Baldur's gate II_ throne of Bhaal - Drew Karpyshyn [29]
Abdel would never do such a thing, Imoen was certain-not to her, not to any woman. Maybe it had something to do with the blood running through his veins. The more she thought about it, the more plausible that explanation seemed. Maybe it was Bhaal's blood that set him apart from other men.
Sarevok was also a Child of Bhaal, and Imoen sensed he was also different from most men. When the armored warrior spoke to her or turned his visor in her direction Imoen knew he was not ogling her with lust in his eyes. The offensive animal heat most men gave off in her presence was absent. Sarevok was cold as death itself.
In fact, Sarevok had displayed none of the worldly appetites since joining their little group. Imoen suspected he wasn't even truly alive-not in any real sense of the word. Maybe that was why he stayed with them. As Imoen understood it, Abdel had brought Sarevok back to the mortal world by sharing a minute part of his Bhaal essence with his half brother. Maybe the dark warrior was hoping he could eventually convince Abdel to share enough to restore him fully to life.
Imoen shook her head, trying to clear her mind. She needed to focus on the task at hand. A few minutes later she was silently approaching the walls of Saradush, the pathetic drunken lookouts of the army now far behind her, lost in the shadows of the night. She knew the Saradush guards atop the battlements would be more alert, watching for a clandestine invasion by the enemy beyond the gates. But Imoen was confident the night's gloom would conceal a single slim figure clad in black garments as she glided along the base of the stone wall.
She let her eyes wander. Now that she was clear of the fires her eyesight was beginning to adjust to the darkness. The walls were well built and showed little evidence of crumbling decay. The walls of Candlekeep had been just as solid, and Imoen knew of at least half a dozen ways to get past them.
Perhaps, she mused, that was her gift from her immortal father. Abdel and Sarevok were violent warriors, harbingers of death and destruction as Bhaal himself had been. But wasn't Bhaal also a god of secrets, cunning, deception, and stealth? Maybe what she lacked in brawn she made up for with her ability to become one with the darkness, to move without a sound, to slip unseen into private chambers and locked rooms.
Glancing up at the stars to get her bearings, Imoen realized she was on the south face of the walled town. She slowly made her way clockwise around the perimeter, her hand running along the stone surface feeling for changes in temperature or texture that might indicate a hidden entrance built into the rock.
Once she made her way around to the west wall it was her eyes, not her hands, that located the entrance she had been seeking. A few feet ahead of where she stood the uneven ground had been dug into a winding trench running parallel to the wall. The ditch was several feet deep and maybe a yard across.
Cautiously Imoen stepped down into the culvert and felt the damp earth sink beneath her slight weight. She crouched down, and the thick stench of human waste flooded her nostrils.
She stood up, barely able to suppress a choking cough that might have given her position away. Stepping out of the muck she did her best to clean her boots off, then followed the path of the ditch back to its source. A large stone pipe extended several feet out from the stone wall, dripping its foul muck into the drainage ditch. The mouth of the pipe was several feet across, and from the stench emanating from the access point Imoen had no doubt it would lead into the main sewer system below the city streets.
She had used the sewage drain at Candlekeep on only one occasion. The monks there held themselves in great esteem, but after slogging through the filthy muck that night Imoen could have told them with confidence that their feces did, in fact, stink. She had vowed that night that she would never crawl on her hands and knees through