Syjenge nearly had to drag Ylyssa out of the cavern. Silveredge meekly followed behind them, not even requiring a command to do so.
"He's very fond of that spell," Uirrigan sighed, moving toward his position at the center of the room. "Makes it so he only has to deal with one out-of-control situation at a time."
I merely snorted.
"You'll note all the equipment lying around. I'm not a- well, a slave trader. Ylyssa treats all my subjects as though they should be scrubbing the floors clean with their hair, and Syjgen... well. I am a chronicler and a biological scientist. I'd be an archivist too, if there were any more archives here to attend to. As it is, only half of my library remains." He began to busy himself with a standing rack filled with scrolls that sat beside a desk to the left of the giant stone dais near the center of the cavern.
"So you're going to what, slice me apart and study my biological functions? How I differ from the previous Tieflings?" I asked cautiously. I didn't want to touch the apparent loss of his archives, or ask who or what he was archiving for. What was important was the immediate danger to my person.
"Very direct. I can appreciate that." Uirrigan apparently lit upon the particular scroll for which he had been searching and spread it out on the desk- or rather, the flat carved stone structure that I was hoping was a desk, and not an operating table.
"I have taken apart enough Humans to be intimately aware of what they look like. Prototieflings, likewise- and, unusual innate magical abilities aside, they may as well be Human. For true Tieflings, evolution has gone past giving you greater magical affinity and bloodlust; now it crowns you with horns, thrusts a tail out of your back, and turns your feet to hooves. It has been some years since the rather violent suicide of the last subject, who seemed to be very ill at ease with his heritage, once he was made aware of it. I didn't allow his sacrifice to be in vain; I sketched his innards. Actually, his spinal cord may be around here somewhere; that may be useful. He had no tail, and I am quite interested in how you are managing with that leathery little fifth limb of yours. However, even with these skeletal and muscular departures, I do not believe there is sufficient difference between a Human, a Prototiefling and yourself to warrant taking you apart, especially in light of the fact that you are the first of this latest mutation that I have been graced to see and speak with."
Evolution? Graced? Mutation? Clearly the creature before me was absolutely insane, driven mad by centuries of being cooped up in a space with an entrance so narrow, he could not have possibly forced himself through. Not with those wings, anyway.
"Two centuries, you say? Bael Turath stood for two centuries?"
I dragged myself out of my own musings on my questioner's sanity. "The actual empire might have lasted longer. I didn't get many history lessons when I was young," I replied, shrugging. "Can I sit down?"
"Do, please; they must have marched you like cattle to get you here as quickly as they did," Uirrigan replied, waving a hand toward me while staring down at the scroll. "According to my old studies, the Human kingdom-turned-empire of Bael Turath, already extant, penned the first of their fiendish contracts approximately one thousand and thirty years ago. At that time, devils and demons rose up from the Nine Hells to seal their agreements by mating with the women- and of course having a bit of cheeky fun with the men, you know how it is."
Sure, sure.
Except for the fact that I did not know how any of that was.
"I was very young then, having just emerged from my training in the warrior class. My time among the academics had not yet truly begun. But even then, I was supremely fascinated with Humans so desperate to maintain control of their conquered lands that they quite literally bargained with the devils- the greatest of whom was Asmodeus himself, I was told. Are you taught anything about Asmodeus, or which house managed to get his attention?"
I figured it didn't make sense to lie to a creature truly interested in scientific study. He didn't look up from his scroll until I paused before I spoke.
"I was taught to respect him, but that's about as far as it went. We didn't worship him, like others did. I was always told that those who call upon him will meet him, one way or the other."
"I see," he responded with a frown. "So I take it you did not study your post-demonic pact culture too deeply?"
"My family was ripped at the seams while I was still playing pretend, so I didn't have much time to do a lot of studying out of books." I set to rubbing my ankles, which weren't nearly as irritated as my feelings were.
Uirrigan leaned back away from the table and crossed his arms.
"Do you speak Abyssal or Infernal?"
"Just Infernal- and it's pretty bad. My brother could only do so much before the Dragonborn tore him to pieces."
"Ah, a wound long healed, hmm? I hope you have some anger left in you, dear," Uirrigan smiled as he moved away from the desk. "While I'd love to pick your brain, I can see from your manner that you're not particularly interested. Don't protest; academics simply aren't your area of expertise. But this-"
And he walked past me to a chest just at the side of the narrow opening. From the chest, which he seemed to open just by waving his hand over it, he pulled my daggers and my tail knife.
"This indicates that you will make a much sturdier subject to study than the last poor wimbly sap who wandered through here like a lost soul. He was a monk, repenting for sins he knew nothing about." He tossed all three weapons in the air, and it took some effort to snatch them down without cutting myself on something. "Yes indeed. Hellfire blood, as I'm told it's called. The irrepressible urge to harm something that's teetering on the edge between death and recovery. A remarkable find; I was glad to document it, even though the subject was trembling when I discussed it with him. I'd like to test that hellfire blood, if you wouldn't mind. But I will make a proper offer. Either you can chat about the multitude of chronicles I've saved about your race's fairly unattractive history, or you can fight my Dragonborn specimen so I can get a blood sample."
"I think m'lord already handed me my choice," I sneered, fitting my tail knife back in its place. "Why would I pass up the chance to peel the scales off of one of my family's murderers?"
"Well said, Daughter of Dis!" Uirrigan exclaimed. "Here's the trick- don't kill him. Just bruise him up nicely, right to the bloodied point. Then stay your hand, and I will study the reactions in your body."
"When do I get my freedom?" I asked, holstering my blades politely.
"Ah, yes, that. Fair question. Most of my specimens are released- or at least I hope they are- when I've completed their testing. Like I said, I already know how most of your body works, I'm only charting any chemical reactions to severely wounded creatures." Uirrigan flitted to my position, stuck me with some sort of vial filling device, then sat down before me, looking me in the eye with the clearest of intentions. "You've been frank with me, and I feel I must thank you by being frank with you. I have no idea what those two hooligans do with the specimens once I'm through with testing. I don't pay them anything for the specimens, you understand. I usually simply whip them up some ridiculous potion or repair their meager weaponry. But I've become concerned, very concerned, about what exactly Syjen is doing. Ylyssa follows instructions, usually, but he's the real problem. The only creature, aside from myself, that has given him pause has been a Drow who either will not or cannot leave this cave- I'm not sure which. As I'm sure you've deduced, I cannot get out of here by anything less than a step into the Feywild. With the way this cavern, which used to be a center of learning for thousands of voracious minds, has degenerated over the last few centuries, I'd be lucky not to step into some slab of solid rock."
"You're leading up to something, but you'll lose me soon," I whispered, somehow feeling the need for secretive measures.
"Ylyssa is dangerous, but she's just another slave, that's the point," Uirrigan concluded, not bothering at all to lower his volume or change his tone. "Your friend, as I perceive she must be, by the protection spell she placed upon you, is quite squarely in Syjen's clutches. I want no quarrel with you, and no blood on my hands- no more, anyway. When I conclude my research, you will be free, as far as I am concerned. But in addition to getting yourself out, you must find some way of getting your friend out with you, or she will probably die here, a casualty of either ridiculous jealousy or unreasonable fury."
"If they're so dangerous, why not do something about them? You must know more about magic and potions than they do."
And he laughed, with that same strange sad happiness that had first greeted me.
"I am old, Mi'ishaen. Tired. And weak, believe it or not. I may have perhaps another decade or two in me, but that's it. I'd like to live my last few years in relative peace."
I'd never felt more confused.
Uirrigan, this near millenia-old Avariel, had somehow managed to be little more than a captive in his own laboratory.
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