Chapter 11
What she would later categorize as the second leg of her internment with Auguste began while he was out of the room. It was begun by the same catalyst that started what would be the only true affair of the heart her young life had encountered. There were great tracts of time that she was let alone, abandoned in his chambers with no company. When he went for formal meals with his family or was drawn away to some other task he left Tega to her own devices. Boredom was an impossibility in his rooms being so full of books. If it had been up to her she would have spent the time continuing to read about the stars. But like all things while she was enslaved, it was not up to her, not really.
She could very nearly convince herself that she could have the time for herself and continue her languid reading, slowing consuming his library. But she could not escape the thought that it would be foolish for her not to understand what he loved the most, that esoteric work with numbers. He fevered over it, sometimes going on long winded explanations of his pet projects, although not in enough detail for her to follow. Whenever she did not understand he would huff, sneer insults and go back to work.
This tendency had flummoxed her for a time. How might he react if he discovered that she was not even acquainted with the basics? It was in this question that she devised her strategy. She was certain that she could figure out the very basics on her own and it would probably be safe to ask about the more complex parts.
Late in the day, he broke her from her reading. "Come here, girl," Auguste ordered sternly from his bedchamber.
Tega rose immediately from her book to attend to him, "What do you require, Master Auguste?" As was her custom, she said it demurely, looking down at his knees.
He stood before his bed, luxurious blue pants done up at his waist, a matching sleeveless tunic undone and hanging on his shoulders. They were both decorated with golden stitching, made to fit snug to his body. His legs, in such close fitting pants, looked absurdly thin. The shirt had a complex system of ties on the front. He had obviously attempted to tie them at the bottom, leaving an awkward knot of tangles.
It was clear what he wanted and Tega, with only a moment of hesitation, moved forward to help him tie his new shirt. Facing him, and with small elven fingers, it was not hard to do up the shirt, but it took a number of minutes that she spent staring at his uncovered chest.
She had not ever seen a male less well muscled. On someone she loathed less, it woud not necessarily have been a bad thing, but she was not used to it, her people had been warriors and the male forms she was familiar with were cut with hard muscles.
Auguste was not. His body was closer to skinny than slim, with the barest outline of his ribs above his stomach. This was undoubtedly due to the many days he neglected to eat in favor of his work. More curious to Tega was the light dusting of coarse blonde hair. It peaked out on his chest and in a little line leading down to his waistband. It repelled her, used to hairless bodies, although she fought against the urge to recoil. She wondered if it was a normal human trait and if human females grew chest hair also. But it seemed impertinent to ask.
She finished tying up his shirt and stepped back, looking down at the floor. "Is there anything else that you require from me, Master Auguste?"
Instead of answering he commented in a complimentary tone, "You aren't like most elves."
Tega didn't really know what he meant by that. Understanding neither what most elves were like nor why she should want to be different. Meekly, she said as much, "I don't know what you mean by that, Master Auguste."
He turned to the large mirror that leaned against the wall and began adjusting his clothing. Idly he said, "You've been here for nearly six months, all the other elves I have had have always tried to seduce me by now. But you are more interested in my library aren't you?"
She focused for a moment on keeping her breathing even. Was personal enslavement the only context he had ever met and elf? She scanned his skinny freckled body and thought of the snide remarks that poured out of his mouth. She could not imagine any elf pursuing him of their own volition. She tried to imagine stripping him of his clothing. The daydream slipped, without her trying, to cutting his clothes from him so they would not impede her when she began cutting into his skin. She did not, of course, give voice to her thoughts and only said, "Your library is quite exceptional."
"You see," he said happily, "You are different. Much different from that red headed whore my sister keeps."
This made fire burn in chest. Her fists clenched at her sides and she gritted her teeth. It was impossible not to think of the bruises left of Meika's wrists and throat. Of the deadness that sat in his eyes. She wondered how hard she would have to strike with the letter opener on his desk to impale Auguste's temple.
He continued, brushing his shoulder length blonde curls, "Don't you sleep in the same quarters as he does?"
"Yes, Master Auguste."
He twisted and looked at her, eyes scathing, "He is not as light fingered with you as he his with my sister is he?"
Disgusted and offended she could only manage a stiff she responded, "He is my brother."
He shrugged, "Yes, I know, I'm not familiar with elvish customs regarding such matters."
It didn't matter how much vitriol smoldered under her skin as long as none of it showed on her face. Her brother was being used by his owner, had been torn away from his wife and this boy dared to suppose he raised a hand to his own sister? "He is not," she said tersely.
"Good, let me know if he misbehaves, we will have you moved to your own chambers." How do I look?"
"Excellent, Master Auguste," horror rose up in her. The only solace she had was evenings with Meika. It was the only time that she was not alone. That she could speak as she felt and feel another body warm with hers. How would Meika bear the brutal treatment of his mistress without her to soothe his aches? How would she suffer the injustice of their captivity without Meika's tender elvish words and strong brotherly arms?
If she betrayed any of her emotion, he noticed none of it, "I will be back this evening, my mother requires that I be at a formal dinner. Stay here until I return."
"As you wish, Master Auguste," she said, relieved that he would be soon gone. She didn't know how much longer she could keep control over her temper.
Without another word he turned away from her and left the room, locking the door behind him. Tega stood for a moment, pressing her lips together to regain control over herself. But she would not squander her time with anger. Anger was to be used and kept until she could aim it with more potency.
She took a single circuit around the room, making sure nothing was out of place before she settled in with her new project.
The book was entitled, An Introduction to Arithmetic. It was a thick volume and very worn, the spine nearly falling apart. When she flipped open the front cover a messy, childish hand had written 'From the Library of Auguste Pernoit.' The ink was smudged as though he had closed the cover before it had entirely dried. She flipped passed the title page and began to read.
This was a book of magic.
Not the sort for wizards, but equal to it. Magic written in a language made just for her. When she had made sense of the symbols they fell together with more beauty that she had ever encountered. Like a parasite feeding on the edges of her brain she was devoured. As she worked her way through the pages, tracing the work out on her skin, not having paper, her heart very nearly raced.
She felt as though the universe, the stars and the sand and the sky, had always been trying to speak with her and she had been deaf and unable to understand. It was this, this was the language of the heavens and the gods. This she felt in her marrow.
She heard it like a call from a deity to a paladin. The overwhelming need to master this, to be mastered by it. It gave her the sense of rightness laying structure to the bookshelves had, multiplied a thousandfold. Her heart lit with it, butterflies filled her stomach.
And this was only an introduction.
She was thus immersed, face pressed nearly against the book to read it properly when it was wrenched from her grip. She gasped and looked up, eyes wide.
Darkness had fallen while she had been in the thrall of the book. More unhappily, Auguste had returned and she had not even noticed, he frowned down at her, holding the book.
"Are you ignoring me, girl?" He nearly snarled. "Do you believe that you are anything special, you stupid girl? That I cannot cast you aside? When I call, you answer me!"
She stood up. She had lost her carefully maintained control, feverishly grasping his wrist, looking desperately at him, "You must teach me."
"I will not be given orders by a filthy slave," he said, throwing her off of him. He raised his hand and struck her hard with the back of his hand. His knuckles jarred on her cheek. They would bruise.
She didn't respond, the pain was as unimportant as his questions, she seized his wrists again, "The book, you must. It is the universe in ink, the sky," she rambled, unable to form the words, "Please, Auguste."
He looked down at the book and back up at her, her feverish words and the color in her cheeks. He looked at the book that he had taken from her and then back at her consuming eyes.
For a moment he forgot her slight, "You want to learn mathematics?"
"Yes," the hunger in her voice was unmistakable, beyond her ability to conceal. Already, book out of her hand, she felt a pull toward it, as though the world had become scaled in grey.
"What do you wish to learn?" There was something in his voice that was not quite judgement and not quite lust.
Sensing his interest she took his wrist again, eyes wild, holding his gaze fiercely with her own. In the horrible instant that she could have lost what she had so carefully maintained she was unable to care about what he thought of her or her elegantly thought out schemes. She could only demand introduction to the vice that had taken her, "Everything."
It happened before she could put each of his individual motions into something cohesive. He dropped the book. He gripped his hand on her waist. He tugged her forward. The fire that had leapt inside her had spread to him like an infection. Blotches of red were painted on his cheeks as he stared at her demanding eyes. He kissed her on the mouth.
The magic that the mathematics had put into her blood flickered away and she was entirely herself again. Standing in someone else's library being kissed by a human who owned her. Who had just struck her in the face. What she wanted to do was push him away, to cry and run to Meika. She wanted to hide in his big arms and never be kissed again.
But she had the presence of mind to kiss him back.
He pulled back and looked at her with a mesmerized expression, "Of course I will teach you."
As though he had been burnt he released her waist and nearly leapt back, looking down at the floor, pink creeping up his cheeks. Unfathomably, he looked embarrassed.
In a voice much softer than any he had ever used he said, "You may - you may retire for the evening."
However badly she wanted to, she did not flee before stammering, "Goodnight, Master Auguste," she said, then turned to the door.
When she was nearly through it he said, "Goodnight, Tega."
She did flee down the hall, racing from his chambers to her own. She stopped just short of the corner before her door. A guard would be outside the door. Not the human male Lex who was regularly there, a night guard whose name she wouldn't know. She waited behind the corner, getting her breath back, then slowly walked around and faced him.
He didn't say anything, but unlocked and opened the door for her, allowing her inside her chambers. Meika was not there. Disappointed and still trembling she threw herself onto his sleeping mat, wrapping his quilt around herself.
It was not that Auguste's kiss had been so terrible. Yes, yes it had been an indication of what was to come. But even that did not frighten her so much. Meika survived it. She had prepared herself for it. But she had thought it would be bound wrists and angry lust. This is what she had prepared herself for. For shutting down and letting time march forward.
He had kissed her shyly. Looked away after. Called her by name.
She knew that she could not hurt him or disappoint him. She had a game to play, for her own sake and for her brother's. If he thought romance had anything to do with what was between them she would allow him.
As she lay there, a terrible thought came to her. Auguste was young and impulsive. He thought himself so smart. If he began to think that he loved her, if he thought that she loved him, might he release her brother as a favor to her? Could she use someone's heart like that? Could she take his own emotions and strangled him with them?
Yes. Yes. Yes.
XXXXX
On the streets of Menzoberranzan, Tega was not faring well. A hand had snatched at her by the wrist. She stumbled and tried to swing around. She prayed it was Jarlaxle, or hell, even Kimmuriel, but it was not. A drow male she did not know held her. His hair was chopped roughly, his clothing poorly cut. The smell of the street oozed off of his skin.
He smiled a yellow toothed smile, and hissed, "You look lost, little fairie."
Terror spiked through her again and she tried to pull her wrist away. She knew the theory, break toward the thumb. She had always been told that it was easy and did not require much strength, but she could not do it. Her wrist was held fast by the drow.
She shoved her other hand into her bag and withdrew the knife Jarlaxle had given her, thanking the stars that he had imposed it on her.
She stabbed at her attacker, all her strength behind the blade. With laughable ease he turned the knife away, disarming her with his free hand and spinning the knife until it was he who held it. He licked his lips and pressed the knife against her ribs. "Come on now, don't be like that."
She wanted to scream and fight but the knife was pressed so tightly to her skin she could barely move without it cutting in.
His breath on her face stank of the spice that had been on the street rat. "D'you know how much they'd pay for something like you in the right place? The nobles especially like a female they can cut on."
She whimpered, twisting her wrist futilely as he pulled her inexorably toward the alleyway.
He dug his fingernails into her wrist and poked with the knife. She yelped in pain, feeling her skin open up and blood eek out.
"Won't bring your price down if I amuse myself first though," he said with a snarl only a drow could create. He pulled her successfully into the alley and rammed her against the wall, knife cutting deeper into her side. No one on the street gave them any mind.
Belatedly remembering it, she tried to move quickly enough to reach up and touch the pendant that called Jarlaxle. But when she did he slashed at her, cutting her deep across the hand. As she pulled her hand reflexively backward he shifted, easily holding both of her wrists with one of his hands, the other still wielding the knife.
It came upon her with crushing certainty. There was nothing that she could do to prevent this. She was entirely helpless, her fate in the hands of a ferocious low born drow. She could not stop the tears when they came, even if they made her captor smile in glee.
She closed her eyes, if this was to be in the memories she would have to keep, she would minimize how much of that smile she had to see.
A surprised voice interrupted the attack, "Tega?"
She and the drow captor both looked up. Hope sparkled in her eyes, irritation in his.
Desperately she called out, recognizing the slim male who stood at the edge of the alley, "Kar'Dritch?"
He was dressed much differently than she had seen him before, more elegant. His clothing was undeniably expensive, tailored just for him she would guess by the way they fitted to him. Over his left breast was a silver embroidered insignia. It was an insignia even she recognized, one that every inhabitant of the city would recognize: House Baenre.
He looked down his nose at her captor, looking every bit a noble. "Release the elf."
Her captor spit, "Who are you?" The knife bit at her again and she gasped.
"An agent of House Baenre." Kar'Dritch said loftily.
Her captor frowned, even if it was just a Baenre agent and not a proper noble, it was clear he didn't want trouble from that house.
"What'd'ya want with the faerie?"
"She belongs to my house. I do hope you have not damaged her."
The knife disappeared from her side and he pushed her forward at Kar'Dritch. No amount of gold, it seemed, was worth a fight with a Baenre.
Kar'Dritch caught her when she stumbled, taking her by the wrist ruthlessly, he looked at her with an expression she had never seen on him: abject cruelty. In a tone that spoke of vengeance he said, "You will regret running from House Baenre, iblith." Then he looked back up at her attacker, carelessly he tossed a silver coin to the other male, "Well, run along."
He did, unhappily disappearing into the crowd, leaving her and Kar'Dritch alone in the alley. His grip on her wrist loosened somewhat.
"What are you doing out here?" he hissed.
She could barely find words. Her breathing was still erratic and labored, her hands shook to her elbows. She wanted to throw her arms around him and burrow against his chest. But she did not. They were still on the streets of a drow city.
When, finally, she could draw together words all she said was, "Dritch, gods above, you're alright."
He pulled her farther into the alley, away from the prying ears of the street, "I'm alright?" he said incredulously, "What in Lloth's name were you thinking, out here alone?"
"I was with Jarlaxle. We...we were separated. Thank you. Thank you."
He laughed softly, "We are even now, yes?"
She wiped the frightened tears off of her face. Seeing Kar'Dritch again was so wonderful she was shaking away her terror, "Sure, sure. Why are you - I mean, you are an agent of House Baenre?"
"Well yes," he said, looking rather grand, "I thought you would know. I am Gromph Baenre's consort."
"Working for the Bregen D'aerthe?"
He flinched, "Shout about that why don't you?" he scolded, "I worked hard for my position and it benefits the Bregen D'aerthe greatly."
She smiled at him, she would much prefer to talk about this than how near her scrape had been, "Congratulations, Kar'Dritch," she said happily, "I'm proud of you." She wanted to get him to tell her about himself, so she could calm herself down, "What is Gromph like?"
His eyes twinkled mischievously, "Well he is a wizard."
"What does that mean?"
He winked at her, "Good with his hands."
She hit him playfully. The long minutes of terror having abated left her feeling nearly giddy. "I ought to call Jarlaxle."
"You could call Jarlaxle this entire time? What is the matter with you?"
She blushed, "Well...well I was in sort of a tizzy and...I forgot that I had it." She reached up to her necklace and pressed against it. It grew warm on her skin in a brief pulse.
"I'll wait with you until Jarlaxle comes, I was sent to have words with him."
"Can anyone see us down here, do you think?" She asked.
He looked up the alley, "Probably not, why?"
She threw her arms around him, pulling her face against his chest, nestling. She sorely missed those few nights that he had spent in her bedchamber. She had never liked sleeping alone. Drow did not casually touch. She yearned for it.
"I miss having you around," she said softly.
He gave her a half surprised, tender look and replied, "I miss you as well, Tega, more than I anticipated." He put his arms around her as well, laying her head beside hers. He was not big enough to put his head on top of hers, they were roughly equal in sizes, and he held her back with gusto equal to hers.
With her face so tucked into his hair she noticed the glitter no longer woven through his ice white hair, "You took out the crystals in your hair!"
He touched his hair lamentingly, "Yes, well, Gromph said they looked tawdry and got in the way. But I do miss them."
Loud clicking of boot heels on pavement made them spring apart and whip around. Jarlaxle came up the alley, fury in his face and swords in his hands. He had not progressed halfway down the alley when he saw that the person with Tega was Kar'Dritch. The swords disappeared and the firmness of his shoulders eased. He rushed to her.
"Tega," he said. His voice was rough. He grabbed her by the chin and inspected her, "You're bleeding."
Incredible relief filled her seeing Jarlaxle again. He kept touching her hair, pushing it back and tucking it behind her ears.
"Can we go back to the headquarters?" She asked him.
Jarlaxle took his eyes from Tega and turned his head to her savior, "Kar'Dritch, how fortuitous it was that you found her."
Kar'Dritch nodded once, "Jarlaxle," he said in a businesslike tone, nearly a chilly tone. For a ludicrous moment Tega remembered him sprawled over Jarlaxle's desk, looking at him much differently than he was looking at him now.
Dritch carried on, "I was here because I was sent after you, Gromph sent me to give you word, Matron Baenre wishes to have a council with you, immediately, concerning the war. It would not do to keep her waiting."
Jarlaxle scowled, looking harassed "Now?"
Kar'Dritch shrugged, "You know how she is."
Jarlaxle heaved a sigh and twisted a bracelet on his wrist. Almost immediately a blue portal opened beside them. "Wait for me here, Kar'Dritch, I will not be but a moment." Impatiently, Jarlaxle pulled her through the portal.
She had expected them to emerge in his office, but that is not where they were.
They stood in a small chamber, only slightly bigger than her bedchamber. The walls were entirely covered in books, an elegant bed against one wall. Meticulously organized desk monopolizing the center of the room. Sitting at it in a stiff backed chair was Kimmuriel.
Jarlaxle gave him a lopsided grin, "We ran into a spot of trouble, but I am being called away. Patch her up for me, won't you, my loyal lieutenant? No, no," he said as the portal grew smaller, "Leave that open for a moment, I really must be off." He turned to Tega and said, "I am sorry to run, but when Matron Baenre calls…" he trailed off and shrugged.
And he disappeared through the portal, abandoning her in Kimmuriel Oblodra's bedroom.
The portal closed after and the two of them were entirely alone.
She looked away from him, tenderly touching the small stab wound at her side. It wasn't very deep, she was not in any sort of danger, but it was bleeding quite a lot and didn't feel particularly good.
Kimmuriel wasted no time plundering her mind for what had happened.
'That would not have happened if you had kept your control.' He commented unnecessarily.
"Very helpful, Kimmuriel," she said, touching the slash on her hand. It was her right hand too.
'You expect me to help you?' He said, standing so he stood over her, he was playing over the events of the evening more slowly in her mind.
"You know, you could just ask me what happened?"
'Why ask for what I can take?'
Blood still pulsing from her hand and her side she stalked closer to him, her face turned up so it met his with bared teeth. Emptied of fear and anxiety, she could only bear the brunt of the anger that he cause to lash up from her. "Because, lieutenant," she snarled at him, "you will never be able to go to that library that you want to if I don't escort you."
He thought back a response before even all of her words were out, 'What makes you think I care enough about that for it to do you any good.'
She gave a brief, mocking laugh. The adrenaline was still pulsing in her blood and she had felt too much fear already to have much to spare for Kimmuriel. "You are willing to go to the surface for it, and to ask Jarlaxle that I come as your escort. You wouldn't do that for an idle curiosity."
He sneered, looming over her, his next thought cut into her like glass, 'If you do not escort me you will take part in the expedition to Mithril Hall.' He filled her mind with images of bloody dwarves chained in long lines, dragged without mercy into the bowels of the underdark.
"Dwarves be damned," she spat, "Stay out of my head or you won't be going to your library." Even without prying into her brain he could see that, at least in that moment, meant every word of her threat.
He lifted an elegant eyebrow and Tega could very nearly see the corner of his lips turn upward, "Very well," he said aloud. Then his face contorted into a sneer and he said, "Get back to your own chambers, you are getting blood on my carpets."
Tega triumphantly retreated, marching out of his rooms and slamming the door behind her. She took a single step down the hall before she stopped, heart sinking. Color rising in her cheeks she turned back to his door and knocked timidly.
He opened it, expression bored, "Yes?
She looked down at her feet. If she weren't beginning to feel like she was going to faint and dripping blood with every step she would have attempted to do it without him. But now was not the time. "I only ever go between my rooms and Jarlaxle's office, I...I don't know how to get...back to my room from here," she said sheepishly.
He looked down at her for a long moment then said, "I can show you," he paused and scowled, "If you would allow it."
It took her a moment to realize what he meant, then she said hurriedly, "Oh, oh alright."
Sharply, the map of the Bregen D'aerthe headquarters laid itself out in her mind. It bludgeoned into her head and a cracking headache was left in it's wake.
She cried out softly and clutched her forehead in her hands, "Did you do that on-"
"Yes," he sneered and slammed the door in her face.
Headache now added to her list of discomforts she shuffled away to her own room to lick her wounds.
XXXXX
Meika returned to their joint sleeping quarters in the early hours of the morning. Tega awoke with a start when he tried to push her gently over to get into his sleeping mat.
"Sorry," he said, "I tried not to wake you."
"Meika!" She said, desperately.
"Are you alright, Tega?" He sat down next to her. There were no candles or lanterns for them so their vision was greyscale and stunted. He took her by the shoulder and inspected her. He lifted his hand to her bruised cheek, touching it softly with his big hand.
"I'm..not badly hurt. Are you ok? You are back so late."
"I'm alright, I was taken to a family dinner which caused quite a stir. Then I was kept late with Alexandrie." He furrowed his brow and tilted her chin up, "You aren't alright, Te."
In a little and breaking voice she said, "He kissed me."
She would have understood if Meika had not had sympathy for her. It had been a tender and chaste kiss and she knew what he had suffered. But he took her at once into his muscle corded arms and dragged her against his chest. She nuzzled against him at once, not realizing how shaken she was until he was cradling her.
"I'm sorry, Te," he whispered into her hair, "And I am sorry for what may come, I wish that I could protect you." It was not logical and she knew that it was not true, but inside his embrace indeed felt protected, Auguste could not pry her from Meika. They had been purchased as a set and it had begun to feel as though they were, incomprehensible without the other.
Tega whispered up at him, "Do you ever think of Trilifeil?" she asked. After she had said it she felt caulous, asking him, while he was in his position, about the wife he had only just gotten before she had been snatched away.
He didn't flinch or recoil, but held her more tightly. "Yes," he said wistfully, "I think of her every day and every evening. She is the last thing I think of before I sleep and the first before I wake."
His voice broke while he spoke. Occasionally Tega forgot that, by and large, she had ignored her eldest brother while they were at home and he had mostly ignored her. She had not known how closely he was bonded to his new wife.
"You will be returned to her," Tega said.
"Do not!" He replied roughly, "Do not say such things when you don't even know if she lives."
"She lives," Tega said, sudden fierceness clawing up inside her chest, "She lives and you will be returned to her."
He seemed to take heart at her conviction, but nonetheless changed the subject, "He only kissed you then? That is strange."
"Not at all the strangest part, let me tell you." And so she explained the comments he had made, of her being different, more interested in books than in him. She told him about her loss of judgement concerning the mathematical texts and his sudden shyness, his use of her name.
As she spoke Meika loosened his grip and turned her around so that her back faced him. With deft fingers he began the task of unbraiding and rebraiding the little knots that were tied in her hair, readjusting the beads that he had gotten from Alexandrie. Other tribes of elves, she knew, had coarse hair that could be wound into thick and beautiful ropes. Theirs was too fine to take well to the ropes and had to be content with interspersed braids.
When she finished her story he mulled over it for a long while.
"This is a good thing," he said finally.
"Do you think?"
He yanked a piece of her hair while he was tying it and she yelped. "Don't be a baby," he said, playfully tugging it again, "Yes, I think it's good. He may be on his way to caring for you. Hopefully that means that he will be less likely to sell you. Alex says that none of his slaves have ever lasted longer than a year."
"Is she Alex now?" She asked, turning to look at him, she nudged him off of her hair. "Turn around, mine is good enough."
He turned obligingly "Well she and I do spend a great deal of time together. Fix the braid on the left, will you, it's been pulling at my scalp all day."
She worked deftly at his hair, undoing the myriad braids and brushing her fingers through it before rebraiding them, that was her favorite part. His reddish brown hair stuck in the crimped puffiness from the little braids.
Their braids had been taken out before they were sold and their hair had been painstakingly brushed and oiled until it shone. Putting them back into each other's hair had been one of the first things they had done when left alone. 'Preserving their heritage,' Meika had called it. Tega felt it was much more of keeping a fragment of home with them. Though maybe those were the same.
Sliding a bead back into his hair she asked, "What was the dinner like?"
"Informatory," he said, "The two siblings don't get along well. I can see why, Auguste is a nightmare."
"He says that Alexandrie is an 'easy tramp who can do none of her own thinking.'"
He laughed, "She calls him a stuffy, self righteous ass."
"She isn't wrong."
"Well," he said, turning to face her now that his braids were finished, "Their mother, remember the one who bought us, is who runs the show. They do some sort of trading, although I am not sure about the details. At dinner they mostly bit at each other. To tell you the truth it made me miss Dad."
"Why?"
He shrugged, "I just kept imagining what he would say if I called you half of the things Auguste called Alex."
Tega imitated her father's gruff voice, "If you think that is the behavior of a fitting leader, Meika, I will take you outside and teach you differently."
Meika laughed, "And here I thought that I would never again hear him reprimand me!" He ruffled her hair affectionately, "But this family, I understand very little of it."
Tega shrugged, "They understand little of us, Auguste asked me if you and I were… you know."
Meika's face contorted in disgust, "Does he know you are my baby sister?"
"Yes!" She said, mimicking his face, "Apparently he didn't know what elves thought of things like that."
"That is the end of chattering for the evening, I think," he said, "If we have reached that, we should speak no more tonight. Bed."
XXXXX
Tega was asleep when the knock came at her door in the underdark. Wearily, she got up and opened the door. Jarlaxle stood waiting for her, tapping his foot.
"Yeah?" She asked sleepily.
"May I come in?"
She stepped out of the way and he came inside, shutting the door after him, "Sorry I had to run off like that and leave you with Kimmuriel."
"S'alright," she said, still bleary, putting on her glasses.
"Oh, I did not mean to wake you. Are you alright?"
Her side and hand still hurt but she had bandaged them up and her hand, at least, had stopped bleeding. "I'm fine, how was the meeting with Baenre?"
"We'll discuss it," he said briefly, his visible eye glinted rather dangerously at her, He set his hands on his hips. Aggressive energy was coming off him in rivulets. He stepped back and forth his pacing stunted in her narrow room. "Running off on your own into the streets of Menzoberranzan was the most foolish thing you have ever done."
She didn't have a response, but felt irritated if he had dragged her out of her much needed sleep only to reprimand her.
"Why did you run?" He asked. She was too tired to be annoyed that he sounded more offended than anything.
"Jarlaxle," she said slowly, not looking at him, "You know that I was...that Auguste owned me in Calimport."
She had been about the elaborate, to tell him about being taken by drow, to confess that some of her family had been taken away by them, that she didn't know where they had been taken to. That they could have been taken here. Could have been sold to that very establishment.
But he spoke over her before she could,"So it was just the dancers?" He grinned, "I did suspect as much, I had forgotten that they had them, I am sorry about it." He shrugged, "You ought to be glad that Kar'Dritch came when he did."
"Well, yes, I am. And it was nice to see him again. He seems to be doing well." He seemed to have glanced over his own question and if he was not going to press her for details of her past, she would not offer them.
He gave her a saucy grin, "Are you sure you weren't bedding him?"
She scowled at him, "It is possible to show affection for someone without sleeping with them."
"Certainly," he said shrugging, "But Kar'Dritch was certainly willing and you had ample opportunity."
She went scarlet and stammered, "If there were a matter to discuss, which there is not, it would be a matter between Kar'Dritch and myself."
Jarlaxle wiggled his eyebrows at her, "He did not think as much when we discussed it."
"Is this what you came here in the middle of the night to talk about?"
Jarlaxle blinked, "Oh, well no. I came to make sure you were alright. Did Kimmuriel tend to you?"
She raised her eyebrows, "Oh yes," she said sarcastically, "He washed and bandaged each of my wounds and kissed them better."
Jarlaxle let out a surprised bark of a laugh, "Was it designs for Kimmuriel then, that kept you off of Kar'Dritch? That may be a dangerous path."
The corners of her mouth turned down, "The only designs I have for Kimmuriel is wanting to swat him in the nose. He showed me how to get back to my own room and sent me out the door."
Jarlaxle softened, when next he spoke the sarcasm had come out of his tone, "Then you still have that little stab wound in your side," he said. He reached out and took her wounded hand. He began unwrapping the, admittedly poorly done, bandages to inspect the wound.
He peeled back the bandages softly. His visible eye no longer glinted. She loved when he was like this. When the overpowering charm diminished, it altered him, nearly to the set of his jaw and the angle of his cheekbones. It was less alluring. It didn't make her fingers shake or her heart hammer. But he felt more real.
"Kar'Dritch didn't tell you that he wanted to bed me," she said. It was not a question.
Jarlaxle gave a tiny huff of a laugh, "No, he did not. How did you know?"
"We have an understanding between us."
He considered this for a moment then said, abruptly, "Did you know that little drow are taught that there is no greater evil in the world than surface elves? That every inch of pain and degradation comes from them?"
"No," she responded, slightly jarred by the unpredictability of the question, "I know very little about how young drow are reared."
Jarlaxle shrugged, touching next to the wound on her hand gently. He drew a silvery orb from his pocket and pressed it along her wound. "For many years I had thought that it was nothing but their nonsense propaganda. But I am beginning to believe that they may have been right."
The orb glowed on her hand and warmth spread out from it, pulsing into the wound. She watching it knit itself back together. She didn't have anything to say to his comment. How could she possibly be more dangerous than Jarlaxle or Kimmuriel? She was not even more dangerous than a random drow on the street.
"So what as that about kissing the wounds better?" he asked in a whisper.
Her cheeks colored at once, "It is nothing, a silly thing parents on the surface tell their children to sooth their little wounds."
He lifted her hand and kissed it softly on the once torn flesh. Warmth crept up her arm. His lips were very soft.
"Has it been soothed?"
"Yes," She said brusquely, "By the healing orb."
He shrugged, "I did my best, could I see your other wound?"
She rolled up her night shirt so he could peel back those bandages also. She didn't know what to make of his statement. How in the world were surface elves more dangerous than drow? She had no idea how to respond so she did not.
He crouched in front of her, face close to her, now bare, abdomen, looking at the wound, "This must be painful for you."
"Well, it certainly doesn't feel good." She was not sure if she wanted him to repeat his soothing on this wound or not.
He pressed the orb to it and it began to heal. It took longer than her hand, but in due time it was erased, leaving not a scar.
Jarlaxle hovered over the skin of her stomach for a moment and she felt his hot breath there, but without a kiss, he stood up and she righted her shirt, "Thank you, Jarlaxle," she said, "But I am very tired."
"Right, I'll see you in the morning." He turned to go.
At the door, twisted back around, "Oh, I forgot to tell you in the commotion, tomorrow you will meet your new companion."
"Companion?"
Jarlaxle grinned, "He also hails from Calimport, though he is a human. Perhaps you could help him acclimate. I'm sure you will like him, I find him endlessly entertaining."
"...Oh...why is he coming down here?"
He waved his hand dismissively, "Our dear Vierna wanted an ace up her sleeve against her sweet baby brother. The Calishite is, so I hear, a rival of his. Equal in combat skills. Just, you know, be nice to him."
"I'll set him up with Kimmuriel."
"That's the spirit."
XXXXX
Meika woke her earlier than usual. Regularly, they were woken by their breakfast being brought in by the sturdy male guard named Lex. But, judging by the sun, it was at least a half an hour before Lex would bring their food.
"What is it?" Tega asked blearily, sitting up. He had shaken her roughly to wake her, hovering over her. He looked mad.
"I didn't sleep," Meika said, and indeed, he was restless and agitated, but steady. He had come to some decision she could see, "I have to talk to you." He looked like he had when he told her not to feel shame for things she may be forced into, wild eyed and despairing.
"Ok," she said, rubbing her eyes, "so talk."
"I have to prepare you. You are so...young."
"I am not so young."
"I mean...inexperienced. Was there anyone at home that I did not know of?"
There was a time where this would have been an uncomfortable conversation to have with her elder brother. But captivity, the awareness of what was being done to him, and the now imminent press of what may be done to her stripped them of their inhibitions.
She could keep nothing of her heart from Meika now. They were bound so entirely. If she were alone, how much easier might it have been to cast herself out of a window or slice open her wrists with the little knives Auguste kept to sharpen quills than suffer what he might have planned for her? If she were not here, how quickly Meika could throttle Alexandrie and bear the consequences? But each would not leave the other alone to torment. The bond of it tore away the childish resentment she had felt for him, always so illustrious.
"I never so much as kissed someone, Meika," she said, "Auguste was my first."
Meike seized her by the hand and held it so firmly it was nearly painful, "No. He was not. It was nothing but an attack. But that is not my point, you must tell me, was there someone that you felt tenderly for?"
"I wasn't so much concerned with matters of the heart. If you remember I had other things to worry over. Why are you so insistent?"
"It helps, Te," he said, "If you think of someone else. Someone you loathe less. You must find a way to...to endure. Tega, you have never shared yourself with someone, you do not know." His blood was high with desperation and despair, "You are a female and it will be different for you than for me. If you cannot find...enjoyment...you will be hurt. Sometimes, I have been told, the hurt is irrevocable"
"I can withstand some hurt."
Meika's eyes were vicious in their fury and he seized her by the shoulders. His red hair loomed around him, his dark tattoos stark on his skin, now ghostly pale from being sequestered out of the sun. "Do what we must to remain whole and uninjured. Be strong so we may flee when an opportunity comes. That is what you said. Do you not believe your own words?" His terrible tone, stricken with such panic that Tega saw that he clung as desperately to her guidance as she cleaved to his.
"Yes," she said, "Yes. Yes. Of course. Is that...is that what you do? Think of someone else?"
He softened and sat back. There were wounds deep in his eyes, "Sometimes, sometimes." His voice trailed away. He opened his mouth to speak again, but closed it several times, unable or unwilling to speak.
"What of other times," she prompted him. Did she want to know? Did she want to be privy to the ways that her brother kept himself sane while being forced into another's bed? Yes, of course, she had to know, she would have to emulate him.
He lingered with his silence then, belatedly said, "Sometimes also I think of stripping the skin from Alexandrie's face, or feeling Auguste's entrails spilling out over my hands."
It was now Tega who rushed forward and took him by the wrists, sharp little nails digging into his skin. Despite his tall and muscular frame, a replica of their fathers and her slight and incapable one, it was possible that they were made of the same stuff. She too felt the claws of violent things burning up in her.
She whispered to him, "Sometimes I think of putting knives under Auguste's fingernails, or clawing his eyes from his skull. When I can't sleep that is what I think of. Sometimes it fills my dreams."
She almost expected him, part of her almost wanted him, to recoil. To reprimand her for cruelty and darkness. She made words for him 'Were you yourself infected by the blackness of our drow captors? Have you been so tainted?'
He said no such thing, nor did he recoil, but a wild joy leapt in him and his eyes were alight with it, "Truly, my sister, I could not bear this burden without you."
It was then that Lex brought in their breakfast, knocking first, as he always did to herald his arrival.
"Mornin,'" he said, giving them his rather lumbering smile, "Picked the good stuff for you two today."
Tega smiled at him, immediately she abandoned the fraternal fire that had begun to burn between them in favor of good cheer for their guard, "Good morning, Lex." They had decided amongst themselves that only good things could come from befriending their guard.
Meika stood and took the breakfast tray from him. Meika stood a good two heads above the squat human. His tone had also changed abruptly, turning convivial and pleasant, "How does your daughter fare? Has she overcome her illness?"
He smiled, "Oh yes, the wife fixed her up real good. Little flower perked right up."
Meika smiled, "I am glad of it." He returned to Tega and sat down in front of her so they could split their shared plate.
"I gotta tell ya," Lex carried on, leaning on the door, "The old girl's got another biscuit cookin', in the family way she is."
Tega gasped in exclamation, "Congratulations to you both."
"Neither of the two of ya know the joys o' marriage I s'pose, too young, you both." Lex's saving grace was his lack of cruelty, it compensated for moments like this where he forgot the state of those he spoke to.
Meika, it seemed, was unable to bear this comment cheerfully and darkened, his body turning as still as stone.
Lex, bereft of the chilly indifference of his superiors, looked tormented by the change he had affected, "Did I insult ye, Meik?"
Tega answered for him, seeing possibility looming. She touched Meika protectively on the shoulder and replied, "We were captured from our home during his wedding celebrations. While the dancing still commenced."
Lex looked shocked and empathetically hurt, "During your wedding night? What - what happened to your woman?"
Meika released the sound of a tiger being stabbed and again, it was Tega that responded, "She was taken by the drow who attacked us. We do not know where. Probably into slavery in the underdark."
Meika tilted his head to look at Lex, anguish pouring from his lion's eyes, "She was with child."
Tega gasped in abject horror. How had she not known? How had he never told her. The child would have already been born. Could it ever have survived? Thunder crackled under her skin and renewed fury burned at her blood.
Lex had no recourse but retreat, "Gods. Gods, Meik. I...I gotta go on my rounds. I'm real sorry. Gods, I'm sorry." He shut the door and was gone.
Tega seized Meika her aimless fury targeting him, "How could you have said nothing to me!"
But Meika was grinning, the horrible pain gone back out of his eyes. In a whisper he said, "Do you think that if she had been with child I would not have told you, Tega? Do you think I would not have told all the world?"
She sat back, "You were lying?"
He shoved some of his breakfast into his mouth, "Keep up, Te."
"If he were caught helping us, he would be executed."
Meika shrugged and finished his half of the breakfast, "Te, if it meant getting us out of here, I would kill him with my bare hands and devour his flesh raw."
He rose and returned to his side of the room, stripping of his sleeping clothes to dress himself. Alex had given him his own clothing that was less encumbering than the silks. Tega pulled on Auguste's cast offs, still the only clothing she had been allotted.
XXXXX
Tega met her new 'companion' the next morning. Thankful to have had her wounds healed and excited for meeting a fellow from the surface. It would be nice, she decided, to have someone from the surface to spend time with. She had dressed for the occasion in what she considered her cutest skirt and sweater combination. Well, her second cutest skirt and sweater combination she thought bitterly. Vierna had ruined her once cutest outfit.
She was hoping that she could get to the office first and make a good impression, but she had slept later than usual and he was already in the office when she got there, standing aggressively in the center of the room. A sword hung from one of his slender hips, a dagger, studded with jewels, from the other.
His effect on her was immediate. She could not have pinpointed what about him did it, but he scraped on her from the second she saw him. The chipper quality of her steps drained out of her and she shrank away, shuffling sideways toward her desk. He turned at the sound of the door and looked at her.
There may have been a way to make him attractive. He possessed the features, a slim frame, slick black hair and elegant features. But his face was set in an emotionless sneer and only deadness came from his dark eyes. He was Calimport in a man. Beautiful and terrible. He even smelled of Calimport. Human body odour is generally more foul than elves, but the smell of his rotting city was inside of his skin. It may not have been noticed by someone else, but she would not forget how that city smelled. In conjured Auguste and Meika striped in bruises.
She found her seat behind her desk and set her shoulders stiffly, biting the tip of her tongue. It was only then, sitting at her desk and no longer under the Calishite's heavy gaze that she saw that Kimmuriel was also there, looming behind Jarlaxle, who sat at his desk.
"Tega!" Jarlaxle exclaimed, beaming at her from under his hat, "This is the companion I spoke to you about, I am hoping the two of you get along. Tega, this fine specimen is Artemis Entreri."
He was a guest of Jarlaxle's, and a very useful one. She remembered her manners, and in Calishite she said"Nice to meet you, Artemis."
In a dark tone he corrected her, "Entreri."
Now turned again on her, his back was to Jarlaxle and Kimmuriel. Over his shoulder Tega saw Kimmuriel's nose wrinkle. Despite herself, she grinned. Entreri said nothing else, glowering cruelly at her.
Her dislike for him was immediate and intense. But she did not retort nor scowl back. Although Jarlaxle saved her from having to form some sort of reply.
"I was hoping that the two of you would get along!" he said with his normal excited charm, "She also hails from Calimport, I'm sure you will find much to talk about."
Tega did not share his certainty. She would like to spend as little time with the human as possible, and would have walked across hot coals before being alone with him. His presence, and Jarlaxle's excitement over him, made her nearly feel communal to Kimmuriel for his obvious distaste.
Jarlaxle continued, "I was particularly hoping that you might teach him drow."
Entreri interjected, "I don't see a reason to speak drow, I will not be here long. The attack is set for a few weeks."
The looming dread that rose up in her at the thought of sitting for long hours next to the man to teach him drow do the second irrational thing she had done in as many days. She did not know where it came from. It wasn't a plan that she had thought out, or even something that had occurred to her before she spoke.
In drow she said, "If the attack comes so soon then so does Kimmuriel and I's trip to the library. I will be occupied in the next weeks teaching him enough surface customs to get by on."
Kimmuriel looked nearly taken aback. Jarlaxle blinked at her, "Oh," he looked quite crestfallen, "Would you leave a fellow Calishite alone in the underdark?"
She flared her nostrils, "I am not a Calishite."
In her head Kimmuriel thought, 'You would rather spend time with me than the human? How touching."
'You don't smell.' she thought back.
His face did not alter, but he telepathed the vague sense of amusement.
Overlaying her private conversation with Kimmuriel, an intrusion on her mind she had decided to forgive him for, Jarlaxle continued in drow, "You are from Calimport are you not?"
"I am not," she said bitterly, "I lived in Calimport, I am not from Calimport."
In angry Calishite, Entreri bit at her, "What are you speaking of?"
She glowered at him. Absurdly, Kimmuriel backing her dislike of the man made her feel more able to stand up against him, "It is the language of the land, you can't be upset if those around you are speaking it," she said in rapid Calishite.
"I thought you were supposed to be my interpreter," he said dryly.
"If you would like me to interpret for you, you are going to have to be quite a bit more pleasant that you are being."
If possible, his dirty look intensified. He looked fit to stab her in the heart. There might have been a time where she would have cowered at the expression, but living amongst drow scaled up one's bar for intimidation.
"Now," she continued, flattening her skirt with the palms of her hands, "If you would like a little guidance on how to survive the next few weeks, or even rudimentary ability to speak the native language, I would ask nicely. If you are opposed to that, I have a lot of work to do."
She looked away from him and drew the daily reports to her, picking up her favorite quill she commenced with her work.
Jarlaxle looked between the two with disappointment but said quickly, "Tega will be far too overburdened preparing Kimmuriel for their project to do much looking after you."
"I do not need looking after."
Jarlaxle beamed, "Of course, you do not. I will show you to your quarters. Tega," he said, turning to her instead, his voice shifting to be a little darker, "You had better be off with Kimmuriel, his quarters will be fine." Irritation had crept into his voice and she felt more than a little dismayed to have disappointed him. Although not nearly dismayed enough to request to help Entreri.
She stood again, "Of course, captain."
Kimmuriel swept passed Entreri and she followed him out the door, infinitely glad to be rid of the human.
Her blood was still pumping from telling off the intimidating man. It translated into her walking quicker than normal, keeping pace with Kimmuriel rather than trailing behind him.
"The human smelled truly foul," Kimmuriel said softly to her.
She scoffed, "He smelled like his city."
Kimmuriel's lip curled. She was not sure that she could even contort her face into displaying the level of disdain he was achieving. "The entire city smells like that?"
"Magnify it a hundred times."
"And you lived there?" he asked, disgust leaking out of his voice.
"It isn't as though I had a choice."
They walked along for a few moments in silence before he thought to her, 'Anything you could teach me I could strip from your mind in an instant. You could be free to help the human in a matter of minutes.'
She thought back, 'If you mine my brain for useful information and leave me to sit next to that foul man alone I will get you to the library door and let you look inside then tell them I am there under threat and have you dragged back out.'
He made no reply, but the corner of his lips tipped upward.
NOTE: Thank you all for reading! I know that this chapter took awhile, but it is sort of a doozy! I am so excited for the next one let me tell you!
Drop a review and tell me what you thought!