Shadowheart's prayers are not half as merciful. They're prayers for guidance, to be shown the way in the dark, for the Nightsinger to do her will through her. She is not ignorant of what that will would be, even with most of her memories gone. 

She prays them with rote devotion, words etched into her soul through repetition she doesn't remember. She could pray in her sleep. (And she has-- She has dreamed over praying many times.)

Gale and Wyll have gone to teach the children. Wyll is teaching them sword play, and Gale is teaching them to touch the Weave.

Astarion has wandered off and started playing a betting game with some tieflings.

And Lae'zel watches Cayden and his shrine with curiosity.

"Asking for guidance?" he says to Shadowheart.

"My lady leads me, and it is my life's purpose to follow."

"I've always found that relationship with gods kind of weird," he says conversationally.

"What other would you have?"

"If there's a very smart very powerful person who wants the same kind of things I do, it makes sense to listen to them. But I got to pick what I wanted."

"I'll admit, I don't remember speaking to many outside my circle. I made a choice, and I hope, so did the Nightsinger. And so I chose devotion." She's got the firebrand dedication of a novice, because she hasn't got the subjectively experienced lifetime to have anything else. 

"Who's the Nightsinger?"

Shadowheart is speaking quietly; this is not the sort of thing to speak of when someone could listen in. "One of Lady Shar's titles. She deserves many-- and needs many."

"Can you tell me about her?"

"She's the lady of loss, the goddess of the night, and one of the first gods in this world. --I don't know what you want to know." She's very torn-- on the one hand: questions, on the other: a potential convert.

"I'm kind of curious if she's a god I know, under a different name." He gestures at his shrine. "This is to Desna-- she's also one of the first gods in the world, and a goddess of night, but loss isn't her thing really. She's about-- exploration and discovery and travel and feeling wonder about everything in the world."

"-- I don't think they are the same goddess. Shar doesn't turn away travellers, but her people are those that work under the cover of night."

"Thieves and spies and poisoners and organized crime?"

"And anyone else who needs the darkness."

Erastil's balls his cleric is a Norgorberite. 

"I'd ask why you worship her but I don't know that you remember."

"It does limit the number of questions you can ask."

"Remember anything?"

"I remember choosing, and I remember being accepted--" she remembers that cold, dreadful awe, of looking on the face of Nothingness and having it look back, but it's a mixture of narrative and emotion that doesn't quite mesh into a single experience. "-- but I don't remember the details."

She needs him to trust her, if she wants to get to Baldur's Gate with the artifact in her hand and her body her own. A strategically revealed secret is no sin. "I do remember the first time I met another servant of my lady."

"What happened?"

"I can show you through the tadpole," Lady of Loss, guide her steps, this is such a Hells-damned gambit. "I would be showing you something-- sensitive, though."

He touches the shrine. "I swear on Desna's shrine I'll keep your secret."

Good enough. She reaches out with the tadpole--