Baldur's gate II_ throne of Bhaal - Drew Karpyshyn [74]
"Here in the meditation rooms you can rest without fear," Brother Regund had assured her.
"The members of our order will patrol the entrance to the lower floor to ensure your safety" Brother Lysus had added. "We will see that no one disturbs you until Balthazar has returned. Our leader will be most eager to speak with you.".
And on that rather ominous note, they had left her alone.
Time passed slowly for Imoen when she was by herself. If the austere surroundings were supposed to inspire peace and contemplation, they weren't working for her. In fact they seemed to have the opposite effect. She was restless and bored, her quick and curious mind anxious to find anything to draw its attention.
Without the benefit of windows to see the passing of the moon outside, Imoen couldn't even estimate how long she had been cooped up here. An hour? Four? She wished again that Melissan would come up to visit her. The taller woman had mentioned something about speaking to Imoen once they were safe inside, but she hadn't come to check on Imoen yet.
Perhaps she was busy with more important matters. Or maybe, Imoen suddenly thought, the monks below would not allow Melissan inside the tower until Balthazar had returned.
The idea seemed preposterous at first glance, but the more she considered it the more plausible it seemed. Imoen had assumed that Melissan and she were guests, but the more she thought about the words and actions of the monks who had greeted them upon their arrival the more Imoen began to suspect she might be a prisoner.
Something about the guards had made Imoen nervous. Their strange tattoos had unnerved her, but it was more than that. Their words were spoken without emotion or feeling. Their faces were lined with intense focus and concentration, but Imoen couldn't even began to guess what the object of their attentions might be.
Their eyes didn't roam across her body like those of other men. They didn't even sneak quick peeks at her when they thought she wouldn't notice. When they looked at Imoen, they stared directly into her eyes, as if they were peering into her very soul.
In many ways, Imoen realized, the monks reminded her of Sarevok. Determined, intense, inscrutable, and cold. Not really alive, but merely going through the motions of life. As if the passions and fires of the world could not touch them.
Imoen shivered. The monks were religious fanatics, she decided. That was what bothered her. They served some higher purpose, some unknown code of belief she would never understand, and now she was in their power, trapped inside this inescapable tower until the mysterious Balthazar arrived to…
No. Imoen shook her head and laughed. It was preposterous. Bored with the dull surroundings, her mind was working overtime. Fashioning bizarre conspiracies out of the thinnest of threads. Melissan wouldn't have brought them here if she felt there was any danger. No, Imoen decided, she was not a prisoner. Still, she had to admit, the monks were odd.
Her guards' fanatical obedience to some unknown higher authority that had so troubled Imoen only moments before now reassured her. There was no chance one of them would creep up later while she slept to paw at her with filthy hands. More importantly, she knew she didn't have to worry about these men betraying her for gold or out of a mad hunger for power. In her situation-hunted, hated, alone except for Melissan, a woman she didn't even really know-Imoen realized the religious devotion of Regund, Lysus, and their comrades might be the best protection she could hope for.
She shifted once more on her sleeping mat. Her body ached from the long ride across the desert. She felt fatigue in her muscles and joints. Even her bones were tired. Her mind, exhausted by the convoluted track of suspicions and reassurances it had just traversed, finally grew quiet. Lying still, Imoen felt the silence of the tower seeping into her body and spirit. She welcomed the peace it offered, and within seconds Imoen