The silence was deafening. It crept into the room like a thief in the night and blanketed the world in an unnerving quiet. Alaunirra Aleval clutched her symbol of Lloth a little more tightly, the ebony skin over her knuckles lightening as her hold became a crushing death grip. She knew that she wasn't alone here. Noble daughter of the city's second house, she was nevertheless a hunted creature, a frightened sort of prey. She was certain something had been stalking her for weeks. She had never actually laid eyes on whatever it was. There was only a suggestion, a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye that was never there when she turned her head. Through her network of spies, she had learned of a male drow making inquiries about her. Her schedule, her habits, her personality...but he was a street tough, a mercenary. Granted, an elusive one. Her effort to capture him had failed utterly. It was as if he had asked his questions—successfully, as she had learned to her horror—and then vanished without a trace.
Now here she was, alone in one of the smaller chapels of Lloth that did not belong to her family, standing beneath the cruel and cold eyes of the Spider Queen's carven face. The statue dominated the room, the spider body and legs of the Demon Queen of Spiders forming the supporting base of a torso and head so perfectly formed that they almost seemed alive. It was all polished black marble with so few white veins that it almost looked like obsidian. Alaunirra found herself backing into the statue and its cold comfort of an embrace. Anything to keep someone from coming up behind her.
She heard a sound off to the left from the shadows cast by flickering, low braziers that wreathed the room in faint, incense-laden smoke. Even as she turned her head, a figure detached from the shadows. The dark-dyed leather armor reinforced at the joints with fine chain made not even a whisper of the sound as the assassin advanced. There was no gleam of a blade to alert Alaunirra, as the dagger had been darkened by fire. The priestess still stared into the darkness, her panicked eyes trying to place the sound she had heard. It made it easy for the specter of shadows to simply step up behind her and make a sudden move. Alaunirra's scream was stifled by a hand tightly holding her jaw shut and the dagger drawn across her throat, creating a yawning smile beneath her chin. The staining wash of blood spilled down her crimson robes. "Hush," the assassin just whispered as Alaunirra tried to struggle. The priestess swiftly grew weaker and weaker before falling still, her eyes glassy. Not a drop of blood had spilled onto her killer.
The assassin lowered the limp body to the ground and folded the late Alaunirra's arms over her bloody chest. Then the hooded female wiped off the blade and slid it back into a sheath along the outside of her thigh before stalking out through a side corridor. Two guards were slumped against the wall near the door, sleeping so deeply that she could have kicked them and they wouldn't have woken. Sleep poison was a marvelous thing. She had pulled the tiny darts out of their necks so the only evidence would be a needle-like prick and an ache. Her partner had arranged their incapacitation.
She could have killed them, but they were inconveniences alone. They were merely obstacles to the prize. Perhaps it would have been easier to murder them, but that posed a danger. What if they'd fought back? Certainly, she and her accomplice had the benefit of surprise, but that only went so far. It was her insistence that this be performed as neatly as possible. Her partner had advocated for death in case the guards might see something. But what was there really to see?
The assassin let herself out of a side exit and scaled the building with an almost supernatural ease. People so rarely looked up. She maneuvered herself to where the outer wall was the closest, then drank a small potion that she'd been carrying in a belt pouch. She felt the magic as a warmth that coursed down into her legs. She took a running start and launched herself from the parapet, her leap given incredible power by the potion. She tumbled across the outer wall and then plunged to the ground and into a decorative pond, a less than graceful landing. Fortunately, no one was immediately nearby to see. Sopping wet, she swam to the edge and silently thanked her partner for subtly checking how deep the water was before their escapade began.
She climbed out of the water and shook off before taking off through the streets. Her dark equipment barely showed the moisture, though she would need to oil her armor again carefully at some later point.
Her partner was several streets away, a grizzled veteran and male drow warrior with relatively recent scars from something's claws across one cheek. One of his dark eyes had a permanent droop to his eyelid after a warhammer blow to the side of his head that magic had otherwise healed. "How'd it go?"
"Better than we had any right to expect," she said calmly, pulling her hood down. It revealed a face lovely in the sharp, cruel way of the drow. Her lips were currently pursed into a thin, evaluating line above a stubborn chin and her ruby eyes were thoughtful. Her white hair hung long around her face now that she was free of the hood. She was nothing special, no beauty set apart from any other commoner. As far as her partner was concerned, the beauty came in the soundless way she moved—like an expert dancer, or a poem in motion.
"Nice job," he said with a grin, handing over a cherry-wood bow and a quiver packed with grey-fletched arrows that were too distinctive for this job. The weapon was not polished at all, though the wood had been lovingly tended to.
"It was a team effort," she said dryly. "Let's get out of here, Ghaundar."
"Time for a drink?" the male drow suggested hopefully even as they started down one of Erelhei-Cinlu's crooked side streets. "After we report in, of course."
Standing like a priceless, polished gem at the heart of the realms of the drow, Erelhei-Cinlu was a city of contradiction, at once beloved and hated. The center of elaborate traditions and unfathomably complicated webs of shifting alliances and rivalries, it was a darkly enchanted capital from which the Spider Queen's faithful could exert their powerful influence. It embodied everything that was meant when the word 'drow' was whispered in fearful or admiring, but always hushed, tones. However, it was also one of the few cities that was cosmopolitan in a true sense. Outlanders, other races, were permitted within its massive and ancient walls...so long as they abided by the customs of their hosts and obeyed tradition. Obedience meant survival, at least for a while, while disobedience meant ruthless extermination.
Ringed by an immense, polished, black basalt wall that seemed seamless—as if it were carved from one stone—and was studded by guard-towers, Erelhei-Cinlu was both beautiful in its sweeping towers and arches, and chaotic in its construction that ranged in style from the extraordinary buildings in the Ghetto of Scholars to the ramshackle tenements of artisans. Divided into eight districts, also called the ghettos, the city was teeming with life. Across the river and the Flying Bridge stood the palatial estates of the nobles, heavily guarded and removed from the noise and chaos of the city itself.
For Khaless D'veldrin—though once she had claimed a true family and a House—the name Erelhei-Cinlu meant one thing despite her lack of status: home. This place, this city, so far from where she had first drawn breath, was the closest she had ever come to a feeling of true belonging. It demanded so much from her, including such ruthless violence as that which she had just engaged in, but that was a small price to pay for security. Not safety, as nowhere in the drow world was truly safe with secrets like her own, but certain guarantees made by powerful people that she would be immune to certain aspects of drow life. She was not a slave, but she was not a free creature either. She had allowed a noble to sink claws into her willingly for the sake of power, and while that had its rewards, it also came with strings.
Their destination was the Ghetto of Outcasts, the final destination for drow undesirables: members of fallen houses, half-breeds, beggars, and criminals. House Xaniqos controlled it and had already begun to change it, using the nightmarish power structure of brutal gangs and thuggish criminals to their own advantage. It was also a place of security for Khaless and Ghaundar to operate out of, as the residents were too far gone to care about anything and the rest of the city left it well alone.
Low red lights burned in the torch-holders outside the Lady's without need of any wood or actual fuel. The bordello was a surprisingly nice establishment, run by a succubus with a polite arrangement with House Xaniqos that allowed her to live in the area provided she didn't feed on everyone who walked through the doors. The average street tough or embittered local were fair game. It was those who served the drow house who were expected to be left alone. The demon, Caizel, had no problems with those terms as far as the rogue knew and even went so far as to report to Matron Mother Thandysha herself. It was not exactly safe for Khaless and Ghaundar, as it wasn't Thandysha they served, but it was a private place where they could do business with their own mistress.
Khaless lead the way to the back, ignoring the succubus who lived openly in her demonic form for much of the time. Caizel was draped off a male half-drow, whispering soft things in his ear as her fingers trailed across his chest suggestively. It wouldn't be long until he was willingly alone with her and then no one could vouch for his safety. She tended not to kill her lovers, but that was no guarantee. She and Ghaundar found the private room they were looking for. It was the male drow who opened the door and held it for Khaless. "After you," he said with a little grin.
The woman waiting for them was dressed in the plain robes of a lower priestess, but her bearing spoke of much higher things. Cosmetics had been used to give her soft features a sharper look, more in line with the malnourished average of this part of the city. She was also noticeably pregnant at the moment, something that had changed since last they'd spoken. For the most part, their employer preferred to work through agents and dead drops. It was only for truly important things that she met them herself. She smiled when she saw the pair. "Is it safe to assume that your presence here, calm and collected, is an indication of success?" Zesanna Xaniqos said with a faint smile quirking the corners of her mouth. Second daughter of that noble house, she had acquired her mother's ambition. However, it came with the addition of a subtlety foreign to her family. Most regarded her as simple-minded and lazy, ultimately content to feed off the power her birth position and status awarded her without chasing after more. Zesanna was the disappointment out of the female children of Thandysha, though if her mother had known more about what her second daughter spent much of her time doing, that would likely have made for a very different story.
"You would be correct," Khaless said, taking the lead. Ghaundar knew better than to speak. He was the rogue's muscle and he would have been the first to admit it. "The niggling little problem you had is taken care of. I'd call the account settled." She never spoke very directly when she was with Zesanna, wary that they might be overheard. She did not want vengeful members of House Aleval tracking her down. A commoner killing a noble was insulting. Their Matron Mother would want that commoner punished appropriately for disrupting her plans and upsetting the power structure.
"Mother should be pleased, likely pleased enough that she won't be curious as to who exactly acted with such beneficence towards Xaniqos," Zesanna said, looking immensely pleased as she leaned back in her seat. There was an almost smug smile of cat-like satisfaction playing about her lips as her eyes drifted half closed. "Ghaundar, hallway."
The male drow bowed obediently to the noble and let himself out. He would stand guard in the hall, making sure no one eavesdropped by mundane means. The area was well shielded from magical eyes and ears, at great expense to Zesanna. It had been a worthwhile investment.
Khaless raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, the only indication of skeptical anticipation she dared make. It spoke volumes to an accomplished student of drow nature like Zesanna. The rogue, normally so stone-faced, would occasionally let things show. "You expect she will not investigate?" Khaless said softly. "It might appear the work of a rival house with designs like her own."
"The Matron is a busy woman," Zesanna said in her smooth way. It was well known that Thandysha had her hands in a great number of plots and machinations, but perhaps because of the sheer volume, she had only mediocre success in them. It was not a problem that Zesanna shared. The high priestess possessed a single-mindedness that departed sharply from her family's norm. She could sit with a problem and pick at it until the whole of the thing was exposed to her, and then rearrange it to suit her purposes. Right now, Aleval's intentions to consolidate power in the city were her problem to be solved. Zesanna hardly wanted to destroy the Second House, at least at this point. She simply wanted to blind them and then let nature take its course. Alaunirra had not been a particularly subtle or threatening creature, but she had been a very persuasive recruiter with deep pockets and a lot of connections in other houses. Without her, Aleval would scrambling to catch at those loose threads. An absence of Alaunirra's protection would leave a good many spies searching desperately for a new employer. Zesanna, of course, was there to fill that sudden void.
Khaless wasn't precisely certain that this was Zesanna's plan or what the high priestess's endgame was, but that was what she had pieced together using her own sources. She made a habit of acquiring allies in both high and low places through doing people little favors here and there that they were bound to repay. Drow might have been treacherous, but they tended to honor their debts if only so that there was no dagger in the back waiting for them. "Did you have another assignment for us?"
"I will have an exceedingly important task for you within the month," Zesanna said more seriously. Khaless knew that the noble at least trusted her to a degree. The most important missions fell in the rogue's lap far more often than not. "A very dangerous mission that will take you a great deal of time, but if you perform it well, the reward will be beyond what you can imagine."
Khaless smiled faintly. "I have a very active imagination."
It earned her a full, throaty laugh from the high priestess. "I have no doubt," she said with undisguised amusement. The cleric didn't bother to shutter most of her emotions when it was just her and Khaless. Zesanna continued, "Until that day, however, I would like you to gather more information on the activities of Aleval in the Ghetto of Foreigners. It is not their territory, but nevertheless they are beginning to exert their influence in subtle ways. If you can find a way to curtail it without discovery, do so. I would focus your attention on their Weapon Master if I were you. He has a weakness for sympathetic ears on pretty women."
"And I fit that criteria?" Khaless said, ignoring the little twist of discomfort in her stomach. Zesanna was right—it was an in. Not one she would particularly enjoy, but leading him on would require nothing from her that she was not willing to use to her advantage.
"You can be quite charming when the mood strikes you," Zesanna said. "But above all, avoid detection. If he cannot be safely cultivated as an asset, simply observe him. Coax things from his lover if he has one. Whatever you can do. With Alaunirra gone, they will want to capitalize on his reputation for working with foreign mercenaries and agents. If they can't have more...traditional spies, they will take the circuitous route. Remember that this is not a long term mission. That is everything I have for you."
"Thank you, Mistress," Khaless said with a bow. Zesanna was one of the few priestesses who didn't make her gag a little on that word. She hated clerics of Lloth as a rule, but that didn't mean she couldn't also respect a particularly skilled and competent one.
As she slipped out, she acknowledged to herself that she had no intention of somehow drawing the eye of the Weapon Master of House Aleval. She didn't want a lover—or, according to Ghaundar, that was merely what she told herself—and she didn't want any more attention from nobles than she already had. They were dangerous creatures and never to be trusted. She didn't particularly trust Zesanna, after all, and they were allies at this moment in time.
Her partner waited for her out in the hall, his head dipped down and his eyes closed as he hummed a particularly bawdy tune to himself. "Ghaundar," she said, letting him know she was finished. She couldn't even remember how to walk loudly enough to announce herself without ridiculously stomping her feet.
"Great. Let's go have a good time," Ghaundar said with a grin. Before she could even say a word, he was back in the main room with an eye out for his favorite prostitute, a half-human woman with dusky skin and fair hair. When Khaless joined him, he towed her over to the bar. "You need some company, Khal."
She yanked her wrist free of his hand. "I need a drink," she said snappishly. She didn't appreciate Ghaundar's efforts to find her a lover. Her heart, what tattered remnants of it that were left, belonged to a dead man. No amount of empty sex would fix or change that.
Perhaps it was the poet in her soul that refused to accept something less than love now that she had experienced its maddening, wonderful, divine reality. The pale substitute of it, so ubiquitous in the world of the drow, would never fill the void. Even though she spent so much of her time trying to avoid thinking about it, her thoughts in the quiet of her time for sleep invariably drifted towards it. She ran her fingers over drawings of his face and wished that she could turn back time. She wished that she had been the one to step in front of that fateful shot. Drow did not grieve. It was a universally accepted truth by every race, including the drow themselves. Or at least, they shed no tears. She had found her outlet in anger for a long time. It still bubbled up whenever she was reminded. How dare the world take him away? How dare her friend try to replace him? She knew it made her bitter sometimes, or worse, when she fought like a cornered demon against people who had hardly anything to deserve her ire. As if smashing a face in or driving a blade into a heart would bring him back.
Her faith was fading too. The harder she tried to cling to Eilistraee, the more the world of Lloth pulled her into the depths. The ethereal, ephemeral music of the surface was hers no longer. Even if she climbed the passages to the surface, winding so gradually and slowly upward, she knew the view of innumerable stars and an august moon would only torture her with should-have-beens and could-have-beens. Now she was stuck between worlds again, this time between the moonlight of Dark Maiden and the crushing midnight of the Demon Queen of Spiders. The lines were blurring. What did it matter if she had to kill people or betray them, as long as she preserved the few things she cared about? It was necessity. It was survival. Those were things she understood. What had compassion ever done for her? Could mercy put food on the table or secure her from the servants of Lloth? Did justice ever earn someone a position of power? Even loyalty to anything but one's own aims was a useless concept devised by other races in an effort to protect themselves from the harsh, unpleasant reality that trust was a fool's gamble on the absent goodwill of another self-centered bastard.
Apparently today was a bitter day, she acknowledged privately as she paid for her drink. The downturn in her mood likely had to do with Alaunirra's murder. She had never considered herself an assassin before working for Zesanna. It was an uncomfortable truth. Ghaundar seemed to sense that her mood was particularly dour despite their little victory. It always turned that way when she started to feel lonely. "If you want to just head home, I understand," he said. He knew she didn't want to talk about it. She never did, in true drow fashion.
It was the kind of comment that reminded her she did have one friend in the world. Someone who could be relied upon to be more than just an ally, someone who actively looked out for her while secure in the knowledge that she would do the same. He was the whole reason Khaless had ever taken Zesanna's offer. It meant she could protect someone she cared about. "Thanks," Khaless said. She picked up her bow and headed out, her steps winding through the dark alleys towards the small, hidden place she called home. She never feared in the darkness, knowing that she moved beyond the detection of even the most hardened of residents and even if they were to see her, they would know she was no good prey.
Her home was no hovel, but it was far from the manors of the nobility. Once it had been a small wizard's library and many of the books still remained, though some were damaged. The exterior of the building was still just this side of crumbling, but the heavy door with its reinforced lock and bar was brand new. It had been artificially aged, so as not to attract attention—the beauty of living here was that it still seemed abandoned, which left them largely undetected. The neighbors knew someone was there, but not who. Khaless unlocked it and stepped in to be greeted by the warmth of a magical fire burning in the hearth. The light its flickering golden flames cast was gentle enough that it didn't damage her darkvision. The house was comfortable enough to receive guests, but nothing special except for some of the art on the walls that had been stolen or purchased from traders who dealt with the surface. Khaless had a soft spot for paintings and tapestries that captured the essence of the woodland realms of the elves. It was nothing too dangerous, but it was a little strange. Shelves of books lined the walls, more poetry, history, and religious or planar literature than arcane tomes. The volumes that were particularly valuable had been disguised to match their fellows on the shelves.
Downstairs lay an extensive collection of different kinds of armors and weapons, Ghaundar's addition to their abode. He liked to play with his toys, experimenting with foreign weapons until he was proficient with their use and perfecting his mastery of his own weapons. The spear, the shield, the crossbow, and the longsword were his favorites without question. He didn't really see the appeal of the knife, but he was usually not fighting as close as she did, nor with the same element of surprise.
Khaless had taken the upstairs room, once the wizard's study. She had largely preserved it, though the summoning circle graven into the stone was covered by a rug and there was a bed now beneath the window that looked out onto the wondrous city that brooded in the darkness. She set her bow almost reverently down on the desk and then her quiver beside it. The drowess started unbuckling her armor and shedding her knives with it. She had more than a few hidden about her person. She wasn't certain if she wanted to pray or not. It felt almost artificial these days.
When she took off her leather breastplate, the ink drawing that she kept tucked inside her armor came tumbling out. The paper was beginning to wear out along its fold lines and would fall apart soon. It was a copy of the original from her sketchbook, capturing just as well as the original the features of a lover long ago gone. She felt an all too familiar twisting in her chest. It hurt. It always hurt. She picked up the paper anyway and unfolded it, looking down into eyes she remembered as intensely hazel even though this was only black and white.
Sometimes, Khaless envied the short lifespans of the lesser races. How blissful would it be to grow old and forget? Instead, she had centuries ahead of her—if luck favored her, anyway—and they looked grim. Was this all she could do? Serve as a tool in the ambitious plans of House Xaniqos...or at least those of its second noble daughter?
Brooding was going to accomplish her nothing and she knew it. She folded the paper again and tucked it into her armor. It always sat over her heart and it almost felt like its own kind of armor, no matter how foolish that seemed. Khaless stood up, then grabbed her bow and quiver before heading out to the range she had set up behind the tower. It was ringed by the crumbling old low wall that surrounded what were probably once slave pens holding unfortunate souls destined to become experiments. She had set up targets and invested enough money to have several animated training dummies made, activated by a command word. She actively enjoyed the challenge of multiple enemies, even when she ended up bloodied and beaten. It made her better. The longer they lived in Erelhei-Cinlu and the more they worked, the more sophisticated her training partners—of a sort—became. They were virtually soldiers of her own and had been used once or twice as guards when she didn't want to handle intruders herself.
Once they were activated, all of her own agonizing over every little thing vanished. There was only fluid movement and the pleasant warmth of practiced muscles being worked. Run, jump, roll, shoot, turn, dodge, kick, block. That was how far her world extended. Tactically, the constructs were no match for an actual mind, but they could still sneak hits in on her sometimes and that kept her moving and working.
By the time all five were disabled, she was panting and felt that wonderful burn of exercise in her muscles. She had some bruises, but nothing serious. She was still on top of her game even after the work of getting to Alaunirra. The thoughts and bitterness of earlier were gone. Instead, her mind was turning something else over. What did Zesanna mean when she said she had something important planned? That was always ominous coming from a priestess. It boded ill, whatever the case. She needed to be prepared, but first came House Aleval.
Which would be...diverting.
Alassëa squirmed under a stern, though shocked, gaze. They had made it further than any other elf she knew of, but they were fast approaching Erelhei-Cinlu, the dark capital of the drow. Thalion shrugged stone-faced as he sat next to the elven priestess of Eilistraee. Their host and ally, a half-drow mercenary named Malagos who happened not to worship Lloth, recovered quickly. He pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "You will be able to pass undisguised through the streets, yes, but that does not even begin to make you safe," Malagos said. The orcish half of his heritage showed in the blockiness of his face and the slight protrusion of tusks from his lower jaw. "So long as the powers of the city are obeyed, even hated surface elves can pass through the city. But any excuse to torture and kill you, even the slightest one, will be taken. And even if they don't kill you, they will ruin you. Erelhei-Cinlu is not like other cities. It is seductive like no other city of the drow, dangerous to the heart and soul as much as the body."
"Elves are allowed?" Thalion marveled. He had lost the bronzed aspect of his skin, nearly as pale as Alassëa after countless months spent in the depths. This journey had aged him, adding worry-lines to his brow and grey to his brown hair. Alassëa remained unchanged, but perhaps that was because he had done his best to shelter his friend from the worst.
Malagos nodded. "You will be watched and left to fend wholly to yourselves amongst those who loathe you, but it is possible. The drow know that they cannot ignore the surface world anymore, though their answer is to scheme and plot in the shadows against it. Open warfare ended poorly once, in the early days of the city. They learned to be subtle and conniving. I will still caution you to turn back," he said gruffly, voice rumbling in his chest.
Alassëa and Thalion exchanged a look. "We can't turn back now," the wood elf said, sitting up a little straighter. Beside him, Alassëa shifted slightly as if uncomfortable, but she nodded.
It was a guess that had brought them here and Nek's suggestion. Rilauven and Karsoluithyl had yielded no sign of their quarry. Erelhei-Cinlu was a relatively safer place to look. They had traveled with Malagos through those cities, hiding among his mercenary band of half-breeds and other cast-offs. Most of the men made Alassëa's skin crawl when they looked at her, but she stayed close enough to Thalion and Malagos that nothing bad had ever happened. Malagos shrugged. "Then walk openly here, but do not expect me to be able to protect you. Erelhei-Cinlu follows ancient laws that are as old as the drow, unyielding and unforgiving."
"Will you still travel with us? I know your band is headed to part of the city to find work with House Despana," Alassëa said.
Malagos looked into her green eyes and sighed. The half-orc mercenary was beginning to develop a rather large soft spot for the lovely elf. He just knew he was too much of a brute to ever actually capture her attentions, in both his appearance and his manner. The idea of letting Alassëa go alone—Thalion was a protector, yes, but he had his own quest to chase—into Erelhei-Cinlu was an anathema to Malagos. "If nothing I say can dissuade you, then yes, I will accompany you. Goddess forbid Nek be your only guide." He had no love for the svirfneblin ranger. While being a mercenary himself, he had honor. He suspected that was a trait which Nek lacked.
Alassëa beamed, inadvertently making Malagos's chest fill with a flood of warmth. A little smile crossed his crooked mouth, awkward around the tusks that should have been bared in a snarl. "Wonderful," she said brightly. If obliviousness ever had a poster child, it would have been Alassëa.
Thalion gave the half-orc a speculative look, but said nothing. He had a sneaking suspicion, but it wasn't his place to say anything. At least, not yet. "Good. It sounds like the others are ready to move out," he said instead. "Let's get to the lizards. I want to see this city." It would be a refreshing change to move around undisguised. He was tired of pretending to be an orc, which would have been a much greater challenge without an amulet of disguise self.
The others joined him, lashing their gear onto large riding lizards before climbing up into the saddle. Thalion had learned to accept his new mount's means of locomotion, a weird side to side motion rather than the up and down of a horse. It had made him sick at first. Alassëa had taken to it with no problem, though she did walk wide around its mouth after seeing one almost take the hand off of a mercenary. Malagos lead the way, with Alassëa and Thalion close behind. The priestess was actually wearing armor for one of the few times in her life, but she seemed comfortable in the light leather armor. Thalion wore heavier studded leather, while Malagos favored his half-plate that made him a slow, but relentless opponent on the battlefield. The half-drow's greatsword was no less than terrifying to anything that got within its reach. Thalion rarely used his bow, but his longsword had gotten plenty of action.
Nek joined them silently on his own, smaller lizard. The deep gnome's grey skin seemed particularly stony at the moment and his shaven head gleamed dully in the light. Nek dressed in the scales of a deep dragon he had found dead out in the Wilds. He had only taken a small portion of the great creature's hide, but it was enough for an armorer to fashion fine armor from it in the color of an unpolished amethyst. His favorite weapon was a heavy crossbow, but he also carried a wicked mithral mace for when things got up close and personal.
Erelhei-Cinlu in all of its dark beauty was far more either of the elves had been expecting. Alassëa's eyes were wide and marveling as they stopped at an overlook on the very edge of the titanic cavern. "It's amazing," she breathed. "Rilauven and Karsoluithyl...they were nothing like this..."
"Drow do love striking awe. And fear. Mostly fear," Nek commented. He looked over at Thalion with his dark, darting eyes. "Finding your drow in this mess is not gonna be easy. If we even make it through the gate."
Thalion had never told Nek why they were hunting a drow, as his history as an avenger of Shevarash spoke loudly enough in its lie. It was a path that he had walked away from with some regret, but more relief. If only it were the simple vengeance that Nek supposed. That would have been much easier than the truth. "What's the problem with the gate? Malagos says—"
"The merc says a lot of things," Nek said irritably, adjusting his slung crossbow. He was only willing to speak this way because Malagos and Alassëa were out of earshot. "Mostly what'll make the princess there happy. Yeah, you can walk in the city as yourselves and all that, but they have to let us in. That means making it worth their while. We haven't got the coin."
"Do you have a suggestion?" Thalion said, keeping his tone patient. Snapping at Nek wouldn't help, even though they'd have easily had enough money as a bribe if they weren't paying the svirfneblin ranger. The wood elf knew that he at least would be reconsidering their deal once they were in the city.
"You'd better have a chat with the big guy about what the story's gonna be," Nek said with a nod of his head at Malagos.
Thalion spurred his lizard forward, its sudden leap landing him much closer to Malagos and Alassëa. The half-drow was currently explaining some of the city's history to their cleric. "Malagos, how are we getting into the city?"
The mercenary looked over. "Trust me," he said with a broad smile.
It wasn't an answer Thalion liked hearing here in the Underdark, but the former avenger accepted it quietly. What else could he really do? That was clearly all their fearless mercenary intended to say on the subject. Thalion felt himself start to shift uncomfortably and fidget.
Alassëa excused herself from her conversation with Malagos and twisted in the saddle to look back at Thalion. "What's wrong?" she asked in elvish. "You become more agitated the closer we get to the city."
"This is not going to be seamless and that concerns me. I do not wish to see you hurt," Thalion said curtly. Part of him was also afraid. What if he'd been forgotten? What if his lover had moved on and found someone new? He hated to think of it, but everything he had seen of the drow suggested that they were not much of ones for sentiment or fidelity. What right did he even have to ask her for faithfulness? She probably assumed he was dead or on the surface forever.
"I'll be fine," Alassëa said. She offered him a soft smile. "I'm more worried about you."
Thalion shook his head. "I'm fine," he said as he shrugged off the mere idea that he might be anything less than fine. She did not need to know about the fearful anticipation growing in his heart.
"It will take us time to find your drow if she's anything close to as resourceful as you say," Nek said as they neared the massive gates. "We'll need money, favors, people with eyes and ears in the right places. We ought to take adventuring jobs that work from the city as a base. After six months, we can apply for residence." The last word seemed to leave a sour taste in the ranger's mouth.
"Not a fan?" Thalion said dryly.
"Horrible creatures," Nek said of the drow. "Wouldn't want to be in here any longer than I have to."
"You're not obliged to stay, you know."
Nek gave him a look. "You're my paycheck. Now come on. Time's wasting."
The gates were, simply put, behemoths. A small army of drow guards appeared to be scrutinizing everything that went through, collecting tariffs and bribes at the same time. Corruption was something of a norm among the drow, apparently, because the traders shrugged it right off. Caravans coming from areas closer to the surface, such as those of the duergar and svirfneblin, were far less resigned about it. They kept their indignance to themselves, of course. These drow were not inclined to take kindly to back-talk. Thalion tried to imagine an army assaulting this city. In his imagination, the forces broke on Erelhei-Cinlu like a wave against an unyielding cliff.
It took all of a minute before the mercenary band was stopped. "What's this, half-breed? You're bringing faeries into the city?" one of the guards sneered. He was a handsome drow with ivory hair and ebony skin, his armor incredibly well made. Thalion had yet to see a single soldier here poorly equipped. Apparently the drow took their security much, much more seriously than the average surface city. "Armed ones, too."
Malagos pulled an envelope from his satchel. "I have a writ here from House Despana, permitting us entry into the city for the purpose of entering their service," the half-drow said coolly.
The drow snatched the paper away and examined it, lip curling more and more as he read on. Finally, he looked up. "You'll still have to pay the visitor's tax, half-breed. We'll take an elf if you haven't got the gold." He was looking speculatively at Alassëa when he said it, and Thalion felt a cold anger wash through him.
The wood elf's hand started to creep towards his sword until Malagos pulled out coin, effectively putting an end to the offer. "Mine," the half-drow growled quietly to the guard as he leaned down and handed over coin.
The drow shrugged, looking less than intimidated despite the size of the mercenary. His bravery probably stemmed from the fact that there were at least twenty guards within a fifty foot radius who could respond before Malagos so much as blinked threateningly. "Whatever suits you," he said. "But you can't say I didn't offer you a chance to get rid of a whole heap of trouble. This is enough. Take your cloaks."
One of the less important looking guards passed each one of them a dark green cloak, glaring at Alassëa and Thalion intensely and then treating the others with simple disdain. "You will have to wear these wherever you go to announce that you are outlanders and not residents," he said coldly. "Forget them on pain of death."
"Now you will swear on the gods and goddesses that you will not break the laws or customs of the Dark Gem, nor commit a crime against any of its Houses," the drow lieutenant said. "Particularly you elves. At any transgression, you will be punished with all the severity any House may deign to bring to bear upon you. Should you cause affront to the Spider Queen, you will forfeit your life, your belongings, and your soul to the Church and the Demonweb."
Both Alassëa and Thalion felt a chill. "We swear it," they said together anyway, along with the rest of the mercenary band.
The lieutenant gave them a long look, then nodded. "Cloaks on, then get out of my sight. Your pasty skin is making me sick."
Thalion slipped his on and pinned it as Alassëa did the same. Then they followed Malagos out into the crowded masses of the streets. "We'll sell the lizards for coin to get started," the half-drow said. "I just sank the last of ours aside from the boys' pay into that tax. Nek is right, we're best off taking some work. Caravan guards, bodyguards, whatever it takes."
"Prostitution," Nek suggested with wry humor. When Alassëa glared at him, he laughed. "Bet you could get plenty lined up, princess."
"Nek," Malagos growled threateningly.
"You said whatever it takes, big guy. Maybe you should be more specific." Nek seemed oblivious to the irritation of the half-drow. Thalion shrugged it off as the svirfneblin being himself. It wasn't like the ranger actually meant it, despite his rather callous nature.
"Where do we begin?" Thalion asked, derailing Malagos's anger. All around them, he could feel hateful stares. He pulled his hood up, which seemed to alleviate the worst of it once they were a few streets down.
"The Ghetto of Foreigners. It's the only place in the city that outlanders can live," Malagos said, leading the way.
When they saw it, both Thalion and Alassëa felt surges of nauseating anxiety. It was a warren of narrow streets and tottering buildings, walled to keep the chaos and filth from spilling out into the rest of the city. The smell was a creature all its own, the almost overpowering odor of thousands of people living crammed together with minimal amenities for the most part. The crowds were certainly foreign. They could both pick out humans, dwarves, svirfneblin, and many other races passing each other in the streets. Some were clearly making their homes there, while others were adventurers only there for a few days.
"So this is home?" Alassëa said, trying not to hold her breath lest she pass out. The other mercenaries had peeled off, headed towards the Ghetto of Savages where they could find their next employment.
Malagos looked at her and shrugged. "There are worse places in the world," he said cheerfully.
Thalion's lip curled ever so slightly in disgust. "One would have to look very hard to find them."