For the Love of Laqrom

With cat-like grace, Feluna Moonstar darted across the main hall toward the kitchen, mouth watering at the delicious aroma of fresh-baked berry pies wafting out. She would get a taste, regardless of the head cook's scolding. Magnolia ran her kitchen with an iron fist, but since Feluna became an adult, the head cook no longer intimidated her.

The front door opened and she stopped mid-stride, curious to see what manner of person her father's manservant Romei would usher in.

Her father had gone out himself to greet the visitor, she realized, for it was he who entered along with Romei. Behind Helve Moonstar followed a stranger in dark clothing. Did Father bring home someone handsome this time?

Indeed he did! Feluna's bright feline eyes brightened further as she beheld Laqrom, hired for a few days of security duty to aid Father's negotiations with some merchants of rather rough reputation, or so she had heard.

Besides his fine looks, something else — an aura? — projecting qualities unknown, caused her heart to flutter. "Handsome" doesn't quite fit him, she thought. He's so... admirable! Yes, that's it — not the dashing black surcoat that somehow fails to conceal lean athletic muscles underneath (not bulky but just right, like a dancer's), not the way his dark clothing sets off his piercing gray eyes and glorious wild mane of golden hair, not the finely chiseled face (perhaps from noble blood?), and see how he moves with utter grace, every movement of his body serving a purpose, nothing unnecessary! Nay, I must not swoon! There's definitely something about him, she purred to herself.

She caught his eye as he passed her. Laqrom noticed with amusement that her heartbeat quickened at the sight of him, betrayed by the faint pulse at her throat. The corners of her mouth turned up demurely as she batted her eyelashes. He inclined his head respectfully in her direction as he followed Helve into the drawing room.

Helve missed nothing. As he closed the door, he growled "Don't touch her!" in a good-natured voice.

Helve stopped and turned. "'Wouldn't dream of it'? Either you lie, or you have just insulted my niece. Which?" he demanded, glaring this time.

Laqrom's lips parted in speechless surprise. Before he could utter a word, Helve laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. "It's all right. Had you going there, eh? I know Feluna is lovely. She flirts, but she's responsible enough, and quite capable of handling herself." He added, "I do require honesty and respect from all who work for me, however."

"Milord, I meant no disrespect, and I spoke the truth. My thoughts dwell on another who has blocked out all dreams and fantasies I might have of any other lass, no matter how fair."

"Ah! Young love! Oh my, a pained look just crossed your face! My boy, it can be beautiful or painful, or both. If painful you will suffer of course, but you'll still come out a better man in the end. 'Tis better to have loved and lost — you know the saying. Well, 'tis true. Sit down, sit down," said Helve, as he sat himself down in his favorite chair. "What is she like?"

"That, also, I'm not certain about, milord. She occupies my thoughts. I daresay she stirs my loins, but my heart remains uncertain, for it lacks any experience of her presence in my life. When mind, heart, and loins all reach their decision, then I shall know."

"Smitten are you, then? Well, infatuations must run their course. Just make certain that the head up here" he said, jabbing a finger between Laqrom's eyes, "makes your decisions, with the help of your heart."

"That I can manage, milord. Discipline gained through years of training in the art of combat will see to that. Which brings me to why I am here. Forgive me for asking, but why do you need my skills? The able guards in your employ surely serve your needs."

"Hm, yes, well, I'm shorthanded now. I granted a vacation to one man, then another I allowed to visit his ailing grandfather. Yet a third man was overcome by dysentery of all things — dammed incapacitating when your own body turns against you, eh? — so he's out too. I have two left. Each works 12 hour shifts, and I cannot burden them further.

"I hired you as a general-purpose security enforcer, including being a bodyguard for me and my family. Now, bodyguard opportunities offer low pay at relatively low risk. The higher the risk, the more it's worth, you know. But in your case, I pay you more because you'll work harder. I understand you fight as two or three normal men, and that others at your side tend to fight better than they do on their own. You'll perform to my expectations when called to do so. So Instead of hiring three men to fill the void in my staff, I hired you, for a cost less than three men but more than one bodyguard. I save money, you earn extra, and the risk is still low. Good for both of us, no?"

"Please bring us some water to drink, as well as a helping of one of those pies I whiffed on the way in."

"Very good, milord. But Magnolia will protest. She intends them for your family's supper."

"Heh. Remind her that the cook does not rule this House. I'll compensate her for the trouble, somehow."

"Yes, milord." Romei left with a faint sigh, anticipating the scene to follow in the kitchen, and closed the door after him.

"So, Laqrom. Yesterday I gained an audience with Rulathon, the Captain of the City Watch. I explained my situation, and asked if he knew of any freelance combat instructors under him whom he could spare for a few days in my behalf. He referred me to his Senior Armsmaster, Helve Urtrace. I asked if he could recommend a trustworthy and skilled fighter worth two or three ordinary men. He said he would check, mentioned something about 'Gray Hands' being unoccupied, and today you arrive. I make a point to know personally those who work for me, from their own lips. I'll tell you more about the job after you tell me about yourself."

"At the beginning, of course. But be brief if you can. How did your parents raise you, where did you grow up, what sort of training have you endured, that sort of thing?"

"Well, most of my 28 years I have lived in Waterdeep, but my adventures and quests have taken me to far lands as well as into Undermountain beneath us. My mother raised me with honor, my father provided well, I am educated and multilingual. I have trained in both combat and leadership, and gained experience in both, since age 16. I am skilled with my blades. I suppose that is all."

"Good, but not that brief. You mentioned your parents. Tell me about them and your upbringing."

Laqrom thought a moment. "I rather think my mother raised me well. My father ensured that we never wanted for food, shelter, or clothing. To be quite honest, I'm his bastard son. He was absent during my childhood, and he never acknowledged me as his son. I hold no grudge — after all, he did take financial responsibility for my upbringing, and my mother insisted he was a decent man, but they could never marry. Never once did I meet him, nor do I know his identity. Mother did tell me that he sees to his own House."

"A nobleman! I thought I recognized some features on your face! Who? No, say nothing. I need not know."

"Milord, neither do I. Mother explained once that the existence of her relationship with my father would have created a scandal of immeasurable proportions. How this can be, I cannot say. I believe they loved each other, but noble families tend to marry for political reasons, not for love. I have curiosity and suspicions about the nature of this potential 'scandal' but I respect my parents' wish for secrecy. To no avail, I have endeavored to determine what physical features of mine appear in other noble families. Forgive my crudeness in saying that the nobility intermix to such extent that one cannot determine lineage by sight. I see similarities between myself and individual members of various different families — including yours, milord. I'm led to believe that my mother herself has noble blood, but she kept her past from me.

"As to how I was raised, my mother encouraged me foremost to educate myself, and she instilled in me a strong moral code. She taught me honor, ethics, and the beauty of truth. I try to live as the embodiment of her ideals each day."

"She taught you the importance of truth, yet concealed from you the truth about your father and her past?"

"It seemed inconsistent to me also, at first. But truth doesn't equate to full disclosure, milord, and withholding secrets without intent to deceive doesn't equal falsehood; we all have our secrets, after all. Perhaps she felt the truth would harm me. And the concept of 'plausible deniability' does have value."

"In my 16th year I received one message from my father, unsigned of course. He informed me that as a man, I must take responsibility for my own house, and his financial support toward me would henceforth diminish to zero in two years' time, although he would continue to provide for Mother."

"That sounds reasonable to me. And your education should have opened doors to a variety of professions."

"In truth, nothing I learned held my interest enough to pursue a related career. And for subjects fascinating to me, such as wizardly magic, I had no talent. I enjoyed physical activity, but years of never worrying about whence came my meals had created a lazy mind. I had idly passed the years studying dance as a pastime; I enjoyed performing dances, but to make a living that way? A performer generally supports only himself, not a home or family. I then realized that the services of trained warriors are in constant demand all over the Realms. Anyone skilled in combat would always find employment. Thus I began my career. That turned out to be hard work too, but I have no regrets."

Helve looked wistful. "I followed your path once myself, until a serious wound forced me to take up the family business. My warrior days are over. So, how's it working out for you?"

"Rather well, I think. The Gray Hands accepted me two years ago. We answer directly to the Lords of Waterdeep, but they seldom find cause to call on us. So I supplement my downtime by teaching younger ones my skills at the City Watch academy. That, plus keeping the spoils of occasional adventures, and hiring myself out as needed, has brought me a comfortable income."

"I see that, by the small fortune in weapons you carry. May I?" asked Helve, pointing at the hilts of the two scimitars strapped to Laqrom's back.

Laqrom drew them forth with pride and offered them to Helve. "They're magic, milord. They are named 'Love' and 'Honor' — calling out their names in combat activates them. 'Love' burns with flame as I wield it, and 'Honor' inflicts deep wounds aided by sound vibrations. I fight well with one in each hand. One I found during a quest. I purchased the other and commissioned a wizard to enhance it with magic. And it did cost a small fortune — my life's savings at the time — but worth every copper." Ishq and Salâh

"Burning love, and sound honor," said Helve, amused. As he inspected the scimitars with admiration, he noticed a small, short inscription carved into each blade. "What is this strange writing?"

"I cannot read it either, but I do know those are their names. After I obtained the weapons, a traveler told me this one says Ishq and that one says Salâh* in the language of the land where these blades were forged. He told me Ishq means love, and Salâh can mean virtue, integrity, honor, honesty, or devotion. Fortunately the weapons respond to me when I call them 'Love' and 'Honor' in my language."

"Seems you could just as easily call them Ishq and Salâh," Helve pointed out. "Do they become more effective if you do?"

"No, they still work the same, milord. But my language works better in other respects. You see, I have led men into battle. Shouting 'love and honor' to my blades serves as a rallying cry for the men, spurring them to fight better, and activating my own aura of leadership. That wouldn't happen if I yelled 'ishq and salâh!'"

"Hm, yes, they'd probably just look confused." Helve handed back the weapons. "So, I assume you must have grown out of your laziness."

"Ha ha! No, milord, I now turn laziness into an asset. The desire to relax, when combined with the will to excel, forces you to become more efficient. This aids me in my work. After twelve years of training and adventuring, my mind and my body can focus on doing exactly what is necessary to defeat any opponent. Maximum conservation of effort — I waste nothing. It's ironic that my inherent laziness inspired me to work harder, so I could remain lazy!"

"I can give examples, milord. For instance, I initially followed a Marshal's career path, because such a man does little fighting himself, but inspires others around him to excel. I trained to project a controlled aura about me to accomplish this. This aura not only causes my allies to excel in combat, but it can also help keep tense situations from becoming violent — and averting a fight pleases my lazy side. However, a career as a Marshal left a void in my life, so I changed course.

"Milord, remember I mentioned dancing in my youth? That led to another example of laziness inspiring efficiency. I still enjoy dance. Rather than let this skill go to waste, I trained in a style of combat that combines dance with twin-blade fighting. It filled the void. And the effect is deadly."

"I can only imagine," replied Helve. "But try to ensure that things do not escalate to the point where you need your specialized fighting style."

Romei returned then, carrying a tray laden with a warm berry pie, two glass tumblers, tin plates, and an urn filled with cool water. His hair and right shoulder appeared damp. "She took it rather well, milord. She only threw water at me this time. I feared she might hurl a pie."

Helve guffawed. "Water? Not hot water, either. Milder response than I expected, Romei."

"You can thank young Lady Feluna for wheedling a piece from Magnolia before I entered her kitchen. She could not refuse your request after that. Er, begging your pardon milord, but she allowed me a sample as well, so I know you will be pleased when you taste it."

"Well done, Romei! Thank you. Now please give us some privacy." Romei bowed and departed.

Helve chuckled. "Don't say that to Magnolia. As long as she continues to cook as she does, she can call it 'Oozing Slime Pit of Hell' for all I care. All of us call it 'her' kitchen. She rules that one piece of House Moonstar, not me. And it pleases me to allow it."

This patriarch is firm but has a good heart, thought Laqrom. I may enjoy this short assignment.

"Now, about your job," Helve continued, taking a bite of pie. "Tomorrow eve, I — Mm, this is good. Have some, help yourself." He swallowed his mouthful. "As I was saying, I have the duty of entertaining some men of questionable — nay, wrong word — objectionable profession. Pirates, to be specific. Their leader is called Marko. You, and the remains of my guard staff, are responsible for the protection and safety of this House and those present in it — not only my family, but also those in my employ, such as Romei and Magnolia. Now, wait! I see a 'why?' question forming on your lips. Let me finish."

"You are thinking, 'why here at this House instead of somewhere else?' or 'why would House Moonstar associate with such unsavory types?' am I right?" Laqrom nodded again.

Helve continued, "The first 'why' is easy: Marko insisted, and I had to relent. The second 'why' has two answers: one, they have something I want, and two, they are not so unsavory as you would expect. Yes, violent they are. They deserve their reputation as criminals, but I find this particular band has their own rigid code of ethics and conduct. To them, a promise made is as good as kept. That means they deal honorably, but if you anger any of them, pray you don't hear a 'promise' for your death.

"As to what they have that I want — well, House Moonstar has close ties with the mapmakers' and cartographers' guild. We strive to obtain accurate maps of other lands, either through our own devices, or by purchasing from a trusted source. Now, hold your tongue, let me finish! Yes, I said 'trusted' source. Marko's Merry Marauders are skilled navigators; and I have never seen better maps than Marko's. He discovered a secret way to measure longitude — something nobody else can do reliably — which gives his band an edge in navigation over anyone else."

Laqrom interjected: "Pardon, milord. You mean the grid lines I see on some maps? Why is it difficult to measure longitude? Are not longitude and latitude measured in similar fashion?"

"Not at all similar, lad. Latitude is simple. Just measure the elevation angle to the pole star at night. During the day, you can measure the angle of the sun at its zenith but you must account for seasonal changes in the sun's position.

"Now, longitude is different. The only fixed reference point in the heavens, the pole star, tells you only latitude. You can designate a reference point on land, but that does you no good at sea. On land, you can fix a landmark as a reference point, say, yonder peak of Mount Waterdeep. Then each degree of longitude would be a certain number of paces to the west or east. This works well on land, but one cannot reliably measure distance traveled at sea. Also, even on land, the number of paces changes with latitude because the world is round."

"Round! Milord, I learned of such a notion in my schooling but I had difficulty believing it. My instructor certainly did not."

"It's a pity when a teacher's ignorance passes to his students. Laqrom, I speak to wizards who speak to migrating sea creatures and birds. They assure me the truth of it. I also speak to ship commanders, and they tell me that a round world makes most sense for navigation. Believe it. There is no controversy about this matter among those who live by this knowledge every day."

Helve continued, "Anyway, Marko has developed an uncannily accurate method of determining longitude at sea. He keeps the method a secret. I do know that it's connected with several visits he made to a wizard and a clockmaker prior to developing his navigation method. He swore them both to secrecy* under penalty of death although I learned that neither of them knew his true purpose. Needless to say, Marko's maps are accurate, and valuable, for none can match his work."

Laqrom swallowed another bite of the savory pie, and asked, "So why does he involve your House, if he can already make good maps?"

"Mutual benefit, my boy! My guild can reproduce his maps, and sell them, and Marko gets a commission from each sale. You see, pirates who do nothing but plunder cargo endure a feast-or-famine existence. You must engage in some business activity for stability. Also, at our last encounter, Marko made it plain that he wishes to retire from piracy, to pursue less dangerous, more legitimate lines of work. He's a smart man and a good leader who made some wrong turns in life. And I'm a believer in redemption. If I can help him find the right path in a manner that benefits my House, I shall."

Laqrom frowned. "Milord, still I fail to see why you need me. You know him well enough that you trust his honor, and he desires to trust you with the products of his secret. Is he really a threat?"

"Possibly. I mentioned earlier he must not be angered, and he is hot-tempered! He insists he will bring some men with him, likely for bodyguard duty while in town, and as advisers while in my House. I cannot force his men to wait outside. They may become infected by his temper also. Complicating matters is my nephew Rober, my heir actually, who can be too quick to take offense at small matters, and too slow to realize the consequences of rash actions. Not to say he's stupid — he knows his own flaws, and his mind works quite well, albeit sluggishly.

"So, Laqrom, I desire for you to do whatever is necessary to squelch any violence before it happens. But if it happens, you will defend my family and anyone these men threaten. I wish no killing in my house, but if that's what is required to protect my family, well... suffice to say I need a man of good judgment. In addition, I'm inviting someone else to help you keep things calm."

"Another? You confuse me, milord, Earlier you felt I was sufficient to replace your missing men."

Helve's eyes twinkled. "Oho! No, not a fighting man. A performer to entertain and distract. Nay, not distract, but enrapture! It pleases me that such a widely acclaimed musician has become a friend of my family. I have invited her to perform tomorrow evening. With her as a diversion, and your capable combat skills, I think we are fairly safe from anger and violence."

"Oh, one other thing, Laqrom. That woman you mentioned, whom you're smitten with? Heh, heh! Well let me tell you, when you see this bard, you'll have someone else to think about! She can haunt the most chastely devout cleric with endless erotic dreams. She inspires any married couple to rush into bed and try vigorously to have more children! Why, right after her first performance here, my wife Wylynd and I, we.... ah, never mind!" he grinned. "In any case, you must have seen her perform in the city already. Her name is Na'thornep."

All color drained from Laqrom's face. "Milord —" he gasped. "She — she is the one of whom I spoke earlier." He took a deep breath. "I dream of no one else. I'm afraid the diversion you intend may also affect me."

Helve scowled. "See that it doesn't." He paused in anxious thought, and then said more gently, "I didn't anticipate this. You assured me that you are disciplined enough to manage your heart, and think with your brain, did you not?"

"It occurs to me," Helve mused, "that you know so little about her. I think if you two have an opportunity to converse, you'll think straighter. She could be your grandmother, you realize that?"

"I cannot believe it. Milord, except for her small size, she appears to me the epitome of feminine human beauty."

"Laqrom, talk to her. Please. That's an order. Your mother taught you the value of truth. Truth is the best cure for erroneous fantasies that arise in your head. She arrives tomorrow afternoon to practice. I promise you will find it easy talking to her; she's that kind of person. Who knows, you may end up with a trusted friend rather than a torrid romance. One has value, the other does not."

"Milord, your wisdom gives me much to ponder. I swear my service to you will not diminish in effectiveness. Thank you, milord, for your advice and your faith in me."

"Good. Now then, take some time to become familiar with this place. Romei will show you around, and show you your quarters. You'll meet the rest of my family this evening. Oh, and one other thing...."

"Should you prove your worth tomorrow night, I hope you don't stray far from Waterdeep in the future. I may need your services again."

Laqrom chuckled. "If the world be round, I can scarcely avoid returning here no matter how far I travel."

Chapter 2. Familial familiarity.

Finished with his inspection of the interior premises, Laqrom wandered outside to walk the grounds. Eventually, he found himself standing in the shadow of a large tree, which he felt grew too near the property wall for security. As he peered up into the branches, he heard footsteps approaching to one side of him.

A finely dressed man advanced on Laqrom, sword drawn, demanding, "Who the hell are you?"

"I am called Laqrom," he answered politely, keeping his hands visible and empty. "I work for Helve Moonstar, as of today. Who are you?"

"Rober Moonstar. I'm his nephew and heir. I know the entire staff, and he never told me about you. You look like a thief to me, sneaking around in shadows like that. Now begone, before I run you through with my sword!"

Laqrom wished he had reactivated his aura. He could project it in such a way that made potential opponents more amenable to negotiation, thereby preventing bloodshed. His aura remained active while he remained conscious and comprehensible to others. However, the aura had dismissed itself earlier during the brief nap he stole in the room Romei had prepared for him. He hadn't reactivated it upon waking.

Activating his aura involved directing, encouraging, or otherwise saying things to rally those around him in combat. Calling out the names of his blades could serve this purpose. Alone, however, he required a few quiet moments of concentration to cajole his aura to manifest itself. But now, faced with the point of a sword held by an irate man, he dared not tarry. No choice but to negotiate without extra help, he decided.

Laqrom kept his voice polite. "Run me through, you say?" In a smooth motion, he reached for the grips of the blades that hung at his back, not to intimidate, but to underscore his words: "That would be inadvisable. Were you to attack me, we would both regret it later — one of us for dying, the other for enduring your uncle's wrath."

Although intelligent, Rober was often slow to comprehend new concepts, a failing that made him appear somewhat thick to others. He paused to consider Laqrom's words for a moment. Finally clarity came to his mind. He sheathed his sword. "Pardon my rudeness, sir. I am just a bit jittery anticipating the unsavory characters visiting tomorrow night."

"Your uncle told me he was short-handed, so he hired me to help protect his Lordship and his family until your absent guards return."

Rober paused again to grind mental gears. Then: "Hm, if that be true, then good thing I forbore pressing my threat with my sword. Oh — ah, perchance during a spare moment in the next few days, you would spar with me; give me an opportunity to match my blade to yours. If you are skilled as my uncle evidently believes, I would benefit from the experience. Carry on, sir."

Laqrom continued his self-guided tour, and then retired to his quarters to prepare himself for dinner. Already, as a result of speaking with Helve, his unending thoughts of Na'thornep tormented him less. It was difficult to reconcile his earlier fantasies with the knowledge that his grandparents could have met Na'thornep as children. This one small bit of new knowledge about her caused his feelings to mature. Oddly, he felt at peace for the first time in days, no longer stuck in a spiraling turmoil of infatuation.

Later that night, after a pleasant dinner and formal introductions all around, Laqrom lay down in bed, thinking fondly of the noble family he met today. I like them all, even Rober in spite of our initial unfriendly meeting. Feluna is indeed lovely and delightful in the way she challenges me to fend off her flirtations. And Rober will make a decent heir as long as he learns to pause and consider his actions.

Helve's wife Wylynd, though — somehow he failed to picture this quiet, reserved woman rutting with wanton lust, as Helve implied had been the aftereffect of Na'thornep's first performance here. Yet, Laqrom could believe it, having seen Na'thornep perform himself.

These thoughts drifted through his mind and eventually settled on the problem of how to handle Marko and his gang. He fell into peaceful slumber with tenuous hold of a solution in his mind, hoping that it would still be there when he woke up: I need a weaponsmith....

Chapter 3. Another heart tormented.

"Na'thornep!" Feluna cried, rushing to greet the tiny feminine figure with lustrous deep black hair who entered the front door, accompanied by Romei. Feluna lifted Na'thornep off her feet and hugged her in warm friendship.

"Feluna, please! I am your elder, not a child! Put me down," Na'thornep scolded, laughing.

"Sorry, Na'thornep." She set her down. "We all just adore you so. You manage to lift the spirits of all who live here."

"I am, ah, uplifted, to see you too." They both giggled. "So, milady, what is new at House Moonstar?"

"The reason you are here is one thing — Father wants you to perform for some motley group of men. Likely he wants you to distract them with your charms so that they'll remain peaceful. For another thing, we're short some guards, so Father hired a fellow to fill in. You should see him, Na'thornep! A fine dashing man, and" she leaned down to whisper, "there's something about him that makes me want to throw myself into his arms, but I cannot seem to charm him in spite of my efforts. I suspect Father ordered him to keep away from me. Perhaps better luck will befall you!"

"Milady, while I enjoy flirting as much as anyone, your abilities in that area exceed mine. Also I'm afraid I shan't have time. I composed a new piece of music for tonight, and I must practice diligently all afternoon to ensure I have learnt it perfectly ere I perform."

"I understand. You may practice in the dining hall itself for now, or in that empty room upstairs that you used in the past. May I watch?"

"Some other time, I beg you. I prefer privacy for now. I want this music to be fresh to your ears when I perform it. Pray, leave me in peace. I shall practice in the upstairs room. Perhaps tomorrow morning, we can entertain each other, or I can give you a music lesson. Your proficiency on the flute has grown remarkably in just two lessons."

"That sounds wonderful" she smiled. "I shan't bother you. Go, then, and practice. I shall see you later."

"See you this evening, milady. Oh Romei, don't bother, I know the way." She had to put him off; Romei's eyes bore hungrily into her, like those of many men she encountered. Romei's professionalism always won out, though, and he hid his desire well. But no need to encourage him by allowing him extra time by my side, she thought.

Na'thornep made her way upstairs to "her" practice room. This unused chamber was sometimes outfitted for guests, but at the moment it contained no furniture. The curtains and tapestries lining the walls, and the heavy door well-fitted to its frame, gave the room excellent acoustic properties while muffling escaping sounds. Na'thornep's performances pleased the Moonstar family to the point where Helve saw no need to adapt the room to any purpose as long as Na'thornep continued to visit. His house was large, and for this evening his guests were few, so the room remained hers to practice within.

As she approached the door, she heard faint thumping noises inside. Footsteps? She opened the door quietly and peered in. Surprise held her rigid. Apparently someone else considered this room a fine place to practice. She beheld a man, barely dressed, humming softly to himself, dancing about. Na'thornep frowned, temper rising. Helve hired a dancer for this evening? He knows I work alone! I need no help to entertain a crowd!

She opened the door more fully and stood at the threshold, glaring. The dancer glanced her way, stumbled, flailed his limbs, and with a yelp fell flat on his face.

"Pardon me," Na'thornep giggled as her anger evaporated. "I'm performing this evening. I use this room to practice."

The dancer picked himself up, blushing furiously while gingerly prodding his nose. Finding it unbroken, he faltered, "Yes, um, I came here to practice a bit, myself. I was just warming up. I did not expect anyone to enter."

"I apologize for startling you. You are dancing tonight? I am supplying the music. But now I am vexed; Lord Moonstar did not mention I would have a partner. I always perform solo."

The dancer recovered his composure, bent one knee to the floor, and bowed his head. "Forgive me, madam, I would never presume to intrude upon a performance such as I have recently seen you give!" He stood up. "No, I shall not dance tonight. I am here to defend the safety of the family. Lord Moonstar hired me yesterday for extra security."

Na'thornep stared, amused. "A dancer for protection? I don't understand, sir." So this is the new man who flutters Feluna's heart? Yes, now that he stands before me, I suppose she would find him attractive, she admitted.

"Not exactly, madam. I dance to enhance my combat skills. Forgive me, I haven't introduced myself. I am Laqrom, warrior, adventurer, combat instructor, presently in the service of House Moonstar."

"And I am Na'thornep the bard. I wouldn't have guessed you're a fighting man. You're a fairly good dancer. Except when you stumble," she smiled.

Laqrom returned an abashed smile but his eyes glittered. "You only saw me warming up. Dare you see the real thing?"

"By all means, this 'combat dancing' of yours sounds intriguing. Show me, but then I must practice for tonight by myself."

Laqrom pointed at his possessions lying in a pile. "You caught me in a state of undress. Let me don my armor and weapons harness, first." As he did so, he ventured, "Madam Na'thornep, would you mind commencing your own practicing? If I can work to your music, then we both make good use of this room."

"Many dance to my music. I had hoped for privacy, the better to surprise the family with my new composition. But you may hear it first, if you don't mind an occasional sour note as I learn it. The piece starts out slow and builds in speed. I hope you can keep up!"

"Perfect, madam! I shall start out slowly as well, because the most strenuous fighting motions I can maintain for three-quarters of a minute before becoming fatigued. Kindly stamp your foot when there's less than a minute left to go, yes? Ready when you are!" He reached behind his shoulders to his scimitars crossed at his back, and drew both high into the air as Na'thornep looked at him wide-eyed. My, my, she thought. He looks as if his heart sings with joy at this opportunity to show off for me!

She explained as she mounted her harmonica before her mouth and began tuning her lute, "This lute sounds beautiful on its own, but my composition needs a second instrument. Noble ears love hearing a shawm; however, only a creature with four hands could play a shawm and a lute at the same time. Now, with this mount round my neck, I can play the harmonica handless, leaving my hands free for the lute. So the harmonica is the only choice that allows me to play two instruments at once. Besides, I understand that my primary audience isn't the noble family, but some rough fellows. In that case, my skills on the harmonica will have greater effect on them, thereby addressing Lord Moonstar's concerns by leaving those men more open to diplomacy than to violence."

She paused to review her music in her mind, memorizing the point where Laqrom wanted her to signal him. "All right, I am ready! Here we go." She began to play a slow, yet intricately beautiful and complex fugue with multiple intertwining themes shared between her two instruments.

Laqrom paused a moment to listen with awe at the concert emanating from Na'thornep. He let the music pace him as he began with a mid-level kata, a formalized series of combat moves against invisible opponents. During his training Laqrom had to master specific katas at each grade before his instructors allowed him to advance. He knew them perfectly, and took pride in his supreme control of movements that each kata required.

Na'thornep watched him slash and parry with his scimitars as he danced to the music, slow-motion fighting unseen enemies surrounding him. The tempo and complexity of her music increased, and he matched it with combat movements of such grace and beauty that she felt a tugging of her heartstrings as she watched him progress through a series of more advanced katas.

He kept an affectionate eye on her as his kata flowed in time with the music. Na'thornep was accustomed to admiration from her audience, especially men, so she smiled back at him when she took a breath from her harmonica.

Faster and faster went the music; Laqrom kept perfectly in sync, rapidly dancing and tumbling about the room, using his blades as expressive extensions of himself. He's not just good, Na'thornep thought, he's inspiring! How my heart beats faster at the sight of him! We're going so fast, I wonder what more can he do? Ah, it's about time... now! She stamped her foot.

Laqrom cried out "love and honor!" and became a fearsome blur as the scimitar in his left hand burst into flame. His right scimitar emitted a grating yet joyful tone, which settled to a low hum in tune with the melody. Laqrom whirled about the room in a complex dance, graceful yet challenging for the eye to follow. Na'thornep could no longer see his blades. His flaming scimitar burned a long sinuous trail of fire into her vision. His sonic scimitar flashed silver in those few places where it caught the light just right, slicing the air so fast that its flashes seemed to appear simultaneously throughout a spherical volume surrounding him.

His skilled interaction with empty space lit up her imagination, inducing visions of invisible monstrous foes attacking him. She saw each adversary succumb to precision-guided slashes of each blade, many falling victim to multiple hits as they perished. Laqrom became a well-controlled, fast-moving sphere of untamed violence that rained death on all attackers unfortunate enough to encounter its perimeter.

She almost lost concentration but kept up her music, enthralled at his interpretation of her composition. Near the climax of her music, he danced toward her, close enough that she felt the heat of his flame whipping past her face, almost fearing he might strike her by accident, but knowing inwardly that his excellent control would protect her. She found herself trusting him, inwardly cheering him, as she watched him defend her life against a fresh onslaught of imaginary assailants, who quickly expired under Laqrom's violent slashing blades.

As she played her final notes, Laqrom leapt into the air, spun around, and landed facing her on one knee. Her savior from invisible enemies knelt before her, arms spread wide, gazing into her eyes, breathing heavily, aura radiating around him, weapons extinguished and splayed out to each side as if welcoming her into a tender embrace.

Overwhelmed, Na'thornep had to suppress an urge to drop her instruments and rush into his arms. Now I understand what Feluna sees in him! He is quite something. Breathlessly, she exclaimed "Whew! Truly, in my life, sir, I have never witnessed the like! That was amazing."

"So were you, madam. I have never heard music so moving to my spirit; I believe I have never performed better. Your music and your beauty inspire the best in me, and I daresay in any man."

Then she added, "Almost makes me want to take on a partner for a special show now and then. What do you say?"

"I am flattered, Na'thornep, but no matter how I might long for the pleasure of you playing music at my side, I cannot. I once fancied myself an entertainer to the public. Now I dedicate my dance to life-and-death matters. I have no wish to employ my skills for entertainment. Also, if I perform for audiences now, potential adversaries may see me, and learn what to expect should we meet in combat. Therefore, I prefer to keep my visibility low."

To emphasize the point, he added, "No one but you has ever seen me perform combat moves to music."

Na'thornep was accustomed to getting her way with most men. Nevertheless, she refrained from employing her charms on Laqrom, for his words touched her. She said to herself, he has given me a gift that I shall treasure in my memory. We would have made a good team though.

He sensed her wistfulness. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and proposed: "Na'thornep, if you enjoyed watching me as I enjoyed listening to you, then let us do this again, just us two. It would please me to practice before you alone. Should you someday compose a melody especially for me, I might be willing to perform for a noble audience only. But I shan't use my skills to entertain anyone else."

She smiled, then dared to escalate his proposition, hoping she wouldn't seem too forward. "Very well, Laqrom. After the show tonight, why don't we have our evening meal in your chamber? I daresay each of us would enjoy knowing more about the other, and also we can arrange our next session. For now, I need privacy for more practice; I played a few wrong notes, even if you failed to hear them. Would you leave me now, please? I shall see you this evening."

She walked up to him, took his hands in hers, and looked up into his eyes. "Thank you for showing me a talent you no longer willingly display in public," she said softly, then turned away to tune her lute before he could see a tear well up in her eye.

"And I thank you," Laqrom returned, striving to voice equally soft words with a tightened throat. "Later, then."

He turned to the door and practically floated from the room, aglow with joy, still sweaty and flushed from exertion. Na'thornep thought with amusement: Feluna knows I'm in here; she'll have a fit if she sees him leaving this room like that, all disarrayed, flushed and breathless! I can just imagine what she'll believe I did to him — or with him!

Alone then, Na'thornep spent a few minutes collecting herself. What's with these teary eyes? she scolded. And my proposition! Visit him alone in his room at night, indeed! She could hardly believe the surge of need she felt for this man — no, no, it cannot be need, she corrected herself. Curiosity! He's fascinating, to be sure. But romantic entanglements with humans have never interested me. So why should I be interested now?

She'd had dalliances with humans before, but those situations were short-lived, nothing more than mutual exchange. She valued the doors to new opportunities opened by the man, he valued her legs around him, and she enjoyed that part too, for she offered herself only to those she fancied. But for long-term romance, only those races from her ancestry held her interest — gnome, elf, and fey. The larger exotic races such as dragons and centaurs also fascinated her to the point where she wouldn't oppose marriage to a worthy male, but she knew the impracticality of a union with someone much larger than herself — for one thing, bearing children could be deadly, if the act of becoming pregnant didn't tear her apart first. Of course, they could always hire a wizard to perform a magical size adjustment....

But humans? Such short-lived creatures! A long-term relationship with a human is doomed to end in heartbreak. And this Laqrom fellow, he is but a child.

As she played, visions of Laqrom's dance intruded into her mind, and before long her music changed to accommodate the visions. That was a setback. This new music was even better, but it required even more practice. She redoubled her efforts and played it over and over again, to exhaustion. At last she got it perfect. She left the room to find a snack before retiring to her assigned sleeping chamber for a brief rest.

She encountered Helve on the way to her room. "Ah, Na'thornep! Always good to see you. Ready for tonight?"

"Ready as I can be, milord. I composed a new and rather complex piece especially for this evening, with your guests in mind as an audience. I have tired myself practicing it all afternoon, so I must now take a brief rest. Oh, I had to shoo out your new man — he apparently found the room I use suitable for his own exercises. I daresay young Lady Feluna is understandably driven to distraction over him, but I believe you have no cause for concern."

Thoughtfully she weighed her response. "I think you got your money's worth," she answered with a mischievous smile, and took her leave.

As she rested, she idly pondered how she could convince Laqrom to dance to this evening's performance of the new music he had inspired in her.

Chapter 4. An inspiring evening of tension.

Hiring the weaponsmith had been Laqrom's idea. "Bless your laziness!" Helve had laughed after Laqrom explained his plan earlier that day. "If you can de-claw them with such scant effort, then there's no need for you to exert your fighting skills later! Go on, do it. It's money well spent if you pull it off. If you fail, then I deduct it from your pay."

So now the pirates stood before him while he blocked the entrance to the main hall of the house. Laqrom made sure he projected the proper aura for the situation, and spoke in his most diplomatic voice to Marko and the three men who accompanied him. "Gentlemen. Your weapons, please."

Finally Marko demanded, "What mean you by this? You cannot deprive a man of his sword. Furthermore, you leave us defenseless in a house that I doubt truly welcomes us."

Laqrom answered with deadly calm, "You would do well not to doubt the honor of Helve Moonstar. As to your weapons," he continued smoothly, "allow me to explain. For the evening, his Lordship has hired the finest weapon craftsman in Waterdeep to repair, clean, polish, sharpen, and otherwise maintain your weapons while you are here. He will do his utmost to restore your weapons to their peak of performance, and return them to you in finer condition than ever. Consider this a friendly gesture from Lord Moonstar, and be assured that your safety is of paramount concern to him. After all, he dare not risk his supply of your quality goods, as you dare not risk his trust and goodwill."

The gambit succeeded. Awash in Laqrom's aura, and faced with arguments too logical to be denied, all four men handed Romei their weapons, who laid them on a velvet-lined table carried by two other servants. Laqrom suggested as if in afterthought, "Oh, if you have small daggers or knives, his Lordship's offer extends to those as well. If you feel uncomfortable surrendering this last small blade, I shall procure one for you as a substitute while yours gets serviced."

"No need," Marko grunted, handing his over. "You are correct, sir, Helve Moonstar is a man of his word, else I wouldn't be dealing with him. Men, give up your dagger if you have one. You are safe here."

One man with many scars on his face resisted. "Mine has just been serviced. It needs no further attention. It is also a treasured heirloom; I must carry it with me always."

"Really?" said Laqrom. Well, one dagger left among four men hardly warranted concern. Still, I must not give up now. He said with interest, "I'm fascinated with the workmanship I see put into ornamental blades. Would you allow me to see yours?"

Scarface handed it over. "Beautiful!" exclaimed Laqrom. "Rarely have I seen such perfectly cut gems." Then his eyes narrowed. "Ah, look, this filigree here contains embedded dirt. Are you certain you don't want it cleaned? Oh, and here's a light scratch on the blade. We would summon a jeweler to polish it out and clean the detail work, if you wish." Laqrom handed it back.

Scarface held his dagger in thought, inspecting it. "Oh, why not?" he sighed, and gave it to Romei.

Romei played his part well, accepting the man's precious dagger reverently with both hands. "Very good, sirs," Romei bowed, and left with the servants carrying the collection of weapons.

"Follow me into the next room, gentlemen, and wait here a moment while I inform Lord Moonstar of your arrival."

Laqrom couldn't help grinning as left the group in the main hall and marched toward Helve's drawing room. As he entered, Helve asked, "How went it?"

"It worked, milord! They are disarmed. Completely. I thank you for the briefing yesterday. I couldn't have succeeded if you hadn't informed me that these men are honorable, even if they are pirates. Had I not known, my wrongly-colored judgment would have resulted in my handling the situation equally wrongly, likely insulting their honor in the process. And had they actually been dishonorable, I'd have needed a rare bard to plant a magical suggestion in all their minds at once. I doubt even Na'thornep would have succeeded such a task."

"Well done, lad!" cried Helve, clapping him on the back. "Now I guess you have little left to do besides watch Na'thornep, eh?" he leered. "As I'm sure you planned all along, ha, ha!" Then he turned serious. "I passed her in the hall after her practice. I understand you spoke to her privately this afternoon. How are you doing?"

"Couldn't be better, milord! I appreciate your advice. You are right; she is easy to talk to. I feel much better for it. I still long for her, although it's different now somehow, no longer empty and painful."

Helve beamed at him as he donned a fine coat. "Excellent. You're a good man. When she finishes resting, I'll put in a good word for you. I shall tell her how you disarmed four violent men without even lifting a blade at them."

"Thank you, milord. Your party awaits. I must now find Romei and have him fetch a jeweler because I promised to clean up a fancy dagger. The weapon craftsman wouldn't suffice."

"Go to it then. Tell Romei to pay whatever the jeweler asks at this hour. As I said, money well spent. Oh, and find the rest of my family and let them know they're safer now." Helve swiftly left the room to greet his guests, leaving Laqrom to his errands.

The evening meal smelled savory and tasted delicious, although the entertainment and security personnel could not partake of it until the events ended. Laqrom had eaten a light snack to fend off hunger and at the same time avoid the lethargy imparted by a full stomach while on duty, yet his mouth watered now.

Na'thornep performed a wide variety of songs to please Helve's guests. For such a small informal party, the ballroom would have been too large. Here in the smaller dining hall, a long table was set along one side of the room. Everyone sat with their backs to the wall to observe the evening's entertainment. This arrangement allowed the servants easier access to each guest and also created sufficient space for performances. A couple or three could even get up and dance if they wished.

Laqrom had nothing to do — which suited him fine; he'd rather watch Na'thornep than these visitors anyway. During one of her songs he heard his name called. He turned to see Helve beckoning.

"A word with you, Laqrom," Helve whispered in his ear. "I promised to speak well of you to Na'thornep after she rested. And I did. She confided to me regarding the performance you gave her this afternoon. Humor me, and let my family and guests see it also."

Laqrom grew tense. "Milord, please. I prefer to display my abilities only if your safety is threatened. It is unwise for me to reveal my methods to potential enemies that I may meet in combat someday."

"So she said. She also asked me to press you with two arguments: one, you disarmed our guests, we are safe, and you have nothing else to do. Two, she has significantly altered the special music she composed for this evening, just for you. This is an honor you should respect. And if I might add a third argument, it won't hurt us to show our guests how intimidating you can be. I wouldn't mind seeing it myself."

Laqrom felt annoyed somewhat betrayed. That was a private moment! How could she put me in this position? He cast a fuming glare in Na'thornep's direction. She looked back at him with sparkling eyes and a radiant smile. His heart melted in an instant.

He stopped a passing serving girl. "Kindly bring me four of those slim candles, unlit please." She scurried off to fetch them.

Laqrom waited for Na'thornep to finish playing, and then walked into the center of the room. He faced the table. "Honored guests!" he announced. "His Lordship Helve Moonstar has requested that I assist our lovely entertainer in her next musical performance, which she composed especially for this occasion in your honor."

The servant returned with the candles. Laqrom took them and passed one each to Marko and his men.

"Lord Moonstar tells me that our beautiful bard composed this music only this afternoon, for the purpose of a swordplay demonstration that I shall provide. I have not heard the final version myself, yet I am expected to perform to it. Nevertheless, ladies and gentlemen, I am up to the challenge!" Helve and his guests applauded while Rober, Feluna, and Wylynd looked on with interest.

"Gentlemen, as part of this demonstration, you will hold your candle like this, about a hand's span from your nose. No, not yet. Wait until you see this blade catch fire." He drew out his left-hand scimitar briefly. "Yes, it burns, at my will. At that moment, hold up your candle. Pray, do not move it and you will not be harmed! I shall attempt to shorten your candle without you seeing me strike them. So that you may have confidence in your safety, I shall start out slowly in mock combat, and build up speed with the music, so that you may observe my ability to control my blades with precision."

He turned to address the bard. "Na'thornep," he began, then noticed how he could not help but voice her name with tenderness. She looked at him, amused. "Na'thornep," he tried again, more firmly. "Please stamp your foot three-quarters of a minute prior to the end, as before." He moved to the center of the room and faced his audience, ready to draw his blades.

Na'thornep commenced playing, and Laqrom began his kata movements, shaping an illusion of fighting several foes. He noticed that this music sounded different from the time before. Not only did her melody somehow intensify the illusion, but the music now fit him personally, touched his soul, moved him even more than the earlier composition did. His thought his blades developed minds of their own as they slashed and parried with increasing speed through the more difficult katas. This disconcerted him at first. But it wasn't a loss of control, he decided. She had induced in him a mental state where supreme control of his weapons came as naturally as breathing. Faster and faster his blades whipped through the air in time to her music. He was still marveling at this experience of effortless perfection when Na'thornep stamped her foot.

"Love and honor!" One scimitar ignited while the other blade screamed, and he flew into his dervish dance in a blur of motion as the music surged around him.

Mesmerized, the pirates nearly forgot about their candles, but Marko quickly raised his, and his men followed suit. None saw Laqrom's blades touch their candles. Each man saw only streaks of flame and silver while the candles shrunk before their widening eyes, slice by wafer-thin slice, as small disks of wax flew about the room. Such precise control, too fast for the eye to follow! Any lingering thought of challenging Laqrom in combat vanished from the minds of his audience.

Laqrom left two fingerbreadths of candle above each man's hand and resumed his violent dance, whirling about the room in a blur, fighting off masses of unseen enemies. All who watched the scene imagined they saw each opponent perish from multiple strikes as they fell. The music enhanced his movements even beyond his own belief; he remained in control, yet "control" required only that he visualize an opponent and then his deadly dance followed without further effort or thought.

As he cleared the room of invisible foes, Laqrom decided that the audience's attention should divert back to Na'thornep. A new horde of imaginary assailants descended upon Na'thornep as Laqrom whirled around her, letting none come near, felling body after unseen body in such a way that the arcing path of his flame illuminated her, framing her as the source and center of this music that filled all who heard with elation.

As she played her final notes, he leapt to the center of the room and knelt, fervid, victorious, breathing hard, face gazing skyward and arms outstretched, his aura enveloping all, his extinguished scimitars beckoning the audience into an ardent embrace.

Feluna swooned. Wylynd fanned herself. Rober, Helve, and the other men stared. Marko recovered first, clapping his hands vigorously. His men joined in, stood and cheered. The Moonstar family and his staff applauded with gusto, except for Romei and Feluna, for he was busy applying a wet cloth to her forehead.

After they sat down again, Marko regarded Laqrom thoughtfully. "I could use a fellow like you aboard my ship. What's Helve paying you? I'll double it."

After dinner, Helve and Marko negotiated, at times with humor but otherwise serious, on matters concerning commissions, payment delivery, performance requirements, expectations, and so forth. When Marko's quick temper created tense moments, his men would subconsciously reach for their absent weapons and then look nervously toward Laqrom, who simply smiled back. At these moments, Helve would call for a break and then Na'thornep, provocatively dressed to stir the loins of any man who gazed upon her for less than a minute, distracted them with a song to stir their hearts even more.

And so the evening went. Eventually Helve and his guests finished their business amicably. Marko would spend the night as a guest, but his three men retrieved their weapons and returned to their ship. He and the Moonstar family retired to their rooms, leaving their hired staff in the dining hall.

"Romei," called Laqrom. "I shall take my dinner in my room, please. I am still recovering from the show."

"Very well, sir. And quite a show it was, sir! I am privileged to have witnessed it."

"Please keep it to yourself, Romei. I do not wish to be known as an entertainment spectacle."

"I understand sir." He looked at Na'thornep packing her instruments. "Do you wish to be served in your room as well, madam?"

"No thank you Romei, I, uh, already ate sufficiently earlier." She cast a meaningful look at Laqrom, as if to say, remember we were to have dinner together?

He almost slapped himself. How could I forget? "Oh, Romei, kindly give me her portion too. The gods know I am hungry enough."

Romei saw the glances they exchanged, but kept his thoughts to himself. "Very good, master Laqrom. Then dinner for two will be waiting outside the entrance to your room, ready for when you finish your bath. We witnessed a most spectacular evening, thanks to both of you. We do not get many such evenings in this house, but things have picked up since you began visiting, madam. The staff is grateful." He left them alone in the dining hall.

"I shall see you for dinner after I freshen up. Do not fall asleep yet!" Na'thornep admonished in a whisper.

She left for her room, listening in rapt wonder to indescribable new music that played unbidden in her head.

Chapter 5. The Song of Songs.

Most people have heard those maxims, regardless of race or culture. However, a miniscule number actually know the true meaning: that all music in the universe, past, present and future, always exists at all times, no matter when it is brought into this world. All music, for all time, is accessible by anyone who has a supernatural ability to tune in to this universal source. Every song ever sung, or will be sung, originates from this source — and always has, and always will. That is the true meaning of those maxims.

Truly enlightened bards know this. They refer to this source by various names, such as the Song of Life, the World Song, or Universal Song, but most call it the Song of Songs. While not actually a song itself, the Song of Songs embodies all music for all time. A serious composer spends his life striving to glean small cross-sections of music from the vast, multidimensional space of the Song. A true bard, supernaturally tuned to this Universal Song, hears grand parts of it that his mind cannot comprehend. Some go mad from the exposure. Other bards of sufficient talent find it to be a source of new music, but not a source that readily gives up melodies a bard can use.

Even the most in-tune and enlightened bard can convey to others only a tiny portion of the music he hears. Cultural biases within finite minds create powerful filters, causing most music heard from the Song of Songs to be forever lost. Bards living in the magical times of past millennia often heard indescribable music in their minds, but the culture and knowledge of their time prevented them from ever bringing that music into the world. Often, the music didn't fit the standards that defined "music" of the time: Bards of the distant past regarded a good composition as something that could be performed by at most five or six people at once, and — except for those repetitive, long, rhythmic pieces played during ceremonies or battles — lasted only a few minutes, just enough to induce breathlessness in any who cared to dance to it.

Those bards of ancient times also failed to retain music from the Universal Song because they had no concept of a "symphony." While they loved what they heard, they felt a heartbreaking helplessness in knowing they could never perform a symphony, for such music required unfathomable coordination between a mind-boggling number of musicians and vocalists simultaneously, as well as a formal standardized method of communicating music in writing to those performers — neither of which existed then.

Such was the case with the music that completely preoccupied Na'thornep's mind as she walked from the dining hall to her room. The sound of it filled her with joy, and she ached with her failure to conceive how it might ever be performed. Far too many musicians playing all at once, she thought. Such a huge number of people singing. Impossible to communicate to so many performers how to play so many complex and different parts! No one could coordinate such a thing. And I hear voices singing in a language unknown; I would never glean its meaning.

Several millennia would pass before another composer, already deaf, heard in his mind what Na'thornep had heard long before, and recorded it using the written method available to him. Even in his time, after composing eight symphonies, this ninth one created controversy; his contemporaries considered the piece impossible to perform. He never heard it with his own ears although he lived to see its debut. Ludwig Van Beethoven died three years after the performance of his greatest work.

Ah! Would that I could bring such music into this world, Na'thornep thought mournfully as she entered her room and undressed for her bath.

Not for the first time, she thought of the advantages of working with others rather than alone, the better to produce music that approached such heights. Her thoughts of partnerships triggered a mental image of Laqrom earlier that day, kneeling before her with arms outstretched, beckoning her to a tender embrace.

As she beheld him in her mind, she felt her nipples stiffen and her nether area wetten. Very well, that settles it! Regardless of his age, I desire him I have desired no other man in many years. He certainly looks at me with longing, but somehow differently than other men. We may as well become lovers, she sighed as she bathed herself.

Laqrom had no choice in the matter. Males never do, no matter what they might like to believe. The female determines the direction of a relationship. Not that I think he'd mind in my case, Na'thornep chuckled.

Then she stopped herself. I really know nothing about him! Has he a woman already? Is he betrothed? What might his background be? Perhaps I should try Helve's way of learning about people from their own mouths, as he once interviewed me. Helve seems to think highly of him, so perhaps that will suffice for me? No, she decided. At worst, he'll consent to a performance with me now and then.

But at best, we could... hm, when was my last moon flow? Ah, yes, I should be safe. But just in case... her thought trailed off as she reached into her haversack for the small packet of pennyroyal* she kept for such situations. She placed the herb in her cup and poured hot water over it. She let the tea steep and cool for a few minutes, then drank it, chewing and swallowing the leaves in the cup. While her race couldn't cross-breed with humans, she suspected that the distant half-breed in her family tree might create a risk. After all, other traits from that ancestor had chosen to manifest themselves in her, much to the surprise of her clan.

Preparations complete, she dressed and made for the door, then paused in thought. If by chance I am away all night, I should make this room appear as if I slept here and arose early, lest a gossipy servant gets ideas in her head! So she rolled about on the bed, pulling and crumpling the sheets. As a final touch, she emptied her bowels into the chamberpot.

Satisfied, she made her way to Laqrom's room, the glorious sounds from the Song of Songs still echoing through her mind.

Chapter 6. Awakening.

She entered, noticing he had prepared for this meeting also. He had not only bathed, but also shaved the whiskers from his face, and wore fresh, loose-fitting comfortable clothes. He stood and bowed. "Na'thornep, thank you for a most wonderful gift."

"Why, your music. Lord Moonstar informed me you composed it especially for my dance. While I'm consternated at being bamboozled into performing for everyone, I admit that I would have had it no other way. Again, you inspired me to new heights. For that I thank you; I shall treasure it always. Please, sit down. Eat."

She sat and took a bite. "I apologize for conspiring with Helve to set you up like that. Such manipulation comes naturally to me. But please believe me, what you showed me in private affected me so, my music seemed to modify itself of its own accord, to match the vision that you left in my mind. You made it better than the original. I could not bear to play it without you accompanying me, and I had no time to convince you by playing the revised piece for you first."

"Actually, the arguments Helve spoke left me unmoved." Laqrom forced himself to look at her, finding it easier to speak when he lost himself gazing into her deep violet eyes. "It was the power of your smile from across the room that did it. I could not find the strength to refuse. And I am glad of that."

Na'thornep clamped down on the desire welling up inside her, and altered the subject. First things first. "Laqrom, you assented to perform with me once in a while. Before we work together, I would hear about you from your lips, in the manner that Lord Moonstar required of me when I first performed for his family, and which he no doubt required of you too."

So, while they ate their dinner, Laqrom told her his story, similar to the way he told Helve. At Na'thornep's urging, he went into detail about past adventures in far lands, for Na'thornep pursued that occupation also, and she liked hearing about the exploits of others because such stories often inspired new songs.

"Laqrom, in all this, I hear no mention of the woman who stands at your side. How does she figure in your life?"

"Not yet," said Laqrom, carefully. Na'thornep gave no sign of her leaping heart, but her eyes sparkled.

He turned her question back at her. "And what of you? Surely a woman so talented and beautiful has found a man to honor with her hand?"

"None for me, either," admitted Na'thornep. Neither could think of words to say at the moment. In awkward silence they each finished the last bite of their meal and washed it down with the last of their wine.

Finally he said, "Na'thornep, you now have me at a disadvantage. Might you tell me your story? For example, Helve mentioned you are older than you look. To be honest, you look younger than me, and you look fully human, only child-size. I have never beheld a more beautiful woman. You cannot be old."

Oh, no, she thought. This may ruin everything. "So, Helve mentioned my age, did he?" Her eyes smoldered with anger.

"He did not state a number," Laqrom replied hastily, "just that your age exceeds mine. He did this only to set my mind at ease, so I could concentrate on my job. He knew how distracting you are to me. I had seen you perform in the past, Na'thornep. You have haunted my thoughts, day and night. So Helve helped me, with a few brief words to set my mind in proper perspective. Oddly, meeting you later somehow cleared my mind further, although I find you now more enchanting than before."

She took a deep breath while her anger subsided. "Laqrom, I am 72 years old. I am not human, although I may appear so. You would have known had you seen my ears" — she swept back one side of her dark hair, revealing a dainty, but clearly not human, pointed ear — "but my hair conceals them. No human shares my skin shading either. Hold a candle to one side of my face and look close."

He did so. At first he could only admire her perfect, naturally tan, silk-smooth skin. Then, closer inspection drew his attention to those places on her face where the candlelight glanced off at a grazing angle, forming small areas of glare that shone as no other skin. "I see faint, subtle rainbow colors," he said in wonder. Her skin not only reflected the glare, but slightly diffracted it, somehow, affecting any observer's perception at a subconscious level, like visual pheromones. "What origin are you, then?"

"My people are known as 'chaos gnomes' although my own lineage has a touch of fey and elven blood. Evidently, when I was conceived, specific physical traits of all three races combined in a rare and unique way to make me appear as I am. I think my profession has benefited from the fact that many races find me irresistibly attractive. Humans see a child-sized woman who fits human ideals of feminine perfection. Elves look at me and see their own beauty and grace, in spite of my gnomish size. Various exotic creatures recognize and appreciate the fey that somehow shines through all parts of me. Ironically, other gnomes find my appearance merely interesting," she laughed ruefully. "To them, I have the wrong proportions."

"Na'thornep, I succumb to your charms as any other man. But after performing together and meeting you in person, I find I genuinely like you too, and I treasure the time I spend with you. I hope that makes a difference in your eyes. You appear so young, yet few humans reach your age! I must seem an immature child to you." He looked down at his lap.

The human male ego is so fragile, she reflected. What can I say? Then an inspiration came to her. She did a quick calculation in her head. Yes, it worked out.

"Laqrom," she said gently. "Look at it this way. If you express our ages as a proportion of our natural life spans, you are older than me.* At 28, you have lived more of your life than I at 72 have lived mine."

He brightened a bit. She continued, "I admit that humans seldom interest me. But not in your case. I find you have much that I admire, Laqrom, and I find I enjoy your company as well."

That pleased him. "I am honored. Tell me, a bard like you must go off adventuring to get fodder for songs, no? Tell me of the quests and causes you pursued."

She told him stories of her adventures — captivating him as only a bard can — about a quest to free an heir to a small outlying kingdom from the clutches of a minor demon and its minions, a mission in the distant city of Ptolus to prevent a horrible evil from consuming the world, and other interesting encounters along her journey to Waterdeep. Laqrom felt like crying out in agony each time Na'thornep described a near-death incident, thinking, how I am thankful that she survived for us to meet!

When she finished her tales, he said, "You take big chances for one who does not fight."

"I have worked with good teams. They watch my back, and I make them better at what they do, similar to your abilities as a Marshal."

He changed the subject. "The sound of your name almost rolls off the tongue, yet the lips must interrupt it at the last syllable. 'Na'thornep.' How came your parents to name you thus?"

"They didn't, they named me differently. Names have great significance to gnomes, so we bear many of them. My parents call me one name. My siblings another name, depending on their ages. Yet another name I used with my childhood friends.

"Most in my clan gravitate toward sorcery as a profession, but not me. Besides myself, we know of just one other bard in my family tree, from a remote and ancient time. He was a bard of such legendary talent that gnomes tell stories of him to this day, and still sing his songs. And his name was Na'thornep." She paused to watch Laqrom's eyes widen with interest.

She continued: "When my musical ability bloomed as a child, I took his name as a stage name. Precocious and cocky was I, but the elders felt that, in time, I could be worthy of the Na'thornep of legend, so the name stuck, and I have used it most of my life. I try my utmost to honor the name of my ancestor each time I perform. Even now, after achieving renown of my own, I worry that I don't quite live up to my namesake. I am driven to constant improvement."

"So am I, but only because improving now means less effort later," Laqrom chuckled. "What name should I call you, then? As a friend?"

It is said that a man knows, or decides, whether he loves a woman within 20 minutes of meeting her, on average; the time differs for every man. Laqrom, for example, required about an hour of close interaction with a woman he had yet to be certain about. Had he kept a journal, he would have logged that amount of time with Na'thornep by now. He recalled his words to Helve the day before: When mind, heart, and loins all reach their decision, then I shall know. He realized that sometime during this conversation, all three had decided, and all agreed: Laqrom loved her.

Similar wisdom states that women require more time than men to fall in love. Na'thornep considered Laqrom an attractive fellow and a potential lover, but nothing more at the moment. Laqrom subconscious mind knew this, but contented itself to wait.

He almost missed her answer to his question. "Oh, I'm accustomed to 'Na'thornep.'" she was saying. "Now that you know its meaning to me, you honor me more by calling me that. Few know the story behind my name. Helve does, because he drew it out of me during my initial interview. When the time comes, you, Laqrom, will think of a name for me, and call me that."

There are many names I would call you, Laqrom thought. Darling. Honey. Luscious lovely little lyrist. He shook his head to dislodge the thought. Aloud, he said "I shall continue calling you Na'thornep. Now that we know each other, how and where do you want to arrange practicing together in private?"

Na'thornep told herself, if I shall ever act boldly, do it now! "Before we go into that, please do me one favor. Would you kneel so that you are closer to my height?" Laqrom did so, casting a questioning look at her. She climbed down from her chair and stood about three strides from him.

"Good, now strike that pose with which you ended your dance, from our first time together. I simply must see it again."

"I need my weapons." He got up to retrieve them, then bent to one knee before her, and spread his scimitars wide.

She regarded him thoughtfully. Not quite right. Hmm.... "You had some sort of glow about you then, possibly the aura you told me about, yes? And look into my eyes the way you did then."

Laqrom's aura had dismissed itself earlier when he dozed off waiting for her arrival. He closed his eyes to concentrate, and after several seconds his aura lit up invisibly around him, enveloping Na'thornep. Then, on one knee, scimitar in each hand, arms wide in a welcoming embrace, he looked at her, pouring all his love into his gaze, losing himself in the deep violet pools of her eyes.

She felt a wave of desire surge within her. This time, I shan't restrain myself!

She surrendered to her urges. She rushed to him with abandon, held him tightly, buried her face in his neck and kissed him. "I wanted to do this the first time," she whispered, and kissed him again.

Laqrom, still on one knee, had frozen in shock. In his mind he had played repeated fantasies similar to this, but the reality of her embrace took him completely by surprise.

Her third kiss restored him. "So did I," he gasped. He set down his weapons and wrapped his muscular arms around her small voluptuous form, returning her embrace, kissing her shoulder, her neck, her cheek, until finally their lips met with a passion that blinded them both to the world outside.

They ran their hands over each other, each reveling in the feel of the other's contours under their clothes. His hands found her buttocks, and he stood, lifting her as she wrapped herself around him, continuing to kiss the exposed areas of his skin, on his neck and face, while he returned her kisses and carried her to the bed.

Frantically, each tore at the other's clothing, which only resulted in frustrating delay. They laughed and undid their own buttons and straps, after which they gently undressed each other, teasing newly-exposed skin with kisses as each piece of clothing came off.

* Chronicler's note:

No further details about the Gnomish Kama Sutra are available. However, the Book of Erotic Fantasy has this to say about the sexual nature of gnomes:

Gnomes like sex. It's an opportunity to have fun, play with toys, and relax. They tend toward homospecies relationships, bisexuality and group sex. For most gnomes, sharing in sex is an enjoyable pastime, with no more commitment or formality than sharing a meal together.

Gnomes have created the most intricate sex toys and manuals including the highly sought after, and often translated, Gnomish Kama Sutra.

Gnomes are adventurous and engaging lovers, willing to try almost anything once just to see what it's like ... The gnomish sense of humor is alive and well in the bedroom — mixing jokes, pranks and laughter with good, hearty intercourse. Foreplay is the key in gnomish sexuality, with each partner going to elaborate extremes to arouse the other before the actual act of sex occurs. Gnomes reach sexual maturity between the ages of 40 and 50 years.

Gnomes have a strong aversion to painful sex or domination, and have difficult time seeing the connection between pain and pleasure. Those who are drawn to this sort of sexuality are often shunned and outcast by the rest of the community.

Laqrom must have had a very good time, indeed!

For two hours, they expended their pent-up passions in vigorous lovemaking. In the span of years equal to a human lifetime, Na'thornep had learned much from the Gnomish Kama Sutra, a rare, sought-after manual banned in most societies.* She had acquired an amazing array techniques and positions that prolonged and intensified their pleasure. Not just the bed, but other pieces of furniture in the room saw use that night. Laqrom happily let her greater experience guide them, for he was learning much from her that he never dreamed was possible to know.

Eventually, the raging fire of their passion subsided to a manageable smoldering flame, yet still ready to ignite again later. They collapsed together in bed, hoping the noises of their romp hadn't woken anyone else in the house.

Nothing could prepare them for the strange and wonderful gift brought on by their activities; a gift that would manifest itself in the next few minutes.

Chapter 7. Love's surprising gift...

Laqrom lay on his back, completely spent, while Na'thornep lay naked on her stomach atop him, her body draped over his torso, much the way a leopard sleeps on a tree branch — head resting on her hands, elbows and knees hanging down on either side.

Laqrom, half asleep, thought he heard a request: Run your fingers up and down my back.

You seemed awake — the thought came unbidden to his head. Did he just tell himself that? No matter. He stroked her lightly. Like this, darling?

No, scratch a bit with your fingernails. It catches itches lurking under my skin that I cannot detect until you pass over them. Yes, like that!

Laqrom stopped. She lifted her head slightly from his chest and looked at him. What's the matter?

Laqrom stared. I must be imagining a conversation in my mind. He pulled her head back down to him while pulling the bedcover over her.

The question came, Why did you stop? — but he had no idea why he would ask this of himself, for he already knew the answer. She reached up to trace the contours of his face. I was confused for a moment, he told himself, as Na'thornep's fingers passed over his mouth.

"Your lips aren't moving!" she said aloud. Laqrom heard it twice, a fraction of a second apart, first in his mind, then in his ears.

Was I hearing your thoughts? Laqrom wondered. They looked at each other in silence, listening, but each hearing nothing more. Perhaps a magical link had severed. Finally Laqrom said, "Darling, lie back down so I can scratch your back some more." She heard it in her ears only, this time. She lay back down against him, snuggling her face into his chest as he stroked her back.

You hear my thoughts, Na'thornep. And I am mistaking yours for mine. Do you hear my voice?

No, voiceless. It appears our thoughts have intermingled, as if each of us is thinking for both.

Well — I think we each sensed that, before this. But no, just surface thoughts, or subvocalized words.

She sat up again and looked at him. The link broke. Neither heard the other. She lay back down again.

Me, too. It seems we need full body contact to maintain this connection. I certainly don't mind.

After experiencing this connection we have, how could I possibly have a relationship with any other?

They held each other tightly again, each trying to drive the emotions they felt into the other, but managing only to transmit the thought: I love you!

I love a man who is so in tune with me that we hear our thoughts together, and I shall soon lose him!

Na'thornep, you will not lose me! If you continue taking risks as you have, I may lose you first. You are defenseless, should you become separated from your party in the Undermountain. I shall worry for you every time you go off on an adventurous quest.

That's different, Laqrom. You losing me through accident is only a possibility. My losing you is a certainty! If you are not killed first, you will die of old age in another, what, 40 years? Practically an eye-blink in my lifetime. No, Laqrom, I shall suffer the loss. Why must a man like you choose such a dangerous profession? Your human life is short enough and precious enough already!

Na'thornep, a similar argument applies to you. Your longer life span is far more precious because it is longer. Such a life should not be squandered with needless risks. However, we both take risks, probably because without them, life would be uninteresting. And an uninteresting life has little value, don't you think?

He realized that logical argument wouldn't help. Her shoulders shook as she wept, I shall never meet another like you.

He pulled her up so her face met his, and kissed her. She needed more than his voiceless thoughts, so he spoke aloud, tenderly.

"Na'thornep my love, be gentle with yourself. You will give me a lifetime of happiness. If I could spare you the sorrow of outliving me, I would. Every event in our past has guided us to this moment, here, now, together. So take comfort in the thought that the universe still unfolds as it should. We cannot know what fate has planned for us. Therefore be at peace. Let us strive to enjoy what time we have. The world is still a beautiful place."

She hugged him tightly and sniffled. You could be a bard, Laqrom. You have poetic thoughts.

Normally, no. I just heard it in my head, like the lyrics to a song, and passed it on to you.

She did. He kissed her back. And again and again they exchanged kisses, with mounting passion. I love you! I love you!

They made love again, this time slowly, taking their time, enjoying the novelty of communicating while their mouths were otherwise occupied tasting and kissing. This time, the intensity of their pleasure amplified manyfold, eventually reaching unbelievable heights beyond all their experience.

Their simultaneous climax ripped their spirits from their bodies in a primal scream. They both fainted, unconscious.

Chapter 8. ...that keeps giving.

When Laqrom came to, he thought he heard glorious music in the background of his mind.

Na'thornep lay atop him as before, recovering from her faint. The music grew louder in Laqrom's mind as she regained consciousness. The music moved his soul like nothing he had ever heard. What is this music?

Laqrom tried to hum a few bars of the dominant theme. Na'thornep recognized it. Why, Laqrom, that is a part of me you hear, what bards call the Song of Songs!

Most of the time. I was born to be a bard, Laqrom. A few other bards can hear this too. We get much inspiration from the Song of Songs, when it gives up a useful melody. Mostly we live in constant frustration that much of it is too beautiful or too complex to convey to the world outside our heads. Occasionally the melody becomes simple enough that we can bring it out. But not this which we hear right now. Even other bards who hear this cannot share it with one another. I am so happy to share it with you!

She glowed with joy. Laqrom basked in it and returned the joy he felt, enhanced by the music he heard from Na'thornep. She in turn felt greater joy due to his, and him to hers, and so on in a positive feedback loop until both were completely consumed by happiness.

Laqrom willed himself to calm down. It seems, each time we make love, we delve deeper than just surface thoughts. Na'thornep, get off me for a moment, lie by my side.

Earlier that night, communicating subvocalized thoughts had required full-body contact. Now, such communication required only a touch. Full-body contact, however, resulted in complete mingling of their psyches at all levels. Neither Laqrom nor Na'thornep had ever experienced another person so intimately, down to their deepest thoughts, passions, and fears. Fully touching, their love held no uncertainty, no unanswered questions about their feelings; with spirits so intertwined that two became one, any doubts lurking in deep shadows of their minds were washed clean away by the light of their combined love.

She rolled off him toward the side of the bed. Breaking physical contact severed the link completely, isolating Laqrom from Na'thornep in utter silence. They found the isolation disturbing. They touched hands quickly.

This must be why we fainted. Your pleasure fed my pleasure, and mine fed yours, until our minds were overwhelmed.

A mischievous thought came to her. She asked, Want to make love again, and see what happens next? Are you 'up' for it? she laughed as she felt between his legs.

Na'thornep, you have worn me out! As a bard would say, my instrument is out of tune. And I know your feelings now; you're exhausted too, and sore, if I'm not mistaken! No, we shall wait until we have sufficient rest, so we can do each other justice.

All right, my love. I wait with anticipation. Last time, we only fainted. Pray the next time doesn't kill us! She snuggled happily against him and fell asleep within seconds.

Laqrom thought as he drifted off, I believe our bond will grow stronger each time, to the point where we won't even require touch to communicate. He yawned, hugged Na'thornep closer to him, and fell asleep listening to her dreams, which soon became their dreams, shared as one.

They slept until well past dawn in a loving embrace, each bathed by the other's radiance.

Epilogue.

As the sun began to set, the Storyteller stood on a tree stump and called out to his audience:

Attend this tale of the most beautiful bard and her warrior lover, the one and only Na'thornep and Laqrom! Their love had such joy as none of us can ever hope to experience, yet their tale is tragic — for Na'thornep would be doomed to outlive the love of her life. She required the remainder of her life to recover from the sorrow of her loss.

But fear not, friends. I shall not cause you sadness. I am here to tell you the joyful parts of their story.

As his audience gathered around him, he began: Within a week of arriving in Waterdeep, Na'thornep's legendary virtuoso performances caught the attention of a nobleman, Helve Moonstar....

And so he started his tale while the audience listened in rapt attention. The story lasted until full darkness fell. Then he concluded:

And that, friends, is how they found lasting love, not the fleeting passion that you might expect when it appears in the span of half a day! In a short time, their bond grew so powerful that they could communicate over great distances without touching! Knowing that love can bestow such a gift feeds our own hopeful dreams of achieving such a bond ourselves, with love of our own!

Na'thornep could have spared herself certain and devastating heartbreak by ending the relationship, but she bonded herself to him with eyes open to the tragedy that they both knew would follow, brought on by their vastly different life spans. But even in the sorrowful end, she had no regrets, for their love was fulfilling, a source of joy to both, and it burned with an intensity that outshone any love you and I could know. There is a lesson in courage here that I shall leave you to ponder.

For his part, Laqrom could not bear to see Na'thornep die prematurely, so he set aside sufficient gold to resurrect her should she meet an untimely death. To this they both agreed, although she knew that she would always suffer the final loss, because Laqrom could never be resurrected after he lived out his short life.

Nevertheless, they did not sadden themselves by dwelling on the inevitable. Much happiness filled their lives.

Let us now have a moment of silence, and pray that these lovers are together in the afterlife or perhaps reincarnated together again here. Na'thornep deserves it, because her music gave us joy; she was beloved by us all. Laqrom deserves it, for he gave to Na'thornep a happiness she could never know without him.

I leave you with the poetic words Laqrom heard in his mind during that first night while comforting Na'thornep. Although he was no poet, their spiritual bond allowed him to hear these words again in their entirety, and record them. He and Na'thornep lived by these principles, and they passed them to their descendents.

Friends, if you desire happiness, then desire the words of Laqrom; for they will serve you well. I shall tell them to you now. Pray, heed them!

The Storyteller took a deep breath and began to recite with great care, as if bestowing a new treasure on the audience with each precious word that left his lips:

Finished, the Storyteller calmly looked over his audience with the deep violet eyes he inherited from his ancestors, his faintly iridescent skin glinting subliminal hints of rainbow in the dim firelight. Then he stepped down from the tree stump and vanished into the darkness.

The end.

End notes.

Links in boldface go to pages on this site; all other links are external.

The pictures

The pictures at the top of this page resemble Laqrom and Na'thornep. Imagine him human-sized at 1.7 meters tall, and her gnome-sized at only 1 meter tall (5'7" and 3'4" respectively).

The picture of Na'thornep inspired her creation, which led eventually to this story. It's actually a picture of Makri from the cover of the U.S. release of Martin Scott's novel Thraxas. Makri is a beautiful former gladiator with orc, elf, and human ancestry; she's strong, intelligent, and temperamental, yet she has her weaknesses. Her picture, personality, and mixed-heritage beauty inspired much of Na'thornep. In spite of the chainmail bikini that Na'thornep doesn't wear, this is the only picture of Makri ever made (among many examples) that resembles Na'thornep.
I cropped the picture of Laqrom from a larger painting of a Justicator from the online art gallery of Monster Manual III. Before I even read the description, I thought instantly, "That is Na'thornep's lover!" — minus the black wings and huge sword, of course, and Laqrom wears lightweight darkleaf armor, not heavy plate. But his face, hair, and armor coloring are perfect.

Chapter 2

The book City of Splendors: Waterdeep provides scant information about the personalities of the Moonstar family members, so these evolved naturally while writing the story. I envisioned Helve Moonstar as a genuinely companionable nobleman who'd get along equally well among other nobles or in a tavern full of commoners, many of whom would regard him as a good drinking buddy. My portrayal of Feluna is likely inaccurate; she's actually an ethereally beautiful werecat possessing some magical powers; she likely behaves with more intelligence and seriousness than she does in this story. Romei and Magnolia are my invention, and I could only guess at the number of security personnel employed at House Moonstar.

Chapter 3

The Japanese word kata is a term used in martial arts such as karate. A kata consists of a sequence of positions and movements that emphasize precision and control. To an observer, a kata looks like formalized mock combat — or even a combat-dance.

Chapters 7 – 8

My distant memory of a scene from the 1940 science fiction novel Slan by A. E. Van Vogt inspired the telepathic love bond that forms between Na'thornep and Laqrom, except the characters in that book are already naturally telepathic. For such old SF, Slan remains enjoyable even today.

D&D game details:

Na'thornep

(character sheet) (music)

The name Na'thornep arose from combining Na'toth and Nyarlathotep (Narn ambassador's aide from the TV show Babylon 5 and H.P. Lovecraft's god-being). Somehow the name sounded cute, to me, and she is a very cute and adorable bard.

I created Na'thornep as a 7th level bard after Pat, my first-ever D&D character, was killed by a finger of death cast by Aliaster Vladaam during the Banewarrens campaign. As a beginner, I made many mistakes creating Pat which I resolved to rectify. I had also just finished reading Thraxas, in which the character Makri inspired much of Na'thornep's personality and beauty, as described above. Na'thornep completed the Banewarrens quest as a 10th-level bard, whereupon she traveled to Waterdeep to begin a series of adventures in the Undermountain. She quickly grew enamored with Waterdeep and its citizens adored her performances. Within days, her talent and fame caught the attention of Helve Moonstar, who invited her to perform privately for his family, and made an offer to her party concerning a dangerous quest of his own.

When Na'thornep meets Laqrom, she is an 11th-level bard who starts out with ridiculously high abilities (+15 ability modifier total at level 1, using a "2nd-highest-of-4d20" method of rolling ability scores). She has a high Bluff skill for synergy with Diplomacy, but never uses Bluff as a matter of principle. She also cannot fight with weapons; instead she concentrates on diplomacy and high-powered songs to enable those around her to work at a level higher than normal. Few of her spells inflict damage; instead, most of her spellcasting aids the party or hinders enemies in some way. One of her combat instruments is a masterwork lute called "Instrument of the Winds" which can summon a Large Air Elemental to fight for her once/day, and which also allows her to perform her songs at one bard level higher. The other combat instrument is a Horn of Stunning Goodness, which is a Horn of Goodness that she modified to add a 2/day sonic stun capability with a save DC that grows with perform ranks. Usually she plays the horn normally, increasing her allies' morale with her Song of Courage during the first round of combat. Her Lingering Song feat allows her to overlap the effects of multiple songs such as Inspire Courage, Inspire Greatness, and Haunting Melody (a song obtained from a feat); all three together are a powerful combination of bardic music that strengthens the party and weakens enemies. Haunting Melody combined with the Requiem feat helps her weaken undead enemies.

Although Na'thornep has an extremely erotic air about her, she has none of the abilities, classes, skills, feats, spells, or wondrous items described in the Book of Erotic Fantasy.

Laqrom

(character sheet)

While reading the description of a Justicator, I was somehow reminded of the god Crom from Conan the Barbarian; but to me "Laqrom" sounded like a better name for a human dancer-fighter.

Laqrom's mother is aasimar; his father is human. An aasimar is at most ¼ Celestial, being the product of a half-celestial and human. After several generations of breeding with humans, some aasimar traits fade and some human traits emerge. Such is the case with Laqrom, who doesn't know his own heritage — he believes himself human. I refer to his race as a Faintblood Aasimar.

The Marshal is a base fighting class. The Marshal, his auras, and other abilities are described on page 11 of the Miniatures Handbook. The Dervish is a prestige fighting class, capable of a whirling dance that allows attacks on multiple opponents. The Dervish is described on page 25 of Complete Warrior.

When Laqrom meets Na'thornep, he is a Fighter 2 / Marshal 5 / Dervish 4 who starts out with somewhat above-average abilities (ability dice modifier total +8, using the traditional "4d6-drop-lowest" method of rolling ability scores). After Na'thornep reaches Bard 12, she must leave her adventuring party (either pregnancy or death forces her to do so), and with some misgivings, Laqrom replaces her. Laqrom's 5 marshal class levels allow him to project 1 major and 1 minor aura simultaneously, and he can choose between 2 major and 3 minor auras as a swift action. His auras affect his allies in a similar fashion as bardic music, making Laqrom a compatible replacement for a bard. One of his minor auras enhances his Diplomacy bonus almost to that of Na'thornep's in combat, so he can assume her duties as negotiator for the party after she departs. Although he lacks all bardic knowledge and magic, he compensates with his fighting ability. Laqrom can fight with 2 weapons with a -2 penalty to his attack bonus, or at his normal bonus using 1 weapon. His Improved Critical feat causes his scimitars to threaten critical hits on d20 rolls as low as 15.