Though Mar is truly devoted to Sune, there is a vengeful tinge to her worship and mentality that gives Memner some pause. Of his three girls, Mar is the most likely to need correction and guidance. Unlike Elice, who truly loves men, Mar finds she can only find fulfillment in the fantasy that sex is romance. More physically gifted and willing than Elice, Mar holds to faith in Sune as a desperate crutch. Born in Thay, she was a slave in the worst way, a play thing of the Zulkir of Evocation. Desperate for meaning, she has constructed a false explanation for her suffering… not quite heretical, she simply ascribes motives and imagines reciprocated feelings in her childhood. By the time she was a teenager, the Zulkir had lost interest in her, and in the relatively unguarded (compared to a Zulkir’s enclave at least), fields of Thay, she found opportunity to escape. By the time she found her way to Amn, she was very nearly Loviander’s toy when Memner found her. Compassionate and appalled at her suffering, he initially strove to move her toward other aspects of beauty and pleasure, but Mar’s psyche could not accept anything else… she desperately needs to fulfill others, or she would lapse into severe, suicidal depression. Over the last decade, he has counceled her (and never taken advantage of her), and her sufferings have eased somewhat. He was reluctant to allow her to come to Speardale at all, and only brought her because of a direct vision in his dreams from Sune herself. He knows not what the goddess plans for Mar, but he watches carefully over her.
For her part, Mar strives desperately to be more completely Sunite, and views her years of slavery as if she were wrong, as if she were at fault for not accepting the “pleasure” she was “offered.” In many ways a little girl trapped at the moment of her first assault, Mar is finding a new type of person in the quiet, homely Speardale. Life is slower paced, and for the first time she has a chance to look at herself and see who she is, who she might become, who she wants to be. Over the last several weeks, the carrying sound of agonized weeping has wafted on the nights’ breezes over Speardale, and a new reluctance has settled on Mar. Memner hopes that perhaps soon she can abandon sex— at least for a while— and find true love, and with it true fulfillment. Until then, he is more mindful of her than everything else combined.