68Chapter Nine: Do Not Touch
A/N: Why in the world is it so hard to write this?
Also, I'm sorry for the delay and hope you guys can forgive me. :(
According to Oceanus, they were less than a day's travel from their destination—Hokiide's tower, with Hokiide being a wizard of some renown despite living out in the wilderness. There didn't seem to be any reason for it—according to some of what Oceanus and Riyaz had mentioned (but mostly the former), wizards tended to be respected and even feared in cities, because of their power as well as their intelligence. When Altaïr asked about how it worked for priests and druids, however, neither of them answered.
Nightfall was, for lack of a better word, tense. They'd left the forest behind a few days ago, traveling out into grassland and scrub until they eventually reached the base of what wasn't so much a mountain range as a collection of particularly steep hills. Here, any unwary step could send one or all of them into a viper's nest or something equally terrible. When Oceanus stumbled on a rock and ended up sliding halfway into the next valley, where Altaïr would get his first look at giantkin.
The creatures were huge—three or four times the height of a man and wider by far, covered in hair and with faces that didn't so much resemble humans as a combination of human and ape, wielding clubs as thick as tree trunks.
Thankfully, there were only four of the creatures and Riyaz killed two with an opening volley of lightning, with Altaïr, Oceanus, and Ash splitting the last two between them, but the experience was a stark reminder of just how out of place the Assassin was in this world. Neither the priest nor the druid seemed to find anything odd about fighting monsters so much larger than they were—though, granted, Altaïr was sure that if Riyaz had transformed into a dragon the beasts would have run away in terror. For his part, Altaïr kept silent on the affair as long as his two companions did.
But at night, when it was his turn to take watch—with Ash, because Oceanus insisted that they should have paired watches to keep from being ambushed and apparently Ash counted as a partner—Altaïr wondered.
And when he was sure no one would be awake, and that there was no way the device would arouse suspicion in anyone nearby, he examined the Piece of Eden. Ash only pushed his nose into Altaïr's side whenever the Assassin tested the Piece, staring at the orb with his one good eye.
He wasn't sure exactly how Al Mualim had managed to use the orb the way he had. Or if the effects could be duplicated. But there should be a way… If the Piece of Eden was a weapon, there was no reason it would not function the same way in another's hand, assuming the same level of skill applied.
The orb glowed gently, taunting him in the dying firelight. Ash made a whining noise, still staring at the device so avidly that Altaïr could see the glow of the light reflected in his eye.
Oceanus rolled over, snoring softly.
Altaïr turned the Piece of Eden over in his hands, looking for something…a switch, a trigger of some sort? There had to be something Al Mualim had discovered to make the device work for him.
Then the orb's glow flickered.
That was all the warning he received before he felt blinding pain, nearly unbearable, as the Apple tore his mind wide open.
Four thousand years.
Three thousand.
Two.
Now.
A man and a woman, running across an empty courtyard. Danger, everywhere. In, through the door, where a blacksmith's forge has been constructed ten times over, where men and women labor tirelessly among the vats of molten iron.
Climbing, wildly, because the others will never turn against the masters though the temptation would be there. The masters were never far behind, or truly blind, because they lounged among the gardens in the sun, while their slaves toiled in the heat and dark below. A tower, scaled effortlessly.
Sun, bright and harsh. A mountain in the distance, beautiful and powerful. The man nods, holding his hand out to his companion.
And in hers, there is the Piece. The Apple.
Another time, another place. Cities larger than Acre and Jerusalem, ringed by man-made rivers and studded with buildings the Christians favored, with a cross at the apex. A boy with a scar on his lip, screaming as bodies fell from a platform so terribly familiar—public hanging.
A story of rage and pain, of chasing a hooded monster. Seeking, never certain, only driven by a need to know.
A ring, stone and patterned, and an old man who hates and fears but knows nothing. Who wields an artifact of power—a staff, the Staff—that can bleed a man's soul. A fight. A victory, hollow and tired, but a vision.
A woman of light. A prophecy for ears not his own.
Another man, another time. Fear and hate, prisoners and secrets. Buildings so different, pillars of steel and clear glass. A man in white, demanding answers where none exist.
A mind fragmented and terrified in a black void.
An old man, seeking the past.
A wild vision. The world, screaming in agony as the light tears it apart. The earth splits. The sea roars. The people die.
"Altaïr!"
Blackness.
Altaïr found himself lying down, with all three of his companions nearby. Oceanus's hands pinned his shoulders to the ground and the priest looked like he'd just gotten the scare of his life. Riyaz had the Apple in hand. It had stopped glowing quite so brightly, now less like firelight and more like the dull reflected glow in Ash's eye.
"Altaïr, what happened?" Oceanus asked, releasing him and sitting back, staring. There was a note of concern in his voice. "You were…you looked possessed. Just for a moment, but…well, we were worried you would bite through your tongue and choke on blood."
"And what does this have to do with it?" Riyaz asked, tapping the side of the Piece of Eden gently. To the Assassin's surprise, it didn't activate.
"I do not know." Altaïr said, not even sure what he was trying to respond to. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "The Piece of Eden…I should have known it would not give up its secrets so easily…"
"This thing?" Oceanus indicated the orb and Altaïr nodded. "Zahara just said it was a magical archive, not a weapon."
"Clearly, she lied or was misinformed." Riyaz said, his voice flat.
"It is more than that." Altaïr admitted. Al Mualim's betrayal was still fresh in his mind after everything. "I have seen it bend men's minds to the will of its user—dozens of them. It could…summon specters of a man's past, give them form, and set them on another." He wasn't quite sure how to explain the appearance of the Templar masters he'd killed, even if they had been assassins twisted into those forms. "And I once saw…a man…make copies of himself, all real to me even though they left no bodies behind."
Oceanus and Riyaz exchanged significant looks.
After a while, the priest said carefully, "Are you all right, here?" He tapped his forehead.
"I am not going mad." Altaïr replied crossly.
"That is not what I meant." Oceanus replied, equally annoyed. "Magic devices—the kind that can pull memories out of your mind, like this one—tend to leave scars inside your head."
At Altaïr's blank expression, Riyaz put in quietly, "If it did cause harm, you will know. Forcing a person's mind open…can destroy them. You were fortunate."
"Try not to do it again." Oceanus mumbled, looking away.
"You do not need to treat me like a child, either of you." Altaïr retorted, though he understood their worry. Al Mualim went mad, in a way. Mad with power, though, not descending into gibbering insanity like the lepers Altaïr had encountered. He sighed. "Though I understand."
"It is...a common problem, where we live." Oceanus explained with difficulty. "There are those that use magic to torture their enemies, and our village occasionally looks after those who survive."
For whatever odd reason, Altaïr imagined that their village would be a little like Masyaf. Assassins were usually born into the ranks, but many were adopted, or bought, and trained to be warriors. If a village could hold both Oceanus and Riyaz, along with whatever strange companions they could gather, it would have to be a uniquely tolerant place.
And Altaïr would rather get away from the topic of the Piece of Eden entirely. So, after tucking the item safely away in his pouch again, he said, "Tell me about this village. I may never see it, but…" He trailed off.
"In the morning, perhaps." Oceanus allowed after a moment. "We have a long walk ahead of us, and you seem to be well enough." He paused. "In the morning, I think we should also discuss what your trinket can do. I doubt ancient Mulhorandi texts have explained enough to us."
"Mulhorandi?" Altaïr asked.
Oceanus bit his lip, looking like he was wondering where to begin. "…People say that the ancestors of those who live in Mulhorand—a desert nation far from here—came from another world, in a burst of light. The Calishites' ancestors have a similar story, though they say their ancestors arrived as slaves to an efreet thousands of years ago."
"You think they could be from Earth?" Altaïr guessed. The very idea was mad, but there was always a grain of truth in the old tales. The Apple proved as much.
"Possibly. No one can know for sure. But we may find some clues, one way or another." Oceanus shrugged and went back to his bedroll to pack it away. "Also, your shift is over. Ash and I can keep watch from here."
Altaïr nodded shortly. The morning would be a long one, it seemed.
However, one thing bothered him. He'd barely jostled the Apple before it showed him those visions, giving him a headache in the process. But when Riyaz did nearly the same thing—in the same spot, no less—nothing happened. Perhaps it was because he was a druid, or a dragon, or any number of things. It would be something to think about, at least.
Keras blinked. "Wait, Ro left?"
"That's what the reports seem to say," his mother replied idly from the other end of the scrying mirror connection. "Granted, I got most of this second-hand from when Cirrus tried dropping in to visit Yttress. By all accounts, Yttress nearly took his head off."
"Great. Just great." Keras grumbled. "But I guess I can't blame him. Yttress might not be as bad as he's used to, but she's still a black dragon."
"Lumina probably should have remembered that when she asked him to become her apprentice." Zahara said in a biting tone. "She's always been like that."
"Lumina or Yttress?" Keras asked.
"Yttress. If you were two thousand years old, you'd probably have pretty much the same personality as you did when you were two hundred." Zahara muttered. "If anyone ever wants to point out a relic from a bygone age, just point them in her direction."
"Heh. So, anyway, what else seems to be going on? Snowball still kicking at last count?"
Zahara nodded. "He, Riyaz, and the assassin seem to be fine. Barring a few issues, anyway."
"What kind of issues are we talking about?" Keras asked suspiciously.
"…Forget I said anything." Zahara said after a pause, and then the mirror went back to just showing his puzzled reflection.
"That doesn't sound good." Keras muttered, turning away to go and find his bed. He usually didn't need that much sleep when he hadn't done anything all day, but now it was a matter of trying to overcome a very bad feeling about his friends' safety.
After a moment or two, Keras shrugged and made a mental note to shout at his mother the next time she called him, because he was sure that it would be right after something went horribly wrong.
Maria was not quite certain of what she was supposed to expect when the strange woman led her—under guard, of course—to a building half-buried in the hillside. Actually, no, it was as though the building was actually built to be like a molehill or a termite mound—there was nothing that indicated that the elegant arches and wave-like designs were anything but exactly the way they should have been. But why would anyone put a building halfway into a slope? Workers would have spent years digging out the site.
Still, they ascended the steps to the mysterious building without any ceremony. A young woman—brown hair, willowy build—bowed to Lady Shininglance as they passed, but that was all.
The darkness inside was lit by strange orbs of light, not torches, and the glow was steady throughout the stone halls. Suddenly, Maria wondered if she was being led into a mine of some sort, though there was no evidence of work being done anytime recently. But for what other purpose could there be structures in here?
Lady Shininglance, for her part, had merely scooped up the little boy and carried him through the halls, turning abruptly at one of the side passages. The man in white, introduced as Stratus, nudged Maria along the widest hallway without arguing that she should remove her weapons or armor.
Stratus said something unintelligible to her, walking slightly ahead of her and beckoning for her to follow. He seemed kind enough, though very fair and somehow combining white hair with a young face, but he also didn't seem to understand a word she was saying when she replied.
The hallway led straight to the heart of a massive complex, it seemed. When they reached an antechamber with a ceiling so high it had to be lit by a web of the orbs of light that stretched across the length of it, Stratus bowed and motioned for her to stay where she stood, at the door to a throne room. She did, nodding, and he disappeared into one of the other twelve hallways that led out of the room.
And not long after, Lady Shininglance arrived from a separate archway and walked calmly to the high-backed chair on the central platform—a throne in all but name. Her child was nowhere to be seen.
"You may approach," she said in a mild voice.
Maria did so, stopping at the edge of the raised platform. When the woman gestured for her to speak, Maria said, "You wished to speak to me inside, Lady. I have obeyed." Politeness was one way to avoid being skewered by enemy commanders, though not much of one, but Maria knew more based on her upbringing in England than anything.
Lady Shininglance nodded. After a moment, Maria realized with shock that the woman, rather than having light brown eyes like she had assumed, had the yellow eyes of a cat. They reflected light as clearly as any animal's. Her face had lines, indicating that she was older than forty at least, but the self-assured way she held herself and her lack of expression was making reading her more difficult.
Eventually, she spoke, "Maria Thorpe, Knight of God, how is it that you arrived in Gabilan?"
"I do not know." Maria replied, frowning. "Lady, I can only remember my commander ordering me to remain in Jerusalem while he went to speak to His Majesty. I was to hold the line, and I failed. The assassin pursuing my commander left in pursuit, but I do not know what became of either."
Lady Shininglance's expression shifted slightly, becoming marginally less harsh. "And this is all you remember?"
"Other than issuing orders to my troops, I only remember returning to my bedchamber later that night." Maria replied. "There was nothing out of the ordinary."
"…I understand." The woman sighed after a long moment. "I do not see you as a threat to my city, lady knight. I believe you."
That was…good? Maria wasn't quite assured, because there were so many unusual aspects of this place, but at least their ruler hadn't decided to have her executed for being a woman in a man's armor. In fact, no one here even seemed to care that she was a warrior. It was starting to worry her. This place was very different from home.
Lady Shininglance nodded to herself, apparently mulling over a decision regarding Maria. Then she snapped her fingers.
"You called, Lady?" Stratus said from the entrance of one of the side tunnels—again, not the one he had vanished into. How many side passages were there in this place? And…he could speak English? Since when?
"Further introductions are in order." Lady Shininglance said evenly. She turned her attention back to Maria. "This is Stratus, as you know, but he is the captain of the guard as well as my primary military advisor. He would be, were my territory larger, a general. Not unlike your commander, I believe."
Stratus bowed to acknowledge the compliment.
"You may ask him any question you wish regarding this place, or our people, but you will not stay in his home," she explained, nodding briefly at Stratus. Her gaze was very sharp. "For your safety and comfort, I have already made other arrangements."
"What are they, if I may be so bold?" Maria asked cautiously, looking between the two of them with some trepidation. Not that she wasn't relieved that she could stay as far from the man as possible, since he unnerved her, but there was something in the woman's expression that was worrisome, to say the least.
She smiled. Maria felt a chill go down her spine. "Unless you request a different host during your stay, you will find that my niece's home is prepared for you."
Niece? But…how exactly did this city's line of succession work? A woman like her should have a husband, or heirs. Her niece would have been married off. But by then, Stratus had already beckoned for her to follow him once again, and she did so without a backward glance.
"Is something troubling you, Lady Maria?" Stratus asked after they'd emerged into the sunlit world again.
Maria shook her head. "I simply do not understand yet."
"What is there to understand?" Stratus sounded curious, now.
"This…this city, this village, or whatever it may be called…why does Lady Shininglance rule it?" Maria asked, somewhat hesitant. "Is she regent?"
Stratus raised one eyebrow quizzically. "No. Lady Lumina was once bonded, yes, but her man has been dead for a very long time, and she has no blood heirs."
"In my home, a woman would have been married off again, or ruled in her eldest son's place." Maria tried to explain. "There are no women who rule alone."
Stratus's expression became blank. "I suppose Gabilan is out of your experience, then." He paused. "I think I need to explain, then."
"It would help." Maria said with a nod.
"Most kingdoms in the Realms have men as rulers." Stratus said after a moment. "And not all women have power. But in some places, like the Spine of the World—where we are now—the most pivotal aspect of ruling a kingdom is not being born male, but being powerful. A ruler here needs to be strong enough to lead an army into battle."
"My king—His Majesty King Richard I the Lionheart of England—he leads us in our crusade." Maria replied, more thinking aloud than anything. "He cannot lead the charge, but his wisdom guides us on the battlefield. My commander, Robert de Sable, was the one who worked in His Majesty's stead within the Muslim cities."
Stratus nodded. "That would be broadly the same idea…however, a truly powerful ruler will lead the charge."
"But what if your leader dies?" Maria asked.
The man shrugged. "Then we get a new one." At Maria's stricken expression, he went on, "Lady Maria, most kingdoms choose their rulers based on blood. One family is blessed by a god, or perhaps just has a tendency to breed smart heirs." He waved a hand vaguely. "As strange as it may be to you, Lady Lumina does not rule Gabilan because she is the daughter of a chieftain or a king. She rules because she always has, and because she can slay any foe, no matter how strong, in single combat."
"How long has this village been here?" Maria asked, still stunned.
"Six hundred years." Stratus replied, walking on ahead. "And while her son may be adopted for a reason, he will never succeed her."
"What? Why?"
"For one thing, he is a half-elf and thus too weak to lead a city like ours." Stratus said in a calm voice. His gray eyes were no longer reassuring. "For another, she will outlive him by thousands of years."
Maria decided not to ask why. The answer would undoubtedly be more gibberish.
She didn't speak again until they reached a modest two-story house in the middle of the village. It was unremarkable except for the fact that Stratus stopped there, rapping his knuckles against the wooden door. After a moment, it opened.
Standing there was a young blonde woman with gray eyes—fifteen or sixteen, perhaps older—who dressed in black lined with deep turquoise. Rather than having a skirt or dress or something, she wore a short, sleeveless tunic and, rather than breeches, her boots were long enough that the upper edge of one disappeared under her clothes. Her arms were bare except for a series of black bands and heavy leather gloves, one of which had the fingers cut off. And over the entire ensemble, she wore a high-collared, sleeveless coat that reached down to her ankles.
"Stratus? Who is this?" the girl asked.
"Lady Alena, this is Lady Maria. Your honored aunt has requested that you look after her for a time." Stratus bowed briefly to her.
Lady Alena looked at Maria, her eyes narrowed slightly. "I did not get any message about—"
At that moment, there was a squeaking sound from inside the house and Alena suddenly looked more annoyed. "Never mind. I was just informed. Out of curiosity, does my aunt expect me to act as our guest's guide for the duration of her stay?"
"Perhaps." Stratus allowed, looking sheepish for the first time since Maria had met him.
"In that case…" Alena sighed. "Go back to my aunt and tell her that I will do as asked, but on my terms."
"Very well, Lady Alena." Stratus bowed again and then took off in a blur of white, leaving Maria and Lady Alena standing on her doorstep.
Alena gave Maria a pitying look. Maria hated it. "Come inside. There should still be enough food and drink for two."
Inside the house was unusually warm, but also very dark. If Maria had to guess, she and Stratus had arrived just as Alena had been about to leave the house to go about her day. Though what could require such a…costume, Maria didn't know.
"Please, ask about this stupid outfit." Alena muttered after a minute or two, when she had placed cups on the kitchen table and re-lit most of the lamps in the room. She put a kettle on the fire, which had sprung back into life rather quickly, and moved to open the front windows. "Everyone else has."
"I did not mean to be rude." Maria replied, somewhat abashed. It wasn't kind of her to be cruel to a woman in her own home. That would be insulting her hostess's hospitality.
Alena gave a humorless laugh. "It is not your fault—this outfit is hideously impractical and gets caught on everything from rocks to trees. And I hate the color."
"Then why wear it?" Maria asked as Alena sat down at the table with her.
Alena smiled mischievously. "When you teach hand-to-hand fighting to a band of young idiots, sometimes the best way to show your skill and put them in line is to beat them with a deliberate handicap. In my case, loose and flowing clothing. For others, perhaps a hand tied behind their back."
"Is this because you are a woman?" Maria asked cautiously. Her own experiences with Robert de Sable had led to her being grudgingly accepted by the Templar order, though she had no doubt that without Robert her position was forfeit. Still, she felt that she was on more familiar ground here.
"Partially." Alena admitted, that faint smile still on her face. "We occasionally train troops from Silverymoon and its surrounding areas, and some of them believe that I only live and teach by the grace of my aunt's charity." She shook her head. "They are often surprised that I am not the delicate young maiden, prone to fainting and the vapors, like some stories say."
"I know the feeling." Maria said somewhat bitterly. "It is as if they think that a woman cannot take up arms at all." That assassin had been so shocked when he found that he had chased a woman halfway across the city and not Robert de Sable. It had been rather funny, in a grim way. Otherwise, that day had been horrible.
Alena laughed again. "Therefore, it is our duty to do what we can in the face of their stupidity." She shrugged and turned back to Maria. "I…I apologize for my aunt and her lieutenant. They tend to be condescending to people they consider outsiders."
"It was no trouble." Maria murmured, though that was a lie. Coming to this strange place, with no apparent way back…it was too much. She still wasn't sure it was a dream, but only waking up would let her know for certain.
There was a long pause.
"…If you need it, there is a spare bed in that room." Alena said quietly, pointing toward a door made of oak. She pulled the kettle off the fire without touching the handle, meaning that she grasped it by the base and wasn't burned, and set the kettle in the washbasin. Then she retrieved a pinch of dried herbs from a jar on the countertop, putting some in each of the cups, and poured hot water over both. "Tea?"
"Is that what this is called?" Maria asked, accepting the cup. She didn't take a sip, though. Whatever this strange liquid was called, it was warm and smelled of herbs. "Thank you."
"It is no trouble for me." Alena replied. She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Also, if you want, you can come with me when I go to the demonstration. We have enough time that you could rest, eat, and bathe if you want to."
Didn't she know that baths were just a way to get sick later? Maria stared at her, but instead said, "Are there any other clothes I could wear?"
"You could choose one of my outfits." Alena said mildly, shrugging. "I might have to let a few seams out, but you are only a hand or so taller than me. Just ask."
"…Very well." And Maria would find some way to get back home. Maybe Robert wasn't alive anymore. Maybe he didn't need her. But she needed to be back in the Holy Land and doing something, because being a prisoner in a strange village in the middle of nowhere was not something she was looking forward to.
In the next few hours, she'd discover that she was even further from home than she ever thought before.
"I found something!"
In another time, another place, or possibly with other people, that phrase could have been an innocent remark. Not here or now.
Since the adventure in the Underdark, Raaze and Rime had returned to the surface world, to one of the few places the denizens of the Underdark usually didn't care to tunnel under. After all, there was almost nothing of interest in the Evermoors, aside from trolls. Sure, Nesme and Silverymoon were on opposite sides of the massive, hostile, troll-infested marsh, and Mithral Hall was rumored to be somewhere near Silverymoon, but the swamp remained one of the few areas that no one would wander into unless they wanted to die.
That made it a fairly convenient place to put a wizard's tower when one didn't particularly want to be found. Even more so once they'd combined all of their conjuring magic and created a palace out of a lone, towering stone structure. While their dear sorcerer friend was attempting to target the strange artifact he had interested them with, Raaze lounged in the cool evening air and made sport of the wildlife from the castle walls. There were a lot of burning trolls by the time Rime called out.
Raaze looked up from his current game, which involved trying to make six panicking trolls run around in a pattern. "Really, dearest Rime? Drag it over here so I can see what it is, too."
"It" turned out to be an armored figure flailing in Rime's grip. It only took her about thirty seconds to drag the man to Raaze's feet for inspection. If anyone had cared, they would have noticed that a drow should not have been able to achieve such a feat by any non-magical means, but neither Raaze nor Rime particularly cared about physics.
"This armor is old-fashioned." Rime complained, hoisting the man into the air as though he was made of straw. "See? There is not even any proper plating!"
"Unhand me, you monster!" the man screamed, lashing out with a gloved fist and trying to catch Rime in the eye.
Raaze, for his part, caught the blow aimed at Rime's face and idly crushed the man's hand in his grip. "So, the armor is not even worth selling?"
"Well, I suppose it could be used for scrap…" Rime said, almost inaudible over the man's screams. Then she dropped him on the ground, idly flicking a wrist in a somatic command so that the man was simultaneously silenced and bound by webbing conjured from thin air. "In any case, do you think we should keep him? It would be like having another pet."
"We had to dispose of our last good one." Raaze agreed, sounding thoughtful. "Though I doubt our current skeletal friend will like a distraction like this one."
"It is truly a pity that Mofke was so easily distracted by human failings before we got to him." Rime said, smiling. "Oh, I know that it was my fault we had to put our last pet down, but I can keep this one alive! And if not, we can just turn him into a lich like Mofke."
"Speaking of, I wonder if he has found that artifact. Or you think that he needs more encouragement?" Raaze asked. He glanced down at the terrified, bound knight at their feet. "And do we really need another toy?"
"…Well, perhaps not." Rime admitted. "But this one fell from the sky!"
"Oh, really?" Raaze looked curious now. "Show me. Perhaps that will be the motivation our sorcerer skeleton needs."
"Right!"
If the hapless Templar had looked toward the tower, he would have seen a vivid green glow from the highest window. And if Mofke, the lich bound to the scrying stone, had managed to break free from his prison for even half a breath, he would have seen the world through the eyes of those who could see magic like light. As it was, all he could do was silently call for one of his tormentors—he'd found the artifact again.
But if he could have gotten free for only that long, he could have seen the silvery wall that divided one plane of existence from another.
And all of the holes in it.
Meanwhile, in the deserts south of Memnon, the Crystal Shard was being put to use by a band of dark elves. And one human assassin started to wonder if he should do something about it, and how.
And much further north, a certain drow ranger sat on the edge of a cliff overlooking the entrance to Mithral Hall, and watched the stars shift overhead.
A/N: Poll results so far!
"Who should Altair meet up with first?"
1. Maria.
2. Malik. (2)
3. Random Assassin.
4. Random Templar.
5. Artemis Entreri (and Jarlaxle). (1)
6. Drizzt Do'Urden. (3)
Remember, the poll won't be closed for a few more chapters!
