Alystin, once of House Kenafin and now the House Wizard of House Druu'giir, threw her pencil down with a lip curled in disgust. No matter how many times she tried to draw the sigils, they came out wrong. Maybe she was being a perfectionist. Or maybe she was focused on something else. Nede had visited her a few times in the past few weeks to coax her out of her chambers, but for the most part she was left to her own devices. She closed her silver eyes, trying not to think and failing miserably.
Thirty years. Thirty years since the confrontation in the Fane and all the things that came before it. Thirty years since the world was simple. Almost a blink of an eye for a drowess her age, but she felt every one like a blow. And now? She barely recognized her life, filled with assassins and an uncomfortable level of intrigue she was helpless to escape. Living a lie of devotion to Lloth, blindly hoping that someday she would see Sabal again. She had hoped that Yvonnel's punishment would be a matter of months. Instead, there had been not hide nor hair of the inquisitor in any part of Menzoberranzan for a little more than three decades.
And so much had changed. The Abyss was shifting, her divinations and friends more connected to the planes told her. The Spider Queen was planning something, and as a devotee of Eilistraee, she found that highly uncomfortable. Just as she'd found narrowly dodging investigations. So wrapped up in those thoughts, she didn't even hear the door open. "Aly, I need you to take a look at something," Matron Nedelyne said from the doorway, snapping her out of her mental wanderings.
"Absolutely, Nede," she said, throwing the papers almost off her desk as she stood up, snapping her spell-book shut. She still couldn't bring herself to call her old friend Matron in private, though she of course used the honorific in public. It wasn't as though the cleric really cared. "Is it a surprise, or will you tell me something of it?"
"It's a statue recovered from some sort of refuge out in the Wilds near the city. I don't read Abyssal, but I do recognize it. It must be another demonic cult—no one wants a repeat of what happened with Shami-Amourae. The Church will be taking it from us once you've had a chance to study it. I understand they keep such things beneath Arach-Tinilith for reference," Nede elaborated as the pair of them wound their way down the halls towards a secured room off of the audience hall. She opened the door and heard Aly's breath catch in her throat.
In the room was a statue taller than a drow, but only because of its base. It carved out of black marble, depicting what looked like a succubus on her knees with wings curving around as if about to shield her body, a ragged wound in her chest as if someone had pierced it with a lance. There was a glimmer from the inside of the wound as though...yes, someone had set a piece of glimmering obsidian deep in the chasm where a heart would be. She could feel the power of the Abyss radiating from it, almost pulsing with a connection to something far more potent. The hair hung down as if obscuring the face, but there were gaps enough to see carved tears running down a proud face and dripping from the high cheekbones. For a moment, she was reminded of House Duskryn's Matron, but that was surely an artifact of the craftsman's style. Below the knees, Aly could read the inscription. "Lady of Sacrifice, Queen of Sorrows, Mother of Exiles," she said aloud, stepping forward to run her fingers over the graven lettering. She felt a surge of heat in her hand and there was an audible crackle that caused her to flinch back. "More than just a demon lord, Nede. Have you consulted the Demon Queen's Handmaidens?"
"I was waiting until after you had a look," Nede said, brow creasing in echoed concern when Aly started nibbling at her lower lip anxiously. "More than a demon lord?"
"That magic feels like something bestowed on a cleric," Alystin admitted. "There are demon lords who are also gods-the Spider Queen, for example. She rules from the Abyss. What I don't understand is how we don't know about this already. You said it was close to the city."
"At Niar'hannelyn, actually," Nedelyne said. The settlement had been left abandoned, but apparently someone else had found a use for it. She had actually felt a chill when she saw it standing on the black glass from the magical explosion that had sealed the planar rift at the heart of the city. Someone had put it there for a reason. Did they hope to recreate what had happened? Why was the site important? "Hence why I worried. Do you think it could be another incarnation of Shami-Amourae?"
"No, the Church would have warned us. She was an enemy of more than just Menzoberranzan and the drow, after all. I think this is something else. Unfortunately, we know very little about what actually happened at Niar'hannenlyn."
"Matron Siniira has been extremely tight-lipped, and Revered Lirayne even more so. I don't think anyone else knows anything except for Yvonnel's pet tiefling," Nedelyne said irritably. She looked back at the statue. "Whatever it is, it's dangerous."
Alystin nodded, looking at the face. It was carved beautifully and there was something unique about seeing a demon lord wounded and mourning. What would one even weep for? There was no joy in that expression. Queen of Sorrows...how many battered souls would find solace in such a demon's clutches? "It has a strange allure," she admitted, feeling oddly drawn to it. She certainly knew what loss felt like, particularly now with an aching heart. "So close to Menzoberranzan and not a word from the yochlol..."
"The only alternative I can think of it as is some ally of the Spider Queen allowed to cultivate a small number of followers in the Material Plane," Nedelyne said, leaving half of her thoughts unspoken. Alystin could practically read them in her expression: But Lloth is a jealous goddess, so their alliance must be considerably strong.
"Mmm," Alystin murmured noncommittally even as she pondered it. "I'll investigate as much as I can. I have a feeling we won't find too much in the literature. Hopefully the Church can do the same."
The Matron couldn't help a sound of displeasure rising in her throat. "Whether or not they'll see fit to share is an entirely different problem. Siniira has more of an in than I do. To think she and Yvonnel go at it like hammer and tongs every time they meet, arguments practically throwing sparks."
"She's been around longer. Everyone respects House Duskryn. Probably because if they didn't, they would be wiped off the map. Well, except Baenre. I think they hate the idea of a former slave ruling a House or considering herself nobility," the female wizard said softly, still looking at the statue.
"Well, you know what they say. Blood will tell...about inbreeding," Nedelyne said with a faintly wicked smile. She'd never utter anything like that where it might be overheard and find its way to Triel or the general public, but in private with Alystin or Sszrar she tended to be much less guarded.
"You know, this is how people end up flayed and then beheaded," Alystin said, ignoring the sound of the door opening. "Do you want to talk to the inquisitors, or shall I?"
"All yours," Nede said, turning on her heel to leave. She smirked at their newcomer. "Inquisitor A'Daragon."
"Matron," Sabal acknowledged with a bow of her head, moving to one side so the cleric could pass her. Little had changed about the wilder over the years, save for amber eyes that had grown a little more feral and a new scar running across her throat. A just a tiny fraction deeper and the blow would have slit her throat. The door closed and she looked at Aly.
It always amazed the mage how expressive those eyes could be, whether anger or sorrow or affection. And at the moment they were twin beacons of insecurity warring with hope. "You look..." Sabal paused, searching for the right word. She didn't have time to finish her sentence before she had arms full of wizard.
"I missed you so much," Alystin murmured before hiding her face in the crook of the inquisitor's neck. Dangerous or not, it was true.
"And I you. But it was safer this way. I couldn't lie to Yvonnel twice," Sabal whispered back.
Aly reluctantly disentangled herself from Sabal's arms, immune to the cold and hard press of armor against her body. It meant nothing compared to how much better she felt, the hollowness in the center of her chest filled. "What happened? After the Fane, I mean."
"I could ask you the same. A new House, a new life," the wilder teased softly. Her eyes avoided Alystin's for a moment, dropping to the ground as if she was recalling something unpleasant. "As for what happened...Yvonnel was quite serious about penance."
"Sabal, whatever it is, I won't be angry." Alystin found herself holding her breath as the quiet stretched on. She thought she knew what this was about, but couldn't be certain. Not with how inventive Yvonnel was, though there was probably some poetic justice in the concept of Sabal tracking down groups of drow devoted to Eilistraee. But how could she hold it against the wilder, knowing the incredible power her vows had over her?
Even through the tumult of her own emotions, Sabal could sense both Aly's comprehension and her difficult absolution. "Thank you," she said softly. She touched her forehead to the mage's. "Could we perhaps continue this conversation in a place where there isn't a demonic statue staring at us?" A trace of her dry humor was returning.
Alystin turned slightly to look at the statue. "There's something about it that...I can't explain. Like it's calling to me."
"I feel it too," the wilder said. "But that is the power of demon lords. They know what hides in the heart, and offer up their own solutions." She added in her own thoughts, not sharing with Aly who probably knew it all too well, For a price.
The vows, Aly thought when she realized Sabal was too distracted to be listening as they walked out into the hall.
Valyne rested her chin on her clawed hands and studied the abandoned sava board. New pieces were slowly appearing on the board, some representing armies and others lone individuals. A perfect replica of the board belonged to Lloth in the Demonweb Pits, the pieces conjured up or vanishing in a perfect reflection of its pair. She could see the forces of light she had corrupted added to their armies, the flickering lights vanishing from the enemy's side to reappear on her own. And then there were the few mortals who warranted their own pieces, far more valuable in their way than whole groups for the wonders they could accomplish.
"Your move, sweet thing," Malcanthet said, draping herself over Val without hesitation. The succubus had become much more touchy since the demon lord rose to power, probably because she was enjoying holding her slain rival's title of Lady of Delights thanks to Valyne's hard work. Or because she saw the cool demeanor of the other demoness as a challenge.
"Until the Abyss's most powerful demons have fallen in line, we can't possibly muster enough power. And then there's the matter of the Nine Hells."
"Nothing brings people together like a shared enemy," Malcanthet purred, letting go of her former pupil and sliding into the chair. "I hear you have people following you now in the Underdark. Congratulations on earning a cult so soon. Most demon lords have to struggle to attain such interest from mortals."
"I can offer something no other god of the Underdark can: solace. They know I understand pain, so they come to a place they can call their own. Niar'hannenlyn and other, more hidden bastions of safety. Cessair has been extremely useful," Valyne said, toying with the carved figurine of a tiefling. She set it down again, the piece surrounded in a ring by pieces to represent the cult. Sava had always been an intricate game, but this particular version was even more complicated.
"And I hear you reward them for their devotion. Even granting them spells. And Lolth doesn't become jealous? Amazing. What did you say to her?"
"I explained respectfully that I was Her servant and so my followers are Her followers by extension. All She need do is ask and I will see it done. The drow among them still venerate Her anyway, so there's hardly a conflict of interest," Val explained, still focused on the board. She watched a piece of Demogorgon's army vanish and reappear on her side. "Oh, and I've been keeping Graz'zt and Orcus happy by chipping away at Demogorgon's support."
"Good. That distracts them from our true purposes. But you know, sweet thing, Graz'zt won't really be satisfied until he's between your legs," Malcanthet said with a grin. "It's part of his charm."
"I'm wasn't interested when he offered and I still remain uninterested," Valyne said. She was too focused on divining more and more about the nature of the Abyss as well as their plans to distract herself needlessly. "Speaking of which, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
"I merely wanted to congratulate you. Since Vallashan has become your domain, the forces of good have claimed victory far too quickly and not even realized when the corruption is seeping in. Giving them opportunities to let out rage and vengeance on illusory demons, playing to their avarice with treasures, and seeding them with poison for their ambition...I'm impressed," Malcanthet said, detaching herself from her pupil.
"Living in Menzoberranzan taught me much about mortal nature. Anyway, I suppose I should be gratified that you arrived to deliver the compliment in person," Val commented dryly, never looking away from the board. She could feel her venomed blood pumped through her body, round and round, by that black shard buried in a wound that had never truly healed. Even now, it ached in a way she found strangely enjoyable.
"Only if you know what's good for you," Malcanthet said, sitting down in the chair opposite to her. "I did make you, after all."
"But you cannot unmake me, any more than you could Shami-Amourae," her host said with a calm certainty, sliding another piece, this one in the likeness of a drow wizard towards the cult. "You need me."
"Clever, sweet thing. Very clever. And when I no longer have need of you, what then?" Malcanthet asked.
Val lifted her head, blank white eyes as expressionless as the rest of her face. "We will see, won't we?" she said blandly. But something in her expression spoke of fire and metal. It gave even Malcanthet a chill.