Aric and I walked silently down the corridors through which others rushed, still fanning at remaining poison fumes and tending to others who had reacted much more poorly than some had. Svaentok was among those who had fared relatively well, and although his blue eyes seemed all the more blue for the tearing the poison had caused, he tended to others with gentle hands.
"Don't let him fool you," Aric said, a laugh not far from his rasping voice. "That one had pride in the very marrow of his bones- and sometimes still struggles with it. We value great deeds here as well, and while he later decided to walk the monastic path, he had done much in the warrior's way in his past. I spent quite a lot of time trying to explain to him that we are all born equal, and that gold cannot pay for our souls. He believed deeply in the inevitability of death, but could not grasp the concept that one death was not worth more or less than another."
"How could that be?" I asked meekly. "Surely your death would be much more weighty than his, and his more than mine. That is the way of things."
"Not at all, my daughter," Aric replied, stopping at a small cloister whose cloth had been pinned up. It stood empty, without anything but a stone bed and a single protruding valence for the unlit black candle. "You are mistaking one's social station for the intrinsic worth of one's soul. Perhaps my death would weigh heavily with these people here, who respect me as their Shepherd, but not a tear would fall for me in Cormyr, just a stretch of the legs away, because I hold no position there. Yet, in the eyes of the Raven Queen, your most beautiful, tender and compassionate soul would be just as important as my own."
"But what you are is also who you are," I contended, confused. "What slave, who was born to serve, can say that their soul is greater than a warrior, naturally born stronger and braver than she? The gods, whoever they may be, have sewn your purpose into your very being, so that you can do no other but that which you were destined to do. Would not one miss the one who defends their house much more than the one who cleans it?"
"Yours is a double edged question," Aric nodded sagely, sitting down on the floor in front of the entry to the cloister. He tried not to look pained as he did so, but the attempt was a miserable failure. "Let us consider it deeply. Please."
And without him even articulating the full command, I sat with the tops of my ankles flush to the floor, as I had done before.
"When you were born, daughter, did you have the collar piercing in your neck already, or did someone hold your arms, pull your hair forward and pierce your neck later?"
"When I had seen twelve dark seasons," I replied after some thought. "But they did not have to hold my hair. I was commanded to do so myself, and I obeyed without hesitation."
"A fact of which you are now strangely proud," Aric noted with a raised brow. "Pain clearly means little to you. Your subservience and tolerance are your gifts, then? You believe that your slavery and mistreatment was the fulfillment of the wishes of the gods- but what now, that you are free? Are you now living in contradiction to their commands?"
I had not thought of this. "Perhaps," I answered, hearing a distant quality in my own voice, as though it were somehow not mine.
" Do you believe your soul to be of less worth, now that you are not doing that which was sewn into you? Will you be chained to another master, soon? Whoever is strong willed enough to command you, or whoever will hurt you the most?"
"What should I do, then?" I asked, struck as though he had insulted me.
"Ah, the most important question of your life to this point," Aric smiled warmly, his voice purring in his chest. "But it is not one that I, nor any other, should answer for you. I have pestered you enough, I sense. It was not my intention to harm you in any way- only to provoke that one sensation of urgent inquiry. Dwell in this moment, and consider it deeply. It may prove extremely significant in the time to come." He struggled to arise, and I thought nothing of instantly getting to my feet to help him. He turned slowly and grasped both my hands in his own. "I do thank you- in her wings rest well, daughter."
I bowed my head slightly, but stopped myself from referring to him as a master, which I was sure he would chastise. I entered the cloister, whose candle was now somehow lit. As Aric had explained his magic research before, I thought little of it, and instead simply gazed into the flame, and past it to the shadows that danced on the walls as it flickered. After a while, I tired of standing and decided to sit on the bed, which was the only other thing in the entire room. The bed was completely level and carved straight into the rock- it was cool to the touch, but warmed easily under my hand as though magical. Just as I'd sat upon it, cross legged, Svaentok entered with a small scroll.
"I- wanted to leave this with you," he managed quietly, having caught my eyes at once. Without thinking, I'd arisen again, awaiting a command with eyes lowered and hands folded in front of me. After a few moments of silence, I looked slowly upward, feeling quite awkward. He had cast his eyes toward the candle, watching it instead of looking at me. "It's- a treatise concerning the-"
"Brother Svaentok!" a voice cried from somewhere. "Please, Sister Yelena is suffering with acid burns!"
I crossed silently to him and opened my hands to receive the scroll, which he gently placed in my hands with a grateful smile. He turned and moved off quickly, and I lowered the door covering, then took the scroll back to the bed to look at it. The Common seemed to have been written by someone who did not naturally speak it, and some of the descriptive phrases were strangely worded. Having only truly experienced the cultures of the Shadowfell and the Underdark, I wondered at where the writer may have been born or brought up. He or she spoke of how the Raven Queen was once mortal, and gained part of her divinity by overthrowing the god Nerull, who had crushed her spirit with years of subservience. It then went on to describe her holy pilgrimage through the Shadowfell, which bewildered me. I could not imagine a mortal woman somehow taking winter itself- the actual season- into her left hand and the thread of fate- or rather, all the combined fates of all creatures in all the worlds- in her right and walking alone across the Shadowfell with them.
Someone in the Shadowfell would have seen her, of course, had this been the case. To say such a trek would go unnoticed and uncontested was ridiculous, even for the Humans who had been caught up in the struggles between Shar and Mystra-pas-Mystryl. Just one generation ago, the Shadowfell- as I had been taught- had been made by Shar's unfolding of Mystra-pas-Mystryl's world within her own. It was a gruesome time- bursting with Spellplague, haunted by Shadows, crushed between furious, chaotic Netherese wizards, the Shadovar, and the children who had begun their decent into what would soon be called Shadar-Kai, but I somehow doubted that even with all that, the tales and writings from those times would fail to note a battered woman walking across the changing face of the Plane of Shadow with all of winter and the thread of fate in her bare hands. Someone would have been able to tell a half-goddess apart from a Human woman who was fading into a Shadar-Kai, a Shadow or a Shade. Surely some mage would have ended her holy pilgrimage as soon as she stepped into the evolving Shadow Plane, for would not her presence there by detected and instantly detested by Shar, who must have been full of magical energy after tearing down the barriers between her power and Mystra's?
I must have fallen asleep pondering these things, since I don't remember rolling the scroll and putting it anywhere. I dreamed pleasantly of much younger years, before my breaking began, when my sisters and I were free to explore my father's entire manse. I did not know, then, that the sun could be bright or that natural colors could be sharper than painted ones, but that did not bother me. Jhaeldana, whom my mother always called her good friend, would run around with us, constantly fighting us and provoking us to fight with each other, sending us to spy on others for her, or to steal things that she would later either put back or throw away, setting traps with and for us, and letting rodents loose in our rooms to make us scream. She never got in trouble for such things unless my mother saw her do it- and if that happened, one could expect a good rapier fight in the courtyard. Many were the scars on arms, faces, thighs and backs after such encounters, but they spoke kindly to each other at the end of them all, and disappeared down the halls hand in hand.
Strangely, zagging through these memories came Mi'ishaen's voice as she called back to me from the soldier's arms-
"I'll be back for you, Gorgeous!"
Between dream and reality somehow, I heard the light clatter of metal- a shimmering sound, almost like water. I awoke to find a raven sitting right next to my head. I sat up with a start, but the bird did not move as Quilafae's had when the Drow female had turned suddenly. It simply stared at me, expecting something from me.
"What can you possibly want, little master?" I asked simply, hands on my knees as I prepared to get off the bed completely. "I cannot feed you or give you water, and I don't know where the sky is, that I may set you free."
"Betzal. And he is not bound," Aric's voice replied. I stood instantly and looked around the room, terrified, until I saw movement near the covered entrance arch. "He stays with me on his own terms, and leaves my side when he so chooses. When I awoke, I noticed that he was not near me, as he usually is in the morning. When I called him, he came, then left immediately. So I followed him, and it seems that he is concerned about you. Did you know, daughter, that you laughed in your sleep?"
"No," I nearly whispered, completely embarrassed.
"It was a most endearing sound- so pure, so precious. I understood instantly why he should be interested in it, and in you- ah, pardon me." Aric cleared his voice softly, then raised an immaculate, solid tenor note that shocked me to the bone. It spoke, without words, of loss, of utter longing- of a dream incomplete or a desire that could never be fulfilled. And throughout the catacombs, there rung the voices of all the adherents.
"Turn your face westward, children of eternal cold," they sung.
Aric allowed his note to fade into silence after they had finished, then struck a lower, richer note, full of strength and purpose.
"Cast down your dark gaze, lest the sun you should behold."
Again, Aric's voice fell quiet. After a slightly longer pause, he struck another note, then pushed the tone higher so that it approached a moan.
"The sun sets in rising; all light fades into darkness-"
I quickly moved forward to push the cloth open, and was struck with the full force of Aric's voice. It was clear now why his speaking voice was so worn- the power of his singing voice seemed to fill every hallway of the place to echo back with an amazing beauty. And the sorrowful glory of it somehow became even greater as the other followers added their voices to it.
"We die each day living; find purpose in destined silence."
There were a few moments of silence in which Aric breathed deeply and cleared his throat again. With some effort, he sung what seemed to me a weighty benediction.
"May my thread be severed before thine, let the Shepherd in due time be led; an I this day join the sands of time, my peace I give thee, as I rest."
A few moments of absolute stillness followed. I couldn't break their stunning beauty with a foolish question, but Aric seemed to snatch it from my mind anyway. His grey eyes radiated understanding and compassion, and he laid a hand on my shoulder.
"Quite frankly, someday, I won't be alive anymore," he smiled. "One of our dearest tenets is the expectation of death, which is the Raven Queen's first gift to each of us. When we accept that death comes to all of us, we begin to understand that what we do with our lives, short as they are, is of the utmost importance. Yet, our blessed rest often grieves those around us, even if they too expected it. The founder of this temple, Shepherdess Robynette, understood that even among we who expect death, there is an attachment that must be addressed. So after years of consideration and meditation, she wrote and added that last line to the morning chant."
I stood in silence, thinking over his words, and remembering the soldier who had been thrown overboard on our trip to this place. One would think that a soldier would understand that their compatriots could die on any day, yet such had not been the case with the soldier who'd had to be restrained.
Someone caught Aric's attention, and with a squeeze of my shoulder, he moved away from me. I watched his limping- a slow drag of the left leg, balancing gingerly upon it, then a drop onto his right leg. Mortality was written into his frame, but his serenity and open manner made it seem like a lie. Betzal flapped past me and toward him, and when I opened my eyes again- I ducked and closed them when he passed me- I found Quilafae before me.
"You know, Brother Svaentok still has his hands full with acidic burns," she began, arms crossed over her chest. "He didn't sleep all night. Working with some who can hardly breathe without spitting blood, others who woke up with lesions on their skin..."
"Perhaps I had better go find Bahlzair?" I suggested, not wanting to be in her presence much more than I had to be.
"There's a good girl," Quilafae smiled with genuine gratitude. "Let me put you on your path."
For all the warmth of this invitation, there was no conversation between us on our way out into the morning light. Perhaps it was partially because Quilafae did not care to speak to me, but I did not mind, as I was still considering all that I had read and heard. Or at least I was, until we neared the stairwell. There, my ankles began to itch and burn. While I stopped to look up into the trees for Bahlzair, Quilafae surged past me and gave a shout.
"Hey! You can't practice that wickedness here!"
I turned to the unmarked open field in which Quilafae was standing, hollering at none other than Seyashen. Around him rested a low-level mist that I knew was not just fog. He sat at peace, as he had when I had seen him speaking to an ethereal figure.
"I know you can hear me- who are you talking to?" Quilafae demanded, her tone not far from frustration. I walked past her, my ankles and bare feet stinging as I did, but stopped a few feet away from Seyashen. As I walked, the mist began to clear, and I supposed that Seyashen knew that I was coming.
"Her?" he asked in a light tone, as though talking to a friend. "Oh, yes, her I know. She means no harm." After a pause, during which I moved forward to see that his eyes stared out at nothing, he spoke again. "Yes, she's fully Shadar-Kai, but I do not know whether she can be called Netherese or not."
"No, I cannot," I replied. "Only my father tried to swear loyalty to Netheril- my mother and the rest of the house would not."
There was a long pause, so I continued.
"All of us were made slaves, or tortured, or killed-"
Seyashen shook his head. "No, I don't suppose she can. I know, but she's not- yes, I can. You already know why. Alright, if you must hear it- because I am-"
"A necromancer," Quilafae spat. I turned to find her and a guard standing on the other side of the field. "On the sacred ground of the Raven Queen. I accuse him of desecration."
The guard moved forward on this, clearly intending to get Seyashen off the ground. "Wait, please-" I began thinly. Amazingly enough, he stopped and turned to me, his brown eyes resting in my own for a few moments.
"Yes?" he sighed. "Are you one of these as well?"
"I- no," I replied quietly. "But I do know that this male doesn't mean to-"
"You can't take her word; she befriends thieves and other criminals," Quilafae stated at once. I stared at her, absolutely lost for words. For just the second time in my entire life, I was actually, genuinely angry.
"I'll make sure he doesn't come to harm, miss," the guard comforted as he moved past me to get to Seyashen. "Come on, lad, time to go."
The ground trembled, cracks appearing in the earth as though the guard were too heavy to be walking there. Seyashen turned his head over his shoulder to face the man, who suddenly withered as though he had been a tender flower bud in a murdering heat. "See your death," he suggested quietly, and the poor guard crawled away from him, sweating and trembling in terror.
Quilafae, not to be deterred, lifted her voice and actually hollered for more guards. I sat next to Seyashen, who turned his face to me, but looked past me. I bit my lips, wondering if he were protecting himself or those around him.
"Can you hear me?" I whispered.
"I hear you and them," Seyashen replied distractedly. "but I am alone with them. All day long, they scream their injustices, show me their wounds- all the shallow graves- the graves- they cry out to me-"
"You're not alone," I urged, pressing close to him. "I'm here- and I'll find your cousin. We'll help you-"
"No one can help me," Seyashen smiled sadly.
By that time, the first guard recovered himself and returned to pick me up and take me a few paces away. Strangely, I wanted to resist, and stay near Seyashen; I didn't, but wondered at myself for feeling that way.
Seyashen sensed my absence, turned and spoke quietly to whatever spirit had tugged on him until two more guards clanked their way up and attempted to bodily pick the golden-eyed Tiefling up. When they did, the cracks in the ground widened, and the guards, clearly concerned for their own safety, spent some time figuring out how to gingerly pick him up.
Aric himself had been convinced to leave the depths of the catacombs and had surfaced with a few followers. The cracks in the ground widened some more, and the leaves on a few of the nearby trees began falling as though the seasons had changed. Seyashen turned his sightless gaze toward him and spoke with a thin, honey alto feminine voice, sending both shaken guards back a few paces.
"Draw near, Shepherd, that I may speak with you," the spirit that had taken residence in Seyashen commanded.
"What are you, my lady, that I may address you properly?" Aric replied, stepping away from the followers that had come with him. He stopped their concerned advance with a simple upraised finger.
"I understand your disinclination to hear me in this manner," the spirit replied. "Were it not that this tortured soul would tear this graveyard apart in his defense, I would have remained in quiet rest. I am Sulyic, and I am as you remember me. I find my abilities challenged in this child- he means well, but is vastly gifted with such arts as are abhorrent to this ground."
"Which could be dangerous to him as well as to us, Shepherd," Aric replied, moving slowly toward Seyashen. "How shall I lead him?"
"Carefully. And away from the fell point of madness, I should hope," the spirit replied seriously. "He is compelled to put to rest the spirit of a child- a young girl whose name was never called. You must help him to be her shepherd instead of her avenger, or much harm will be done."
"Whatever happened to 'No man comes late to his demise'?" one of the guards asked flippantly.
"Hush, son," Aric said solemnly. "There is such a thing as meeting it too early, or unjustly, as I must imagine this child has done. Shepherd Sulyic, would it not be best for us to find this child's resting place and perform the proper rites? Must an obvious necromancer be involved?"
Seyashen chuckled with Sulyic's voice and shook his head. "She will not be pacified with us, Aric; we are too late. While death itself belongs to the Raven Queen, the spirits that have passed through that veil do not. The child craves justice, and has torn this male's forbearance to rags in the effort to get it. Spirits speak more clearly to him than any living creature- a fact of which he is mournfully aware- yet, he cannot cover up or block out his natural talent. He slides ever closer to the temptation of undeath, hoping not for longevity, but for peace. In a few very short years, in some dank cave, someone will have the unenviable task of facing a formidable lich."
My eyes widened, at once thinking of the temple of Tiamat in which I'd nailed Mikhail to the floor with a spike-like horn.
"May this fate be changed, I pray," Aric rumbled instantly. Turning to a follower, he asked, "Please, daughter, go down to the Great Pool and say aloud 'Will you hear my question?' When you turn to come back to me, you will find a follower of Afflux with you. No matter what he or she looks like- for it may surprise or shock you- bring them here. Do not ask any questions until you come back, even the most banal, for once you ask and they answer, they will turn back. The rest of you- especially you, Quilafae- return below. I will return, whether I be warm or cold."
"Shepherd," the followers chorused, moving off.
"I must presently take my leave, and return to my rest," Sulyic sighed. "Moment by moment, this Tiefling grows more interested in my control. He is studying it, having never before been dominated by a spirit. He is no longer upset- I believe he understands that I did not wish him to truly desecrate this ground. But I am afraid that I've taught him how to do what it is that I now do to him- be wary."
"Not so," I replied, still held by the guard a few paces away. "There was one called Mikhail who did something similar quite often to anyone he pleased, but Seyashen used his spells to control himself- like his blindness."
"I had wondered about that," Sulyic mused.
"Yes, that is a most interesting- and telling- use of his talent," Aric mused. After a few moments of thought, he waved his hands at the guards dismissively. "Thank you for coming, but we shall be able to handle him from here."
"Not a chance," one of the guards replied, motioning to the other guard to grab Seyashen's arms. "No matter what happens, either he goes into the care of a documented coven or he goes to jail. I know it's been a while since you've been topside, ser, but that's the way it is, these days. I s'pose nobody bothered you with it, seeing as you'd left all that behind."
"At least allow this young female to stand on her own in peace. She is not likely to hurt you," Aric suggested.
"She gets around," the third guard sneered. "Ulwen said he would've nabbed her with the Tiefling female he just brought in, except the creature convinced him that she was just a bit of fluff for the night. Seems you've got a thing for the Demon-kin, eh, darlin'?"
"Urmlaspyr's men-at-arms, spewing slurs like that?" Aric clucked, shaking his head. "I really have been in the sacred halls for quite a while. I wouldn't have imagined that I'd hear such talk from you."
The follower returned shortly with a wild eyed young Halfling who was clothed only in ratty cloth bandages, as though he'd just sat up from an old tomb. The follower nodded to Aric, who turned himself into the Halfling's path immediately, stopping his forward motion. The short male, who had a brilliant red mohawk and pale skin with small dark eyes, looked up at him quizzically at first, then smiled expectantly. Out of the catacombs flew Betzal, who alighted on Aric's shoulder, but turned his head so that one eye was on me.
"Aric," the Halfling said in a tone that somehow embodied both open friendliness and mad hysteria. "Yours is the question, I trust. Yes- yes, of course- ask, ask, old friend, ask away."
"Do you know what this Tiefling male is capable of?" Aric asked, stepping to the side to indicate Seyashen.
The Halfling briskly walked past Aric and circled Seyashen. He batted at the guards, who let Seyashen go in spite of what they'd said earlier. Unsupported by the guards, Seyashen crashed ungracefully to the ground. The Halfling took the opportunity to grab Seyashen's face and stare into his eyes for a few moments, then turned back to Aric.
"Ah, Sulyic. An uncomfortable situation, I'm sure. Never mind; don't get up. The male is a strong reader- devours books- writes well, too. Sewing. Minor alchemy. Religious study- fascinated by various faiths. A poor liar and a worse thief, contrary to those who'd peg all of his kind as bandits and con-artists. Dripping with necromancy. Yet- not in complete control of his mind or body- prevents me from getting a precise read- there is more- something more- no, you have me, Aric. I do not know all of what this Tiefling male is capable of. But give me a week, Aric, just a week, and I will know him better than his mother."
"Good," Aric beamed. "That is what I had hoped for. Will you hear another question?"
"Ask, Aric, and I will answer," the Halfling replied speedily, as though he were in a great hurry to get somewhere. But curiously enough, he stood absolutely still, his bandaged hands now on his well-wrapped hips. What sounded to me like impatience was instead clearly his normal manner of communicating.
"Will you teach this Tiefling male what you find out about him, that he may be enlightened?" Aric requested slyly, as though he were openly cheating at a game with which the Halfling would be completely familiar.
"A well-asked question," the Halfling laughed. "I will teach the Tiefling to see himself, but whether he is enlightened by what he finds- well- that's not a question I can answer. You should know."
"I do know," Aric replied, an eyebrow raised. "But mine is not the only path- and it does not seem the right path for him at all. Hopefully, he will prove an interesting subject for you."
"Indeed- indeed, indeed he is," the Halfling mused, his smile almost hiding his eyes completely. "I should very much like to know just how much he knows about the study of death- and how much he would like to know."
"Careful, now," Aric smirked.
"Always," came the immensely amused reply. "I'll take it from here, madam."
Seyashen's body sprawled forward for a few moments. Just when I became worried that harm had come to him, he sat up again, gasping for air as though he had been underwater for a long time.
"Excellent!" the Halfling enthused. "And I do thank you, Sulyic. Now, you come with me, young creature."
"To do what?" Seyashen heaved, now on his hands and knees.
With a laugh, the Halfling turned his back. "To get an answer, give one; that's the deal. You have both a question and an answer, but have given me only a question- that's no fair. Give me an answer, and we'll be square."
Seyashen stared at the Halfling, utterly confused. "I cannot answer your question if I don't know what it is," he replied simply.
"Oh, but you can, and you have! Wonderful- wonderful! Now we're even. We both have a question and an answer, now come along."
The Halfling started off at a speedy pace, and by the time Seyashen decided to get up and follow him, he was already too distant for me to hear his quick footsteps on the street.
"We ought to throw this female in the lockup for prostitution, at the very least," the guard holding me began, deciding to get back to the business of making everyone's life more complicated than necessary.
"I'm not a prostitute," I said, albeit weakly.
"Oh no?" the guard asked, feigning kindness. "Well then, what do you do?"
After a few moments of silence during which I actually pondered the things that I could do, I replied, "I clean well. And I cook, and I serve food. And I entertain- usually with dance."
"But no one has paid you to do any of that- entertainment?" the guard pushed, tightly squeezing my arms.
"No," I replied, shaking my head. "But if you want me to, then I'll take it. I don't have enough gold for a room in the tavern, and so had to spend the night in the catacombs."
"Tell you what," one of the guards offered, waving the guard that was holding me away. "You come back to the cells and give us your word on a few things. We'll maybe do a little questioning. Then we let you go, and stop looking in your direction."
I thought about how Mi'ishaen had been taken, and wondered about what could have possibly happened to Aleksei.
"What if I do not do those things?" I found myself asking.
The guards were just as surprised to hear me say it as I was, but Aric crossed his arms and nodded with a smile.
The adventuring band from a game master's nightmare, otherwise known as one LG character and a bunch of shiftless criminals.
Updates on Sundays.
29 April 2012
22 April 2012
2:5 Aric.
"Perhaps you had better explain what this insolent male is talking about," Quilafae demanded stonily. I found that I did not have the words to answer her, and could not even stutter. I stood, wide eyed and silent, my mind whirling with the fragments of attempts at explanation, staring at Bahlzair's prestidigitation on the floor as though it would soon produce a hole in which I could conveniently hide.
"Or perhaps we had better let the Shepherd speak to them both, before we fall into bad habits," Svaentok warned. "The thief might have been to you what this young female might have been to me, and our pasts will reach forward in time to choke us in the now, if we do not consciously stop them."
Quilafae turned away suddenly, causing her raven to become unsettled, flapping a bit to keep its balance. "Pass, then. Escort them both- and if that male pulls any such pranks-"
"The writing isn't a prank, Quila, this male is mute," Svaentok urged. "I had doubted him, but the female- Jyklihaimra- would not lie to me. I will keep an eye on him; please let us go."
And with a waved hand, the three of us were allowed to pass. Bahlzair hissed at Quilafae as he passed, allowing the ugly, glistening black poison ducts under his long tongue to show. She glared at him, but started when she saw that, her eyes suddenly darting away and to the floor. It had been extremely painful for him, I knew, to raise his tongue enough for the glands to be visible. But I suppose he believed the agony worth it, for those few seconds of strange revenge against a female of his kind that he'd never before seen.
The way to the Shepherd was not marked at all. We passed by many small cloisters, some whose cloth had been dropped for privacy, and some whose cloths had been left open to show the small living quarters. When we turned into one, only slightly larger than the others that had come before, there was absolutely no other sign that we had entered the living quarters of the man who led this gathering of believers. A single black candle, well made and nearly smoke-less, sat upon a simple stone desk. There were no rugs or cloths other than that which was supposed to cover the door, which had been open. There was a small hearth of sorts, though it sported more embers than flame at the moment. A black robed figure tended it for a few moments, but turned away from it when we entered his room. He slowly lowered his hood, revealing a heavily scarred but still identifiably human face. Grey eyes, well-creased by some force other than time, beamed with genuine peace, and he moved with such strange serenity that it took me a few moments to notice that he had a pronounced limp.
"Welcome, children," he rumbled in a worn low voice. It did not speak to weariness, but instead of hard or constant use. "Stand on the other side of the entrance, please, Brother Svaentok. This daughter is very- reserved , yes, very quiet, and this son is- perhaps a bit defiant? I should have Sister Quilafae apologize to you for her behavior."
Bahlzair turned over his right shoulder toward the door, and "She would not mean a word of it," appeared on the wall.
"You have good reason to say so, son," the Human replied thoughtfully, "although I trust you forgive my hope that you are wrong. Please, sit with me."
"Ready to join another cult?" Bahlzair signed with one hand. I was lucky to have understood two of the signs and inferred the meaning from them, but the Human did one better.
"I would never force anyone to remain where they did not feel welcome, or to believe that which they would not naturally believe of their own free will," he signed back in slow, but perfect signed Undercommon. For a few fleeting seconds, even Bahlzair was impressed. With a nod that seemed to admit that he had lost this battle, he sat down in his customary crosslegged position, resting his ebony hands on his knees with his palms down.
The Human also sat, with some difficulty, in front of his desk on the floor. While it was rather obvious that this was not a common position for him, and could possibly even be painful, he made no mention of it. Conscious of the fact that I was the only one still standing, I knelt down, resting on my knees and the balls of my feet, as I had been taught for years. Finding that this position left me sitting taller than both males, I flattened my feet beneath me so that I was sitting directly on the front of my ankles.
"I am told your name is Jyklahaimra, or Silverhag, or Silveredge," the Human began affably. "But tell me, daughter, which one of these do you call yourself?"
I blinked, not having ever before considered this.
"Jyklahaimra," I answered after a long pause.
"This is very important, daughter, perhaps much more than you think. Why do you call yourself this? You seem to relate to the name somewhat negatively," the Human suggested. "Think as long as you must; I will wait."
"I liked it, before I knew what it meant," I replied simply. "I thought it sounded lovely- exotic, I guess- and did not realize its meaning until others used it to call me instead of using the name itself." Beside me, Bahlzair nodded slowly and sadly, as though he himself had something to do with the meaning of my name. His own, a daringly feminine rendering of "shadow fire" that sounded as though his matron was in a drunken rage at his birth or under the influence of some mind-bending hallucinogen, was hardly better. Drow names were known in the Shadowfell for being as bleak as our own, but his seemed a predestined punishment of some sort, as though whoever gave it to him had framed his current temperament before he had even seen an hour outside of the womb.
"I was called Owain, when I was born," the Human nodded slowly. "And in that youth for which I was named, I pursued my passions. I learned all I could of magic, and was drawn slowly, but surely down the path that I thought would lead me toward greater power. I did many things to gain that power that I now struggle to admit. When I was struck down, being led to the grave and struggling all the way, it was then that a priestess of the Raven Queen told me to call myself by name. And I, my mouth bleeding, my vision fading, said to her, 'Aric,' for I was just that. 'Alone.' This is still what I call myself, to this day, though others have called me many things since, including that Shepherdess herself, who would still call me Owain, if she were yet living. Meditate on this, daughter."
I nodded silently, taking in the details of his story. Bahlzair was not so contemplative.
"What stopped you from achieving the power that you sought?" he signed with a bemused look on his face. "The threat of punishment? Of exclusion from society? Of death?"
"Nothing has stopped me, son," Aric replied aloud in Common. "I still seek greater understanding of the workings of magic to this day. But the reasons- my reasons are different now. My outlook has changed."
"Your resolve turned into complacency," Bahlzair signed back simply. "You traded ambition for religion; free thought for control."
"You thought me the leader of a cult just a few moments ago," Aric said with an eyebrow arched. "I could easily be such a manipulative creature. I could with just a few thoughts turn this entire temple into a nightmare, into an ugly monument to my own ego. Do not mistake my change of vocation for weakness; I am well able to recognize the path I once chose in you. Perhaps you seem a petty thief or a simple trouble maker to others, but I see you for who you are- for who you always have been, since the day your mother cursed you."
And Bahlzair just stared at him, arms crossed, brilliant red eyes so narrow that breath could have hardly gotten past the lids.
"Son- and I do not call you 'my son,' for I do not wish to further offend you- I only speak of that which I see. It is your open mind that has revealed these things to me. For even though you speak poorly of religion, and you kick against anything that may again enslave you, you cry out for something to respect, for the affection of a person stronger than yourself- for that pain-streaked love that once caressed you. If I could, for one moment, bring back that one person who had brought you closer to the light of that which is good, then I would instantly do that, that you may come out of this darkness that smothers you. But I cannot. For it is as the Queen dictates- 'The sun will rise; the sun will set-' "
And Bahlzair got up suddenly, spitting into the embers, which suddenly roared into flame. His poison hissed and burned, causing a terrible, irritating smoke- my eyes teared up almost instantly, and it quickly became painful to breathe. Someone took my arm to lead me out of the room, and I was pushed in various directions- I was not sure whether I was being taken out or farther into the catacombs. I heard Quilafae's voice demanding that Bahlzair be dealt with, but Svaentok- among other choked voices- claimed that he could not be found. Many tried to fan the poisonous smoke out, which took a considerable amount of time. Sure enough, by the time I could actually see clearly again, there was no trace of Bahlzair. After a few moments of wandering around, brushing past other busy hooded figures, I found myself grabbed by Quilafae, whose raven had gone from her shoulder for some reason.
"Do you know where he's gone?" she asked harshly, pressing my arms to my sides. "If you do, you tell me right this instant. Don't try to hide him- he almost killed us. And you too. He'd kill you in an instant, probably just for fun. So don't feel any loyalty-"
"Daughter, enough," Aric breathed, his raspy voice even closer to a ragged low whisper than before. "Go back into the sacred area and meditate. You have much to consider. Leave this child alone. She also must consider some things."
Quilafae didn't question him at all- she simply gave a short, sharp nod, dropped my arms and moved away from me. I looked after her, wondering what she would do to Bahlzair if she should find him.
"His is a tortured soul," Aric counseled as though he saw into my thoughts. "There is no stone left for him to stand on, I'm afraid, and unless he finds something or someone, his bitterness will be a poison more deadly than any concoction he can make."
"He has his own ways," I said, knowing that it was a poor explanation.
"That he does," Aric smiled grimly, a sigh not far behind. "I bet Lolth enjoys the discord that he sows. Though he despises her, the farther he runs, the closer to her he gets. But, to the purpose, daughter. It is you I must focus on, for the time being. You came to us for a place to sleep in peace, did you not? I will find you such a place. Come with me."
"Or perhaps we had better let the Shepherd speak to them both, before we fall into bad habits," Svaentok warned. "The thief might have been to you what this young female might have been to me, and our pasts will reach forward in time to choke us in the now, if we do not consciously stop them."
Quilafae turned away suddenly, causing her raven to become unsettled, flapping a bit to keep its balance. "Pass, then. Escort them both- and if that male pulls any such pranks-"
"The writing isn't a prank, Quila, this male is mute," Svaentok urged. "I had doubted him, but the female- Jyklihaimra- would not lie to me. I will keep an eye on him; please let us go."
And with a waved hand, the three of us were allowed to pass. Bahlzair hissed at Quilafae as he passed, allowing the ugly, glistening black poison ducts under his long tongue to show. She glared at him, but started when she saw that, her eyes suddenly darting away and to the floor. It had been extremely painful for him, I knew, to raise his tongue enough for the glands to be visible. But I suppose he believed the agony worth it, for those few seconds of strange revenge against a female of his kind that he'd never before seen.
The way to the Shepherd was not marked at all. We passed by many small cloisters, some whose cloth had been dropped for privacy, and some whose cloths had been left open to show the small living quarters. When we turned into one, only slightly larger than the others that had come before, there was absolutely no other sign that we had entered the living quarters of the man who led this gathering of believers. A single black candle, well made and nearly smoke-less, sat upon a simple stone desk. There were no rugs or cloths other than that which was supposed to cover the door, which had been open. There was a small hearth of sorts, though it sported more embers than flame at the moment. A black robed figure tended it for a few moments, but turned away from it when we entered his room. He slowly lowered his hood, revealing a heavily scarred but still identifiably human face. Grey eyes, well-creased by some force other than time, beamed with genuine peace, and he moved with such strange serenity that it took me a few moments to notice that he had a pronounced limp.
"Welcome, children," he rumbled in a worn low voice. It did not speak to weariness, but instead of hard or constant use. "Stand on the other side of the entrance, please, Brother Svaentok. This daughter is very- reserved , yes, very quiet, and this son is- perhaps a bit defiant? I should have Sister Quilafae apologize to you for her behavior."
Bahlzair turned over his right shoulder toward the door, and "She would not mean a word of it," appeared on the wall.
"You have good reason to say so, son," the Human replied thoughtfully, "although I trust you forgive my hope that you are wrong. Please, sit with me."
"Ready to join another cult?" Bahlzair signed with one hand. I was lucky to have understood two of the signs and inferred the meaning from them, but the Human did one better.
"I would never force anyone to remain where they did not feel welcome, or to believe that which they would not naturally believe of their own free will," he signed back in slow, but perfect signed Undercommon. For a few fleeting seconds, even Bahlzair was impressed. With a nod that seemed to admit that he had lost this battle, he sat down in his customary crosslegged position, resting his ebony hands on his knees with his palms down.
The Human also sat, with some difficulty, in front of his desk on the floor. While it was rather obvious that this was not a common position for him, and could possibly even be painful, he made no mention of it. Conscious of the fact that I was the only one still standing, I knelt down, resting on my knees and the balls of my feet, as I had been taught for years. Finding that this position left me sitting taller than both males, I flattened my feet beneath me so that I was sitting directly on the front of my ankles.
"I am told your name is Jyklahaimra, or Silverhag, or Silveredge," the Human began affably. "But tell me, daughter, which one of these do you call yourself?"
I blinked, not having ever before considered this.
"Jyklahaimra," I answered after a long pause.
"This is very important, daughter, perhaps much more than you think. Why do you call yourself this? You seem to relate to the name somewhat negatively," the Human suggested. "Think as long as you must; I will wait."
"I liked it, before I knew what it meant," I replied simply. "I thought it sounded lovely- exotic, I guess- and did not realize its meaning until others used it to call me instead of using the name itself." Beside me, Bahlzair nodded slowly and sadly, as though he himself had something to do with the meaning of my name. His own, a daringly feminine rendering of "shadow fire" that sounded as though his matron was in a drunken rage at his birth or under the influence of some mind-bending hallucinogen, was hardly better. Drow names were known in the Shadowfell for being as bleak as our own, but his seemed a predestined punishment of some sort, as though whoever gave it to him had framed his current temperament before he had even seen an hour outside of the womb.
"I was called Owain, when I was born," the Human nodded slowly. "And in that youth for which I was named, I pursued my passions. I learned all I could of magic, and was drawn slowly, but surely down the path that I thought would lead me toward greater power. I did many things to gain that power that I now struggle to admit. When I was struck down, being led to the grave and struggling all the way, it was then that a priestess of the Raven Queen told me to call myself by name. And I, my mouth bleeding, my vision fading, said to her, 'Aric,' for I was just that. 'Alone.' This is still what I call myself, to this day, though others have called me many things since, including that Shepherdess herself, who would still call me Owain, if she were yet living. Meditate on this, daughter."
I nodded silently, taking in the details of his story. Bahlzair was not so contemplative.
"What stopped you from achieving the power that you sought?" he signed with a bemused look on his face. "The threat of punishment? Of exclusion from society? Of death?"
"Nothing has stopped me, son," Aric replied aloud in Common. "I still seek greater understanding of the workings of magic to this day. But the reasons- my reasons are different now. My outlook has changed."
"Your resolve turned into complacency," Bahlzair signed back simply. "You traded ambition for religion; free thought for control."
"You thought me the leader of a cult just a few moments ago," Aric said with an eyebrow arched. "I could easily be such a manipulative creature. I could with just a few thoughts turn this entire temple into a nightmare, into an ugly monument to my own ego. Do not mistake my change of vocation for weakness; I am well able to recognize the path I once chose in you. Perhaps you seem a petty thief or a simple trouble maker to others, but I see you for who you are- for who you always have been, since the day your mother cursed you."
And Bahlzair just stared at him, arms crossed, brilliant red eyes so narrow that breath could have hardly gotten past the lids.
"Son- and I do not call you 'my son,' for I do not wish to further offend you- I only speak of that which I see. It is your open mind that has revealed these things to me. For even though you speak poorly of religion, and you kick against anything that may again enslave you, you cry out for something to respect, for the affection of a person stronger than yourself- for that pain-streaked love that once caressed you. If I could, for one moment, bring back that one person who had brought you closer to the light of that which is good, then I would instantly do that, that you may come out of this darkness that smothers you. But I cannot. For it is as the Queen dictates- 'The sun will rise; the sun will set-' "
And Bahlzair got up suddenly, spitting into the embers, which suddenly roared into flame. His poison hissed and burned, causing a terrible, irritating smoke- my eyes teared up almost instantly, and it quickly became painful to breathe. Someone took my arm to lead me out of the room, and I was pushed in various directions- I was not sure whether I was being taken out or farther into the catacombs. I heard Quilafae's voice demanding that Bahlzair be dealt with, but Svaentok- among other choked voices- claimed that he could not be found. Many tried to fan the poisonous smoke out, which took a considerable amount of time. Sure enough, by the time I could actually see clearly again, there was no trace of Bahlzair. After a few moments of wandering around, brushing past other busy hooded figures, I found myself grabbed by Quilafae, whose raven had gone from her shoulder for some reason.
"Do you know where he's gone?" she asked harshly, pressing my arms to my sides. "If you do, you tell me right this instant. Don't try to hide him- he almost killed us. And you too. He'd kill you in an instant, probably just for fun. So don't feel any loyalty-"
"Daughter, enough," Aric breathed, his raspy voice even closer to a ragged low whisper than before. "Go back into the sacred area and meditate. You have much to consider. Leave this child alone. She also must consider some things."
Quilafae didn't question him at all- she simply gave a short, sharp nod, dropped my arms and moved away from me. I looked after her, wondering what she would do to Bahlzair if she should find him.
"His is a tortured soul," Aric counseled as though he saw into my thoughts. "There is no stone left for him to stand on, I'm afraid, and unless he finds something or someone, his bitterness will be a poison more deadly than any concoction he can make."
"He has his own ways," I said, knowing that it was a poor explanation.
"That he does," Aric smiled grimly, a sigh not far behind. "I bet Lolth enjoys the discord that he sows. Though he despises her, the farther he runs, the closer to her he gets. But, to the purpose, daughter. It is you I must focus on, for the time being. You came to us for a place to sleep in peace, did you not? I will find you such a place. Come with me."
16 April 2012
2:4 The gang's all lurking nearby.
It took the soldier a few more moments to catch his breath, and while Mi'ishaen's face betrayed absolutely no worry at all, I could feel myself begin to tremble. Svaentok edged closer to me ever so slightly, and Mi'ishaen raised an eyebrow at him.
"You were seen along with her, and a Dragonborn male, leaving the body by the docks," the soldier continued when he could speak clearly. "Do you deny this?"
I had lowered my gaze yet again, but neither Svaentok nor Mi'ishaen moved to raise my head this time. Instead, I heard a most shocking statement.
"She has nothing to do with me. She was just my plaything for the night, so stop scaring her senseless. You can see how she's about to cry- do you think anyone who would take part in a murder would be so stunned to hear of their work?"
"So you admit that you were there when the captain was killed?" the soldier asked strongly. "Be sure of what you say, Demon-kin."
"There's no need to be rude," Svaentok shot in immediately. "That's a slur-"
"And if she killed the captain, is she not worthy of it?" the soldier charged with bitterness. "Besides, she should be used to it by now, the way she looks."
"That's an outrage!" Svaentok cried angrily. "How dare you say such things here! You yourself are Human- she is closer kin to you than to any demon, and you know it."
"Lies! Humans and Tieflings never had anything to do with each other- those are lies spread by the Elven types to try to stir up hatred against Humans!"
"That's enough," Mi'ishaen shouted. "Calm down, both of you. There are children in that alleyway there, and they don't need to hear you acting as though you ought to be pulling the wings off flies with them."
But somehow, she didn't think she would make a good mate or mother. Astounding- and sad.
"I don't deny that I was in the area with the Dragonborn," Mi'ishaen shrugged simply, having gained the slightly embarrassed attention of both males. "He was so drunk, so loud and so clumsy that I'd be a fool to try. But what I will deny is that I ever touched that captain, let alone kill him. If I had, though, you couldn't blame me. He spent his last breaths threatening me and insulting everyone within earshot."
"My sources say this female was with you-" the guard began again, referring to me with an outstretched plate mail clad hand.
"Come off that, I tell you," Mi'ishaen laughed. "You don't mean to tell me that you're so green that you've never seen one such as me take anything they can get, no matter what's between their legs? I dragged the poor thing for a ride. Let her alone- or can't you? She is pretty- no one but the priest will blame you."
"You-" the guard surged, a flood of color rushing to his cheeks. "Come with me- no games!"
"But wait-" I faltered, picking my head up to catch the last few moments of a hellfire smirk.
"Don't worry, Gorgeous, I'll be back for you!" Mi'ishaen hollered, throwing her head backward so that she could get the last few words to me. I ran out to the street and stood there, watching her buck and pull away from the guard whenever she could, shouting about his racism and her rights. A few city people began shouts of protest, but others booed her. I wrapped my arms around myself and squeezed tightly.
"I suppose I know who it is that you follow, now," Svaentok scoffed gently from behind me, his voice like a warm and heavy blanket. "You might have chosen someone- safer."
"I might have," I replied quietly, more to myself than to him.
"But you didn't?" he pressed, cupping my elbows in his hands. I still jumped a little at his touch, and he took a small step backward.
"I- didn't choose her," I admitted, biting my lower lip. "She was- almost given to me. From the moment we met, I couldn't have turned my head from her even if I'd had a bit in my mouth and a chain in my neck."
"You might really have chosen someone safer," Svaentok said again with a changed tone- much more serious than before. I stepped away from him, out of his grasp, and he grunted his understanding. "Were you staying with her?" I nodded my response, turning toward him, and could see in his face his desire to take hold of me again. I lowered my eyes out of practiced deference, and felt his sigh as much as heard it. "Perhaps my tone and manner are still- out of place," he admitted quietly. "I do not know what gold you have, nor should I. But if you need a place to stay, you are welcome to come with me. I will take my leave of you-"
"Please, I don't know-" Having practically choked on these words, I tried again. "I will walk with you."
"Of your own free will?" Svaentok asked, having already turned his back to me. I could tell by how distant he sounded.
"Yes." And having said this, I walked up next to him, putting forth the terrifying effort necessary to look up at those crystalline blue eyes. "With my own will."
We walked silently, but quickly in the opposite direction from the way that Mi'ishaen had gone with the guard. I buried my concern for her deeply, not to forget it, but to think on it later, and to hope that she would be alright. Svaentok and I turned and twisted our way away from the center of the city, with its paved streets and beautiful temples, and out past the docks, where the road lost its paving entirely and became a dirt path. It was clean and even, however, and led directly to a measured, cleanly cut, descending stair. It was simple, without any indication of what was inside. I was about to go down after Svaentok when I was struck squarely in the back of the neck with a stone. I winced, since the neck piercing that would have connected my lead chain to a master's shoulder blade piercing was still there, under my hair. When I turned and looked all around to see who or what could have done this, I saw none other than Bahlzair, perched in a tree that had lost all its leaves, smiling and twirling the silver pact blade that had caused so much trouble between his long fingers. I wondered if he'd been the end of the poor tree.
"Away with you, thief," Svaentok crabbed, also seeing Bahlzair's strange and self-satisfied smile. "We have nothing for you."
"He's not here to rob me," I replied, smirking slightly myself. "You've been watching all this?"
"Mildly intriguing," he signed slowly after he'd sheathed his knife in his waterfall of white-silver hair, which he had tied up somehow. "Have you come to find faith?"
And I shook my head slightly. "A soldier came and took Mi'ishaen."
"You know this troublemaker, then? A fine nest of friends you've managed to make," Svaentok sighed heavily. "I thought Drow didn't like daylight."
Bahlzair signed for a few moments, and after looking from one male to the other, I realized what conversation would be like from this point forward.
"He says he thought Shadar-Kai didn't like to let one another live," I muttered, a bit embarrassed. Bahlzair hopped down from the tree with the easy agility of a child, then stood directly behind me and pulled my hair up to have a look at the slave piercing through the skin on the back of my neck. A one-handed sign prompted a bitter translation- "He asks if this is familiar."
"I won't answer to you," Svaentok nearly growled, turning to go back down the stairs again. Bahlzair allowed all my hair to fall down, then followed him. After a few moments, I followed them both.
The stairs went down and down and down, deep enough for Bahlzair's brilliant red eyes to glow softly as though he were at home in whatever part of the Underdark he had survived. When the stairs stopped, the path before us was wide enough for two men to stand shoulder to shoulder- for very good reason. It only took me a few hollowed places in the unadorned, plainly-carved stone walls to realize that I was in a catacomb. At the end, or perhaps in the middle, of rows and rows of completely unmarked graves stood a heavily robed and hooded person, whose feathered familiar was unmistakable. I wondered how a winged creature could stand to live in a place where the sky was not immediately accessible.
"You bring us guests, Brother Svaentok? Rare." The voice was feminine, with a familiar lilt to it. "Who have we, then? Hopeful acolytes? Scornful outsiders?"
Bahlzair signed his reply, and before I began to translate, the female raised a thin-fingered hand to silence me. Her hands were as black as ink. "A bold comment, sir. I have no wish to make a slave of you, no more than Brother Svaentok intends to claim this female of his kind as a slave. And kindly speak Common, if you would."
"He can't," I replied quietly. "He's mute."
"I see," the female murmured, coming closer to Bahlzair for a few moments. Bahlzair lifted his head and straightened his stance, looking down at the female disdainfully. "Perhaps one of the brothers here can see what healing can be done for you. You stand in the temple to the Raven Queen, but there are as many talented healers here as there are quick-fingered embalmers. I am Quilafae- no one's daughter, no house's matron-"
"Not anymore," Bahlzair signed with rolled eyes.
"-and this is Vashte," Quilafae continued, apparently ignoring Bahlzair's comment. "We are sentries here; permanent guardians from the warrior path. You are?"
"Jyklihaimra," I responded self-consciously. For with every Drow other than Bahlzair, who had a similarly mangled name, the next comment was always-
"What mispronunciation. You mean Jhula'unhaemaree. And a terrible meaning too. 'Charm-marked silver mage?' "
"Or Silverhag," Svaentok nodded with a snort of vague disgust.
Bahlzair looked down at the floor, and in moments, Common scrawled its way across it. "You cannot correct others when you're wrong yourself. It's not just 'charm-marked.' It's 'death-charm marked.' I thought those who followed the Raven Queen were familiar with concepts such as fate. Do you believe in your goddess, or don't you?"
"What is she to you, that you would speak to me of her like that?" Quilafae spat, obviously insulted.
"Did I ask you what your raven is to you?" the prestidigitation spell sliced.
And Quilafae fixed me with deep purple orbs that stared out from her cloak like stars in a midnight sky.
"You were seen along with her, and a Dragonborn male, leaving the body by the docks," the soldier continued when he could speak clearly. "Do you deny this?"
I had lowered my gaze yet again, but neither Svaentok nor Mi'ishaen moved to raise my head this time. Instead, I heard a most shocking statement.
"She has nothing to do with me. She was just my plaything for the night, so stop scaring her senseless. You can see how she's about to cry- do you think anyone who would take part in a murder would be so stunned to hear of their work?"
"So you admit that you were there when the captain was killed?" the soldier asked strongly. "Be sure of what you say, Demon-kin."
"There's no need to be rude," Svaentok shot in immediately. "That's a slur-"
"And if she killed the captain, is she not worthy of it?" the soldier charged with bitterness. "Besides, she should be used to it by now, the way she looks."
"That's an outrage!" Svaentok cried angrily. "How dare you say such things here! You yourself are Human- she is closer kin to you than to any demon, and you know it."
"Lies! Humans and Tieflings never had anything to do with each other- those are lies spread by the Elven types to try to stir up hatred against Humans!"
"That's enough," Mi'ishaen shouted. "Calm down, both of you. There are children in that alleyway there, and they don't need to hear you acting as though you ought to be pulling the wings off flies with them."
But somehow, she didn't think she would make a good mate or mother. Astounding- and sad.
"I don't deny that I was in the area with the Dragonborn," Mi'ishaen shrugged simply, having gained the slightly embarrassed attention of both males. "He was so drunk, so loud and so clumsy that I'd be a fool to try. But what I will deny is that I ever touched that captain, let alone kill him. If I had, though, you couldn't blame me. He spent his last breaths threatening me and insulting everyone within earshot."
"My sources say this female was with you-" the guard began again, referring to me with an outstretched plate mail clad hand.
"Come off that, I tell you," Mi'ishaen laughed. "You don't mean to tell me that you're so green that you've never seen one such as me take anything they can get, no matter what's between their legs? I dragged the poor thing for a ride. Let her alone- or can't you? She is pretty- no one but the priest will blame you."
"You-" the guard surged, a flood of color rushing to his cheeks. "Come with me- no games!"
"But wait-" I faltered, picking my head up to catch the last few moments of a hellfire smirk.
"Don't worry, Gorgeous, I'll be back for you!" Mi'ishaen hollered, throwing her head backward so that she could get the last few words to me. I ran out to the street and stood there, watching her buck and pull away from the guard whenever she could, shouting about his racism and her rights. A few city people began shouts of protest, but others booed her. I wrapped my arms around myself and squeezed tightly.
"I suppose I know who it is that you follow, now," Svaentok scoffed gently from behind me, his voice like a warm and heavy blanket. "You might have chosen someone- safer."
"I might have," I replied quietly, more to myself than to him.
"But you didn't?" he pressed, cupping my elbows in his hands. I still jumped a little at his touch, and he took a small step backward.
"I- didn't choose her," I admitted, biting my lower lip. "She was- almost given to me. From the moment we met, I couldn't have turned my head from her even if I'd had a bit in my mouth and a chain in my neck."
"You might really have chosen someone safer," Svaentok said again with a changed tone- much more serious than before. I stepped away from him, out of his grasp, and he grunted his understanding. "Were you staying with her?" I nodded my response, turning toward him, and could see in his face his desire to take hold of me again. I lowered my eyes out of practiced deference, and felt his sigh as much as heard it. "Perhaps my tone and manner are still- out of place," he admitted quietly. "I do not know what gold you have, nor should I. But if you need a place to stay, you are welcome to come with me. I will take my leave of you-"
"Please, I don't know-" Having practically choked on these words, I tried again. "I will walk with you."
"Of your own free will?" Svaentok asked, having already turned his back to me. I could tell by how distant he sounded.
"Yes." And having said this, I walked up next to him, putting forth the terrifying effort necessary to look up at those crystalline blue eyes. "With my own will."
We walked silently, but quickly in the opposite direction from the way that Mi'ishaen had gone with the guard. I buried my concern for her deeply, not to forget it, but to think on it later, and to hope that she would be alright. Svaentok and I turned and twisted our way away from the center of the city, with its paved streets and beautiful temples, and out past the docks, where the road lost its paving entirely and became a dirt path. It was clean and even, however, and led directly to a measured, cleanly cut, descending stair. It was simple, without any indication of what was inside. I was about to go down after Svaentok when I was struck squarely in the back of the neck with a stone. I winced, since the neck piercing that would have connected my lead chain to a master's shoulder blade piercing was still there, under my hair. When I turned and looked all around to see who or what could have done this, I saw none other than Bahlzair, perched in a tree that had lost all its leaves, smiling and twirling the silver pact blade that had caused so much trouble between his long fingers. I wondered if he'd been the end of the poor tree.
"Away with you, thief," Svaentok crabbed, also seeing Bahlzair's strange and self-satisfied smile. "We have nothing for you."
"He's not here to rob me," I replied, smirking slightly myself. "You've been watching all this?"
"Mildly intriguing," he signed slowly after he'd sheathed his knife in his waterfall of white-silver hair, which he had tied up somehow. "Have you come to find faith?"
And I shook my head slightly. "A soldier came and took Mi'ishaen."
"You know this troublemaker, then? A fine nest of friends you've managed to make," Svaentok sighed heavily. "I thought Drow didn't like daylight."
Bahlzair signed for a few moments, and after looking from one male to the other, I realized what conversation would be like from this point forward.
"He says he thought Shadar-Kai didn't like to let one another live," I muttered, a bit embarrassed. Bahlzair hopped down from the tree with the easy agility of a child, then stood directly behind me and pulled my hair up to have a look at the slave piercing through the skin on the back of my neck. A one-handed sign prompted a bitter translation- "He asks if this is familiar."
"I won't answer to you," Svaentok nearly growled, turning to go back down the stairs again. Bahlzair allowed all my hair to fall down, then followed him. After a few moments, I followed them both.
The stairs went down and down and down, deep enough for Bahlzair's brilliant red eyes to glow softly as though he were at home in whatever part of the Underdark he had survived. When the stairs stopped, the path before us was wide enough for two men to stand shoulder to shoulder- for very good reason. It only took me a few hollowed places in the unadorned, plainly-carved stone walls to realize that I was in a catacomb. At the end, or perhaps in the middle, of rows and rows of completely unmarked graves stood a heavily robed and hooded person, whose feathered familiar was unmistakable. I wondered how a winged creature could stand to live in a place where the sky was not immediately accessible.
"You bring us guests, Brother Svaentok? Rare." The voice was feminine, with a familiar lilt to it. "Who have we, then? Hopeful acolytes? Scornful outsiders?"
Bahlzair signed his reply, and before I began to translate, the female raised a thin-fingered hand to silence me. Her hands were as black as ink. "A bold comment, sir. I have no wish to make a slave of you, no more than Brother Svaentok intends to claim this female of his kind as a slave. And kindly speak Common, if you would."
"He can't," I replied quietly. "He's mute."
"I see," the female murmured, coming closer to Bahlzair for a few moments. Bahlzair lifted his head and straightened his stance, looking down at the female disdainfully. "Perhaps one of the brothers here can see what healing can be done for you. You stand in the temple to the Raven Queen, but there are as many talented healers here as there are quick-fingered embalmers. I am Quilafae- no one's daughter, no house's matron-"
"Not anymore," Bahlzair signed with rolled eyes.
"-and this is Vashte," Quilafae continued, apparently ignoring Bahlzair's comment. "We are sentries here; permanent guardians from the warrior path. You are?"
"Jyklihaimra," I responded self-consciously. For with every Drow other than Bahlzair, who had a similarly mangled name, the next comment was always-
"What mispronunciation. You mean Jhula'unhaemaree. And a terrible meaning too. 'Charm-marked silver mage?' "
"Or Silverhag," Svaentok nodded with a snort of vague disgust.
Bahlzair looked down at the floor, and in moments, Common scrawled its way across it. "You cannot correct others when you're wrong yourself. It's not just 'charm-marked.' It's 'death-charm marked.' I thought those who followed the Raven Queen were familiar with concepts such as fate. Do you believe in your goddess, or don't you?"
"What is she to you, that you would speak to me of her like that?" Quilafae spat, obviously insulted.
"Did I ask you what your raven is to you?" the prestidigitation spell sliced.
And Quilafae fixed me with deep purple orbs that stared out from her cloak like stars in a midnight sky.
13 April 2012
2:3 Casing.
Mi'ishaen and I cleaned up, as she'd asked, and tried to encourage Seyashen to do the same. But he seemed distant- distracted- and constantly turned over his shoulder as if to check if someone was there. He never said anything about it, but every few minutes, it seemed as though he felt someone pulling on his ragged roughspun robe or tapping him on the shoulder. Morning meal was a bit awkward for the tolerant Human waitress and for us because of this, and Mi'ishaen simply waved a quiet hand when he asked to be excused. Strangely, he darted back up to his room, as though he were afraid to see the light of day.
"Wizards and warlocks," Mi'ishaen had commented as we watched him go. "They're all the same. Not entirely in control of themselves, ever. Magic is just a curse that constantly sticks its dirty, cold fingers in their brains- won't let them think their own thoughts when they want to. I think it's sad."
"Do you think, then, that all magic practitioners are doomed to go crazy?" I asked, thinking of my former master. It seemed hard to call him that, but Aleksei had seemed too disturbed at my calling him a friend for me to continue to do so. He was dead, after all- Aleksei was alive and able to be offended.
"Look at Bahlzair," Mi'ishaen replied, as though that explained everything.
It didn't, but it seemed to be all she wished to say on the topic, so I left it alone.
It turned out to be a lovely day- best for surveillance and a good day's work, Mi'ishaen had said. When I asked precisely which work she meant, the conversation, which chipped along in clips and bits, turned toward the oddly technical. She spoke of marks, vantages and systems- names and problems of which I knew nothing. I tried to learn as much as I could, but I'd be lying if I said that it was less than utterly confusing.
The brilliant, uncontested sun shone strongly as we walked into the afternoon, prompting a salty breeze to waft over the warming water and into the town. Urmlaspyr, as the guard had called it the night before, was budding with different cultures, each with its own deity propped up in different temples, but the town also crumbled in places where the shadows lurked like the remains of a nightmare in the daring face of morning. In the distance, an ominous cloud that hung over some distant hilltop temple stretched its inky embrace farther and farther over the town as the rest of the sky moved around it. Something about the shadows seemed familiar-more familiar than I would have liked them to be. The alleys and small paths between the stone houses where Mi'ishaen and I walked were darkened, as one could expect because the houses were so close together, but she did notice how easy it was for me to simply disappear into them.
Some children played in the alleys, and for all Mi'ishaen's rough and technical talk, she gladly handed a little Elven boy a ball that had accidentally struck her foot and rolled past her. The boy had accepted it from her easily, not staring at the curling horns or starting at the blood red eyes.
"Thank you, Miss," he said happily, holding out his hands as she placed it gently.
"It's alright," she replied, seeming unused to the politeness of the situation. She watched him briefly as he scampered off, and her gaze seemed to look through him, somehow- into some distant past that I was not sure that I could touch. She came to herself with the thud of a nearby door and began our previous conversation again.
"It's like getting to know the people, but not personally," she mused, almost more to herself than to me. "You learn when they leave, where they go, what they do, who they trust and love, and who they hate."
"Why would you not simply ask them?" I queried, truly curious. "Surely they would tell you all those things in appropriate conversations."
Mi'ishaen laughed quietly, as though my inability to understand this concept- casing- was somehow endearing or cute.
"I won't be able to help you, if I don't understand what it is that you do," I said quietly, concerned.
"Don't worry too much about it," Mi'ishaen replied with a shrug. "I'm working right now. Haven't you noticed that we've wound our way past this same manor house in about four different directions?"
I fixed her with a face that must have looked absolutely dumbfounded, for so I was. I hadn't noticed at all, and merely thought to myself that there were many houses that looked very similar.
"The trouble with it is, it's guarded. So I'll need to get a little bit more specific- see if the guards change shifts, if they live in the manor- things like that. The best way to get that done is to apply for a job."
"But wouldn't that draw attention to you when things go missing?" I asked, looking at the impressive stone steps flanked by purple and silver clad guards.
"That would only happen if I actually got the job, which I won't," Mi'ishaen assured me. "It's a rare place that will hire a Tiefling to protect anything from anyone. On top of it, mention the magic problem of pregnancy, and it'll be the perfect failure. No one hires anyone in the family way to be put in the way of danger."
I nodded, accepting that she was probably right. We walked a little ways away from the manor in silence, and I was not sure if we were both just enjoying the day at last, or if Mi'ishaen was continuing to think of something or other. I decided to enjoy the day for both of us, just in case.
"I know you're concerned about being able to help me, but this I'll have to do on my own," she said, turning to face me in a tight alley and placing both her hands on my shoulders. I bit my lips, not sure how appropriate it would be to admit how much this simple touch thrilled me. "Go on into the market with the gold that we still have, and see if you can find yourself a dress that wasn't once part of someone's uniform."
"Why should I buy myself another dress when you must content yourself with the same armor every day?" I dared to ask, although the words came so softly that I knew she would disapprove. Surprisingly enough, a half-smirk pulled at her face.
"I haven't worn a dress since I was a very small child, Silveredge," she said, somehow trying to comfort me with this saddening fact. "It's only a few slices; the whole armor's not spoiled."
"And someone constantly in armor can be in the family way?" I asked in a voice hardly able to be heard.
"Don't worry," is all she said before she turned back up the alley, leaving me behind.
I stood still as a stone, met for only the second time in my life with the need to choose for myself what I would do with my time. It seemed an odd thing to think of, "my time," as though time were a tangible thing that anyone could ever own. But I suppose the question of who owned something that could never be owned only arose when there was no one else telling one that it belonged to them without question. I figured it would be a good idea to make some money the proper way- or the only proper way I was really sure of, anyway- and so tried to find my way to the market center.
In most towns and cities, the wider and better paved that the road is, the closer you are to the common market. I don't know when in my life I decided that this was true, for it was not always so in the Sunderhope Commune in the Darkreach Mountains, where I spent much of my young life. There, most of the roads were paved, whether inhabitants actually used them or not. One could not be sure if it were the government actually doing what they were supposed to do for a change, or simply bored Plaguechanged, departed souls and Shadow creatures who sat to arrange stones for a while, unknowingly making things just slightly more tolerable in a world that Shar had eagerly created and then forsaken so long ago that it was beyond telling.
But I missed Sunderhope sometimes.
One never had to ask anyone to spar with them. There was a shared realization that without challenge, without constant struggle, the perpetual shadow would burn itself into the soul, which could never be reclaimed, once lost.
I suppose I thought of what I still considered home too loudly, trailing my fingers on the outsides of the houses just to feel the stones. I turned a corner to suddenly find myself face to face with a dull-grey skinned Shadar-Kai male, hair completely gone- though, judging from his thin brows, it must have been brilliant blond- and shocking ice blue eyes. He was clad in a loose fitting black robe with beautiful blue detail work that delicately kissed the hems at his feet, his wrists, and his neck. A more familiar illustration, thin and branching, was tattooed on the right side of his face- branching, thorned, blood-red vines that started, I knew, at the nape of his neck, and reached up the right side of his face like the mark of a wicked disease. He, being much less afraid of me than I instantly was of him, smiled at me. When I could not muster a similar facial expression, he reached out and touched my face, sending waves of terror- which I'm sure he didn't mean to cause- rippling through me.
"Let calm fill you," he whispered calmly to me, sensing my fear- or perhaps simply listening to my fluttering heart, which was beating loud enough to be heard clearly in the Shadowfell.
"Máistir," I replied, beginning to drop into a kneel.
"Too long have the tiarnaà daor crushed you," he sighed with bitter realization. "I forget, sometimes, that I still have the mark. Even what I say- but I am no- master. At least not yours." He let me go, but not entirely willingly. "Forgive me, my sister. I did not intend to make you fear."
"Forgive-?" I began, feeling as though I had somehow been sucked into some other strange world.
"If you can find it in your heart, yes," the male nodded. "As I said, I forget- I suppose I let myself forget what that life was like. The ease with which I had my every command, my every desire and dream, fulfilled- needles? Vermin? Acid?"
I blinked at him, understanding only that he required an answer. "Baked leather strips. I put them in the fires myself, with my own hands, and if they were not hot enough to smoke when I was slapped with them, I was made to go back to the oven and put them in again until they did. And then I bathed in vinegar at night- without crying even once, in eight years."
For a moment, it seemed as though he would turn away from me, but he simply crossed his arms over his chest and sighed deeply. "But you are here, on the Material Plane, now. You escaped?"
"No, Ides Ashok-pir-Raz left, and took me with him," I replied. "He is dead, and I- follow another."
"The name means little to me now," he admitted slowly, after some thought. "A distant bell tolls, but... I have spent quite a long time trying to erase the memory of the families for whom I- broke slaves. You at least follow this other of your own free will?"
"Yes," I replied brightly. "She forbade me to even think of her as máistir."
And much as Bahlzair had done before, this male chuckled and shook his head. "A command that you follow with that same trained obedience. Obedience forced upon you by scalding leather straps and nightly vinegar baths-"
"My lord did not do these things," I comforted tremblingly, knowing that the saying was important. "You have taken some other path. You are here, on the Material Plane, as well. Things are different here."
"Indeed they are," the male replied, uncrossing his arms self-consciously. "Forgive me- even in my stance, I am again as I was trained, and you- it seems we cannot completely escape those days. But we can forge a new future here, as you have implied. I am Yrel Svaentok-pir-Ades- if the family name means nothing more than tyranny to you, I understand. What shall I call you?"
"Ceubel Jyklihaimra-pas-Naja," I smiled meekly. "Or Silverhag-pas-Naja, or Silveredge. I'll answer to any of them."
"Smacks of Drow-tongue," Svaentok commented thoughtfully. "And to hear Ceubel's name- but I'll speak no more of the past. Come, walk where you wish, and I will follow you."
"I was trying to find the center market, but I have only been here a short while, and so am not sure where that may be," I replied, feeling foolish for having to say so. A firm first finger under my chin made me realize that I'd slowly been casting my gaze downward until I no longer looked at Svaentok at all, but instead was only raising my head enough to acknowledge that he was speaking to me.
"Just past this third house, you must turn left and then turn right at the temple of Correlon-Larethian. The market is only a few steps farther from there," Svaentok responded happily. "I can walk with you, if you wish it."
With a silent and small nod, I began to move past him, and he turned to accompany me. We only walked a few paces in silence before he asked a strange question.
"Do you still follow the path of Shar, or have you chosen some other way?"
I stopped walking, having just turned left, and contemplated the question. "I myself have not chosen to worship any god," I admitted at last. "My mother honored both Sehanine pas-Selune and Mystra pas-Mystryl when she felt she owed one of them a debt of some sort, and her good friend worshiped Lloth only when she feared that goddess might have become angry with her, but Ashok did not consider gods necessary, and did not worship any at all."
"And what about you?" Svaentok asked after a pause. I knew he had turned to look directly at me, but I was slow to do the same. Before I figured that I must, a familiar voice surprised me.
"What kind of manners is that, to ask someone that could have once been your property what her beliefs are?" Do you think that any of your business?"
And there Mi'ishaen was, behind us, her arms crossed and the tip of her tail twitching behind her, looking for all the world like a jealous mate.
"I don't believe we've met," Svaentok commented breathlessly, much more surprised to see her than I was.
"And we won't," she scoffed, not moving an inch. "Not amicably anyway, so long as I'm convinced that you're going to shuffle her off into a cult."
"My lord had only just-" I began to try to explain.
"No, no, make no excuses on my behalf," Svaentok nodded firmly. "She is justifiably concerned about a former slaver speaking with a former slave of what has past, and of religions."
"And I," managed a soldier who clanked up behind Mi'ishaen with gasps, "am concerned about a supposedly pregnant Tiefling murdering the captain of the guard last night."
And all of us found that we were beyond words.
"Wizards and warlocks," Mi'ishaen had commented as we watched him go. "They're all the same. Not entirely in control of themselves, ever. Magic is just a curse that constantly sticks its dirty, cold fingers in their brains- won't let them think their own thoughts when they want to. I think it's sad."
"Do you think, then, that all magic practitioners are doomed to go crazy?" I asked, thinking of my former master. It seemed hard to call him that, but Aleksei had seemed too disturbed at my calling him a friend for me to continue to do so. He was dead, after all- Aleksei was alive and able to be offended.
"Look at Bahlzair," Mi'ishaen replied, as though that explained everything.
It didn't, but it seemed to be all she wished to say on the topic, so I left it alone.
It turned out to be a lovely day- best for surveillance and a good day's work, Mi'ishaen had said. When I asked precisely which work she meant, the conversation, which chipped along in clips and bits, turned toward the oddly technical. She spoke of marks, vantages and systems- names and problems of which I knew nothing. I tried to learn as much as I could, but I'd be lying if I said that it was less than utterly confusing.
The brilliant, uncontested sun shone strongly as we walked into the afternoon, prompting a salty breeze to waft over the warming water and into the town. Urmlaspyr, as the guard had called it the night before, was budding with different cultures, each with its own deity propped up in different temples, but the town also crumbled in places where the shadows lurked like the remains of a nightmare in the daring face of morning. In the distance, an ominous cloud that hung over some distant hilltop temple stretched its inky embrace farther and farther over the town as the rest of the sky moved around it. Something about the shadows seemed familiar-more familiar than I would have liked them to be. The alleys and small paths between the stone houses where Mi'ishaen and I walked were darkened, as one could expect because the houses were so close together, but she did notice how easy it was for me to simply disappear into them.
Some children played in the alleys, and for all Mi'ishaen's rough and technical talk, she gladly handed a little Elven boy a ball that had accidentally struck her foot and rolled past her. The boy had accepted it from her easily, not staring at the curling horns or starting at the blood red eyes.
"Thank you, Miss," he said happily, holding out his hands as she placed it gently.
"It's alright," she replied, seeming unused to the politeness of the situation. She watched him briefly as he scampered off, and her gaze seemed to look through him, somehow- into some distant past that I was not sure that I could touch. She came to herself with the thud of a nearby door and began our previous conversation again.
"It's like getting to know the people, but not personally," she mused, almost more to herself than to me. "You learn when they leave, where they go, what they do, who they trust and love, and who they hate."
"Why would you not simply ask them?" I queried, truly curious. "Surely they would tell you all those things in appropriate conversations."
Mi'ishaen laughed quietly, as though my inability to understand this concept- casing- was somehow endearing or cute.
"I won't be able to help you, if I don't understand what it is that you do," I said quietly, concerned.
"Don't worry too much about it," Mi'ishaen replied with a shrug. "I'm working right now. Haven't you noticed that we've wound our way past this same manor house in about four different directions?"
I fixed her with a face that must have looked absolutely dumbfounded, for so I was. I hadn't noticed at all, and merely thought to myself that there were many houses that looked very similar.
"The trouble with it is, it's guarded. So I'll need to get a little bit more specific- see if the guards change shifts, if they live in the manor- things like that. The best way to get that done is to apply for a job."
"But wouldn't that draw attention to you when things go missing?" I asked, looking at the impressive stone steps flanked by purple and silver clad guards.
"That would only happen if I actually got the job, which I won't," Mi'ishaen assured me. "It's a rare place that will hire a Tiefling to protect anything from anyone. On top of it, mention the magic problem of pregnancy, and it'll be the perfect failure. No one hires anyone in the family way to be put in the way of danger."
I nodded, accepting that she was probably right. We walked a little ways away from the manor in silence, and I was not sure if we were both just enjoying the day at last, or if Mi'ishaen was continuing to think of something or other. I decided to enjoy the day for both of us, just in case.
"I know you're concerned about being able to help me, but this I'll have to do on my own," she said, turning to face me in a tight alley and placing both her hands on my shoulders. I bit my lips, not sure how appropriate it would be to admit how much this simple touch thrilled me. "Go on into the market with the gold that we still have, and see if you can find yourself a dress that wasn't once part of someone's uniform."
"Why should I buy myself another dress when you must content yourself with the same armor every day?" I dared to ask, although the words came so softly that I knew she would disapprove. Surprisingly enough, a half-smirk pulled at her face.
"I haven't worn a dress since I was a very small child, Silveredge," she said, somehow trying to comfort me with this saddening fact. "It's only a few slices; the whole armor's not spoiled."
"And someone constantly in armor can be in the family way?" I asked in a voice hardly able to be heard.
"Don't worry," is all she said before she turned back up the alley, leaving me behind.
I stood still as a stone, met for only the second time in my life with the need to choose for myself what I would do with my time. It seemed an odd thing to think of, "my time," as though time were a tangible thing that anyone could ever own. But I suppose the question of who owned something that could never be owned only arose when there was no one else telling one that it belonged to them without question. I figured it would be a good idea to make some money the proper way- or the only proper way I was really sure of, anyway- and so tried to find my way to the market center.
In most towns and cities, the wider and better paved that the road is, the closer you are to the common market. I don't know when in my life I decided that this was true, for it was not always so in the Sunderhope Commune in the Darkreach Mountains, where I spent much of my young life. There, most of the roads were paved, whether inhabitants actually used them or not. One could not be sure if it were the government actually doing what they were supposed to do for a change, or simply bored Plaguechanged, departed souls and Shadow creatures who sat to arrange stones for a while, unknowingly making things just slightly more tolerable in a world that Shar had eagerly created and then forsaken so long ago that it was beyond telling.
But I missed Sunderhope sometimes.
One never had to ask anyone to spar with them. There was a shared realization that without challenge, without constant struggle, the perpetual shadow would burn itself into the soul, which could never be reclaimed, once lost.
I suppose I thought of what I still considered home too loudly, trailing my fingers on the outsides of the houses just to feel the stones. I turned a corner to suddenly find myself face to face with a dull-grey skinned Shadar-Kai male, hair completely gone- though, judging from his thin brows, it must have been brilliant blond- and shocking ice blue eyes. He was clad in a loose fitting black robe with beautiful blue detail work that delicately kissed the hems at his feet, his wrists, and his neck. A more familiar illustration, thin and branching, was tattooed on the right side of his face- branching, thorned, blood-red vines that started, I knew, at the nape of his neck, and reached up the right side of his face like the mark of a wicked disease. He, being much less afraid of me than I instantly was of him, smiled at me. When I could not muster a similar facial expression, he reached out and touched my face, sending waves of terror- which I'm sure he didn't mean to cause- rippling through me.
"Let calm fill you," he whispered calmly to me, sensing my fear- or perhaps simply listening to my fluttering heart, which was beating loud enough to be heard clearly in the Shadowfell.
"Máistir," I replied, beginning to drop into a kneel.
"Too long have the tiarnaà daor crushed you," he sighed with bitter realization. "I forget, sometimes, that I still have the mark. Even what I say- but I am no- master. At least not yours." He let me go, but not entirely willingly. "Forgive me, my sister. I did not intend to make you fear."
"Forgive-?" I began, feeling as though I had somehow been sucked into some other strange world.
"If you can find it in your heart, yes," the male nodded. "As I said, I forget- I suppose I let myself forget what that life was like. The ease with which I had my every command, my every desire and dream, fulfilled- needles? Vermin? Acid?"
I blinked at him, understanding only that he required an answer. "Baked leather strips. I put them in the fires myself, with my own hands, and if they were not hot enough to smoke when I was slapped with them, I was made to go back to the oven and put them in again until they did. And then I bathed in vinegar at night- without crying even once, in eight years."
For a moment, it seemed as though he would turn away from me, but he simply crossed his arms over his chest and sighed deeply. "But you are here, on the Material Plane, now. You escaped?"
"No, Ides Ashok-pir-Raz left, and took me with him," I replied. "He is dead, and I- follow another."
"The name means little to me now," he admitted slowly, after some thought. "A distant bell tolls, but... I have spent quite a long time trying to erase the memory of the families for whom I- broke slaves. You at least follow this other of your own free will?"
"Yes," I replied brightly. "She forbade me to even think of her as máistir."
And much as Bahlzair had done before, this male chuckled and shook his head. "A command that you follow with that same trained obedience. Obedience forced upon you by scalding leather straps and nightly vinegar baths-"
"My lord did not do these things," I comforted tremblingly, knowing that the saying was important. "You have taken some other path. You are here, on the Material Plane, as well. Things are different here."
"Indeed they are," the male replied, uncrossing his arms self-consciously. "Forgive me- even in my stance, I am again as I was trained, and you- it seems we cannot completely escape those days. But we can forge a new future here, as you have implied. I am Yrel Svaentok-pir-Ades- if the family name means nothing more than tyranny to you, I understand. What shall I call you?"
"Ceubel Jyklihaimra-pas-Naja," I smiled meekly. "Or Silverhag-pas-Naja, or Silveredge. I'll answer to any of them."
"Smacks of Drow-tongue," Svaentok commented thoughtfully. "And to hear Ceubel's name- but I'll speak no more of the past. Come, walk where you wish, and I will follow you."
"I was trying to find the center market, but I have only been here a short while, and so am not sure where that may be," I replied, feeling foolish for having to say so. A firm first finger under my chin made me realize that I'd slowly been casting my gaze downward until I no longer looked at Svaentok at all, but instead was only raising my head enough to acknowledge that he was speaking to me.
"Just past this third house, you must turn left and then turn right at the temple of Correlon-Larethian. The market is only a few steps farther from there," Svaentok responded happily. "I can walk with you, if you wish it."
With a silent and small nod, I began to move past him, and he turned to accompany me. We only walked a few paces in silence before he asked a strange question.
"Do you still follow the path of Shar, or have you chosen some other way?"
I stopped walking, having just turned left, and contemplated the question. "I myself have not chosen to worship any god," I admitted at last. "My mother honored both Sehanine pas-Selune and Mystra pas-Mystryl when she felt she owed one of them a debt of some sort, and her good friend worshiped Lloth only when she feared that goddess might have become angry with her, but Ashok did not consider gods necessary, and did not worship any at all."
"And what about you?" Svaentok asked after a pause. I knew he had turned to look directly at me, but I was slow to do the same. Before I figured that I must, a familiar voice surprised me.
"What kind of manners is that, to ask someone that could have once been your property what her beliefs are?" Do you think that any of your business?"
And there Mi'ishaen was, behind us, her arms crossed and the tip of her tail twitching behind her, looking for all the world like a jealous mate.
"I don't believe we've met," Svaentok commented breathlessly, much more surprised to see her than I was.
"And we won't," she scoffed, not moving an inch. "Not amicably anyway, so long as I'm convinced that you're going to shuffle her off into a cult."
"My lord had only just-" I began to try to explain.
"No, no, make no excuses on my behalf," Svaentok nodded firmly. "She is justifiably concerned about a former slaver speaking with a former slave of what has past, and of religions."
"And I," managed a soldier who clanked up behind Mi'ishaen with gasps, "am concerned about a supposedly pregnant Tiefling murdering the captain of the guard last night."
And all of us found that we were beyond words.
01 April 2012
2:2 Set in our ways.
As I stared, trying to figure out how he'd gotten to this place before us, a light step began behind me. I turned just in time to see Silveredge sprint to my side, her makeshift green dress swirling around her as beautifully as though it had been made for her by a caring mother.
"Bahlzair!" she said warmly, coming to a stop just a few steps behind me. It struck me that although she was clearly more than a little relieved to see him, and might even have run up to embrace him, she was still somehow feeling some sort of subservience that stayed her feet.
And the Drow responded by reaching behind him and pulling out the silver blade that was etched with glowing sapphire-blue runes.
"Get back!" I hollered, thinking that perhaps we had either mistaken this male for the one we knew or that Bahlzair had decided that he worked alone in this new town. But just as I reached forward to get hold of Silveredge, something else got hold of me. I dropped to one knee and forced my elbow backward, only to hear the disgusted grunt of a female. She still had tight hold of both arms, so I twisted myself to try to wrench them out of her grasp. It wasn't easy, and I wound up bringing her down to the ground with me. I smacked her in the face with my tail, and whipped away a mask whose pins jabbed into me mercilessly. I was greeted with the oddly pale face of a Human- one with extensive tattoo work on one side of her face. I didn't have a lot of time to look at it, since she pulled daggers and dove after me. I laid flat as she came forward, intending to simply lift her over my back, but she got wise just one second before that, and one of her daggers put a good slice in my battered leather armor. Now immediately behind me, she scrambled to get a position on my throat, but I turned and got a dagger of my own across her throat first. Not willing to just leave it at that, I surged forward and buried the dagger into her shoulders and her neck as quickly as possible, struggling a little at the beginning, but finding very little contest by the end. Her blood spattered my face and flowed over my hand, and I took a few moments to shake some of it off as I looked around for any more attackers. When I'd turned enough to see how Silveredge and Bahlzair were doing, I found that they were still fighting.
When Bahlzair tore a new hole into his attacker, however, he didn't turn to help Silveredge. He squatted on the ground, put a well-placed foot underneath her swirling double-dagger attacks and watched as she fell gracelessly to the ground. The attacker dropped his defense for a few moments, just as surprised at Bahlzair's actions as I was, but the Drow never stopped moving for a second. Those precious, fleeting thoughts of "What?" were rewarded with a wicked burst of magic energy that knocked the man or woman to the ground and that silver dagger, easily pushed through both eye sockets. Silveredge, unfazed, simply rolled out of his way and stood up, turning to look at me with a weary smirk.
"More," she said breathlessly and simply- for a few seconds, I didn't know whether she meant more attackers or that she wanted to go on fighting with me. The clue came when I heard footsteps behind me that could no longer be hers.
I turned to see a masked someone getting ready to put a club into my ribs, and dove down to slide between their legs. I used my tail to grab at one leg, which hurt me terribly, but at least put the person on their face. I sprung up and turned to bury a dagger in him, but spied a pair of somethings- low to the ground and furry- messing with Silveredge.
"Hey!" I hollered. "Rats?"
"Rats!" she shrieked, getting rid of one of them with a kick and a dagger but having her clothing tugged at by another. "Why are there-"
But I figured I knew. Clever bandits, these, to work with an animal tamer to distract their prey. The club wielder took less work than the first female had, but it was work nonetheless. I was fairly caught up in it when I noticed the warm and sticky smell of a meadery- and turned from the two-legged rat whose spine I was severing to see Aleksei, hair bound loosely back, lopping the head right off of a bandit. There were only a few more bandits and rats that could stand up to his intoxicated rampage, and he made enough noise at it- partially because his kilij wasn't light, but mostly because he was singing some strange shanty whose lines were punctuated by severed limbs and spattering blood- to alert the armed guard rather quickly. Not a man in the attacking party was left alive by the time they arrived, however, a fact that the leading guard clapped at, once he sheathed his weapon.
And again, we looked a sight.
My armor, the only clothing I owned, was all but destroyed.
Silveredge's make-shift dress now had slashes torn through it, although thankfully, she didn't seem to be bleeding.
Aleksei, after turning almost comically around to see if the two of us were alright, gave in to the effects of whatever brewery vat he'd suckled at and sat down with a thud.
Bahlzair was gone.
"Welcome to Urmlaspyr," the guard said after he'd finished clapping. He waved the three other guards behind him away, and they moved off slowly, clanking and creaking in their plate armor. "You seem to have met the Rattail Clan- what was left of them when the Firebirds moved in on them, anyway."
"You don't mean to tell me that some idiots have trained a phoenix to fight for them, do you?" I asked, wiping other people's blood off my cheeks.
"No, no, they're just a bunch of angry mages. No phoenix here," the guard responded with a grim smile. "First of all, thank you for cleaning up this lot. My men and I have been trying to put an end to their dock raids for a while now."
"A pleasure to do your job," I retorted. "When do we get paid?"
"I can spare you a trip to the dungeons, your friend a one way ticket back to the shadow-worshippers and this big guy a visit to the drunkard's cell; how's that?" the guard snarled. "I'm captain around here, and I won't stand for any guff-"
"You put up with this lot well enough, I'd say," I spat back. "Thanks for the pass, I'll go back to the inn."
"You came looking for that ship that was docked here, didn't you?" the captain pressed, stepping toward me without fear. "What did you know about it?"
Aleksei looked up, a sharp and familiar look in his eyes. "You are maybe coming too near the ladies," he warned.
"Easy, Aleksei," I said, moving over to stand by him. I found a sword at my right shoulder, and I looked up to the captain of the guard with a raised eyebrow. "You don't think you're helping, do you, separating me from the male who just got through warning you to stay away from me with a blade?"
"He's drunk, you're not," he explained. "You're a lot more dangerous than he is."
"And then you offend his ability, after having witnessed at least part of it first hand. Well done, sir, I think you've made two enemies so far. Now, I will warn you, the Shadar-Kai behind me is the most difficult to irritate. Good luck with that one."
"What do you know about that ship, I said," the captain said again, sliding his sword up my arm ever so slowly. "You're pirates, for all I know. Give me a reason not to use this blade."
But it seemed someone else was all too willing to give him a reason, for a few seconds later, the captain's eyes bulged as though he'd been choked. He dropped the sword and fell forward, gagging and grabbing his throat. I moved so that he would fall on his face, and watched as he crawled forward a few inches, grabbing at my feet. In the back of his neck, a silver dagger gleamed, rimmed by an inky black substance.
"Don't touch it," I warned Aleksei and Silveredge. "He'll get it back himself."
"Of course," Aleksei smiled blearily. "I am waiting here until he is coming to get it."
"Aleksei, he can just summon it out of the body, it'll fly to him like his only child, now come on, get up," I crabbed, moving over to try to help pick him up. He sat still, chuckling at my attempts for a few moments, sighed out a deep belch, then got himself up slowly.
"You are good woman- much mistaken about yourself," he said, a full laugh not far from his voice. "You are thinking you are bad, tough, but this is not true, no. You are good friend- maybe one day, good wife, good mother. There is no need to carry me; I am much too heavy, yes?"
"Whoever cut you off and sent you out was doing you a favor," I grunted, watching him carefully pick up his kilij and step over a body. "Another one of whatever you were drinking, and you wouldn't understand good Common. Me, somebody's mother. Sure."
"But it's possible," Silveredge suggested in a paper-thin, hopeful tone. I turned back to look at her, and her eyes gleamed in the rising sun. "You'd never spoil the child with much indulgence."
"I don't know who would ever raise a child with me, of all the women on earth," I laughed awkwardly, strangely uncomfortable. I brushed at my cheek again, to find crusted blood now crumbling away from my touch.
Aleksei stopped, perhaps noticing this, and stood up to his full height, wavering only slightly as he did. "You go on, yes? You go, quickly, and wash. It is morning now, time for market."
"Come, it's not much farther-" Silveredge began good naturedly, but I pursed my lips and took her arm.
"He'll catch up," I encouraged softly. "Don't worry about him, he's a big guy, like the guard said. He can handle himself."
"Okay, but-"
But I didn't listen to whatever else she had to say. With her arm firmly in my own, I all but ran back to the tavern. Whether Bahlzair came to get his blade or not, I didn't know. Whether Aleksei did end up in the drunkard's cell or not, I didn't know. What I did know is that we would wind up having to answer some serious questions if we didn't get out of the path of some strolling guard.
When we made it back to the tavern, I found a Dwarf, alone, lying on top of the bar. I wondered at it, but Silveredge stood absolutely still.
"Are you alright?" she ventured in a wavering voice.
What an altruist! I thought, rolling my eyes. She wants to save everybody.
"There's a lizard around here," the Dwarf muttered angrily, rolling over slowly to sit up on one elbow. " 'Sa biggun too. Useful. Put out some scruff."
"I don't know if we know the one," I sighed, moving toward the stairs again.
"I might," Silveredge replied, not minding or responding to my statement at all.
"Big drinker. 'Bout put me un'er, but don't tell 'im. 'Smy tavern, yeah? And I wake up un'er the bar. Dunno what 'appened. So don't tell 'im. Promised 'im free board, if 'e could drink me un'er."
I shook my head. "If it'd been anyone else, you'd've won. Secret's safe- we won't tell. Come on, Silveredge, look at what we look like."
"Gorgeous," the Dwarf burbled gallantly. "I'd marry you both, teach you a thing'er two."
"See?" Silveredge giggled happily, turning to me with a brilliant smile.
"I'd make a terrible wife," I said, turning my back and walking up the stairs. "I don't take orders well."
"That's easy, when you have the right master," Silveredge replied knowingly, walking quietly behind me up the stairs. "I'm doing it right now."
And having gotten part way down the hall toward the room, I turned to look at her wise smile, and could say nothing. Below us, the Dwarf laughed. When she'd gotten as far down the hall as I was, she meekly reached for my hand, and I, obeying the only command that she then knew how to give, simply took it.
"Bahlzair!" she said warmly, coming to a stop just a few steps behind me. It struck me that although she was clearly more than a little relieved to see him, and might even have run up to embrace him, she was still somehow feeling some sort of subservience that stayed her feet.
And the Drow responded by reaching behind him and pulling out the silver blade that was etched with glowing sapphire-blue runes.
"Get back!" I hollered, thinking that perhaps we had either mistaken this male for the one we knew or that Bahlzair had decided that he worked alone in this new town. But just as I reached forward to get hold of Silveredge, something else got hold of me. I dropped to one knee and forced my elbow backward, only to hear the disgusted grunt of a female. She still had tight hold of both arms, so I twisted myself to try to wrench them out of her grasp. It wasn't easy, and I wound up bringing her down to the ground with me. I smacked her in the face with my tail, and whipped away a mask whose pins jabbed into me mercilessly. I was greeted with the oddly pale face of a Human- one with extensive tattoo work on one side of her face. I didn't have a lot of time to look at it, since she pulled daggers and dove after me. I laid flat as she came forward, intending to simply lift her over my back, but she got wise just one second before that, and one of her daggers put a good slice in my battered leather armor. Now immediately behind me, she scrambled to get a position on my throat, but I turned and got a dagger of my own across her throat first. Not willing to just leave it at that, I surged forward and buried the dagger into her shoulders and her neck as quickly as possible, struggling a little at the beginning, but finding very little contest by the end. Her blood spattered my face and flowed over my hand, and I took a few moments to shake some of it off as I looked around for any more attackers. When I'd turned enough to see how Silveredge and Bahlzair were doing, I found that they were still fighting.
When Bahlzair tore a new hole into his attacker, however, he didn't turn to help Silveredge. He squatted on the ground, put a well-placed foot underneath her swirling double-dagger attacks and watched as she fell gracelessly to the ground. The attacker dropped his defense for a few moments, just as surprised at Bahlzair's actions as I was, but the Drow never stopped moving for a second. Those precious, fleeting thoughts of "What?" were rewarded with a wicked burst of magic energy that knocked the man or woman to the ground and that silver dagger, easily pushed through both eye sockets. Silveredge, unfazed, simply rolled out of his way and stood up, turning to look at me with a weary smirk.
"More," she said breathlessly and simply- for a few seconds, I didn't know whether she meant more attackers or that she wanted to go on fighting with me. The clue came when I heard footsteps behind me that could no longer be hers.
I turned to see a masked someone getting ready to put a club into my ribs, and dove down to slide between their legs. I used my tail to grab at one leg, which hurt me terribly, but at least put the person on their face. I sprung up and turned to bury a dagger in him, but spied a pair of somethings- low to the ground and furry- messing with Silveredge.
"Hey!" I hollered. "Rats?"
"Rats!" she shrieked, getting rid of one of them with a kick and a dagger but having her clothing tugged at by another. "Why are there-"
But I figured I knew. Clever bandits, these, to work with an animal tamer to distract their prey. The club wielder took less work than the first female had, but it was work nonetheless. I was fairly caught up in it when I noticed the warm and sticky smell of a meadery- and turned from the two-legged rat whose spine I was severing to see Aleksei, hair bound loosely back, lopping the head right off of a bandit. There were only a few more bandits and rats that could stand up to his intoxicated rampage, and he made enough noise at it- partially because his kilij wasn't light, but mostly because he was singing some strange shanty whose lines were punctuated by severed limbs and spattering blood- to alert the armed guard rather quickly. Not a man in the attacking party was left alive by the time they arrived, however, a fact that the leading guard clapped at, once he sheathed his weapon.
And again, we looked a sight.
My armor, the only clothing I owned, was all but destroyed.
Silveredge's make-shift dress now had slashes torn through it, although thankfully, she didn't seem to be bleeding.
Aleksei, after turning almost comically around to see if the two of us were alright, gave in to the effects of whatever brewery vat he'd suckled at and sat down with a thud.
Bahlzair was gone.
"Welcome to Urmlaspyr," the guard said after he'd finished clapping. He waved the three other guards behind him away, and they moved off slowly, clanking and creaking in their plate armor. "You seem to have met the Rattail Clan- what was left of them when the Firebirds moved in on them, anyway."
"You don't mean to tell me that some idiots have trained a phoenix to fight for them, do you?" I asked, wiping other people's blood off my cheeks.
"No, no, they're just a bunch of angry mages. No phoenix here," the guard responded with a grim smile. "First of all, thank you for cleaning up this lot. My men and I have been trying to put an end to their dock raids for a while now."
"A pleasure to do your job," I retorted. "When do we get paid?"
"I can spare you a trip to the dungeons, your friend a one way ticket back to the shadow-worshippers and this big guy a visit to the drunkard's cell; how's that?" the guard snarled. "I'm captain around here, and I won't stand for any guff-"
"You put up with this lot well enough, I'd say," I spat back. "Thanks for the pass, I'll go back to the inn."
"You came looking for that ship that was docked here, didn't you?" the captain pressed, stepping toward me without fear. "What did you know about it?"
Aleksei looked up, a sharp and familiar look in his eyes. "You are maybe coming too near the ladies," he warned.
"Easy, Aleksei," I said, moving over to stand by him. I found a sword at my right shoulder, and I looked up to the captain of the guard with a raised eyebrow. "You don't think you're helping, do you, separating me from the male who just got through warning you to stay away from me with a blade?"
"He's drunk, you're not," he explained. "You're a lot more dangerous than he is."
"And then you offend his ability, after having witnessed at least part of it first hand. Well done, sir, I think you've made two enemies so far. Now, I will warn you, the Shadar-Kai behind me is the most difficult to irritate. Good luck with that one."
"What do you know about that ship, I said," the captain said again, sliding his sword up my arm ever so slowly. "You're pirates, for all I know. Give me a reason not to use this blade."
But it seemed someone else was all too willing to give him a reason, for a few seconds later, the captain's eyes bulged as though he'd been choked. He dropped the sword and fell forward, gagging and grabbing his throat. I moved so that he would fall on his face, and watched as he crawled forward a few inches, grabbing at my feet. In the back of his neck, a silver dagger gleamed, rimmed by an inky black substance.
"Don't touch it," I warned Aleksei and Silveredge. "He'll get it back himself."
"Of course," Aleksei smiled blearily. "I am waiting here until he is coming to get it."
"Aleksei, he can just summon it out of the body, it'll fly to him like his only child, now come on, get up," I crabbed, moving over to try to help pick him up. He sat still, chuckling at my attempts for a few moments, sighed out a deep belch, then got himself up slowly.
"You are good woman- much mistaken about yourself," he said, a full laugh not far from his voice. "You are thinking you are bad, tough, but this is not true, no. You are good friend- maybe one day, good wife, good mother. There is no need to carry me; I am much too heavy, yes?"
"Whoever cut you off and sent you out was doing you a favor," I grunted, watching him carefully pick up his kilij and step over a body. "Another one of whatever you were drinking, and you wouldn't understand good Common. Me, somebody's mother. Sure."
"But it's possible," Silveredge suggested in a paper-thin, hopeful tone. I turned back to look at her, and her eyes gleamed in the rising sun. "You'd never spoil the child with much indulgence."
"I don't know who would ever raise a child with me, of all the women on earth," I laughed awkwardly, strangely uncomfortable. I brushed at my cheek again, to find crusted blood now crumbling away from my touch.
Aleksei stopped, perhaps noticing this, and stood up to his full height, wavering only slightly as he did. "You go on, yes? You go, quickly, and wash. It is morning now, time for market."
"Come, it's not much farther-" Silveredge began good naturedly, but I pursed my lips and took her arm.
"He'll catch up," I encouraged softly. "Don't worry about him, he's a big guy, like the guard said. He can handle himself."
"Okay, but-"
But I didn't listen to whatever else she had to say. With her arm firmly in my own, I all but ran back to the tavern. Whether Bahlzair came to get his blade or not, I didn't know. Whether Aleksei did end up in the drunkard's cell or not, I didn't know. What I did know is that we would wind up having to answer some serious questions if we didn't get out of the path of some strolling guard.
When we made it back to the tavern, I found a Dwarf, alone, lying on top of the bar. I wondered at it, but Silveredge stood absolutely still.
"Are you alright?" she ventured in a wavering voice.
What an altruist! I thought, rolling my eyes. She wants to save everybody.
"There's a lizard around here," the Dwarf muttered angrily, rolling over slowly to sit up on one elbow. " 'Sa biggun too. Useful. Put out some scruff."
"I don't know if we know the one," I sighed, moving toward the stairs again.
"I might," Silveredge replied, not minding or responding to my statement at all.
"Big drinker. 'Bout put me un'er, but don't tell 'im. 'Smy tavern, yeah? And I wake up un'er the bar. Dunno what 'appened. So don't tell 'im. Promised 'im free board, if 'e could drink me un'er."
I shook my head. "If it'd been anyone else, you'd've won. Secret's safe- we won't tell. Come on, Silveredge, look at what we look like."
"Gorgeous," the Dwarf burbled gallantly. "I'd marry you both, teach you a thing'er two."
"See?" Silveredge giggled happily, turning to me with a brilliant smile.
"I'd make a terrible wife," I said, turning my back and walking up the stairs. "I don't take orders well."
"That's easy, when you have the right master," Silveredge replied knowingly, walking quietly behind me up the stairs. "I'm doing it right now."
And having gotten part way down the hall toward the room, I turned to look at her wise smile, and could say nothing. Below us, the Dwarf laughed. When she'd gotten as far down the hall as I was, she meekly reached for my hand, and I, obeying the only command that she then knew how to give, simply took it.
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