I didn't roll up the scroll hurriedly or look up from it too quickly, even though I had the incredible urge to do both. I stared at it, just as I had before I could understand it, and reopened the others as well, to stare at them all together.
One spoke of a spell that would give a relatively direct answer to one question. Another listed the components of said spell, and the other listed the various lotions and potions that Bahlzair had on hand. Then there was his note.
"You're very pensive all of a sudden," Ylyssa noted, turning her head to focus on me. I didn't look up to meet her gaze right away, concerned that if I did so, whatever blessing that was allowing me to decipher these encoded scratches on the scrolls would vanish. Fortunately, she did not attempt to communicate again, but lapsed into complete silence.
I stared at the scrolls until I was positive that I had memorized every word. The potion's effect didn't wear off for a while, but I tried to make the most of the opportunity. This character stands for this sound, this squiggly line means this number. I leaned against the wall, finding my back muscles tense and sore, and must have fallen asleep that way.
When I awoke, it was because Ylyssa had accidentally bumped me while attempting to read the scrolls herself.
"I thought you said your culture did not abide overly intelligent women," she smiled, putting a hand on my shoulder. "This isn't Infernal at all. It looks more akin to what I have glimpsed of Guttural."
I hummed quietly, unable to make any other comments on the subject. Not only was I unable to read my own native Infernal, I had absolutely no idea what Guttural was at all.
"Yes, ye gods, it even looks horrible. Worse even than written Drow-drivel-"
"Drow-drivel?" I asked, closing the scrolls slowly. "Aren't you in charge of knowing about and relating to other cultures? How is it that you respect Bahlzair's talent and hate his race at the same time?"
"Undercommon, then. That looks more hideous than Undercommon, and why should you be offended at what I call Drow writing? The wretch can neither read nor write, of course. They don't allow their menfolk to learn such arts; it's amazing that he's such a talented alchemist."
I uttered a grunt, my mind briefly racing. "If it is so offensive to your eyes, look away," I began, fastening the scrolls with their worn strings.
Ylyssa fixed me with the clear eyes of a female much her junior, genuinely on fire with the desire to know what she had truly seen. "Is it truly the language that your forefathers spoke to Asmodeus? Is it how they communicated with the demons that lay with them in their beds? How did they come up with a brand new language, just like that?"
"You understand that I can't answer any of that!" I spat, crossing my arms. She blinked, in an instant returning to the embittered married woman that I'd first known on an open hillside. "Mistress of languages you may be, but not all knowledge is meant to be shared."
For a few moments, I thought that there would be a grand showdown between the two of us. Her face darkened, eyes flashing with indignation.
"I can't teach it. I physically can't," I said calmly, reaching out and fearlessly putting a hand to her puffed cheek. "It's only able to be read when the demons give leave in the first place. When any one of them decides that it should no longer be understood, then poof, the comprehension flees my mind so completely, it's as though it were never there."
Ylyssa's rage checked itself for a moment, registering as a tiny, barely-audible, "Oh," after which she bit her lips. "I was simply shown it once. That cleric- and then he- did-"
"Yes," I pounced, capitalizing on the chance. "We really cannot speak of this. It's just not done. I don't want to die- not like- that."
In all reality, I had no idea what "that" was, but I didn't have to. The wistful, charged look in Ylyssa's eyes was enough.
"He was trying to escape," she whispered. I wasn't sure whom she was trying to hide the information from, but figured it would be best to let her spit it out. "He had no horns, no tail, no hooves. He had joined an order. Prayed all the time. Begged Bahlzair to help him make incense- that was the first time I'd ever heard the dark Elf laugh."
I tried to imagine that perpetual scowl allowing a laugh to emerge, and found that I couldn't. I'd be disturbed by hearing such a sound emitting from Bahlzair myself.
"He did not even believe he was a Tiefling. Uirrigan called him a 'prototiefling,' possibly to calm him. He kept quiet in his quarters, saying prayer after prayer. But in the end, however he struggled, it was as though he were a man possessed. He would shield his eyes, lest he even saw a weapon. He told Uirrigan, over and over, 'I am a Human,' but it just wasn't true. Once, I walked by his quarters, and-"
She looked around herself briefly, and I set all the scrolls aside so she could sit next to me. She did so with little hesitation, folding her hands in her lap and looking down at them.
"I saw a shadow go over him as he slept. I don't know what it was- perhaps it was even the flicker of my cantrip- I don't know. It was as though I saw a demon, horns and all. But it left as quickly as it came, leaving just- I don't know- a dark Human." She sighed and looked at the empty vial I had left behind. "It was only then I could begin to conceive of Drow life- what it might have been, at the beginning. Of course I'd received lessons, in my youth, but I'd never thought too deeply on them. I began to wonder how many dark Elves didn't know what they were, at first. How many searched for the sun, only to have it confuse and blind them."
She stood up sharply, hugging her elbows to herself and giving a short and quiet huff. I watched her, thinking over Bahlzair's offer, knowing that I didn't have very much time to consider it.
"Tell Bahlzair, when he is ready, to take back these scrolls."
"Are you ready for the reagents, then?" Ylyssa asked, turning sharply to look at me. "Can it be done quickly?"
"Let me speak with Bahlzair. I need strengthening."
No comments:
Post a Comment