17 June 2012

2:13 The shadow of Shade.

I only spent a few more hours in the cell before a slender, pale skinned Shadar-Kai female proudly stood before my cell, waiting with the frail patience of a spoiled princess as one of the shame-faced guards opened my cell.  Niku bounded out first, barrelling his way past the guard and the Shadar-Kai, then turned to see if I were coming along.

I did not move.
With head still lowered, I allowed my gaze to meet this female of the tiarnaí.

"So you have eyes to see?" she sneered, crossing her slender arms over her chest.  "Look well, then.  You gaze upon Ntoru, a daughter of Netheril, a graduate of the mages of Thultanthar, a born master.  Even from my youth, all who saw me knew that my fingers were fit for spells, my tongue for rituals and my every breath for the most powerful of incantations.  I sense within you a marginally capable magic worker- come, serve your mistress."

Niku, after wetting in one of the other cells, padded back toward me and sat down outside the cell.

I looked over her many tattoos, her scars and her green and gold sheath dress.

"Are you deaf?" she demanded sharply.

I lifted my head, but said nothing.

One of the guards, after looking expectantly from me to her, reached into the cell, grabbed my upper arm in a vice-like grip, and pulled me out so that I was standing directly in front of the Shadar-Kai female.  She reached forward with one thin-fingered hand and brushed my cheek as one might do to their beloved.  While I was trained to accept all such touching without question, I found I wanted to turn away from her- so I did.

With narrowed eyes, the female reached forward and grabbed my chin in order to force me to look at her.  "Do not think, Silverhag, that your fame has escaped me.  Just a few simple scrying sessions told me more than I cared to know.  About how your low born Netherese father was joined to some worthless slag, and only rose in rank by proving his ability to overcome his circumstances.  Seems your inability to take your eyes off a beautiful female runs in your family.  Only when her issue died in her belly did she remember the power of her master."

"She defied Netheril in word and deed until she could no longer," I replied quietly, my gaze unmoving.  This female did not inspire anything in me but vague annoyance- her crowing rang false and hollow.  "I am not Netherese."

"Beware- her defiance won nothing but destruction.  Everything she touched was obliterated.  Her lover.  Her children.  Her land.  Her entire life, burned to a smoking pile of ash, over which your father climbed to a comparatively blissful mediocrity.  I hear he has won himself a proper Netherese bride, by which he has two honourable sons."

"There is nothing honourable about males raised to rape and slaughter children," I found myself saying.  I lifted my head to match her height, and found that I was taller than she was- a minor fact that for some reason emboldened me.  Niku, pleased by this, got up and began wagging his stump of a tail, giving out the tell-tale short whines that would soon become barks.

Ntoru smirked, snickered, and finally outright laughed in my face, to the absolute surprise of the guard who was about a foot away from my right side.  "Is that a faint desire for vengeance I sense?  On a crime so long cold that an entire generation separates you from it?  Ceubel has forgotten you, hag, as one could have expected him to have done- a strange-skinned, cursed-eyed, idiot savant who never knew how to raise her head before this moment.  He made but one mistake- he sold you to the skin tiarnaí instead of putting you out into the scarred lands for the witches to tear apart.  But, I suppose back then he needed the coin."

"Hey now, hey now," the guard interjected, stepping a bit closer to the female.  "You keep that Shade-talk to yourself.  Whatever she was before, she's got rights now, as a free person and a documented visitor to Urmlaspyr."

"It is I who may speak of Thultanthar," Ntoru hissed, "not you.  You know nothing of our customs and our ways; therefore, hold your peace.  This creature is a slave- the gods have handed her this fate, and she should not defy them.  Slaves have no rights, but depend instead on the wisdom of their masters."

"And you are not my master," I stated simply.  "You have no right to claim me, for you are not of the tiarnaí daor at all."

"Oops," the guard laughed with a satisfied smirk on his face.

"How dare you!" the female growled at once, her fury causing the shadows in the cells to deepen considerably.  She smacked me with her open hand, and Niku jumped up at her, barking and snapping.  A well placed slap on the muzzle caught him, and before I could say anything, Niku coiled up and threw his full weight on her, bringing her to the floor at once.  The guard pushed past me and dragged Niku off, and when I turned my head back, a dark, hooded figure stood at the foot of the ascending hallway.

"Let the hound go, for he is right to tear at her," a threatening male tenor rumbled.  "How dare she, a pretender, lay a hand on anyone."  The guard, visibly shaken by the presence of this hooded male, dragged Niku past him and up toward the upper levels of the prison.  Niku's furious howls and barks echoed down the halls long after I lost sight of him.

"You!" the Shadar-Kai female spat, getting to her feet and adjusting her figure-hugging dress, which had been torn at the midsection.  "You came up from the tombs for what?  For this- thing?"

"It is for her that I have come, but she is no thing to be claimed," Svaentok scoffed, pulling his hood back and fixing the female with a glower that made me wither in spite of myself.  "Your deeds would make even the most cowardly domestic slave laugh you to shame, yet you descend from the spire in which these Humans have shut you up like one cursed with the plague to dredge up someone else's less-than-fortunate past?"

Ntoru's eyes lit up with indignation and embarrassment.  "All that you can crow about are deeds long past, Yrel-Ades.  I have not, as you have, left my homeland in disgrace, fleeing some secret shame.  I sought out the masters of Thultanthar, became a prized student!  I guide the hands of the merchant ruling class!"

"And you are the footstool of an aged Human mage who could run your guts through with acid arrows as she broke wind in her sleep," Svaentok scoffed.  "Stand away, or you shall soon gather your skirts and run."

"Oh, I shall run, shall I?" Ntoru purred derisively, winding her way under Svaentok and pressing against him. "So says the former master of whores, who has since recanted his ways and donned a monk's robe.  What do you think you hide, Yrel-Ades, under all that cloth?  Do you think you can pray away the tears in all those girls'eyes?  How do you meditate while they still scream in your memories?"  She feigned embarrassment, placing her hand over her mouth with a smirk.  "And does your pet know which sect of tiarnaí you commanded?  I hope I haven't spoiled this night's surprise."

Svaentok, who was also taller than Ntoru, lifted his frame just slightly higher and folded his arms above her head.  He turned his head and sighed at the ceiling.  "If you pass a resting beast, provoke it not."

"Oh, but you're not at rest- you were a charm breaker, laden with hundreds of females, yet unable to be satisfied, commanding scores of useless sacks of flesh just like this one with a blink of an eye or the snap of your fingers," Ntoru giggled girlishly, having completely changed her tactics.  "And now you claim a new toy.  What will your female have to do to you, Yrel-Ades, when you get her back under the earth with you?  Back into that bare cave, in the darkness, on the frigid stone, will she lay her head in your lap?  Will she crawl on her hands and knees behind you, chained by the back of her neck to your hips, as so many were before her?  Crow of what you will do, if you can.  Or have you finally succeeded in burying the dominant beast you were in all this detestable sackcloth?"

"Silence!" Svaentok at last burst out, his sudden temper making Ntoru stagger forward a few steps.  "Be grateful I suffer my family name to fall from your lips, for I am still Yrel Svaentok pir-Ades, first born to that house, native to the Eboneye Commune, whose weakest border sparks with such magic as would shatter your mind.  I have never failed to be your better; not since my early youth have I even considered what it might have felt like to be as weak as you are now.  Why should you call upon me to crow, when just one of my deeds would outweigh your entire miserable life?"

"I survived and bested the Thultanthar mages!" Ntoru shot back, now crossing her own arms and standing firm.  "I bore with their abuses for years, wore the stones away with my knees, nearly went blind translating and transcribing thousands of magic scrolls!  The magic they taught me would tear the flesh from your bones."

"I touched not one thing they touched, nor did I walk where they had set their feet down," Svaentok snorted.  "I did not once bend my knee or expose my neck to those cursed, blind fools.  Instead, I burned my name into their nightmares, stealing and selling off their children, ransacking their secret lairs, slaughtering their beasts to paint their homes in blood, throwing down their monuments to Shar and smashing their implements to the ground. Some even resorted to the Material Plane to escape my hand, and when I first came, it was to find them.  For I was not born a slave, as clearly you were, but a warrior.  I was not once the most feared skin master, but still am, and will be until I breathe no longer.  All that has changed is my willingness to accept payment to force the sensual arts on those who do not wish to learn."

Ntoru stared at him- a strange glare charged with both fury and intense desire.

"Quiet at last?" Svaentok commented, his tone softening as he closed the space between himself and her.  The way he approached her, a half-circling motion with his frigid blue eyes stripping her down like tender meat from young bones, made him seem like an entirely different male.  "I would not deny your pleasure- I am more than able to satisfy the hunger cries in both flesh and spirit.  Do you wish to learn the many arts of the House of Yrel-Ades?"

And without a word, Ntoru gathered the bottom of her dress up to her knees, ducked between Svaentok and myself, and ran back up the hallway toward the higher cells.

"Your word is sure," I said, lowering my eyes.  "Surely my lord did say, 'you shall soon gather your skirts and run.' "

With his back to me, Svaentok laughed a small, bitter chuckle.  "I did."

"You still command with the strength which the gods have sewn into you, and cannot do otherwise," I counseled, nearing him without touching him.  "I was born docile, and accept this from their hands without apology."

"Perhaps you were not born dominant," Svaentok managed, turning around to walk up the walkway toward the outside.  "but you are as strong as any who believes that they were."

I followed him after a few moments of silence, and we continued on up the slowly winding path toward the outside without any contention from the jumpy guards.  I was not taken to a healer at all- possibly because everyone assumed that Svaentok would ensure that I was alright.  The male Human in charge of the records- I could tell based on the location of his post and because of Mi'ishaen's account of being documented when she left- simply waved at Svaentok.  All the way at the mouth of the prison, where the brilliant noon day sun stretched her fingers between the bars, sat Karth, who had Niku on a well worn leather strap.

"So the ink of that vine never washes off, does it?" he said, only half jokingly.  "Ntoru ran out of here like you'd set fire to that daft wee getup of hers."

"I am rarely glad that it cannot," Svaentok replied, pulling his heavy black hood back over his shaved head.  "Do not speak of this to anyone else.  Ntoru has her place, and I mine."

"To be sure.  This is yer battle hound, eh, lass?" Karth asked, holding the knotted end of the strap out to me.  "Just heard today there's a tax for not putting yer dog on a strap."

I smiled faintly, reaching out my hand to accept the frayed end, tying a knot into it and slipping my hand into the knot.  "We belong to each other now, Niku, how is that?"

Just as I thought he might, Niku began wagging his tail- what was left of it- eagerly, jumping up to put heavy paws onto my legs.  He didn't mean to, but he tore through the bottom of Vhalan's cloak, leaving bruised streaks on my thighs and the front of my make shift dress in rags.

"He's an affectionate one, for a battle hound," Karth noted.  "Never saw him act this way with the old man he had before.  He'd better learn how big he is for ye.  Now, Lord Svaentok-"

"Brother will do," Svaentok interrupted with a pained look and an upraised hand.  "I have done with crowing, this day."

"Brother Svaentok, then- keep this lassie as far as ye can from the Tiefling rogue.  I ha'nae a quarrel with their type, but-"

"Aberration, yes," Svaentok sighed.  "Although Humans have hardly ever needed a good reason to call anyone such a name.  Any being with sharp ears, red eyes, pale skin or fangs suddenly becomes worthy of burning and stoning.  It's hard to imagine having descended from the same forbears as these- beings."

"But ye did," Karth shrugged.  "We all come from just two races- Eladrin and Human.  And if everybody would remember that for just a few minutes in between trying to kill each other, things like- oh, say the Spellplague or the empire wars- wouldn't happen."

Svaentok nodded, folding his arms across his chest so that the sleeves of his cloak hid his hands.  "It is as you say."

He turned away, and I quickly followed him.  Niku bounced up and intended to run on ahead of us as he'd done with Miíshaen, but the strap kept him from getting as far as he would like.  Svaentok and I walked in silence through the town, and the people, seeing him, gave as much space as they could.

"That- those reactions?" Svaentok sighed when we'd reached the dirt path that wound down to the temple.  "That is the legacy of Thultanthar.  The mages who thought that eternally fighting the Shadow Curse was a blessing of Shar eventually had children who returned from her little playground to pummel the Humans and other races who had been left behind generations earlier.  Karth is part of a permanent detachment from Cormyr, specifically planted here to ensure that the Shadovar do not again overtake this place as they did Sembia.  The people here are scarred, afraid- and they will be for generations to come.  They did not understand that a Shadar-Kai could despise the Netherese just as much as they did.  Karth held me in great suspicion, and at times, still does.  As it is Ntoru who stands as their sole example of docility, I am loathe to give him another reason to compare us."

"He kept the town people away from me," I offered quietly.  "If they had believed me but a witch, perhaps they would have simply sent me to the stake.  But they called me Netherese, and began to stone me even before Mi'ishaen-"

I realized suddenly that Svaentok's temper was linked to his magical ability, for the moment I sensed his anger rise, I could also feel a shock wave rise against me.  It reminded me very much of my former master, but Svaentok was not at all a striking sort.  His was a controlling energy- the air around him became so charged with his admirably controlled frustration that I found myself pushed back a few steps.  I waited until he had calmed down a bit before I asked him another question.

"Did my lord receive any of my sisters into the House of Yrel-Ades?"

"I did not," Svaentok replied firmly.  "Ceubel was-"  He stopped suddenly, and I almost crashed into him.  Niku seemed to sense that this was a tense moment, and stood panting, ready to dash back toward me at any moment.  "When your father approached mine- for at that time, Yrel still ruled the house from his sickbed- my father would have accepted all four of you.  He did not know that Ceubel was selling girls as young as three years old- Anyka, I think that one was, at the time.  But I, who had the blessing of health, had seen your two older sisters caring for you and your little sister as your mother and her mistress walked the Grand Market in the plain lands.  Byta alone was my age- physically sound, peaceful, caring- lovely to look at, and worthy to be bought.  Worse, almost all of Eboneye had heard of how your mother refused to give her master- your father- what was left of her ancestral land so that he might join the rest of the commune in pledge to Netheril; I respected her greatly for this.  I argued at length with my father, telling him to have nothing to do with the transaction.  Some years after that, we hear of mercenaries from Spikearm Commune burning a path to the House of Shuun-Cziau, snatching Ceubel's daughters out of their beds and beating and defiling them before their mother's very eyes. I-"

"He did it," I said, mostly to myself as I turned my gaze out to the sea.  "He paid the mercenaries to kill everyone in the house, to beat us and rape us- all of us.  He hated my mother, and her friend.  He hated all his children- hated me.  We were his curse."

"Not at all," Svaentok soothed, gently holding my shoulders.  A sense of calm radiated from him as strongly as if he had cast the words of docility like a spell.  "If anything is his curse, it's that yellow-backed ambition of his.  He'd shock Asmodeus himself with his awkwardly underhanded heartlessness.  Ah-"  He took his hands away suddenly, clearly self-conscious.  "Forgive me- I only meant-"

"To comfort me, to give me peace," I smiled weakly over my shoulder.  "It is natural for us to relate in this manner.  Even when you try to ask forgiveness, you command it of me."

Svaentok bit his lower lip, nodded slowly and sighed.  "You are right- as probably you normally are.  I suppose if I must give you commands, they may as well be good ones.  You have a core of wisdom within you that you must not neglect because you think yourself lesser than those around you.  Instead, culture it- let it grow with experience.  You are, I hope you will realize, not a curse.  Let the weight of your father's hatred pass from you, for although the gods may have gifted you with great patience, I doubt that they gave you that self-loathing that you carry so quietly beneath your skin, hoping that no one will notice it there."

And all I could find to say was a stunned and faint, "Oh."

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