It was all so very familiar.
There was no smell of torches or fire pots. The cool of perpetual darkness had lavished itself upon his dark skin for at least an hour now, bringing him unspeakable calm and a spike of fury at the same time. Clips of Undercommon sliced through other chatter, singing in his ears the keen-edged threat of home.
He half-expected to be hit by the briny stench of freshly tortured Kuo-toa.
"Ssussun."
"Yeah. Nasty- but old."
He felt the firm clamp of a slender hand around his chin. His head was yanked backward, then turned from side to side. It was a normal reaction to Micharkiira Ardulacise's work, which looked as though the dark Elf had barely avoided death at the nasty end of a Dwarven mace.
"This is the one, then?" The over-careful pronunciation stung; it sounded as though the young female had just come from the Underdark.
"Not many like him running about the place, is there?"
There was a pause, followed by a deep sigh. "I had not expected it to be a male. The boss will not care for this."
"As I heard it, we was to nab the creature what made off with the goods and put paid to Kisha. Here 'tis. What's it matter what's between the legs?"
Bahlzair recoiled at the second female's ignorance. This merry bunch of idiots was weaker than should have been tolerated by nature.
"I will take him myself, thank you, Peth. You should have a look at those bruises."
"They're not bruises, is what. They're bloody mageburns. Mind you keep him bound up like that, or you're liable to find a bit of hocus pocus putting holes in your hide, eh?"
"Natha faern? Terini'nestg. Doer xuil uns'aa."
Bahlzair made no motion in reply, and did not contest the firm hand on his upper arm. From the sound of the footfalls, he could tell that they moved from solid stone to something less solid- perhaps a platform leading to a built landing. Based on what he had experienced so far, Bahlzair began to believe that whoever was running this mess had made a mini-Underdark of some shallow den far from the capacity of being the real thing. The platform stretched up for some time, then connected to a long landing- it was a full two minute walk to get to solid stone again. When they did, it seemed that their arrival was an intrusive disturbance instead of an expected presentation.
"Peth, what did I-" a frustrated female voice crabbed, then stopped in a grunt. "Flamgra dos, Imylshalee. Nindol zhah l' lotha vith'rell?" There was a pause, presumably while the female named Imylshalee bowed or at least nodded, and the female who had spoken walked over and immediately did the same thing her vassal had done upon seeing Bahlzair for the first time. The inspection was closer this time, however, and Bahlzair could could nearly to ninety before he was allowed to hold his head himself again. Then, the question.
"Vel'bol xunus dos xun ulu rytho'le nindel?"
He did not answer at all.
"What, too long away?" the female scoffed. "Or born topside? I asked you what you did to deserve those scars. Now tell me, before you earn a few more."
Still he said nothing. Stood silent and calm as stone. Waiting.
A solid slap turned his head and pushed his shoulders just slightly to his right. Bahlzair noted that this female probably had a tolerable amount of upper body strength- there had been no grunt or pant of effort, and the male dark Elf knew that he was not easily moved. He righted himself after a few seconds' pause.
"Naut natha ul'trin," the leader scoffed.
"Uk xal naut tlu izil ulu nym'uer," her vassal suggested.
"Plynn nindel klez tir, elg'caress."
Bahlzair wondered within himself at how this female treated others of her own kind. Surely one of her poorly-used women would be more than happy to rip that rough tongue right out of her mistress's mouth. Perhaps he would happen upon the harpy who wanted to do so the most. As it stood, Imylshalee obediently took the blindfold off Bahlzair and gently pushed at his right temple until he opened his eyes.
And Imylshalee, with her glowing amber eyes, smooth coal black skin and curly raven hair that had been sliced and pulled back to the nape of her neck, was one of the most beautiful Drow females Bahlzair had seen in many years. He suppressed his immediate desire to kill her, reminding himself that perhaps she may be a tool to be used against a more worthy quarry.
"In case you were born topside as well as deaf or stupid, let's try one more time," the leader sighed. Imylshalee moved back to Bahlzair's left to reveal the slightly taller, clearly older Drow female that had been calling the shots. "Those scars. How did you earn them?"
And at last, Bahlzair decided upon his method of mind-fuckery. He lifted his bound hands and signed a reply. "The house I served was destroyed."
"Deaf and mute- a death sentence even for an elderboy. Still, it's a good trick, to read Common lips and sign back Undercommon. Wonder what else is locked in that head of yours, hmm?" The leader nodded, took a few steps backward and sat atop her desk at the far right side of the small room. Bahlzair tried to keep himself from obviously scanning the place, but instantly noted the various papers that nearly covered the floor around the desk. "What's your name?"
Rather than use the actual sign for his name, Bahlzair elected to spell it out, just to see the reaction. He was met with a surprised chuckle.
"Well, that explains everything. Your matron was drunk, or mad- how else could she have simply not noticed that you were male? Or that she was spelling like an Eladrin, for that matter? 'Bawl-sire.' Whoever destroyed your house did well. Didn't manage to kill you or keep you in their clutches, however, and since you've robbed me of one of my good women, I'll have to capitalize on that failure."
Bahlzair nodded.
"A reasonable creature! How many did you kill to get out of there, all the while bowing your head to every word you actually understand? Well, no more of that. You're a master of poisons, it seems, so when Imyshalee presents you to our alchemist, show her how little she has left to teach you. I want a vial of your most wicked stuff." The slight-framed Drow waited until Bahlzair nodded again, then waved her hand at her vassal. "Naut'kyn ukta."
Imylshalee turned Bahlzair to his right and put the blindfold back over his eyes. She did not wave or snap her fingers in front of him to check her work, as the other women had done, which her captive appreciated.
"Zhal'la l' yathrin kyorl ukta?"
"K'lar kyorlen, ka dos inbal l' jalilen. Uk zhah naubol."
In Ust Natha, many miles away, one of the slaves dared to shake the arm of one of his female masters, pointing behind them to the hall that he had faithfully guarded most of his life. The female pulled back her hand to slap the impertinent creature, but stopped when she looked over his shoulder to the wall trophy that he was indicating. Forgetting the slave entirely, she ran to get the attention of the high priestess.
For the first time since the surface raid incident, the reputedly cursed dagger of House Hun'gyhm had burst into a ghostly blue flame.
No comments:
Post a Comment