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.
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