According to the followers of Afflux, Dheidre had been the Master Inquisitor's cat since the days where he was just "Questioner Semnemac." The marmalade orange mistress of over thirty years somehow still had the attitude and the energy of a young kitten, and while many Travelers, Seekers and Questioners- for these titles were preferred over "acolyte" or "convert"-whispered that the cat may be the resurrected remains of a beloved pet long dead, Seyashen did not weigh in on those conversations. After all, Dheidre was far from the stitched familiars that he had read about some time ago. When asked, the Master Inquisitor acknowledged the rumors with only a wicked smirk, and Seyashen found himself pricked by curiosity.
"Should not one necromancer recognize another's work?"
"Is that first necromancer familiar with advanced transmutation and the theorems of Master Xillian concerning the unkillable undead as they may apply to the various reanimation techniques of the Ruby Order?"
And Seyashen had made a mental note to search for the writings of Master Xillian- whoever he or she was.
Early one morning, the suspiciously old cat had caught a iron-branded rat that had been pillaging the food storage area for a few days. Having easily overpowered the smaller and much less experienced creature, Dheidre let it go for a few fleeting moments, then captured it again, crushing its tail. Seyashen, who had considered the cat an object worthy to be studied, raised an eyebrow when the cat allowed the rat its freedom a second time, only to break one of its legs while pouncing on it a third time.
"What knowledge are you trying to gain from him? Is this the effect of your master's devotion to Afflux, little sister, or do all cats act this way?" Seyashen asked Dheidre, who turned her radiant yellow-green orbs to him as though she wished to answer his question.
"It's not a characteristic limited to Our feline friends," purred a honey alto voice, "according to the researchers that are out in the great seas and oceans. Supposedly, slick-skinned swimming creatures called dolphins do the same thing in their youth- only with fish instead of unfortunate rodents."
"Grand Torturer," Seyashen breathed, rolling his eyes. "Do you never make noise?"
"Not if the female can help it," came the self-assured reply as the hooded Shifter stepped out of the shadows. Her hooded empire-waist dress, though well kept, was clearly old, the verdant green fading slightly in the train, at her elbows, and at the edges of the bell cuffs. It was decorated with small shells and shiny stones, as apparently befitted a dreamsight druid. "This one assumes you came to the Stonerows to do more than watch the little flesh golem play at nourishment, yes?"
Dheidre hissed at the Shifter, picked up her struggling rat and walked off, tail proudly in the air.
"Well, she's taken insult," Seyashen commented, watching the dramatic exit with a bemused smirk curling its way across his face.
"Nonsense. She is merely showing off. She adores a good chat over tuna, and not only does the Master Inquisitor lack the ability to truly commune with her, he is also a rather vicious vegetarian." The Grand Torturer pulled her hood back to reveal the seven graying plaits she'd braided a few nights before. The rest of her mane of hair almost hid them, but the bits of colored fabric helped them to stand out. Her own eyes, so similar to Dheirdre's that it was disturbing, betrayed the laughter that the matron-aged Shifter was not allowing to escape her lips. "The female reminds you to use her name, as she is not currently facilitating the blood learning."
Seyashen, startled by her beauty as always, made an effort not to allow himself to be awkward. "Of course, Lady Kaionne, but- I thought I'd seen the Master Inquisitor eat spiced pork skin just the other day."
"No, that was leather," Kaionne answered calmly. "His old apothecary's purse- and he did not eat it. Merely tore it to shreds. But the pup is not looking for this, no. He is looking instead to quiet the spirit in his mind, who is returned to gnaw at his sanity as other spirits do with the Master Inquisitor."
Seyashen found he had nothing to say. He hoped there would be some sort of warning before he descended into the state of mind that allowed wearing funeral wrappings like a living mummy to seem like a good idea.
"Come, this portion of the Stonerows will have what you are needing," Kaionne encouraged, reaching forward and placing her well manicured hands on Seyashen's shoulders. "You are looking for execution records, yes?"
"Well- yes, but-" Seyashen sputtered, finding himself urged past the huge, free standing stone bookshelves toward the wall on the other side of the place.
"You will find what you need here, the female promises you," Kaionne said matter-of-factly. "While some were lost, or only partially replaced after the fire that ate the first College, still We have vast sources at Our command. Whether the court mage is looking for old treatise on enervation or new developments in torture methodology, it is here, with the oldest dog in the kennel, that she knows she will end her search."
Seyashen, who had been marched to a far wall whose carved shelves were filled with tomes, looked up to the ceiling in awe. "I've heard of that fire-?"
"Yes- this is before even the first war of the Tieflings and the Dragonborn- and the first peace treaty, which apparently the subsequent generations forgot about completely. The College has stood right in this spot since before Karsus re-discovered humility, and it was responsible, when it was just a little wood building, for holding all the birth, death and tax records for what was then just an insignificant fishing town, yes? Many years later, the Netherese got it into their heads to burn this place to the ground, with all the official records within. But many of the people here made the ultimate sacrifice to get the records out of the burning building and either into the castle- where now only the Merchants' Council rules- or safely over the border into Cormyr. When the war was won, the Cormite government commanded everything that had been smuggled over to be destroyed, fearing that the mages here were working with the Netherese. A few common Cormites, who knew better, tried to return the documents safely..."
Seyashen turned away from the tomes and records, which seemed to be unduly daunting, only to see a spectral rogue standing just behind the Shifter. He, for his part, had closed his eyes and crossed his arms over her chest.
"...but the Phoenix intercepted most of them," the rogue finished, noticing Seyashen's attention. "It was the founding of the coterie, actually. The leaders hadn't even come up with a name before that very moment- hadn't even planned to form their own group. But when they whisked themselves away, holding irreplaceable records in their hands- they remembered the burning. They saw themselves as the answer. In their minds, the Lord Corellon-Larethian made a terrible mistake, and you Humans should never have learned magic in the first place. You were not able to withstand his great gift."
Seyashen smiled grimly. "I am not Human, sir."
"Oh no? Do the hooves make you so very different?" the spectre shot back, hands on his hips. "Because I am Eladrin, I cannot also say that I am an Elf?"
"You speak with the spirits now, yes?" Kaionne asked, her ears moving slowly from facing forward to flattening behind her. "I feel the touch of the Beyond here."
"Even werefolk have magic now," the spectre mused, relaxing his stance. "I know what you are searching for, Demonkin- I can get you to the Netherese execution records you need, but I need something from you."
Kaionne turned so that she was no longer blocking Seyashen's view of the spirit. The silvery gleam of his aura was tinged with a darkened edge that reminded the Tiefling somehow of rot or decay.
"Continue, then," Seyashen commanded. "I can't do anything without knowing what you want."
At this response, the spirit relaxed noticeably. "The grace of my form has passed through two generations to a young woman known for her skill with alchemy- and a bit of magic. The Phoenix of my day would never resort to kidnapping to swell its numbers, nor would it prey upon the family of those who support it, but this generation will stop at nothing to attain the complete dominance of the mage over the mundane. My tongue may fall out when I say this, but- I need you to get my great-granddaughter out of their grasp. I, her ancestor, have failed her greatly by turning a blind eye to her capture, and the first thing they did was to separate her from me somehow, so that all the prayers that I know she still offers never reach my ears. I have searched throughout this Urmlaspyr- a place so foreign to me now that I almost cannot believe that I was raised here- for what may have become of her, without success."
"The spirit will direct us toward the records that the Phoenix have kept hidden for all these years, but requests that we reconnect him to his missing relative first," Seyashen said, feeling strangely like an interpreter. "He ought to have been able to speak with her as an ancestor, but the Phoenix have made that impossible for him, so he fears that she is in harm's way."
"What is the spirit's pack name?" Kaionne asked, walking to another part of the Stonerows.
"Pack name?" the spirit intoned haughtily. "Get to work on that Common, werewoman."
"I can certainly believe you were raised here," Seyashen frowned. "The blatant intolerance for other creatures and cultures hasn't changed a whit since the days you walked alive. If you want me to help you, you'll have to be more considerate of the people that I consider my masters. Outside of that, I'm sure there are plenty of other necromancers for you to slowly drive insane while your descendant suffers."
"How dare you," the spirit growled, the darkness at the edges of his aura deepening. "I can teach you a thing or two about disrespecting a mage greater than yourself."
"And I can teach you a thing or two about alienating those who would probably help you if you weren't such a self-centered ass," Seyashen sighed calmly. "Now, will you give us your family name so that we can start looking for your great granddaughter, or am I going to have extra command spell practice this day?"
"My name is Pharen. The Netherese slave girl that I coupled with-"
"That you violently took advantage of," Seyashen corrected pointedly. "Perhaps I should tell you that I heard from her spirit first."
Across the room, Kaionne had to turn away to avoid revealing her triumphant grin. Certainly Semnemac's private training sessions were going above and beyond what the spectral Tiefling bowman had demanded some weeks ago, and this male, his son, would become a confident communicator with the dead.
"She had no family name of her own, and I didn't want her to bear those creatures to begin with, so I would not name any of them. I know what she called them, and what they called their children, but that is all. I don't even know if there are birth records, seeing as the Netherese were a little less than welcome here for some time," the spirit finished grimly.
"If the given names are all you have, give us those, and we will do the rest," Seyashen stated.
"Miye had five children, only three of which survived the birthing bed. The oldest boy, through which my great granddaughter is descended, she called Thundercloud, because he came out grey-skinned. He had no hope of bedding anything other than another Netherese child, which he did. She was a second generation Netherese as well, but had very pale white skin, and was called Despair- and even I thought that was a terrible name for anyone. For whatever accursed reason, those two graced the healthy, rosy flesh and the sharp ears of their daughter with an old Eladrin name- Dhamaina. Dhamaina paired herself with a Drow male without marrying him, but somehow produced a child whose dark skin tone and pale yellow-green eyes could get her confused for a pure blood Drow- Arlwynna. Miye's adulation of ancestors who had 'carved the world with their deeds' grew suddenly strong in the child, despite her father and mother's insisting on the Dark Seldarine. I used to think that the fool was talking nonsense, but- when Arlwynna was just a small child, she chose me as her patron ancestor, and- I- I was awakened, and came to myself for the first time in years when she prayed to me. She poured fine Elven wines out to me, and sewed fine garments that would have fit me perfectly- all by hand. She was as devoted to me as she was to Mystra, whom she called Mystra-pas-Mystryl, as Miye had done. At first, I carried on poorly, but she was so careful to please me, based only on her grandfather's description of me, when I refused to communicate with her myself. I eventually grew to tolerate guiding her choices, but now-"
Seyashen carefully noted the spirits ascent from bitterness to true care for his great granddaughter, and decided not to make any further threats about leaving her to her fate. "I'll find her for you, you can be sure of it. You're doing right by her, as I'm sure she trusts you to do. After all these years, she must realize that you will do all possible to answer her prayers."
"Give me the names, cub, and I'll find the trail," Kaionne reminded gently. "It is only you that can hear the spirit. I can only feel his presence."
"I'm not sure what the family name may be, but the given name is Arlwynna, daughter of Dhamaina and a Drow male- who may both have been registered in the temple to one of the gods of the Dark Seldarine."
"That is no help. The Council of Merchants only enforces the registration on those who worship the gods they choose to fear. If we do not have a family name, we will have to look for the midwifery records," Kaionne stated strongly, flitting immediately to another part of the Stonerows. "How old is the lady?"
"She has about twenty nine years now," the spirit replied. "and doesn't enjoy the concept of getting older without being paired off to someone one bit."
"Twenty nine, and unmarried," Seyashen relayed. "Perhaps her match is hiding around a corner. Urmlaspyr is a large city, and beyond that, there is Cormyr and Daerlun, and beyond that, the Dalelands. She will find someone the moment she stops looking for him."
"No, her," the spirit corrected. "And she's already found her- that's the problem. According to these thick-skulled Humans, Arlwynna is aberrant, and ought to be stoned in the street."
"Public stoning?" Seyashen repeated stupidly, now really worried about just why Silveredge was alone the last time he'd seen her.
"Yes- a public stoning first and a hanging after, I think, as a lesson to the masses that can't read the laws on the temple doors, or wherever. I remember the first time Wynnie brought my altar warm fig biscuits and a glass of Moondrop- I thought she was going to tell me that she'd managed to get herself pregnant. But no- it was instead a tear-soaked confession that she was in love with a Cormite armorer, who couldn't possibly love her back because she was female and because- according to her- she looked so damnably Netherese. I could say nothing about the situation for days, knowing that if I but told her to try talking to the woman, she'd be putting her life here in grave danger."
"This was a difficult birth, had to be," Kaionne noted. "One of the training court mages acted as midwife, then forbade the mother from having any more children. The mother is listed as Dhamaina-pas-Despair, and the child Tardagh Arlwynna-pas-Dhamaina. It seems like standard Shadar-Kai naming practice, but Dhamaina is missing her father's given name, whereas Arlwynna is not."
"Dhamaina accepted and claimed her Shadar-Kai heritage, while her father would not- or perhaps could not," Seyashen noted. "All Shadar-Kai seem to be held in great contempt, even today."
"With those two Elven names stuck in there like that, it is likely that the Phoenix believed that she was a Shadow Child," a familiar voice called from the other side of the Stonerows. "The rest of the family is either dead or moved to other places- Arlwynna alone remains in her grandfather's house near the center of town, which was slum-land in its day. Looks as though she sent a petition to the Merchant's Council to become a professional apothecary about five years ago- we need to update our Council acceptance records, Grand Torturer."
Even the spirit was surprised to find the Master Inquisitor, his hair braided neatly into one strap down the back of his head, sitting on the floor with a pile of books on either side of him. From his comfortable position and the care with which the books were stacked around him, it seemed as though the Halfling had been a silent part of the conversation since it began.
"And who are you?" the spirit sputtered, disturbed. "How can the living sneak up on the dead?"
"Two questions- isn't that wonderful, is it not simply fabulous?" the Halfling grinned, a strange twinkle lighting up his eyes at once. "What shall we do with the information that we've found? What is our next plan of action?"
"How could she be a Shadow Child without a clean, native Shadar-Kai line?" Kaionne noted with an indulgent smirk. "Does no one in all the Phoenix ranks know how to tell one from any other Shadar-Kai?"
The spirit looked at Seyashen, utter confusion in his gaze, and the Tiefling simply shook his head, holding up a hand to indicate his need to wait.
"Master Inquisitor, I give you two statements- this spirit has been disconnected from the living woman who he guides. My plan of action is to search the house with the intent of finding out whether the Phoenix have bodily taken her somewhere that is spellplagued, or whether they have simply used their own spells to cut her off from her ancestor."
"And I will give you two statements that will make your current spirit companion very sad indeed," the Master Inquisitor replied, getting up slowly. "The Phoenix used to simply be a collection of Elven mages that did not wish to be controlled or diluted by any other race, but they have over time degenerated into a gang just as filthy and ruthless as the magic-less coteries in the area. If you intend to search the house, we will need to enlist the help of a neutral rogue organization that can either challenge the Phoenix on equal ground or- even better- avoid attracting their attention in the first place."
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