Even beating my head against the keyboard isn't helping the writer's block much any more...
Much as I don't often like author notes, I'll mention now, since a couple of people picked up on it, that I am indeed using Welsh for my drow as a sort of cultural/linguistic background? Why, you ask? Well, the reasons are twofold. For one, I try to distance myself as much as possible from Salvatore and his annoying army of chaotic good drow renegades, and two, and more importantly, the drow are still related, albeit distantly, to their surface cousins, who I have painted as Celtic. The Welsh and Celtic are close enough to say that one could be a perversion of the other, thus reinforcing their ties.
IX
The street lay empty and silent, shrouded in shadows and pool of faint light from the glow of faerie fire on the elegant houses that lined the thoroughfare as it wound through the artisans' district of Llyr. The richest of the drow artists inhabited these homes, decorating their stone and mushroom mansions almost to the point of gaudiness with statues and ornate columns depicting everything from fearsome dragon gargoyles to beautiful drow and marked at almost every turn by some sort of spider motif. Faerie fire abounded in this place, creating long shadows and pools of bright light between the homes and across the wide thoroughfare that led to House Hen Wyneb.
"Are you sure House Lleision's soldiers will come this way?" Pryderi inquired quietly, glancing over to Arwydd. The priestess shot her companion an irritated glance.
They will take a circuitous route to Hen Wyneb, Arwydd replied in the drow hand code. They do not want to set themselves up for an ambush.
But this is in the completely opposite direction of Lleision, Pryderi countered, his fingers moving quickly through the code. Even now Gwalchgwynn's elderboy felt uneasy about the strike; Matron Saffir had committed all of her children to this ambush, as well as her weaponmaster and a dozen more well armed, well trained soldiers. This is more on the route to-
Arwydd grabbed his hands quickly, forcing his fingers together to cease his questions as she nodded to the street ahead of her. Pryderi dropped back even further behind the low stone wall that he and Arwydd used for cover, watching as a column of drow warriors appeared from around the gentle curve only a few dozen yards ahead. One look at the well armed elves sent a warning through Pryderi's mind; these were not the undisciplined, unskilled drow that House Lleision employed. Each drow moved in perfect step, led by a female whose robes and ebon hued chain mail marked her as a high priestess of…
"Caer Llion," the Gwalchgwynn breathed out. Pryderi turned to Arwydd, but the young priestess was already on her feet, one hand balled into a tight fist.
"Demon Queen of Spiders, grant me your power," she breathed out. A ball of rapidly brightening light was gathering around her fist, quickly attracting the attention of the Caer Llion soldiers.
"Arwydd, are you insane?" Pryderi demanded, trying to drag her back behind the wall.
Arwydd shook him off quickly. "Get down or they'll kill us!"
The lead priestess shouted a warning just as Arwydd released her spell, sending a streak of blinding white light directly into her target's chest. The searing blast robbed Pryderi's sight for a brief moment, but the wizard still managed to tackle Arwydd to the ground before the stunned Caer Llion soldiers could loose their darts or spells on the Evnissien priestess. Ahead of him, Pryderi could hear the enraged shouts of their enemies as the Caer Llion troops recovered from their surprise and advanced on the pair.
Those shouts turned to alarm only a heartbeat later.
Pryderi's sight returned just as the Caer Llion troops vanished, lost inside a perimeter of globes of impenetrable darkness. House Evnissien's raiders emerged from the shadows and charged headlong into the darkness even as two pillars of brilliant white fire roared up inside the trap, hurling their darts through the globes before they disappeared into the magical gloom. Pryderi watched the spectacle for a long moment before Arwydd grabbed him by the arm.
"Let's go!" the priestess ordered, dragging the wizard with her as she rushed to join the fray. Pryderi had no choice but to follow; if he so much as hesitated, the Evnissien raiding party would claim him as their next victim long before he could reach the relative safety of the Gwalchgwynn compound. Pryderi pushed his way through the globes of darkness as he readied a spell, hoping that he did not come upon a Caer Llion warrior before he could bring his magic to bear. The wizard stumbled and nearly fell as he raced through the globes, but came up with half of his magic missile spell already cast. Pryderi loosed his spell before he saw anything more than the dark fabric of a Caer Llion cloak. As that warrior fell, Pryderi was stunned by the sight before him.
House Evnissien was outnumbered by the Caer Llion troops, but it was evident that the lower house had committed its most lethal subjects to the fray. Caer Llion's soldier's regrouped expertly, forming shield walls around their mages their remaining priestess, but even they could not hope to stand forever against two masters of Ysgol-Cyfranc and two high priestesses. Naomhin's swords were already coated with blood as the elderboy sliced through a lone opponent, while Fychan loosed a bolt of lightning through a pair of fighters and the globes of darkness beyond them. Another lightning bolt countered Fychan's as the Caer Llion mages retaliated, tearing through two of Evnissien's fighters and even knocking Athruis to one knee, but the second mage's trio of magic missiles did not even wound Fychan before they were absorbed into the clasp that held the secondboy's piwafwi around his shoulders.
"Pryderi! Get in the fight!" Arwydd suddenly shouted, dropping low behind her shield as a pair of poisoned darts bounced off of her defense. Pryderi quickly called to mind another spell, centering it on the Caer Llion fighters as they tried to protect their leaders. The spell took effect just as Athruis reached the shield wall, slowing the defenders' movements, but the spell hardly seemed necessary as the Evnissien weaponmaster hit the ranks.
Even the weaponmasters of the lowest noble houses were capable combatants, but as Athruis hit the Caer Llion ranks, Pryderi could only stare in awe for a brief moment. The weaponmaster dropped low under one agonizingly slow swing of a Caer Llion sword, his double bladed sword spinning under the shields of the two defenders and cutting into their legs. As the two warriors dropped, Athruis vaulted the wounded pair, jamming his weapon home in the midsection of one startled mage before he could find a counter, then ripping the weapon free in a shower of blood and stabbing back with the second blade into one of the two soldiers. The final soldier tried to turn and bring his shield in line with Athruis' attacks, the weaponmaster slammed one blade into the device, knocking it wide, then reversed his sword's momentum and sheared the warrior's head from his shoulders.
"Pryderi!" Arwydd yelled again. The wizard turned and loosed a ray of enervation, striking one unfortunate Caer Llion soldier just as he drew his weapon back to strike the wizard. The soldier paused in midswing for a moment as black energy crackled around him, but finally dropped to the ground, his life force drained away by the Gwalchgwynn's magic.
Pryderi turned away from the dead solider at his feet, calling to mind another magic missile as he turned back to the fray. Arwydd had foregone spells in favor of hand to hand combat, darting between a pair of already wounded Caer Llion soldiers with a short, flamberge blade sword, blood already dripping down its serpentine length. Naomhin, bleeding from cuts to his sword arm and smoking from a lightning strike, had lost none of his speed or strength as he drove in on the rival house's priestess, driving her back into the waiting clutches of Cadwared's lethal shadow. The shadowdancer himself flowed in and out of the globes of darkness along the perimeter, appearing to cut down the Caer Llion minions as they tried to escape the ring of darkness. Another blast of brilliant white fire smashed down on the final strong point of the second house's defenses, revealing Talaith as the priestess waded in on the survivors with her snake headed whip. Pryderi's lightning bolt hardly seemed necessary as he punched through a last pair of Caer Llion troops, ending the slaughter as rapidly as it had begun.
"Quickly," Talaith ordered, turning to her soldiers. House Evnissien had only lost five of their warriors in the battle, a testament to the smaller house's careful planning and skilled soldiers. "Take priestess' head. Clear all evidence and disappear."
Talaith's simple order sent the others into action. Naomhin chopped the slain priestess' head from her shoulders, wrapping the grisly trophy in the bloodstained cloak of the Caer Llion cleric before stuffing it into a plain burlap sack. Arwydd produced a pair of scrolls from her robes and quickly animated the corpses of the five fallen soldiers, while Athruis and the surviving warriors methodically cut out or punctured the eyes of the dead Caer Llion troops, both to be certain they were dead and to prevent the second house's priestesses from seeing the last image captured in the bodies' eyes. Only Fychan seemed to do nothing as the others covered their tracks, but Pryderi, a fellow wizard, knew that the mage was keeping a mystical watch over the surrounding streets for signs of any onlookers who might be too curious. As soon as each warrior finished his assigned tasks, he disappeared through the last lingering globes of darkness and disappeared into the gloomy neighborhood.
"Arwydd!" Pryderi snapped, grabbing the priestess as she turned the animated corpses over to Talaith.
"It was flawless!" the young priestess exclaimed, her face flushed with excitement. She turned quickly, leading Pryderi by the hand into the streets. "But this is no time to tarry. We must disappear!"
"Those troops were from Caer Llion!" Pryderi snarled, spinning Arwydd back to him. "You deceived me!"
"You let yourself be deceived!" Arwydd countered sharply. "Twenty-five of Lleision's soldiers dedicated to another house, and you never so much as blinked! You knew even as we set our trap that this was not the way to Lleision! Don't blame me for your ignorance, elderboy."
"Matron Morfyl will hear of this!" Pryderi threatened. "And what will happen to your precious alliance then?"
"I hardly think Matron Morfyl will leave our side, knowing that her own son implicated her in a plot against the second house of Llyr," Arwydd said, her voice growing cold and even. "No, Pryderi, I think it far more likely that she will sacrifice her elderboy to Lolth if she finds out how you were led along by nothing more than a simple look of desire from a young, inexperienced priestess. The only one to risk Matron Morfyl's ire in this is you."
"You tricked me," Pryderi growled.
"Just as you tried to trick me," Arywdd countered. A coy smile began to tug at the priestess' lips. "Be careful what webs you try to weave, mage. I am a servant of the Spider Queen, and I am not trapped so easily."
Pryderi glared at the priestess for a moment, but strangely felt himself unable to be as furious with her as he wished.
"Now come on," Arwydd said, once again turning and dragging the wizard along with her. "We have to get away from here."
It was an odd summons, but not one that was entirely unexpected.
Neifion made his way casually through the lower chambers of House Hen Wyneb's central tower, not caring to guess exactly what Tarren wanted with him. In the day since their battle in the Central Market, the priestess had seemingly avoided all contact with him, going so far as to stay locked in the noble sections of the towers where Neifion could not normally travel. The summons he had received, to join her in her own private chambers, seemed odd to say the least, but the punishment for disobeying a priestess, even one as young and untested as Tarren, could be as severe as ritual sacrifice to the spider Queen.
Without the innate ability of levitation, Neifion scaled the spiraling staircase that led up into the central tower, noting with some concern that what few guards were posted along his route did nothing to stop him to so much as inquire as to his business. Neifion's piwafwi, though marked with the colors of Hen Wyneb, obviously marked him as a mercenary soldier of the house, and his flat white hair, tied back in an unremarkable scalp lock, further reinforced his station as a commoner. Neifion could only conclude that the guards had been warned in advance of Tarren's summoning, a guess he all but confirmed as he caught one guard's almost sympathetic glance to the wizard as he passed.
Tarren's chambers were located on the lowest level of the nobles' levels of the central tower, something that no doubt irritated the priestess greatly. Neifion made his way to the noble daughter's door, hesitating for a long moment as he stood before it. Nothing could be heard behind the stout door, made of exceedingly rare wood rather than metal or mushroom planks, but as he drew his hand back to knock the portal creaked open ever so slightly. Cautiously Neifion pushed the door open, his hand dropping to the hilt of his short sword in case the room concealed a more dangerous threat than the priestess.
"Come in, Neifion," Tarren said quietly, somewhere in the darkness. Even Neifion's darkvision did not reveal the priestess, or indeed much of the room, to him. The wizard inched his way forward. "Come now, Neifion. There is no reason to fear me."
"I simply don't wish to break anything in your chambers, mistress," Neifion said, losing what little sight he had as he found himself entering a globe of darkness. The wizard stopped on the edge of the opaque globe.
"Don't be silly," Tarren said, a smug coyness to her voice. "Come here, Neifion. I have something to show you."
"As you wish, mistress," Neifion said, reluctantly taking another step into the globe. Thoroughly expecting a trap of some sort, he was still surprised as he found himself entangled in the strands of a large web, but after only a brief instant of struggle before surrendering. Struggling was likely what Tarren wanted, and the wizard refused to give her the satisfaction.
"Poor, poor Neifion," Tarren said, lifting the globe of darkness. The priestess was lying on her bed, dressed in a sparkling, translucent silken gown as she gently caressed one of the heads of her snake whip. Although she was certainly attractive, the revealing attire only reinforced to Neifion how young the priestess was, and how desperate she was to prove herself as an adult. "Trapped in a spider's web, helpless as a babe."
"I am at your mercy, mistress," Neifion said, shrugging as much as he could in the web. Tarren leapt to her feet suddenly, lashing out with her whip. Caught as he was, the wizard could do no more than gasp in pain at the painful strike. The wizard could feel the whip's poison burn through his veins, robbing him of his coordination, and if not for the web he would have collapsed to the floor. As he jerked spasmodically in the web, Tarren caught his chin, drawing his face close to hers.
"How does it feel, male?" the priestess demanded, her crimson eyes burning with rage. "How does it feel to be helpless? I should have done this in front of the entire house, like you humiliated me in front of Daere!"
"I apologize, mistress," Neifion sputtered out. Tarren shoved his face away, then lashed out one more time with her whip across his chest. Bright lines of blood formed where his robes were torn away, and once more Neifion would have doubled over in pain if not for the web.
"Oh, a simple apology will not help you, male," Tarren purred, her lips just barely brushing his ear. Neifion looked up to see the priestess circling in front of him despite the webbing that surrounded her. As Tarren saw his confusion, she smiled coldly. "No web can hold one in the Spider Queen's favor," she explained. "Something you would do well to learn, slave."
"You are right, mistress," Neifion said. It was disgusting to be held prisoner by what amounted to little more than a child drunk with her limited power, but for the moment there was nothing he could do. "I am your slave."
Tarren lashed him one more time, one of the snake heads even biting into his jaw, but as Neifion's blurry sight returned to normal he could see the smug smile on her face clearly.
"Now you are starting to learn," the young priestess observed, taking a step back from the wizard as she coiled her snake whip. Whether it was for another strike or not, Neifion was uncertain.
"What must I do to please you, mistress?" Neifion inquired, certain that was what Tarren wanted to hear. As he spoke the words, Tarren's lips curved into a wicked smile. Slowly she slipped out of her gown and stepped up to the trapped wizard.
"It is very simple," she breathed, brushing up against him. "You will please me, or you will die."
For almost a week the rumors had been circulating. House Hen Wyneb was preparing for war. They were under attack by an unknown house or houses, and they were hiring commoner soldiers and mages almost daily. They had lost a caravan on its way to House Caer Llion, the powerful second house of the city, and the house's youngest daughter, Tarren, had been attacked by assassins in the Central Market. Even Caer Llion had been bloodied by the brewing house war; twenty-five of their soldiers, led by the granddaughter of Matron Vala Caer Llion herself, had been attacked and killed by an unknown rival.
Arcol, however, knew who that rival was.
His knowledge made the current situation even more confusing. Hetwn had to have known that Tarren's guards included a powerful caster and a fighter-mage, but why had he not mentioned that when he had paid the group? Letting Tarren survive the assault seemed completely wrong to the mercenary, but he could not shake the feeling that Hetwn had sent his small band into a trap.
And that was the reason he had followed Hetwn.
The Patron of House Evnissien took great pains to throw off any trackers, but Arcol had spent too much time shadowing the nobles of Llyr to be lost by a house mage. Hetwn took a winding path through the avenues of the noble districts, crossing quickly through alleys and taking small side tunnels when they afforded themselves until he reached the bustling Central Market.
Hetwn's trail ended at a small blacksmith, an unusual destination for one inclined toward magic. Arcol quickly disappeared behind the stalls of an adjacent arms dealer as the patron quickly appraised the area around him; Hetwn was almost certainly waiting for someone. Arcol carefully made his way closer to the mage, careful not to reveal himself to the watchful patron.
Hetwn's apparent rendezvous arrived only a short time after the patron reached the smithy. As Arcol watched, a powerfully built warrior, dressed in the finery of House Brenin Llywd, joined the wizard at the shop, smiling as he approached. Hetwn seemed dismayed by the act of familiarity.
"What a surprise meeting," the Brenin Llywd noble said as he joined Hetwn. "The patron of House Evnissien in the Central Market."
"I am a busy man, Heilyn," Hetwn stated curtly. "What do you want with me?"
"A moment of your time," Heilyn replied. "Let's take a walk."
Hetwn sighed in frustration at the younger noble, but nonetheless followed as Heilyn made his way to a more deserted corner of the market. Arcol kept just far enough behind to remain out of sight, but still close enough to hear the pair as Heilyn turned to his accomplice.
"You've no doubt hear the rumors," the fighter said, his voice growing quiet and serious.
"Rumors of war," Hetwn answered simply. "The whole city can feel it coming now. Something is going to happen soon."
"Something has happened," Heilyn said. "Caer Llion lost twenty-five troops and the matron's granddaughter. A most cunning raid, I must admit."
"What do you want, Heilyn?" Hetwn asked again, ignoring the veiled compliment. The Brenin Llywd held out a small pouch."
"This is the last we can do for you for some time," Heilyn explained. "Hen Wyneb watches us too closely now, and if we were implicated in the raid on Caer Llion, it could be the end of us."
"Mighty allies your house makes," Hetwn grumbled, a heavy dose of sarcasm in his voice.
"We have given you two dozen soldiers and enough currency to buy twice as many more," Heilyn countered, growing indignant. "We have done all we can in this alliance. Hen Wyneb will continue to watch us, which means they won't be watching you. We'll make a good show of it until it's too late. Do not give Matron Eirian cause to side against you, patron. After all, you could not even eliminate a daughter of House Hen Wyneb away from her home."
Hetwn said nothing at the insult, but Arcol did not see the checked anger he would have expected from the wizard at the botched assassination.
"House Evnissien thanks you for what little help you deigned to give," Hetwn said. "We will remember your generosity in the future."
"And we will certainly repay you in kind for removing a threat to our security," Heilyn said. "Lolth bless your endeavors."
"And yours," Hetwn agreed. Heilyn turned and started quickly into the market, leaving the patron alone for a moment. Finally, Hetwn started back toward the smithy, putting him directly in line to pass the mercenary. As Hetwn drew near him, Arcol leapt from the shadows, putting a dagger to the wizard's throat before he could try to cast a spell.
"One sound and I'll slit your throat," Arcol warned, shoving the far smaller mage into the darkness of a small alcove. Hetwn glanced down at the dagger, then to his attacker. "So, Brenin Llywd has abandoned you to fight your battles on your own?"
"An inconvenience, nothing more," Hetwn answered coolly.
"So it would seem," Arcol agreed. He paused for a moment. "But I don't care about alliances. What I care about is why you sent us into a trap."
"A trap," Hetwn repeated, practically spitting the words out. "Trap nothing, Arcol. If I knew you and your allies were not up to the task, I would have hired more competent mercenaries."
"Tarren had a powerful spellcaster with her, as well as a warrior-mage," Arcol said, shoving Hetwn into the wall behind him. "Why didn't you tell us about that?"
"Because I didn't know about them," Hetwn answered, trying to force the mercenary away from him. Arcol simply leaned in harder, beginning to draw blood with the tip of his dagger.
"I want answers!" Arcol snapped. "You sent us to die! Why?"
"Because you are apparently incapable of handling one priestess in training," Hetwn countered coldly. Arcol snarled as he backed off ever so slightly.
"I wonder what House Hen Wyneb would pay to know who it is they should really fear," the mercenary speculated. "Or how much Caer Llion would offer to know who it was that killed Vala's granddaughter."
"Arcol," Hetwn said. "I don't think it would be wise to mention what you know to anyone."
"Then tell me why Siana and Rhodri are dead," Arcol stated, his anger rising once again.
"Very well," Hetwn said, dropping his head in resignation. The wizard mumbled something under his breath.
"What was that?" Arcol inquired.
"Niteo!" the wizard suddenly shouted, throwing a handful of powder at the mercenary. Arcol threw himself backward, trying to avoid whatever spell the wizard had cast, but it was already too late. The mercenary could see nothing but glittering golden motes in front of his eyes. Arcol shot forward, trying to impale the patron on his dagger, but by the time he had realized what had happened Hetwn had moved from his original position.
"I could have found other uses for you," Hetwn said, his voice seeming to come from every direction at once. Arcol slashed blindly around him, but hit nothing more than the alcove wall with his attacks. "But I don't take kindly to threats, Arcol."
"Pray I don't find you," Arcol growled, trying to separate the echoes from the wizard. Hetwn's chuckle reverberated around him.
"I don't think you'll have a chance," Hetwn observed. Arcol spun again, lashing out wildly, but once again hit nothing but air. "Goodbye, Arcol. Trucido, mortuus."
Arcol staggered blindly for a step, feeling his life draining away from him. The mercenary lashed out one last time, but his feeble swing connected with nothing as he collapsed to the ground.
As Arcol fell to the ground, Hetwn finally moved away from the wall where he had pressed himself against the rock. Carefully the wizard knelt next to his attacker, watching the corpse to make certain that he was dead. Arcol's body, covered in golden motes from his glitterdust spell, remained silent and still.
The third house of Llyr was one of the oldest structures in the entire city. Built during the formation of the drow city, House Siryddion stood on the very edges of the Central Market, its mushroom cottages and spiraling stone towers clustered around an enormous central spire that stretched to the very roof of the cavern. Rearing spiders adorned every basalt support of its winding steel fence, while the main gate of the compound sported an intricate, elegant image of the Spider Queen herself. Throughout the compound, picturesque rock gardens and lichen groves lined the walkways of the compound, and just in front of the main spire a tiny creek was spanned by an ornate bridge of granite and marble. Everywhere gargoyles lined in faerie fire watched the compound, turning House Siryddion from stunningly beautiful to the verge of gaudy. While many of the oldest houses had long since taken new, more defensible positions towards the outskirts of the noble districts, House Siryddion had refused to abandon its ancestral home.
Talaith Evnissien had studied the courtyards of the great house a dozen times and more now, waiting with thinly veiled impatience for Matron Olwyn Siryddion to grant her an audience. The matron of the third house was known to be old by any standards, and her youngest daughter was likely at least a decade older than Talaith herself. Questions constantly arose as to the ancient, reclusive matron's sanity and abilities, but to keep her five daughters in line Olwyn had to still hold some vestiges of true power.
Talaith turned back to the double steel doors of the central spire as they opened, revealing a young, attractive drow woman with silver hair tied back in a tight braid, dressed in the robes of an apprentice priestess. The young cleric bowed deeply before Talaith before standing.
"Matron Olwyn will see you now," she said quietly, already turning back into the tower. Talaith followed the girl inside, marveling at the intricate stonework that spiraled up the cavernous interior of the stalagmite. An entire history of Llyr and Lolth played out before the priestess in detailed reliefs as she levitated up the central spire behind the apprentice, rising nearly fifty feet before she reached the antechamber that led into the chapel of House Siryddion. Somewhere just above her, in gloomy holes set into the ceiling, Talaith could hear faint scratching, but the ettercaps that formed the last line of Siryddion's defense did not come out to investigate the newcomer. The apprentice led Talaith to another pair of ornate marble doors, engraved with an image of Lolth herself striking down a surface elf, then bowed out of the way. Talaith hesitated only a heartbeat before opening the darkly glittering doors and entering the enormous chapel of House Siryddion.
Across the vast, marble floored interior of Siryddion's chapel, Matron Olwyn herself sat in an obsidian and gold throne perched on the back of a low spider constructed of granite and rubies. Faerie fire lined the gargoyles and carved webs of the chapel, illuminating the chamber to the point that it nearly hurt Talaith's eyes. The priestess bowed deeply as the massive doors closed behind her, waiting for her host to receive her.
"Talaith Evnissien," Matron Olwyn said, her voice a rasping whisper that somehow sounded extremely close. "Rise, my dear. You are welcome in House Siryddion."
"Thank you, Mistress," Talaith said, standing to her full height again. Matron Olwyn gestured faintly, and the granite spider carrying her throne quickly sprang to life, scuttling across the floor with its passenger. "I am honored that you would meet with me."
"Of course you are," Matron Olwyn agreed as her spider carried her up to the younger priestess. Up close, the rumors of Matron Olwyn's age, that she was born during the ancient formation of Llyr, almost seemed true. Many matrons tried to preserve their beauty to the end, but Olwyn was a gaunt, shriveled being with dull gray hair and a sunken face. Her bones seemed to almost poke through her papery skin, and for an instant Talaith wondered if Olwyn was indeed still alive, or if she had become some sort of undead being. One look at the matron's eyes, however, showed a frightening determination and life burning in those bloody orbs. "Now," the Matron Mother began, "what brings you to my humble house?"
"A request of alliance," Talaith replied. "House Siryddion is powerful. Matron Talaith knows the truth already, that Siryddion holds the true power of Llyr. She wishes to be counted among the friends of such a powerful house, and we pledge to support you in the future."
"House Evnissien compliments me warmly," Matron Olwyn said. "But why should we align with the seventeenth house? What does House Evnissien have to offer the third house of Llyr?"
Talaith smiled faintly at that. Without a word she took the tiny pouch hanging from her belt, carefully reaching into it until half of her arm had disappeared into the magical purse. Matron Olwyn's eyes narrowed with suspicion, but before the matron could call upon a spell Talaith retrieved her gift. Kneeling before the withered mother, Talaith placed the head of Matron Vala's granddaughter on the floor.
"Brynne Caer Llion," Matron Olwyn said, recognizing the young woman's face. Then she turned to Talaith. "You wish us to make war upon Caer Llion?"
"No," Talaith answered hastily. "No, mistress, any action you take against Caer Llion is yours to decide, in your own time. House Evnissien merely wishes that you… hold their attention while other matters unfold in the city."
Matron Olwyn considered the request for a long moment, her face inscrutable in the painful faerie fire lights. Finally, however, the old woman smiled faintly.
"So House Evnissien has killed twenty-five of Vala's troops, and now comes to me for shelter," she surmised, nodding faintly. "A bold assault, but reckless. What if I refuse alliance with you? Caer Llion will view this as an insult, and may seek retribution."
"But Caer Llion will be weakened, no matter what transpires," Talaith pressed. "Matron Vala will lose a potentially powerful ally. You only stand to gain an ally in turn."
Matron Olwyn cackled, a sound that sent shivers down the younger priestess' spine.
"As you say, Caer Llion will be weakened no matter what transpires," the old matron observed, her smile showing her yellowed, decaying teeth. "Why, then, should I care about your house? You attack Hen Wyneb. They could best you, and then I am left with two houses looking to me. I might need to buy soldiers, mages, and priestesses to ward against an attack on my own house."
Talaith bit her tongue before she could offer a hasty retort. House Siryddion, despite its position as third house, held a larger army than Caer Llion, and was one of the wealthiest houses in all of Llyr. Even Matron Artaith Sy'Lian, ruler of the first house and leader of the Cyfrin-Gygnor, the Ruling Council, feared the ancient drow that Talaith faced.
"House Evnissien would be happy to provide you with the money for such contracts," Talaith reluctantly offered. Matron Saffir had known that it would come to this, and had given Talaith permission to offer as much. "We will need our troops now, but once the battle is won we will give you a quarter of any soldiers that surrender from Hen Wyneb, as well."
"Let me see your dedication to my alliance," Olwyn rasped. Talaith slowly reached into her bag of holding and produced another pouch, this one filled with a dozen square cut rubies, an handed it over to the matron. For a long moment the Matron Mother regarded the gems inside, but finally she drew the strings shut and turned a smile on the Evnissien daughter.
"Trouble yourself with Caer Llion no more," Matron Olwyn said with a gravelly laugh. "House Siryddion welcomes your alliance."