Amilie pulled a short, sharp knife under the last of the damaged silvery hair and allowed the rest to scurry from her fingers.
"It's beautiful," she smiled, leaning forward to look into the young female Shadar-kai's platinum eyes. "I only took an inch off the bottom, so it's still quite long, if that's what's bothering you about it."
"No, not at all," the female replied. "It's the way we've sat and trimmed each other's hair- the last person do this with me was my older sister, that's all."
"Ah," Amilie sighed knowingly, leaning back with both her hands in her lap. She looked down at the silvery strands of hair contemplatively before allowing them to fall to the floor with the rest. "I understand. My grandmother used to teach me to mix potions and pigments. I can't crush a rose petal or prepare charcoal liner without thinking of her."
The female, who'd introduced herself by one name and then insisted that she be called another, turned around and sat forward on the stone bed. "She also taught you some divination, right?"
"She did," Amilie nodded. "Though I could hardly remember any of it until she sung the spells to me. I have a whole head full of spell-hymns, and though my mother used to cross her arms and roll her eyes at me, my grandmother assured me that it was how she learned them, as well."
"At least she taught you," the Shadar-kai smiled faintly. "My grandmother- paternal grandmother, the only one still alive and close by in the Shadowfell- couldn't be bothered... I don't know if she liked my mother very much."
"That's a shame," Amilie counseled, looking over. "When everyone else is gone, family is all we have."
"Not so." The statement wasn't sharp or maudlin- it seemed only to be the product of experience. "Our memories, our thoughts and our experiences are all we have. All else comes from, belongs to, or will go to someone or something else."
Silence reigned between the two for a few moments before Amilie switched the knife from her right hand to her left. She gingerly rested her right hand on the left of the Shadar-kai, who looked over at her with a calm expression.
"I hope you find, one day, that you're wrong," Amilie whispered, somehow feeling as though the sentiment shouldn't be spoken too loudly. "I hope one day you find something, or someone, that stays with you so permanently that you realize that it's yours forever."
Udala poked her head under the open cloth flap that separated the cloister from the rest of the catacombs. "What're you two mulling over that's got you so serious? You swapping urine stew recipes?"
The Shadar-kai's face registered surprise, but Amilie merely laughed. "No, no. And the urine mixture is specifically for warning pests away from the garden, it's not to be eaten with rice or baked in pies!"
"Oh!" the female smiled. "Urine, pepper, hair- yes, I've heard of that done, though it wasn't for a garden. My mother's good friend used to pour buckets of our urine mixed with other things around the manse to remind the shades that it was occupied. My mother hadn't thought of trying that, but she did admit that it was gloriously effective at keeping absolutely everything and everyone away from the manse, for a time."
"But I thought you used warding magic," Amilie offered as Udala moved into the room and sat on the stone bed next to her.
"Wow, and you still have all that hair left," the Halfling commented, looking at the bits of silver hair that were all over the cloister floor.
"It's really much thicker than it looks," Amilie explained.
"I use warding magic, yes, but it's not something I learned directly from my mother, who seemed to lean more toward illusion and domination," the Shadar-kai replied simply. "Her friend was no good at spells at all, save the ones that were naturally in her blood."
"You know, I wonder about that, the spells that seem to live in the bones of some people," Amilie commented with a sigh, watching as Udala began to scrape some of the brown and silver hair on the floor together with one foot. "I wonder if my spells, even though I had to sing them to remember the words, aren't somehow attached to where I grew up, and how. And then, that attachment is somehow buried in my bones, so that every other spell worker knows me instantly for a swamp hag."
"Is that what your name means?" the Shadar-kai asked innocently. Udala glared at her immediately, which shot the younger female's gaze to the floor.
"No," Amilie replied with a raised eyebrow at Udala, who attempted to soften her look. "It means 'rival.' I'm not sure what made my mother come up with it."
"Perhaps she thought you'd do a lot of jostling and fighting to get your place in the world," Udala offered, almost in an apologetic tone. "My mother must have been homesick, since I'm named after a place I've never seen. Beat that."
"My name means 'death charmed silver mage,' " the Shadar-kai admitted as though it were some sort of distant shame. Udala gave a huff, but Amilie pursed her lips for a few moments before laying a hand on the bluish shoulder. The silver eyed female looked up slightly, first to the hand, then at Amilie with a slight smirk. "In Undercommon, because my mother's friend named me. No one could say it- even I can't say it properly. I got used to getting called Silverhag after awhile."
"Say it," Udala prompted at once. "We can try."
"Jyklihaimra," the Shadar-kai said slowly.
"Shikla...um...Cheekli....oh," Amilie frowned. "I'm sorry."
The silver eyed female shrugged lightly. "It really should be Jhula'unhaemaree, but when my mother attempted to say it, she said Jyklihaimra, and when she and her friend stood before the commune to present me, Jyklihaimra is what stuck."
"Then how did you wind up with Silveredge?" Amilie wondered. "I thought you asked me to call you Silveredge."
"I did," the female smiled. "A Tiefling female- I consider myself her friend, but she does not like to be- she gave me that name, and I prefer it, unless the matter warrants the name my mother and her friend gave me."
"Where is she, this Tiefling friend of yours?" Udala asked immediately. "Is she down here with you?"
"No," Silveredge sighed. "She's elsewhere- causing a bit of trouble, I bet. I don't know if she always means to, but it's in her nature, as though something laid a strange blessing on her similar to our people's Bleak Blessing."
"Oh, I've heard of that!" Amilie exclaimed. "Is it true, then, that you can be forced back into the Plane of- oh, sorry- the Shadowfell just by a cut or a bruise?"
"It would have to be quite a bruise," Silveredge replied, a little surprised. "We must be weak when the shadows behold us for the Blessing to take hold. But it takes more than a casual bump to-"
"Or else I'd have already been in the Shadowfell long before Elder Vhalan and Dedicant Jyklihaimra could have arrived," a male voice chimed in. "Most of us are brought up fighting brothers, sisters, cousins, neighbors- anyone who crosses us, on a daily basis. It really does take more than a casual bump."
Silveredge got up at once, but when her gaze remained steady on the tattooed face of the Shadar-kai male before her, he smiled.
"Well done," he breathed. "Now, darker matters. Amilie, Udala, your leader has sent for you."
"Oh no," Udala sighed. "I bet I know why."
The male nodded once, then turned to step out of the cloister. Udala got up and extended her hand, indicating her desire for the other two women to go first. Amilie got up, then looked awkwardly at Silveredge, who didn't move. Udala, after noticing that neither woman was willing to go before the other, rolled her eyes and left herself. Amilie immediately pushed off after her, leaving Silveredge to think of Mi'ishaen for a few moments before moving through the entranceway and putting down the cloth covering to prevent anyone from seeing the snippets of brown and silver.
"Um," Amilie began as she caught up to Udala. "Do you remember his-"
"Svaentok," the Shadar-kai male replied, his answer wafting behind him to the embarrassed Human and the oblivious Halfling. "Elder Svaentok."
"Sfen...Svin...oh, dear," Amilie sighed deeply. "Why can't I say either of your names?"
"I think you have more on your mind," Svaentok replied. "Udala informed me that death bothers you-"
"Oh," Amilie breathed, shooting a glare at Udala, who ignored the look completely.
"-and not only are you in a burial place, you're faced with the eminent death of one of your clan members." Svaentok paused at the bottom of a downward incline, then turned to his right to follow another hallway. "It's... beyond me, now. The illness."
"It might be wen-" Silveredge began from the back of the solemn group.
"Without doubt, although I never saw one of the beasts..." Svaentok stopped just outside of the large central chamber where Silveredge had been accepted into the service of the Raven Queen. "Shepherd Aric managed to break the curse, but I... just can't..."
"Let go, Svaentok," came a well-used male voice. "Force that pride to bend, or you will be unable to forgive yourself."
The Shadar-kai male's crystaline blue eyes pressed themselves shut, and a look of utter frustration crossed over his ash grey face.
"Maybe we can help," Amilie whispered, turning back to Silveredge. "All it is without the curse is a fever, and you practically bleed ice. Maybe if you try to use a weak chill spell while I-"
A deep female moan stopped the words in Amilie's throat. Something about it spoke of exhaustion- the weariness that came after a hard-fought battle. Udala, noting Amilie's frozen agony, took her slender hand and led her into the chamber, where Darelove had been stripped nearly to nakedness and constantly attended by warrior initiates with fresh, cool water. Still, her cheeks had sunken, her eyes had glassed over, and her breathing was rapid and shallow. Aric, who found himself in need of his cane that morning, stood as far toward the back of the chamber as was possible, his dark robes blending with the shadows. Betzal sat, watching, on his unprotected shoulder, and Silveredge wondered if Aric had simply grown calluses where the talons squeezed. Much closer to Darelove, who lay directly on the floor, were Deadriver, who was sitting crosslegged with his eyes closed, and Snakesoul, who was staring at a scrap of parchment. A few moments after the moaning stopped, a fit of coughing began.
"This is the threshold," Aric warned quietly. "That which will be said should be said, carefully, yet with a quickness."
"It's her gonna be doing the talking, old man," Deadriver replied. "I just do the listening."
Darelove coughed and sputtered, and Amilie suddenly moved past Svaentok and Udala to take up one of the warrior initiates' rags. Sitting the Human female up, she gently wiped her lips. As though she had been waiting for this movement, Darelove rolled her nearly sightless eyes to the former streetwalked who had touched her.
"Holly-eagle... on the bat," she managed in a tight voice before choking and coughing again. Snakesoul inclined her head slightly, as though she were acknowledging the appeal of this statement, then stared at the bit of parchment again.
"What about the eagle, sister?" Deadriver encouraged, his eyes still closed. "Is it protecting, attacking..."
"It's...it's on fire," Darelove replied, prompting an utterly confused look to settle upon Udala's already displeased face. The ailing archer coughed more violently, and Svaentok began to move forward, only to be checked by a glance from Aric. Darelove spent an entire grueling minute hacking every shallow breath she gulped down back up, with blood coming in the process. Weary, she laid back into Amilie's arms and rested her head in the crook of her arm. "This... monastery... the whole place...the ocean set it on fire."
"Those words aren't for us," Deadriver whispered, slowly tilting his head backward. "I can feel it- their direction- it's not toward any of us."
"You are right, son," Aric replied. "It is most fortunate that Dedicant Jyklihaimra came with your clan sisters- I believe that message was for her."
Darelove's eyes rolled and fluttered, and a stream of blood began to ooze down from her nose.
"That's it, mama," Deadriver sighed, turning to Snakesoul. "I don't think-"
Darelove pressed her lips together and hummed, then released them with a worn sigh. Silveredge shifted, feeling the intentions of the dying Human as clearly as if the female had still been able to speak.
"There's something else," she said, quickly moving to the other side of Darelove. "Please- I beg you, try again."
Deadriver raised an eyebrow, then scooted over toward Silveredge, who now sat on his right, and put his hand on Darelove's head. At once, his head jolted backward as though he'd been struck by lightning. "Moondew. That's hers, isn't it, mama?"
Darelove's head rolled in Amilie's arm for a few moments, then the Human suddenly pitched forward violently and began to vomit. The force of it pushed offal out as well, and blood sprayed from her lips and nose. Silveredge screamed and shut her eyes, but did not move away. Niku, who had been sitting just in front of Vhalan's cloister, bounded up and down the hallways toward Silveredge with sharp, loud barks, running over anyone in his way without remorse.
"Gone," Aric nodded, watching Svaentok turn himself away. "Come, children- what will you have us do?"
Snakesoul looked down at Deadriver, who had grabbed a nearby pot just a few seconds too late to avoid being plastered with filth. Niku shoved his way past Svaentok and Udala, prompting a muttered curse from the Halfling, and was only prevented from licking Silveredge clean by two periwinkle blue hands wrapped firmly around his snout. Svaentok turned behind him to pick up one of the jars of water that had been providing for what meager comfort Darelove had been afforded in her last moments, handing the two closest women new rags and wordlessly offering them water to clean themselves.
"Pyre," Deadriver said after watching the entire exchange with tired eyes. He reached over to scratch Niku behind the ears, then looked at his vomit-covered hand and thought better of it. "We'll wash her up and put her out to burn, like we all do. And when the spirit dance comes, Moondew, you'll lead it."
Udala looked down at Amilie, then rolled her eyes. "Ami, he's talking to you."
"Oh," Amilie said, surprised. "I thought you-"
"You just got your tribe name, sister," Deadriver explained. "Usually mamas and papas give 'em, but Darelove didn't have any kids. Hey, got me too, but trust me, that was a spirit name. She gave it to you."
"I- I- she wasn't even going to let me in, at first," Amilie objected, looking around her as though Silveredge or Svaentok could help her argue her case. "The- she wasn't even going to let me. She just wanted Udala, at first, so wouldn't the-"
"No, sister, your big mama's gonna get her name some other time- when it comes to her," Deadriver explained, shaking his head as he accepted a rag from Svaentok. "Moondew is for you. You'll take the herbs, dance the spirit dance, and get your name. And your big mama'll be right there for you- we all will."
"I just- I don't-" Amilie sputtered, overwhelmed. With a deep sigh, Udala marched over and yanked at Amilie's rich brown hair so that their eyes met.
"Didn't he just say I'd get one? You're driving me crazy- crazier than these prancers and their 'mamas' and 'papas' and spirit dances. Now, you're Moondew, and that's that. Just calm down, wipe off, and let's get out of here. They've got work to do, and we'd best be out of their way."
Too worked up to speak, Amilie nodded as much as Udala would allow. The Halfling let go and watched with crossed arms as she, Silveredge and Deadriver cleaned themselves, then flinched when Svaentok threw droplets of vinegar at them.
"You couldn't warn anybody before you did that?" she shot angrily. "Let it have gotten in my eyes, and you'd've heard about it!"
Svaentok raised an eyebrow, but didn't allow himself to become upset. "I'd rather, if you don't mind, vinegar in your eyes than fever in your veins. Also, I'm not sure if you noticed, but Human offal smells. It's not delectable, and we are underground. How would you prefer I deal with that?"
"Taking Vhalan's place this day, Svaentok?" Aric smirked, trying not to laugh at the commanding Shadar-kai and the spit fire Halfling. "I should check your veins again, I fear."
"I haven't seen Vhalan, actually," Svaentok began as he moved to clean the floor where Darelove lay, still slowly losing bodily fluids.
"He will return," Aric stated calmly. "Even at his worst, he has always known what responsibility is and means. He is likely to want an account of your continued work in his absence, my daughter."
Silveredge, who felt a strange dizziness as she got up to move out of Svaentok's way, could only slowly nod. Svaentok glanced over his shoulder at her, but focused again quickly on controlling Darelove's issues.
"C'mon, let's go," Udala urged. Amilie began to move first, handing the cloth she'd been given back to Svaentok, then took Silveredge by the arms. "Are you alright?" the Halfling asked once all three had turned left out of the chamber to return to the cloister from which they'd come.
Silveredge thought for a few moments, then nodded. "Yes, I... I was just remembering my breaking... so many didn't survive. I had been placed in a pen with the other girls who knew a bit of the healing arts... between all of us, sometimes we had enough knowledge to help. But... usually, we didn't. And the bodies stayed. Right there. In the pen. No one ever returned to take them, and we weren't allowed... sleeping was the worst... I'd turn over, and I'd be rolling into the arms of... and the smell..."
"Oh, goddess- help! Somebody help!"
"Ow! Ancestors curse this damned dog!"
"Go, boy, go find help!"
Silveredge opened her eyes, unsure of how much time had passed. She couldn't remember what she had been saying, or who she'd been speaking to, but her mouth was dry- as though it had been open for some time. She was surprised to find herself in a stone cloister, lying on a Human female's lap with a large hound curled up behind her. The moment she moved one muscle, the hound sat up and began barking.
"Calm," came a commanding male voice. The hound quieted down to a persistent whine, backed up a few steps, then hopped off the bed entirely to sit anxiously on the floor. Silveredge realized with an edge of terror that she could not remember the grey-skinned male speaking to her. He leaned over her, then put a gentle hand to her face.
"How do you feel?" he asked, his concern radiating in his voice and reflecting in his eyes as he leaned back.
The red thorned vine that spread up his neck and across part of his face was the only thing about him that Silveredge could recognize, and she struggled to reply appropriately. Her neck and head ached miserably. "Your handmaiden is dizzy," she managed slowly, but clearly.
"Your handmaiden...?" a heavy female voice dared in a tone that tugged between insult and concern.
"Regression," the male voice pronounced gravely with a frown.
"Perhaps she struck her head when she fell?" the female holding Silveredge remarked. Silveredge could feel her light voice vibrating through her being.
"It's more likely that the master ring was found."
From somewhere more distant, a second male voice called, "I should be able to-"
At that moment, a sudden shock of pain ran straight from the back of Silveredge's neck down her spine, and she closed her eyes and stiffened significantly in response.
"No, don't do that," the first male immediately commanded the other male. "That ring is part of her bone, by now. You'll kill her."
"Why would anybody do that?" the commanded creature asked with a note of anger. "What kind of people are you?"
"Slavers, some of us," the first male responded strongly, his tone veering strangely toward defense of something that Silveredge could sense that he didn't like. "I'm not so far from it- this is part of a set. The slave's half goes into his or her neck or lower back, and the master's half goes wherever he or she wishes. I am a skinmaster; it's customary for ours to be on or near our centers of pleasure- see? We can have as many as we wish."
"Oh, goddess," the female holding Silveredge remarked, clearly a little afraid. "Those don't catch in your robes, or hurt when you walk?"
"Not at all," the first male replied simply. "I received them when I was of age to take on my father's role- and it was sooner than expected too, as he fell ill while I was yet young. I had to carry heavy things in front of me instead of at my sides, for two or three days- then I realized that I could tell the slaves to lift and fetch for me. They haven't hurt since."
"Couldn't be me, doing your toting," a powerful lower voiced female said at once. "It was me, you'd've picked up your damned baggage yourself."
"Had you said that, I would simply will pain through the rings to you- which is what I fear has happened here," the first male sighed wearily. "Either her master yet lives or someone has thought to take up his ring- let calm fill you, Jyklihaimra."
Silveredge opened her eyes again and sat up slowly, then attempted to stand, only to have the male's firm hands pressed on her shoulders.
"Where is your master?" he asked seriously, watching her gaze dart away from his and down to the floor.
"Dead, my lord," Silveredge replied simply and without feeling. It seemed suddenly that something was missing from her, as though someone had taken something valuable- except she could not think of what it was.
"Was she yet wearing her ring when you left her?" the first male voice asked patiently.
"My master was male, my lord, and he yet bore the ring on his hand," Silveredge answered calmly.
"Ah," the male groaned. "An impostor, then... and someone likely walked off with the thing, not knowing what it would do to you. Here-"
Silveredge felt a sharp pain at her right wrist, and looked over to see something that looked like a fanged bracelet digging into her skin. There were a few daring seconds, as her nearly unfocused eyes centered on the center of the bracelet, where the effects of all sound and light nearly disappeared from the world around her. Eternity itself stretched into the middle of the dark piece of jewelry, and once within, stopped time completely. Silveredge felt her heart wait, standing still in her chest.
Then suddenly, the room became more real to her, colors flooded back into her vision, and, looking up, she recognized those gathered around her for who they were. She, embarrassed, was going to put her right hand before her face, but found that it was much too painful to move. Silvery eyes darted upward, catching and locking onto the gaze of Svaentok's radiant blue orbs at once.
"Don't be embarrassed," Svaentok counseled, sitting on the other side of her and taking her right hand into his own. "Look at this hand again- that is a gal-ralan."
Silveredge looked down at the bracelet again, and noted that the ebony black bracelet had sucked up a bit of her blood, and now sported a dark blue, gem-like center that pulsed as though it were alive.
"A gal-ralan?" she repeated, terror putting an icy clamp on her chest. "I don't dare-"
"It should afford you a bit of protection- which does come at a cost, as you can see. After some time of bonding through your blood, it will learn who you are, and together, you will inflict greater damage upon whomever faces you in battle."
Silveredge looked up at Svaentok, surprised. "I've never even- this is an heirloom. They aren't made anymore."
"Nonsense," Svaentok smiled. "That belonged to my mate- she picked it up cheaply, when she threatened the merchant the right way."
"You have a mate?" Udala asked, her voice drenched in exasporation. "What is it with you people, walking away from your partners as though they meant nothing?"
"I had a mate," Svaentok replied, casting a glance at the Halfling over his shoulder. "She's dead. And she deserved it, though it could have taken longer, for my taste. All that was hers is mine, to give or to keep as I see fit; I fought two of her brothers for that right. Now they're dead, too. That means a great deal to me. Any more questions?"
"Sometimes I think I'm the only sane creature on the face of Toril," Udala muttered, turning around and moving toward the hallway.
"How do we find the master ring?" Amilie interrupted, managing to stop the Halfling with the sound of her voice. "Wouldn't this all be solved if we could just find it and destroy it?"
"Yes," Svaentok admitted. "But that's not as easy to accomplish as you think. A master can always find the slave, but the slave cannot use his or her ring to find the master. Any scrying done using it as a focus will cause its bearer considerable pain. That's why I told Deadriver to stop."
"So what will we do?" Amilie asked, concerned. "She can't spend the rest of her life hoping whoever has the master ring will be nice to her."
"Unfortunately," Svaentok frowned, "unless that person wills you to come and find him or her, Silveredge, that may be exactly what you have to do."
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