The city of Menzoberranzan, newly adorned with the mage-lights of varying shades of blue and purple, glistened darkly in the revealing light, giving birth to flickering shadows where total darkness once reigned. The lights shone with the festive gleam of celebration, and, in a way, they were. The excitement of the drow community was almost palpable as the giagantic cavern that was the drow city buzzed with activity; albeit a seething type of movement that was only felt by those of its long-term inhabitants. To an outsider, the city was silent, the various noble Houses quiet and still, even the mixed groups of slaves and common drow moved around in the city's newly-acquired shadows with little more than a russle. Zie'la rubbed her thin arms with her slender hands as she moved competantly through the shadows, shifting her eyes out of the infrared spectrum as she came into the more heavily lit areas of the city.
She skirted a small group of goblin slaves and their common elf handlers, easily avoiding the lowered eyes of the slaves and skirting the not-so-alert eyes of the two drow that followed. There were not many in Menzoberranan that could keep track of the adopted Baenre daughter and these two common soldiers were certainly no match. If she so chose to, she could have quickly dispatched them without the somewhat drunken expressions leaving their faces but it would have served no purpose other than to slow her, and certainly her absence hadn't went unmarked by her coniving brothers. She eyed the stone spider-guardians that marked the entrance of House Baenre with disgust as she slipped silently beneath them, putting a hand to her neck as her magical piwafwi tingled.
The lights were brighter as she stood in the front hallway of House Baenre, shielding her eyes quickly against the brighter glare and shaking her head slightly to clear her eyes of the tears that had spang unbidden to her stinging eyes. She swore softly and slipped down a side corridor where the lights were less and she could allow her night vision eyes to adjust comfortably and could reflect on her past meeting with Jarlaxle.
Jarlaxle, possibly the most powerful male of Menzoberranzan, was definately a most interesting character.Though not exactly amiable or particularly altruistic--he was a drow after all-- he was a more desirable companion than her own adopted family, and though she didn't often find herself desiring his company, his conversation certainly kept her on her toes and his warped sense of honor buried deep beneath the cocky facade was a welcome, if somewhat irregular, reprieve from the other drow. She grimaced as she recalled their earlier meeting as she slipped into her room.
"I have heard rumors circulating Menzoberanzan, Jarlaxle, rumors I am sure Bregan D'aerthe can help me with." Zie'la said tersely as the mercenary reclined backward with a saucy smile, twirling his rediculous feathered hat around in his deft hands. Zie'la scowled.
Jarlaxle learned back into his seat with his traditional cheerful smile as he seemed to consider the statement. Zie'la knew better of course, there were very few things in Menzoberanzan the mercenary and his crew didn't know; and those they didn't weren't worth knowing.
Jarlaxle grinned as he mused quietly, covertly watching the dimunutive adopted Baenre assasin. She chose to ignore the furtive looks as she waited patiently for him to reply.
Zie'la had been the daughter of a minor House, a house that had attracted the covetous attention of a smaller noble house even lower in the ranks. Zie'la, then a child so young that she had yet to leave the family chapel had been called Zielanafae, the last of five children born to Matron Kierie Huyy'Cienett, a daughter certain to be pinned down to a priesthood she was unsuited for. Her house had not defeated the rivaling house in battle, but the house had been unsuccessful in disposing of the noble family, leaving only the tiny Huyy'Cienett daughter alive. At the distruction of the erring house,Matron Baenre, who at the time had many priestess daughters, had taken in the noble child. Not out of the goodness of her heart, but out of greed. She had realized how unfit the female child was for the possession of priestesshood that most females undertake, and had decided with the young girl's flippant disgust with the thought of spending her life worshiping a spider(though she never voiced her opinions) would most likely bring disgrace and disfavor upon the Matron Baenre's wizened head.
With that in mind, the child had been given over to Dantrag and infrequently to the intrepid Jarlaxle and trained in the subtle art of assasination
"Drizzt Do' Urden," Zie'la prompted shortly, her delicate, beautiful face ebon and scowling in the meagre light given off from a small orb of mage-light. Jarlaxle inclined his head slightly. "And what would I know of the infamous traitor Do'Urden?" He asked innocently settling back to admire the Baenre's tiny, yet distinctly cold features as she glowered back at him. He shrugged noncommitally. "It would take some time, what would you know?"
She became Dantrag's frequent equal, though she was not skilled with magery, she was deadly acurate with the long, wickedly sharp throwing needles she used, though she also used a pairing of short sword and wedge-shaped knife in hand to hand combat, mostly she stuck to small, concealable weapons easily used on covert missions.Hers was a rare gift for a female of her stature, Matron Baenre had often beamed, entirely wasted on the lower Houses, but shone through given the careful raising of House Baenre. As if the Matron actually paid the least attention to her before she had shone any signs of skill. Most likely she had took her in for the simple reason as she hated to see a female go to waste. Female assasins were hard to come by, even more rare were skilled ones.
She sighed, well familiar with Jarlaxle's games. She pulled a pouch of coins from her piwafwi and tossed them into his lap. "Information, please?" He smiled widely, jumping up to give her another flashy bow as he strutted around the current housing of Bregan D'aerthe, a small cave complex nestled within the labyrinth that was Menzoberranzan. "I suspect he is in the Underdark," She began before Jarlaxle could speak; he nodded an affirmative that she had anticipated as she signalled him to begin. "Drizzt Do'Urden nears Menzoberranzan, for reasons yet unfathomable, but I can certainly guarantee he isn't wishing for a warm homecoming. Spying, most likely."
"How did you learn this?"
"I have my sources,"
"Lolth damn it, pray tell,"
For an assasin, she had suprisingly little patience.
Now Matron Baenre was in possesion of the city's most successful killer. Zie'la could not have been more precious to her if the First Matron Mother had given birth to her herself. Sometimes though, Zie'la felt sickened by the pleasure she took from sinking her blades into the flesh of a drow, or seeing the limp fall of a target successfully hit from behind by her hand held crossbow. Mostly, her targets never knew she was there, unless, or course, the Matron commanded she reveal herself before killing them.
Jarlaxle chuckled. "The renegade is near the city, soon to enter it with a slaving party. Your mother and eldest sister, as you know, are extremely interested in this drow. Maybe you will meet him?" Zie'la schooled her face to be perfectly expressionless though for a moment her heart raced. Jarlaxle turned slightly as one of his drow followers entered the room, signing something quickly over Zie'la's head. She ignored him, confident she would soon know the meaning of this intrusion.
Her reward was not long in coming. Jarlaxle grinned rougishly as he dismissed the underling, bowing festively and sweeping his hat above the floor in a florishing arch. "Let me refraise that statement. Drizzt Do'Urden has entered Menzoberranzan." Zie'la stood quickly. "The Isle of Rothe," He added suggestively as the Baenre rudely excused herself.
Zie'la hoped with ever fiber of her being that Drizzt would escape her malevolent kin, but knew beyong a shadow of a doubt that she would soon see him chained in the dungeons below. She settle back onto her tiny bed and waited for the inevitable call from the Matron.