An Unkind Betrayal

Bemmut, after awakening from Aeriana's spell, speaks to her in private:

"It's all falling into place, Aeriana. It's all falling, everything
is falling. This gnawing, consuming darkness, which I was so sure
came from the Banewarrens, actually from my own father....

"It was not long ago that I had nothing. Alone, dying on the
unforgiving streets, when the Church... when... Heth... rescued me,
gave me food, shelter, and love. He taught me of Lothian's sacrifce.

"But: his suggestion that I try to find you immediately, his attempts
to talk with the construct Jerid [sp], his insistence we--that
I--could handle the warrens, his blasted Feldorn halfing and the bone
rings: each move carefully planned out to have us penetrate the
warrens for him or eliminate us in the attempt.

"How could he do this?! How could he, a human, be in alliance with
the Pactlords? How could my father decieve the Church for so long,
decieve me for so long. All that he gave to me, and taught me, all a
charade... I cannot believe it, and yet I saw him take a sword to one
of Lothian's chosen before my own eyes. Some evil disease, I pray;
and pray again that it not be contagious.

"And so this fear only grows stronger. Was the Pactlord's defeat by
our hands so dire that Heth was forced to tip his hand, try and pick
us off one-by-one? Or, did father see in you some key to this puzzle,
some way to gain the third segment of the staff? Forgive my
presumption... but, for what little I know of my father, I doubt he
ever took an action without intention.

"He was... he _is_... my father. Without him I am nothing. With him,
I am all that I stand against. What does that leave me, Aeriana...
what does that leave me?

"Of course, we still must confront the Pactlords and their distant
realm. Worse, the Banewarrens themselves loom like a terrible dragon,
nay, a head of a hydra, with the others obscured in darkness beyond
darkness, waiting for us to make our pitiful move.

"Aeriana... I do not know if the Church will continue to trust me,
and I do not know if I can trust them. Jevvica has turned aside for
the time any suggestion of reconcilliation with my kind, and Damien
seems well to have lost his mind. Our barbaric companion seems a
cross-breed between a hound and a rock; and I've little faith in our
seemingly endless line of gnomish thieves, regardless of their lock
picking prowess.

"So, it is to you I make my confession. In my father's name, I sought
a blade in the Banewarrens: the Sword of Truth, the Sword of Lies. I
know not if I would have followed my father's misguided advice to
actually retrieve the twisted artifact, but the seed of action lay
planted in my mind. This matter has consumed me, even more so now: I
cannot imagine what dark purpose my father may have had for the blade.
Worse, what if the Pactlords have already acquired their target: the
weapon missing in the armory we found. I cannot imagine the evil that
could be unleashed by their actions, by my inaction.

"Here I am: mind asunder, faith shattered, trust rent; and so I ask
your council."