The black lid on top of the ocean of pain lifted, and Séa breached the ocean's surface and gulped air. Her eyes flew open to let in the light of consciousness. Tash's dark eyes met hers, intent and searching. Hints of purple tinted the kaleidoscope of browns that formed her irises. The paladin felt a smile tug at her lips at the entrancing sight. But something was wrong. The rogue was injured! Something had mangled her shapely lips, and even her cheeks and chin. Oozing blood obscured the full extent of the damage, but dark crimson rivulets crawled down her lower face and neck to glisten upon her leathers.

Séa's twitch of concern created a swelling wave of pain from her arms. It was so intense, she almost blacked out again.

She couldn't reach for Tash. Her arms only flopped, and the attempt produced more waves of hot agony.

"Tash!" she blurted. "Socket! It wasn't a nightmare. It was real."

"Ssseh!" the rogue vocalized, then winced.

Séa blinked to clear her vision. Where am I? The ambient light glared a violent red. Tash's mouth was a horror, and gore cascaded down her front. The paladin's armor lay scattered on a dirty stone floor. She herself kneeled naked, cradled in the arms of the injured half-elf. Ghomarck and Chantelle slumped against iron crosses, dull red glows on their chests. The last clear memory flooded back and she groaned. "Tash. I am so sorry. I took his cursed item. What a fool I am."

Tash shook her a little. "Ssseh. Heee seeh." The agony of attempting speech caused tears to form in her beautiful eyes.

Séa's heart wrung, and tears spilled from her own eyes as well. "Heal, myself, you say?"

Tash nodded her head up and down.

But that's selfish, right? I should heal Tash.

You can't, you fool. Your arms are broken. You can't reach her.

I cannot reach her. But I must.

You're a fool. Rules must be bent. Be pragmatic.

Frullan was pragmatic, and I hate her for it.

Tash is pragmatic, too, but I adore her. Tash would call you a ninny, or worse. You can help. You can help everybody, but only if you can function.

Oh, merciful Torugg. Guide me.

"Merciful Torugg," whispered Séa.

Tash nodded again and raised her blood-smeared hand. Cupped in her palm lay a cheap pewter amulet, crudely beaten into the shape of Torugg's hammer. Its cord was broken, but Tash pressed the amulet to Séa's chest and splayed her fingers on Séa's bare skin. Tash's eyes pleaded.

My symbol. Hot ears flowed down the paladin's cheeks. Her voice strengthened. "If it be your will, send me your aid. I pray, my god, in this dark hour, send succor." She took a deep breath. "I ask for your aid, Torugg Endurer, Torugg Steadfast. I ask for myself this day. For m-myself."

I asked. Dearest Torugg, forgive my prayer, but I meant every word.

Aid came. The flow of divine energy that Séa had channeled to others time and time again inhabited her like the fulsome breath of warm wind. It blew through her, carrying away the taints of poison, the encroachment of decay, and the violent cynicism the demons had forced upon her. The gush of his divinity lightened her limbs until she felt as if she floated above the cold ground altogether. The image of Tash that hovered before her face paled, and Séa realized that she herself must be shining with rosy lavender light. The radiance accentuated the dreamy purple spikes in Tash's irises.

Séa reached to gently cup Tash's face, barely touching. Her weightless arms obeyed her once again. The rogue's eyes still locked with Séa's.

Her beautiful eyes. She trusts me.

And she is willing to stay injured. For my sake. How like the one-eyed god she is in this moment. She endures so that others may receive succor.

Séa's jaw stiffened.

But I'm not so willing. Mighty Torugg, lend me your aid once again.

For her.

The glow gained a second gust of wholesome effluence.

Thank you, beloved Endurer.

Séa's glow faded by degrees. A glance confirmed that Tash's lips had reassembled. They look good. I want to ... but would that be selfish? Or would it help erode her barriers against the world, and thus be a gift?

Like tumbling downhill, Séa leaned forward that final inch and their soft lips met. It felt like being tossed into the sky with pillows. All weight disappeared, and Séa's eyes watered anew because of the otherworldly wonder of the moment.

Tash pressed forward. I swear she did. She kissed me back.

The cottony kiss drifted apart like evaporating clouds. "Can you talk, now, Tash?" the paladin mumbled. The familiar after-Torugg disconnection from reality had begun. Intoxication fizzed through Séa, and the material world receded.

Tash said, "Yes? Wait." Her dreamy dark eyes flashed in anger. Surely, the swiftest mood change Séa had ever witnessed. "Feck. You healed me. What about you? Are your arms ... fixed?"

"I'm all better, but lissen." As if from a distance, Séa felt a dopey smile spread across her face. A numb-lipped lisp smoothed out her enunciation. I have to hold it together. I can't get too high. But I don't know how not to.

"I'm listening."

"I getta liddle drunkish when I channel too mush powder. Powr." Séa nodded sagely, as if she had imparted the wisdom of the ages.

"What?" Tash definitely looked cross. Her outraged facial expression could scare children. "Now you tell me. But this happened before, after the succubus, remember? You are completely abnormal; you know that?"

"Hime unique. Say, you know how you catch a unique rabbit?"

The rogue blinked several times. "Get dressed, naked woman. I'll free the others."

"Unique up on 'im." Séa grinned like a prizewinner. "Oh, get dressed. Naked. Right. Will do."

Tash stood and cast her gaze down on Séa for a moment. Her mouth had dropped open and her pupils were wide.

Oh, that's a lusty look. She wants me like I want her, steamy and wet and all tangled up together. But that can't be. I'm just drunk. It's my drunk talking. Aww, I see salty tear tracks. Poor Tash. She's so tough on the outside but once in a while I see she's gooey chewy soft at the same time. "So, Tash, you know how to catch a tame rabbit?"

Faint flapping noises echoed like water drips in the cavernous space. Lightly they lapped around the torture pit and observation balcony. Tash's eyes flew wide. "Feck," she whispered, and then she whisked away. She moved so fast it was like she teleported.

Séa struggled to keep up. What significance did flap-flap sounds have? Why did Tash leave? "No, you don't feck a tame rabbit. Gracious." She sat up straight and reached for her gambeson.

From above, Dooch shrieked. "They're loose! Help!"

His feet slapped stone sharply, and the footfalls receded. Séa was alone with two insensate prisoners in a torture pit lit by dark red demon-light. Her brow furrowed.

In the silence, Séa licked her lips. They tasted salty, almost like savory broth.

Blood. Tash's blood. What happened to her?

The paladin slapped her own face, but it didn't seem to clear her muddled mind at all. Her linen shift and gambeson lay within reach. She mumbled, "Get dressed, she said."

She's so smart. I should do what she says.

Séa found the arm holes in the linen all right. The gambeson buckles, though, frustrated her clumsy fingers.

Ghomarck slumped in front of an iron pole, but he raised his head to catch Séa's eye. His blue eyes gleamed with a fierce will. How could such a wizened old body hold such a bright inner flame? The paladin shuffled over and almost tripped over a rusted pair of manacles. Her eyes were drawn to a red glow at his chest, under his robes.

Bad glow. Bad thing. By the Endurer, I have to break it.

But she had to fumble her way past his robes, first. She spread his collar to find a glowing bag among the white chest hairs. Séa snapped its lanyard and hurtled the object to the stony floor of the torture pit. It bounced with a crystalline tinkle. Its glow died.

The wizard gasped for air as if breathing for the first time. He shuddered. "By Shalamoux-Nora, that was a nightmare. Bless you, Séa."

"Hey, Mashter Ghomarck!" the paladin chirped.

"Zorexis slipped the artefact around my neck as I napped on the couch. I haven't been quite myself since then. Séa? Get the knife at my belt and cut me loose."

"Oh, shoor, mashter."

Séa fumbled for the blade. She managed to free it from his belt, but she tripped on the manacles again, and waved the dagger in the air as she struggled for balance.

The wizard twitched as the blade swished a hair's breadth from his face. He muttered, "When the cure is worse than the disease."