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Downstairs, Jaheira finds most of the newcomers - they’re spread out in the common area of the Last Light Inn. The cleric and the gith warrior are arguing over a game of lanceboard. The pale elf is sitting in the bar area with Halsin, chatting with the druid over a drink. The fiery tiefling woman is deep in conversation with some of the tieflings who’d fled the grove. Duke Ravengard’s exiled son stands in the woman’s orbit, seemingly content to simply observe her. Wyll has obviously changed in appearance since Jaheira last saw him back in Baldur’s Gate, but not in demeanor; he has stepped into the leadership role confidently, at least outwardly.
The companions have settled in somewhat; their initial relief at finding this refuge from the shadows had been palpable, but days of exploring the surrounding area have marked them all with an all-too-familar tension. Still, their camaraderie is obvious; watching them interact fills Jaheira with a sense of nostalgia.
The wizard among them is the least talkative of the bunch. Jaheira can count on zero fingers the number of taciturn wizards she has met, but this one frequently sits on one of the balconies upstairs, overlooking the dilapidated courtyard outside. He sits alone, apart from the others; Jaheira had noticed him ascending the stairs earlier this evening as usual, had watched the young Ravengard frowning at his retreating form with obvious concern. She prods Wyll, who startles at her presence, for further details.
“Oh - Gale. He’s….” Wyll frowns again. “Well, he’s not quite himself. He received a message from Elminster-”
“Elminster? He was here?”
“It happened just before we entered these lands,” Wyll explains.
“Gale must be a renowned wizard indeed if Elminster visits him.”
“I think Gale might prefer…not to be, in this case?” Wyll looks around before he lowers his voice. “It’s not my story to tell, but Gale received a charge from the goddess Mystra that troubles him - troubles all of us, to tell the truth.” Wyll sighs, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “I don’t know what to say to him.”
“What was the charge?”
Wyll shakes his head. “He thinks it’s the solution to-” He pauses, eyeing Jaheira with suspicion. “It’s not an option,” he says firmly, a challenge in his voice.
Jaheira raises an eyebrow. “I am in no mood for guessing games, Wyll.”
Apparently deciding that she means no harm, Wyll abruptly relaxes, shoulders slumping. “According to Elminster, Mystra suggested - strongly - that the only means to defeat the Absolute was for Gale to sacrifice himself, and I think Gale believes it.” Wyll looks her in the eye. “But we must find another way.”
Jaheira nods. “I see. And you feared that I would be so eager to see us freed from the Absolute’s influence that I would take him up on his offer - is that it?”
“Am I mistaken?”
“Hmmph. You do not know me well, Saer Ravengard.” Jaheira gives him a disparaging look. “I have seen my share of young men with something to prove, thinking that all they have to offer is their lives. If you like, I will speak with him.”
“Will you?” Wyll smiles appreciatively. “If anyone has wisdom to offer him, I'm sure it's you.”
“If that is your way of telling me that I am old-” Jaheira laughs as Wyll backs away, shaking her head. He's another one who will need guidance. Another time, perhaps.
Gale is too busy staring out into the starless night sky to notice Jaheira stepping out onto the balcony at first. She carefully places a bottle of wine and two glasses on a small table - the only other piece of furniture here other than the chair that already holds the wizard - as he suddenly looks up in surprise, scrambling to his feet and giving a hasty bow. “Lady-”
“Sit down, wizard.” Jaheira waves a hand dismissively. “We can dispense with ceremony.”
Gale settles back into his chair, looking deeply discomposed at her presence. He clears his throat, seemingly remembering himself. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I finally begin to see a future where this land may heal,” she says, walking to the railing and gazing out over the courtyard. “Your party's arrival here, your very existence, gave me the first sliver of hope I had felt in a long time.” She turns to him, leaning back against the railing.
Gale blinks up at her, bemused. “I…. Thank you? We are endeavouring to live up to your expectations, I assure you.”
“That is what I came to talk to you about.”
Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Gale clears his throat again, looking around. “Erm - all right, but why me? Wyll is downstairs-”
“Wyll tells me you received a visit from that old fart Elminster.”
A snort escapes the wizard and he immediately covers his mouth; his eyes widen. He slowly drops the hand. “Ah - you know Elminster?”
“Unfortunately.” Jaheira watches Gale’s face - he seems to be sizing her up, deciding whether to believe her, perhaps. “It was he who presented me with my harper pin, but that was a very long time ago.”
“Ah. I didn’t know that.”
“Hardly the sort of information you would find in your library. And I also know that he was one of Mystra’s Chosen. He was not shy about sharing that information.”
That induces Gale to flush - whether in embarrassment or anger, Jaheira isn’t sure, but it might be both - and stammer something under his breath.
“I know that Elminster Aumar notices those with ambition. Are you one of Mystra’s as well?”
“I was,” Gale corrects bitterly. He stands up, beginning to pace the length of the balcony. “I failed her. But I will fail her no longer.”
Jaheira returns to the table to fill the two glasses. When she looks up, Gale is facing her, his eyes darting between her face and the wine bottle. “Have a drink with me, wizard.” She hands him one of the glasses and he swirls it, observing its contents as though trying to analyze its secrets. She laughs. “No klauthgrass this time - I promise.”
Relaxing slightly, Gale nods his thanks, and they both move to lean on the railing.
They sip in silence for a few moments. “Tell me - why does Mystra demand your life in particular?” Jaheira asks bluntly, breaking the silence.
Gale doesn't look at her. “Wyll hasn't told you?”
“He did not go into the specifics, no.”
After a beat, Gale tells her of his childhood as a prodigy, of his ascent, of his folly, of his self-imposed isolation; and, finally, of Elminster’s visit and Mystra’s charge. The narrative spills out of him, a dam broken at last. Now he seems much more like the wizards to whom Jaheira is accustomed. He finally pauses to drain the glass, setting it down precariously on the edge of the railing.
Jaheira hums thoughtfully. “Is this what you want?”
“I have ever sought Mystra’s forgiveness. And if that is the price, then….” Gale spreads his hands helplessly. “How can I not? She made me what I am.”
“From what I recall of Elminster’s tales and from the stories of Midnight - don’t give me that look, I was only a cub myself during the Time of Troubles! - she likely sought you out for the prowess you already possessed, did she not?”
Gale hesitates. “What does it matter now? The Weave is my life, magic is my life, Mystra is - If she says it must be so, then who am I to question her wisdom?”
Jaheira sighs and goes to pour herself another glass. “Did you know that I was married once?”
“I - no, I did not.”
“I lost him before we were able to start a family of our own. It is one of my few regrets. You mentioned your mother earlier - are you close?”
“Very. She is the best mother anyone could ever wish to have. She has always tried to do right by me. And she is a formidable woman.” The words pour forth fondly.
“Would you really deprive her of her only son?” Jaheira asks gently.
Gale blanches. “She…she would understand - it’s not that simple!”
“What is your mother’s name, Gale?”
“Morena.”
“Perhaps I ought to pass along a message to her via the harper network in Waterdeep.”
Gale’s hands suddenly ball into fists; his voice is tight. “You have no right to-”
“You misunderstand me, cub. I would only wish to ask her permission to knock some sense into you on her behalf. Literally, if necessary.” Jaheira grins.
After a few seconds of gaping, Gale gives a half-hearted chuckle. “I suspect that she would like you.”
“And you realize that she is not the only one who cares about you, do you not? Your companions worry about you as well.”
“They would vastly prefer not to be in the blast radius, in any case,” Gale mutters, looking away.
Jaheira throws up her hands. “Ah, youth - it is wasted on the wrong people!” She shakes her head, smiling wistfully. “I have watched you all for a tenday. Relationships develop quickly when the threat of danger hangs over your heads, yes, but there is fondness there that can not be feigned.”
Gale turns back towards her, nodding, but he still looks doubtful.
Grabbing one of Gale’s arms, Jaheira tugs him towards the doorway that leads back inside. “Come. I want you to look at something.” She drags him to the landing overlooking the common area; the companions are all still below, Wyll finally seated next to Karlach, but otherwise all in their same positions. Wyll looks up briefly and gives a friendly wave, then lowers his eyes. “What do you see?”
Looking down, Gale takes in the scene; Jaheira watches his eyes flit from face to face, lingering on one in particular. Jaheira waits. “I see…friends.”
“Yes. Friends. Family, even.” Jaheira clears her throat. “And…perhaps more? You should say something, Gale. Before it’s too late.”
“About…?” Gale trails off, meeting her eyes, then flushes slightly, looking determinedly at his hands. “Ah. Am I so obvious?”
“Perhaps not, but I see it from the outside.”
“How can I? It seems cruel to confess that someone has become special to me when I can't even guarantee tomorrow-”
“None of us can guarantee tomorrow. We can only make the best of the time we are given.” Jaheira pokes him in the shoulder hard enough to make him wince. “But you can guarantee that you will try.”
Gale rubs his shoulder. “But - but if by my death I can guarantee tomorrow for the others-”
“I promise that your friends would rather fight with you at their side than see you lost to some ill-fated attempt to protect them. Death is easy, Gale. Life is harder.”
Gale just looks at her, unable to answer.
Jaheira gently guides him back out onto the balcony. “I will not openly speak ill of Mystra. Who knows the mind of a goddess? But from what you have said, I think your friends are right to try to change your mind.”
“But to earn her forgiveness-”
“Is that the only reason, Gale? Is her forgiveness all you seek?”
There is a long pause. “I… I want my life to have mattered.” Gale’s voice is only a whisper.
“And a simple life doesn’t matter? You don’t matter, just as you are?”
Gale’s eyes look haunted as he continues in the same hushed voice. “What if she takes the Weave from me? I don’t - I don’t know who I am without my magic.”
“What if I lose an arm tomorrow? What if Mielikki is destroyed and I no longer have my druidic magic? What if there is another Spellplague?” Jaheira rattles these things off, punctuating each one with a poke to the center of Gale’s chest. “What if? I will still be me, and you will still be you, and we will both still have people who need and love us.”
“And what would you do, if any of those things were to happen?”
“What I have always planned to do - retire from this adventuring nonsense and settle down with all my adopted cubs. Not everyone has to be an adventurer - there is heroism in being the one who stays, in caring for those around you, making a difference in your own little way.”
Gale smiles, finally. “The famous Jaheira, settling down?”
“Famous.” Jaheira scoffs. “I was just in the right place at the right time, choosing to do what needed to be done. And now that same choice falls to you.”
Noticing the glass still perched on the railing, Gale grabs it. “Thank you for your words, Jaheira.” He gives her another bow - it’s charming. “I will consider them.”
“Someone taught you well,” Jaheira muses. She fetches the wine bottle. “We neglected to make a toast. Come.” She refills his glass.
“What shall we toast to?” Gale asks.
“Life.” Jaheira holds up the glass between them.
Gale swallows, then clinks his own glass gently against hers. “To life.”