Bahlzair gently pulled the sandy brown hair of the young Human female back behind one ear with a quiet sigh.
She had been tired when she arrived- and understandably so, since she had arisen early that morning to begin her trek to Shadowdale and returned in just fourteen hours. Bahlzair made sure that he was cleaning when she arrived, as it seemed that the longer he scrubbed at some imaginary spot on his knees, the more enchanted the general female populace became with him. He'd looked up, caught her eyes, pulled his face into a boyish half smile, then looked back down to his work. Just that had been enough to give her pause, and once she paused, Bahlzair sat back on his ankles and really looked at her. Had he been working with a Drow female, such defiance would be rewarded with a good beating, but because the woman was Human, he could nearly feel her own rebellious spirit radiating within her. She sat down, smiling shyly at him, and he lowered his eyes to get back to work.
"Hey," the female interjected, kneeling down next to him and lifting his head after having watched him for a few moments. "All you ever do is clean, or fetch or carry, and nobody even thanks you, so- thank you."
Bahlzair played shy, lowering his eyes away from her own and pulling his lips in slightly between his teeth. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that some other female- he wasn't sure whether it was a Drow or not- was able to see the encounter. He moved his right hand as though he were going to touch the hand that the woman had placed on his face, but then turned as though he had thought better of doing so.
"Wait," the Human whispered, pulling his gaze back to her. "Do you- want to touch my hand? You can. Don't be afraid. I'm no one special; I won't tell."
Looking deeply into her eyes with a breath he would not release, Bahlzair slowly brought his hand up to her own- touching it gingerly at first, then resting it gently on top.
"There- isn't that nice?" the Human burbled, her joy at this small show of Human-like affection radiant enough to light the dark quarter. "You don't get touched a lot, do you?" Bahlzair simply shook his head- a minuscule movement that barely moved their hands, and the female huffed quietly. "Huh. No appreciation, no tenderness- not even kindness- I couldn't live a life like that..."
Bahlzair smiled sadly, turning his head to lean against the inside of the woman's palm, then returned to his work. A few moments later, her dove-white hand had been placed over the one that was scrubbing the floor, and Bahlzair turned his blood red gaze up toward the brown eyed female again.
"...and neither should you."
Of course, Bahlzair was interested in the female's reaction to kissing his mouth, and allowed her to explore it as deeply as she dared, even though her attempts to move his tongue were agonizingly painful for him. It was either blind luck or some benevolent god's intervention that kept the messenger from killing herself that way, since he would have thought nothing of delivering another unmarked package of "fresh meat" to the cook. She instead laid herself on his shoulder with the garbled excuse that perhaps her long trip had not only worn her out, but sickened her. Bahlzair, figuring that he was still being watched, picked her up and carried her into the apothecary's room, which was strangely, but conveniently empty. There, after pulling tenderly at her hair and wondering how much potion reagent he could boil it down to, he picked the message from Esvele's successor out of her pack and looked it over.
"You waste my time by provoking me to send another missive, especially because you could divine most of this information merely by sticking your head out of that hole in the ground you've claimed as a holdout. The Stingers, sorely in need of the services the Drow male could have provided, have been wiped out by a single Dragonborn, as I foretold. When I send my emissary for that male, I expect him to return with him without any further hesitation. Had you requested a chew toy from the Underdark or wherever else, it would have been provided you, but you cannot claim this captive as though it had been your idea to take him in the first place. Remain in constant contact with the Phoenix, as I am loathe to listen to another one of Dresan's rambling complaint letters against you. Do be wary, as there is little standing between yourself as swift retribution from not only your own house, but revenge from other houses in the names of the daughters lost at the hands of the creature that you harbour. I expect you will also have to take firmer control within your own ranks, as there is obviously a breakdown in communication between you and those you presume to lead. You are, of course, far more familiar with the manner in which the Drow express their displeasure than I could claim to be; therefore, be prudent, and do as the long-standing ally of your house has required of you. I, a Human, could hardly present much of a case against those of your own kind, if they truly make up their minds to destroy you.
-E"
Bahlzair studied the message for a few moments, memorizing the shape of the curves, the slant of the lines and the space between the characters. Then, searching through the workshop until he found a free bit of parchment that should have been used to record a potion recipe, he drafted a kind revision of the original letter. The work, hastily done, barely had time to dry before Imylshalee entered the study room, so Bahlzair slipped the true letter under himself and left the forgery out.
"Well, Suspolin was right, for a change."
Bahlzair squinted at the paper, frowning with effort, which brought Imylshalee a little closer to the situation. She tapped the table at which he was sitting, which prompted him to look up with a start. Apparently terrified that she'd caught him at a forbidden task, he slid himself away from the table and dropped into a kneel.
"What's this you're trying- oh, the Greycastle pretender's letter." The Drow female reached across the table and tapped Bahlzair on the head to get him to look at her, then crossed her arms. "You were trying to read this?"
"Yes," Bahlzair signed without hesitation. "Some of the letters are beginning to mean something."
Imylshalee grunted to herself. "Well, stop it. This isn't meant for you to practice with; let Suspolin give you some lists of ingredients to burn your eyes out upon. What's the matter with this bitch? Is she dead?"
Bahlzair turned his gaze to the Human on top of the table next to him, then reached out a hand to feel her head. "Not yet dead," he signed, "but feverish. It seems someone had poisoned her on her way."
"Oh?" Imylshalee replied, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "And that someone wasn't you, Master Poisoner? Suspolin made no secret of the way the little wench was pressing her hands to your face. You didn't want to force her to stop?"
"She did kiss me," Bahlzair signed. "And I tasted the poison on her lips. I give thanks to the Spider Queen, for it is she who must have strengthened my blood against whatever it was; I could not tell the substance by its taste."
Imylshalee frowned, clearly uncomfortable with this explanation. "And instead of preparing an antidote, you stop to read the message she carried?"
"At this stage, there is no drought I can pour down her throat without choking her," Bahlzair signed in reply. "I could only wait. So, as I waited, I passed the time trying to decipher that paper. I did not wish to leave her alone, lest she die while I were away."
"Then stay there still, and I will carry this up to Nedstra," Imylshalee pronounced.
But just as she turned away, another messenger- the same Human who had managed to bring Bahlzair into the cavern in the first place- arrived.
"Here's the word from Dresan," the healthy woman panted. "He's in a right state. Curses and balefire, from the moment I crossed his threshold to the moment I left his sight. You'd think they'd arrest and burn the like of him. Says he wants your response and the second half of shipment this very day, by your own hand, or he'll open the maw of Baator under our feet."
"I told Nedstra that he'd respond that way. I won't draft him anything new, but I will bring him the invoice at last. Go get that for me, and I'll go pick up the rest of the shipment from Velryne." Reaching over the table to yank at Bahlzair's hair, Imylshalee handed the forgery back to him. "Go take this to Nedstra, and be back as soon as possible. If this woman dies, you'll get a beating to make your house matron cry."
Bahlzair bowed, listening to the departing footsteps of both messenger and assassin. When he could hear them no longer, he got up, listened to the Human's breath, then left with both messages.
Nedstra, busy with splitting the payment from a recent haul between three very displeased young women, at first allowed Bahlzair to stand at the entrance way to her area for nearly half an hour. It took another fourty five minutes to answer all the complaints about why the haul was being split as it was, but Bahlzair, knowing that Imylshalee would be gone out to deliver the poison, soul gems and dye that Dresan was demanding in tones fit for a demon, did not mind the wait. When he did have Nedstra's attention, he stepped forward with both letters in hand.
Nedstra looked at both letters- first, one at a time, then one beside the other. Looking up, she found Bahlzair's intent gaze on her.
"Where did you get these from?"
"Imylshalee," Bahlzair signed, using the meanings of her name to create the name instead of spelling it out.
"She had both of them?"
"The messenger that fell ill in my arms brought the one at your left hand. Imylshalee handed me the other," Bahlzair replied. "But I left with both."
"What happened to the messenger?" Nedstra asked, curling one fist under her chin.
"She was poisoned. I sat down to study the characters of the letter you have at your left hand while I waited for her to get to a treatable condition, and there Imylshalee found me."
Nedstra leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. "And she handed you this letter, the one at my right?"
"Yes," Bahlzair signed back. "She read that one, but not the other."
"Of course she didn't," Nedstra huffed to herself, looking down at both letters. She got up with a sigh, rummaging through her belongings to come up with a clean sheet of parchment and a fresh quill. "One Dragonborn decimating the whole hive of Stingers. Tales of discontent at home. Demanding that I 'request' a 'chew toy' in the place of the male I clearly intend to be paid for, all in a tone haughty enough to be a queen's. Well done, bloody thin-boned bitch."
The Drow female had drafted a reply in minutes, hardly waiting for the ink to dry before sealing it with wax and handing it over to Bahlzair. "Put this right into Imylshalee's hands- no one else's. And when you do, come straight back here and tell me how she responds."
"But the first messenger-" Bahlzair began to sign with one hand.
"If she dies, she dies," Nedstra spat acridly. "Let her go with whatever gods or demons will have her. You do as I've told you- now!"
Clambering with practiced awkwardness, Bahlzair hustled away from the eyes of the self-appointed matron of the ridiculous piece-meal "house." Peeking into the apothecary's study, he spied Suspolin working at her table. The Human female had been moved from the front table to the thin pile of hay upon which Bahlzair himself was used to sleeping. Deciding to leave that area alone, Bahlzair turned himself back around the corner, stretched out his hand, and visualized his hand picking up the quill and ink pot that he'd left on the table earlier. As he pulled his hand back in toward his chest, the quill and ink pot pulled themselves around the corner and floated at his eye level. Taking them up, he pushed himself between the platform and a ramp that led beyond the apothecary's first-level work space and had a look at Nedstra's reply.
"While I am willing to work together with Dresan, I protest at making any contact with the Stingers. I do not intend to turn this place into a slave's nest, and it was my understanding that they are capable of making their particular poisons on their own. I would be inclined to take over for the Rattails and relinquish the male known as Bahlzair to you for just two hundred gold more than we are currently receiving. However, if that is not possible, I will start negotiations at one hundred seventy five gold with replacement supplies. We cannot be expected to do the quality work that we do while scraping around for armor and armaments as the Rattails and the Stingers might be satisfied to do. They are untaught bands of psychopaths, held together by shared mania. We are professional assassins, guards and mercenaries, held together by training, if not by blood. We must receive the same consideration and respect as is paid to the Phoenix, who can, truth be told, do much less than we can, as can be understood from the recent robbery of Dresan's very home. Please consider these terms seriously.
-N"
Nedstra's handwriting was clunkier and more firmly pressed to the paper than her Shadowdale compatriot's, so it was even easier for Bahlzair to scribe a document that looked fabulously like her original work. He spent only a few minutes doing so, then checked his surroundings for witnesses. Finding none, he pulled himself back out of the space between the platform and the ramp to the second level areas, walking back into the apothecary's work space as though he didn't have a freshly used quill and inkpot in his hands. Suspolin, as he suspected, still had her back turned to the entrance- an unwise position overall, in terms of being stabbed in the back. The Human female looked rosier than she had before, which Bahlzair took as an unfortunately healthy sign. Putting the ink pot and the quill away, he drew a bowl of water from the water barrel just inside the door, sat down at the front table and began tearing strips from the original document.
An hour later, Imylshalee returned from her trip to the Hawke manse, and the original letter from Nedstra was nothing but a soaking mass of pulp at the bottom of Bahlzair's bowl. Seeing her entrance easily from his position, Bahlzair left his doings,dried his hands and ran out to bow before Imylshalee with the note raised above his head.
"Nedstra actually handled something in a timely manner," Imylshalee mused, picking up the letter. "And she sealed it- she never seals things."
Bahlzair had to stop himself from smiling when he heard the crack of the wax seal being broken. A few moments afterward, his hair was yanked at.
"You've done well bringing this right to me. From now on, always bring Nedstra's correspondence to me first- but don't go talking about it."
"Yes, mistress," Bahlzair signed quickly. "I must go and report your reaction to her letter, as she requested- what should I say?"
Incredulous amber eyes stared at Bahlzair for a few silent moments before responding. "Tell her I gave it to a rested messenger to be delivered right away. Go quickly- she may be impatient by now."
So Bahlzair got back up and dashed up the ramps that led to Nedstra's area. She had indeed been impatient, as was evidenced by the remains of a half cup of wine and the center jellies of a dozen unfortunate boiled cream treats. She hated the centers, as Bahlzair realized- though he wasn't quite sure of why yet. It couldn't have been the flavor, since she would indiscriminately devour most types of fruit merely because they were sweet. She hardly allowed him to bow before she shot him through with a question.
"Well?" Nedstra demanded immediately, leaning back from her desk. A map of the Dalelands sat upon it, smeared with the cream from the treats.
"She took the letter, read it, then told me to tell you that she gave it to a rested messenger to be delivered right away," Bahlzair reported.
"Interesting," Nedstra mused, poking at one of the separated raspberry jelly centers. "Did the messenger die?"
"No," came the signed response.
"Excellent. Go back to Imylshalee and tell her that I want that very same girl to go out again tomorrow- unaccompanied. Let me know what she thinks of that."
And Bahlzair bowed immediately, more to hide his contemptuous smirk than to show any deference.
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