chest.
And then he patted the top of her hand and cleared his throat. “I doubt that I’ll have any further need of your help, but… thank you.”
“Rolan!” Lia shouted over the din of the celebration. “Where did you get off to? We need another magic show!”
He sighed loudly, more for his sibling’s benefit than anything else. “Fine,” he said. His eye caught Tav’s and he permitted a smile to flit across his lips. “I’d best be off,” he said. “Until Baldur’s Gate, my friend.” He dipped his head to her in a soft bow.
He returned to his siblings, and the night sky was alight with magic once more.
—
As it turned out, Rolan had needed Tav’s help on a few other occasions.
And then she needed his as well—after the Absolute was defeated and the city lay in ruins, and she was left stunned in the wreckage, Tav somehow found her way back to Sorcerous Sundries. Back to him.
And they offered each other their support without hesitation.
And though their first kiss had been nerve-wracking, the ones that followed soothed and healed.
The nights they lay naked in one another’s arms were perfect.
And the mornings they spent tangled together, laughing and kissing and making love, promised a future that both had longed for but never dared to think could be theirs.
Though they were often occupied in the day with their studies and their work, they always sank into each other’s arms when night fell.
And the night that Rolan took Tav by the hand and guided her up to the tower’s main study had perhaps been a break from their beloved routine, but one that promised excitement.
“What’s this about?” Tav asked. Rolan pushed the study door open and guided her inside.
He had laid a blanket out in the dead center of the room. A bottle of wine and two goblets were set next to a tray of fruits and nuts. The fire in the hearth had baked down to embers, so the room, while warmed, was cast in a dimming gold.
Beyond the study was nothing but night and starlight and a percussion of crickets chirping, the music layering and overlapping.
“Go on,” Rolan said, nudging her towards the blanket. “I made sure you had the best seat in the house.”
Even if this was a performance for only her, he spoke with such tenderness that she couldn’t help but blush. So she sat. He had already prepared a goblet of wine for her, so she raised it to her lips and sipped at it while she watched him mill about the study, putting the final touches on whatever he’d worked at for much of the day.
After five minutes more, Rolan stepped in front of the hearth. A blush burning his cheeks, but he urged himself to relax, to be at ease.
“I… I’ve done this for my siblings,” he began, “but never just for you. And I do recall that I made you a promise some time ago.”
She set her wine down and leaned back on her palms, watching him.
“It’s not as flashy as what I’d put on for Cal and Lia, but…” He trailed off, at a loss and suddenly nervous. He searched her face for signs of derision, only to find love and adoration there instead. He swallowed.
And then Rolan closed his eyes and drew the Weave to him, plucking at its threads and shaping it into magical warp and weft and painting the image of a forest clearing. The study dropped away, leaving them in a clearing silvered in moonlight and warmed by the glow and pulse of fireflies drifting and eddying about them, flecking the green grass in drops of light and warming the tree trunks.
Overhead, a star-studded sky wreathed in clouds overtook the study’s ceiling. A moon, rounded and luminous set everything aglow.
Tav’s throat tightened, and she blinked away the tears threatening to spill down her face. She covered her mouth to hide the grin that threatened to split her cheeks.
Rolan smiled at her, yellow eyes bright, two stars in their own right.
And when there was no sign of the study, when the only sounds that Tav heard were those of the forest clearing from months and centuries ago, Rolan joined her on the blanket.
They laid back to look at the sky that Rolan plucked from memory, Tav nestled into his side. She shivered when a river-blown breeze rippled through the knee-high grass, stroking a finger across her bare neck.
Wordlessly, Rolan grasped a folded quilt that he had tucked off to the side and laid it over them.
“You have total control over this illusion,” Tav said, “and you chose to chill me?”
“That is a gross abuse of magic. I would never,” he replied. He was a terrible liar.
And Tav didn’t mind curling up closer to him.
“This is incredible,” she whispered.
Rolan’s tail coiled around her ankle. “There is a little more to my performance,” he said, a touch of grandness coloring tone. “But I thought this would be a good way to begin.” Their eyes met. “With you. At the start.”
He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering and his palm finding rest against the nape of her neck. And then he cupped her jaw and pressed his lips to hers. She hummed into the kiss, content.
What began as soft and tender quickly turned heated. Tav nipped at his chin, and then pulled him on top of her. He pushed his knee between her legs, causing her to mewl as he rubbed against her clit. He slid his tongue past the seam of her lips, tasting her breathless sighs.
They pulled away for air, reluctantly surfacing and breaking their kiss.
“What else did you have planned?” she asked him.
The moonlight above limned his features in silver. Gossamer pooled in the ridges of his horns and set him to glowing.
“Should I show you now or later?” he asked her, already unlacing the front of her tunic.
“I suppose that depends entirely on what you—“ Her sentence trailed off into a moan as he pressed his lips into the slope of her neck, his hands easing under her shirt and tracing the swells of her breasts.
As they lost themselves in each other, the illusion dissolved, and the study returned, warm and familiar.
Their breathless gasps and sighs filled the night, drowning out the cricket song and the soft hum of the Chionthar.