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.Lhasha was certain that if she could just get him to open up a little bit their cold relationship would thaw.As it was, he was focused solely on his role as a soldier and bodyguard.When he wasn't hovering over Lhasha like a vulture over a fresh kill, he was in his room honing his already formidable martial skills with drills and practice.In Lhasha's mind, such obsession couldn't be healthy.One night after supper, completely on a whim, she decided to do something about his one track mind.Somehow, she'd get him to open up.When the pulse quickening music of the halfling minstrels started, she resisted the urge to leap to her feet and dash out onto the dance floor.The warrior gave her a look of mild surprise, but didn't say anything."I don't really feel like dancing tonight," she bed.Td rather just sit and talk, if that's all right with you.The warrior shrugged indifferently."So, Corin," she said, "tell me something about yourself.Tell me your life's story.""I don't feel like talking tonight."She gave him a sour look."You never feel like talking.To anybody.You might find if you didn't keep things so bottled up, you wouldn't be so miserable.""I'm not miserable." His voice was dead, his words devoid of all emotion.The half-elf shook her head."You're not going to freeze me out this time, Corin," she insisted."I think its time you let someone else share some of whatever burden you're carrying.""My burden is my own business."Inside, Lhasha smiled.Now she had him."Actually, Corin, its my business as well.I can see it in your eyes, in the way you sit and stand, in the way you go about your duties as my bodyguard.Something is eating away at you, and that has a direct effect on me."She paused to let her words sink in, and to give him a chance to respond.As she expected, he responded with silence."Corin," she insisted, "I have a right to know what's going on inside my bodyguard's head.You owe it to me to tell me about your past.About how you lost your hand."The warrior glared at her."I owe you nothing more than the protection of my blade.""Then tell me as a friend, Corin." Lhasha had decided to lay all her cards on the table.She knew there was something worth saving in the grim warrior, a core of basic human decency hidden away beneath his bitterness and rage.She had seen glimpses of it, glimmers of promise.It wasn't in Lhasha's nature to turn her back on a person's suffering.She had learned that from Fendel.But if she reached out to him, and tried to force him to open up what he wanted to keep hidden, she might just alienate him once and for all.She hoped it wouldn't come to that, but if she couldn't reach him tonight she might have to admit defeat and leave the angry man to bis own self-destructive course."We've only known each other a tenday, but we've saved each other's lives.I think we've been through enough to consider ourselves friends.Tell me your story.It might even ease your pain."The warrior laughed—a harsh, bitter sound."You really think my pain so slight that you can talk it out of existence?""What can it hurt to try?" she insisted."Do you think you're the only one who's ever suffered, Corin?" she added, her voice taking a harsher tone.Compassion wasn't the only way to make a connection."You know nothing of my suffering," the warrior shot back."You couldn't even begin to understand.""Try me.""I was a soldier once, a warrior, a White Shield.I lost my hand in battle, and my life was over.There is no more to tell."Lhasha had known drawing Corin out wasn't going to be easy, but his sanctimonious attitude was beginning to annoy her."When I hired you, I didn't realize you were a quitter, Corin.I lost both my parents when I was too young to even talk, but I managed to carry on.You don't see me wallowing in self pity."The one-armed warrior sneered at her."You know nothing about me, about what I've endured.You couldn't possibly understand my suffering.""Then tell me," she demanded."Explain it so I understand."They locked defiant stares, then Corin dropped his eyes.His anger had given way to apathy.With a shrug of his shoulders he said, "Very well."Corin collected his thoughts for a second then he spoke in a voice devoid of all emotion."The battle that took my hand also claimed the life of many of my companions.Igland, the leader of our troop, was cut down in front of my very eyes.And the boy we were supposed to protect—a nobleman's heir—was seized by bandits and held for ransom."I lay in a bed for many tendays after the ambush, fighting for my life.My injury healed slowly, I became frail and weak.The blade that took my hand had poisoned me with foul magic.It was a month before I could even walk again.By that time the White Shields were no more.Leaderless, depleted in numbers and shamed by our failure to protect the boy, the surviving members of the White Shields had left the city, slinking away in disgrace one by one, but I chose to stay.Elversult is my home.I grew up here, my parents are buried here.How could I leave this place, despite all that had happened?"Corin paused for a long moment, and when he resumed his voice was tight, his words tense with suppressed rage."At first I did not look for work, but spent my time praying to Lathander.They say he is the god of new beginnings and rebirth, and I prayed to him so that I could start my life over again."With each rising of the sun I made a pilgrimage to the Temple of the Dawnbringer, every day ascending the steep path that winds up the barren face of Temple Hill.I gave generously—virtually all I had—and prayed for many months to the Morninglord that I might be reborn and made whole again.But the clerics were powerless.their magic was no match for the foul necromancy of the dark blade that had marked me.The clerics did nothing for me, but they kept my coins."Corin cast a hate filled glance out a nearby window, toward the bare hilltop that towered over all of Elversult."Over the past year I found my money was better spent on bitter ale—at least it offered some temporary relief.But no matter how much I drank each night, the next morning I would awake again, stuck here in this city, beneath the shadow of that false Temple—a constant reminder of how the gods failed me, just as I failed to protect the nobleman's son.Perhaps that is justice.""What happened to the boy?" Lhasha asked."He was returned, unharmed, after several months.though it might have been better for me if the bandits had just."Corin caught himself mid-sentence."I bear no ill will to the boy," he said softly."I am glad he is alive.I do not have to add the guilt of his blood to my burden."He continued, his voice finally betraying his deep seated anger, rising into a shout."But Fhazail—the pile of offal that was the boy's steward—I curse the bandits for not slitting his swollen neck!""Fhazail was ransomed with the young master, but he returned to Elversult with hate and revenge on his mind.He accused the White Shields of betraying the mission.Accused us of arranging the ambush.With the others gone, his finger pointed squarely at me, despite my injury.Of course he could not prove his lies, but the rumor spread.'Corin Onehand cannot be trusted'!"Corin pounded his stump into bis left hand in anger, and then smashed it against the table.Noticing the startled glances of the other tavern patrons, the warrior lowered bis voice before continuing
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