Chess sat in his bed in the Hall of Shadows, the lair of the loose affiliation of thieves known collectively as the Uncrowned. He had slept, with untroubled sleep, for a good twelve hours after the procedure with the Shadow Priestess Amere, who had attempted to heal his mind.
With admittedly mixed results.
There was no more Rook; the elements that had composed persona which had been given a measure of autonomy while the Dark Lady had tried to turn him into a Ren'dorei killing machine was gone, absorbed back into Jon Chess. Chess felt regret that he had formed the persona in the first place; he should have accepted responsibility for his ruthlessness and cruelty from the beginning. It was part of him, just as his hands were; he accepted now that Jon Chess was also more than a little bit of a bastard.
So be it. Chess was in control, not the emotions, not the desires. He was a street rat, and an assassin, but he was more than that.
His feelings toward Ren'dorei had been re-directed emotionally. The feelings had been transformed; where before, the thought of a Ren'dorei would fill him with rage, now it evoked a different set of emotions - an angry lust, a desire to possess the women and humiliate the men.
Jon was surprised at the transformation, but he was also relieved; controlling himself from his newfound deviant sexual desires was significantly easier than controlling himself from the irrational homicidal rages.
He also found that while the craving for the addictive Fel-laced narcotic Sa'Daiblo was still there, there was also a revulsion and aversion to feeding the urge. He had not been able to bring himself to use the last of the supply; he anticipated crippling pain as he went into withdrawal, but he could find a dark hole and crawl in until he could function, if necessary. Jon was no stranger to pain; he didn't enjoy feeling it, but he also had an unreasonable certainty in the belief that the withdrawal would not actually kill him.
And if he was wrong, well, people were welcome to tell his corpse "You were wrong!"
With admittedly mixed results.
There was no more Rook; the elements that had composed persona which had been given a measure of autonomy while the Dark Lady had tried to turn him into a Ren'dorei killing machine was gone, absorbed back into Jon Chess. Chess felt regret that he had formed the persona in the first place; he should have accepted responsibility for his ruthlessness and cruelty from the beginning. It was part of him, just as his hands were; he accepted now that Jon Chess was also more than a little bit of a bastard.
So be it. Chess was in control, not the emotions, not the desires. He was a street rat, and an assassin, but he was more than that.
His feelings toward Ren'dorei had been re-directed emotionally. The feelings had been transformed; where before, the thought of a Ren'dorei would fill him with rage, now it evoked a different set of emotions - an angry lust, a desire to possess the women and humiliate the men.
Jon was surprised at the transformation, but he was also relieved; controlling himself from his newfound deviant sexual desires was significantly easier than controlling himself from the irrational homicidal rages.
He also found that while the craving for the addictive Fel-laced narcotic Sa'Daiblo was still there, there was also a revulsion and aversion to feeding the urge. He had not been able to bring himself to use the last of the supply; he anticipated crippling pain as he went into withdrawal, but he could find a dark hole and crawl in until he could function, if necessary. Jon was no stranger to pain; he didn't enjoy feeling it, but he also had an unreasonable certainty in the belief that the withdrawal would not actually kill him.
And if he was wrong, well, people were welcome to tell his corpse "You were wrong!"
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