By the time Lirayne was rested and feeling well again, Galen had come in and Narbondel was sinking to its base. "Your daughter is safely ensconced in her room. Keldzar already has her slated for patrol," the human said, groaning a little at the ache in his bones as he sat down.

The priestess frowned slightly, reaching over to rub his back. As much as she hated to admit it, he really was growing old. She could feel tight muscles relax slightly under her touch. He'd started to lose weight and muscle mass as the gray in his hair was joined by a peppering of white. They were showing up more in his close-cropped beard. Her heart clenched a little at the knowledge that she might not have him for much longer. "I'll go check on her," she said. "Do you know where Keldzar has her going?"

"Towards V'sal," he said quietly. "Part of the reason I'm worried."

Lirayne stiffened. "Mindflayers," she muttered before processing the other half. "And the other part?"

"The Academy must have taken a great deal out of her. She looked ready to collapse when the Matron welcomed her home," he said. "She's lost weight, too. Not muscle, but everything else. She pushed herself too hard."

"She doesn't want to disappoint anyone," the priestess said, sitting up. She started massaging his shoulders, rubbing out knots in the muscles with her thumbs and fingers. His body was almost as familiar to her as her own. "Worrying isn't good for you."

"And the kettle calls the pot black," he murmured, leaning back a little into her touch. "You worry about her more than I do."

"I worry about a lot of things, including you," she said softly. After a few moments, she pressed a kiss to the hollow just beneath his ear where his weathered skin was particularly sensitive. Forgetting what she'd been doing, she trailed kisses down his neck. The hands that had been massaging his shoulders slipped in front of his shoulders and down, sketching patterns on his pectoral muscles. Now that she was rested and he seemed fully awake, she knew exactly what she wanted.

"Llolfaen," he reminded her gently, chuckling a little when he heard an exasperated sigh and felt her nip playfully and gently at his ear.

"I'll go see her and then be right back. You're so tense you're going to pull something." It was a good excuse.

Galen chuckled. "And I suppose you intend to fix that?" he said, reaching back to cover her hand with his.

"Among other things," Lirayne promised in a lower voice before turning to get off the bed. Her relaxed expression turned into a lethal glare when she saw Keldzar standing in the doorway. Hopefully he'd just gotten there. Her voice changed, becoming clipped and chilled. "Can I help you, Weapons Master?"

The male had just come limping out of Zesstra's chambers and into Lirayne's to grudgingly ask her for healing. Instead, he'd walked into something he never thought he would ever see. Like so many people, Keldzar had just assumed Lirayne was as callous towards her human toy as any priestess would be towards a male, inflicting pain while she took her pleasure. He didn't know what to do with the whole scene that he'd just been witness to. It was very, very different than what he'd come to expect. Particularly from the hot-tempered, dangerous younger daughter of House Duskryn. Even more uncomfortably, he found himself jealous of a lowly human. What he wouldn't give to have something like that.

Like something that he had in the past, with Valyne. Something discarded through such a simple mistake. "I wanted to ask you for a favor," he said, swallowing slightly at Lirayne's irritable expression. Clearly she was less than thrilled about being interrupted.

Lirayne swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, striding over and then past him out the door. "Sit," she ordered, pointing at the silk-covered divan in the living area. "You can tell me why in the hells my daughter is going anywhere near V'sal as payment after I've dealt with your little favor."

"I just need healing," he said, pride still wounded at having to ask a priestess for help. Still, if that was all the payment she wanted, it was a worthwhile trade.

The cleric came over and tugged lightly at his shirt. She could feel places where his undershirt was clinging to him, probably stuck there by blood coming from what were undoubtedly the claw marks of fingernails. She didn't even have to ask to know her older sister's handiwork. "Easy enough," she said, sounding distinctly less irritated. She put her hand flat on his back and he felt a sudden warmth course through him. The pain faded swiftly. It was surprisingly kind of her to heal him without causing any extra discomfort. "Now tell me."

Keldzar nodded, feeling kindly disposed towards her at the moment. He could at least demonstrate his grudging gratitude by telling her what she wanted to know. "Zekatar all but demanded it," he explained. "He said she needed to prove herself worthy of being an heir to the ivory throne."

Lirayne frowned, headed for the door. "I imagine it wasn't his idea," she muttered before raising her voice to something that Keldzar would hear. "Feel free to show yourself out, Weapons Master." He heard the unspoken order and immediately rose to follow her out. But while he turned towards his quarters, no longer limping a little, she was headed straight for her daughter's.

The priestess eased the door to those quarters open carefully only to hear an unmistakable sound—her daughter crying out for aid. Lirayne was across the room in a flash, tearing the door open. She could see Llolfaen twisted up in the sheets, still struggling with some invisible foe. She was still asleep and trapped in her nightmare. "Llolfaen!" Lirayne called, catching a wrist and narrowly avoiding the other hand's flail towards her face. The young drowess's skin burned as if with a fever. "Wake up, d'anthe. I'm right here. Shh, calm down."

Llolfaen jolted awake, her eyes flickering about before finally settling on the cleric. "Mother," she said softly, relief flooding through her body. The night terrors had only gotten worse over the course of her time at the Academy. It felt like they were tearing her apart. She couldn't sleep and could barely eat now. The divine magic that coursed through her every day burned her from the inside out. "Am I...?"

"You're home. You're safe. I'm right here," Lirayne said soothingly, brushing her daughter's hair out of her face. Galen was right. She did not look good. She definitely wasn't strong enough to be leading a patrol just yet. The Weapons Master may have set it in stone with the Matron's approval, but Lirayne knew she could postpone it until whatever this was passed. When Llolfaen sat up, Lirayne wound her arms around her daughter and held her close. The young drowess felt so fragile in her arms, her heart beating as fast as a bird's.

"I'm sorry, Mother," she said quietly.

Lirayne shook her head slightly. "Don't be," she said quietly.

The young drowess leaned back, searching her mother's face. If anyone would know, it would be the cleric. "I meant to ask you something as soon as I got home, but the Matron said you were resting," she said. "Does the name Araushnee mean anything to you?"

A chill of dread ran down Lirayne's spine. "Where did you hear that name? In your dreams?" she asked quietly.

"Yes." Llolfaen knew her mother was worried now. She could see it in the lines forming in the older drowess's brow.

"Here is the very short and simple version of Araushnee's tale. A very, very long time ago, it was the name of an elven goddess of beauty. She created children in her image. But she was betrayed—Araushnee's consort stole her work and created his own children as she had, setting them to war against her own. Then he and the other elven gods betrayed her, casting her down into the Abyss and driving her creations below ground. Her children became known as the drow," Lirayne said. She cleared her throat slightly. "And Araushnee became Lloth, the Demon Queen of Spiders."

The bed was cold and empty when Sabal woke up. Even in her half-awake state, she was still clinging to the sheets as if it made a difference. It hadn't started that way. She and Aly had tumbled into bed together again and it had been wonderful. Not the gentlest sex in the world, but at least for her it had been heartfelt and perfect. The need and affection and playfulness had burned away everything else. She could forget about duty and the invisible bonds that kept her shackled to it. But now she was alone with only memory to keep her company. It did not for a happy inquisitor make.

She closed her amber eyes and laid a hand over them, feeling an unfamiliar burn in her eyes. But after only a second she was able to wall the sharp pang of loss away. She had gotten a lot of practice at it over the past few months. Too much. Yes, Alystin had a right to be distant after she'd been gone thirty years. But how long was that going to last? Another thirty?

For the first time in her life, she wished she had followed Yvonnel's advice and backed away. The priestess knew more about protecting herself than anyone else Sabal could count among her acquaintances. The drowess had an overwhelming urge to use her psionics and break something or someone, but this was Aly's room, not her own. Destroying anything here would be impolite at the least and certainly wouldn't endear her to the mage.

How had it gone wrong?

Maybe, like with so many things, it wasn't for her to know. Sabal got up and hunted for her scattered clothes. A boot here, a shirt there. They'd been in a rush when they stumbled through the bedroom door, neither of them willing to let go of the other long enough to pay attention to where clothing went. At the time, she'd been grateful that she wasn't wearing her armor. Now? She missed it.

It was strange to think that as much as she resented her duty for keeping the two of them apart, now she clung to it as something to anchor her. Something to keep walls up and prevent the ache in her chest from spreading. Right about the time she'd finished getting dressed and was reaching for her boots, the door opened. For a moment she felt a flash of hope, but it was crushed almost instantly by the sight of Ryld's twisted face as he closed the door behind him. It was enough to upset the wilder's precariously balanced temper.

The twisted, malformed male was slammed up against the door as if by an invisible hand closing around his throat. Instinctively, he tried to struggle and it just tightened ever so slightly. He could still breathe, but he couldn't remove it and the pressure threatened to close his windpipe if he refused to submit. Catching those feral eyes, Ryld read the anger there and forced himself to relax. "I see you're feeling cheerful and charitable."

"What do you want, Ryld?" Her voice came out clipped and precise, though there was an underlying edge to her tone.

It was times like this that she reminded him so much of Xullae that it was a struggle to remember there was no shared blood between them. "Revered Yvonnel wants to see you at your convenience."

Sabal frowned. 'At your convenience' actually meant 'right the hells now' as far as Yvonnel went. She didn't remember doing anything that crossed a line or could be construed as disobedient. Had Aly done something? The priestess wasn't averse to warning Sabal to keep her lover in line. "Did she say why?"

"No, despite my winning personality," Ryld said. He was dropped as abruptly as he'd been hit. It wSn't until he was released that he realized he'd been dangling by his neck. "But you know what she's like."

"How angry is she?"

"She hasn't tortured anyone, so it can't be terribly bad," he said. "She was mostly just brooding."

Sabal would have winced if she wasn't so adept at keeping her emotions from displaying on her face. The stone-faced look drove other people insane, so she'd kept up that part of her training until she'd mastered the ability. A thoughtful Yvonnel was more dangerous in many ways than a furious Yvonnel. "I'm going. Scurry off to your hole and let me say goodbye," she said dismissively. Ryld counted himself lucky that it hadn't been more unpleasant.

Sabal padded out of the bedroom and through the living area of Aly's quarters, knocking softly on the study door before pushing it open. There was the mage, bent over another of her books. These days the planes and demonology held her interest more than even Sabal did. She seemed so far away, and accelerating towards the horizon. "I have to go," the wilder said quietly as she approached, boots in hand. Her bare feet were nothing more than a whisper over the stone floor.

Alystin looked up from her books, frowning slightly. "Must you?" she said. That disappointment was the only thing that told Sabal she would be missed. She must have noticed something in Sabal's usually impassive face, because it was followed up by, "I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you." The wilder wasn't very expressive, but sometimes she would let things slip. A barely-there smile, a hint of a frown, a faint narrowing of her eyes. Sometimes she even laughed, though that wasn't something Aly had heard in quite a while, she realized.

"It's fine." It wasn't, really, but the amber-eyed drowess would never say that. She leaned in and gave Aly a soft, surprisingly chaste kiss for a drow. "Enjoy your books." It came out in a neutral voice. After all, how could she expect Alystin to drop her studies when she hadn't dropped her own duties.

It was hard to ignore the change that the subjects in those tomes seemed to make in her, however. Their investigation, her association with the cult, it was hardening the soft edges of the mage in a way not even Lloth's worship had. "I will," Aly said. "Where are you off to, anyway?"

"Oh, to be Yvonnel's punching bag," Sabal said. She didn't feel as irritable about it these days. Maybe it was because she understood how frustrated the priestess was becoming with things in the city. They both knew something was wrong, between something in House Baenre and the celestial problem as well as an unfamiliar problem in the Abyss. It seemed the ripples of change were spreading. The wilder's face softened for just a moment. "Take care, Aly." And then she was out the door.

The city streets were almost comforting in their noise, the overwhelming chatter of thoughts drowning out her own ruminations. It only quieted as she climbed up the worn stones to the Yath'Abban barracks and then the sharply cut granite stones that lead to the chapel. She could already sense the familiar, gleaming steel mind there. Yvonnel's mind had no color to it, but it certainly had one hell of a feeling. It was like a razor blade. Focused, sharp, cold, and well-honed.

The priestess was kneeling when she stepped through the open archway, wreathed in the sweet smoke of incense as she finished her prayers. It was a pleasant smell, rather than the overpowering and cloying one of certain rituals she'd been present for. Sabal stood silently, waiting with the patience of a dutiful servant. The binds seemed to cut deeper into her thoughts here in the sight of Lloth's gleaming, obsidian-like statue.

"Sabal," Yvonnel greeted after she'd finished, rising up from her knees smoothly. "I have a task for you."

"I am at your service, as always." No matter how much distaste she had for the Revered Daughter, it was always more comfortable to receive a task from her as opposed to from one of the yochlol.

"How wonderful," Yvonnel said. It was hard for Sabal to tell if it was sarcastic or not, but she chose to assume it was said honestly. Better not to read a slight in unless there actually was one. It made for fewer enemies. "I have a task for you. It will likely prove more complicated than it seems. I have had a dream."

Sabal's lips pressed together into a thin line. The Revered Daughter was prone to prophetic dreams, but not one had proven anything less than useful yet. Even if they were not literal things, they were still useful clues given by the goddess. Most people would wave it off as superstition or insanity, but it was anything but. Yvonnel was sensitive to the changes in Lloth's mood and Her presence after a lifetime devoted to nothing but the Spider Queen's will. "And what did it tell you?"

"That is not for you to know," Yvonnel said simply, in that definitive tone of voice that brooked no argument. "All that matters is that you guard Llolfaen Duskryn with your life. If she dies, the consequences will be beyond what you can possibly imagine. She is set to go on a patrol out into the wilds. You will join them on the pretense of investigating rumors of heretics. She is not to know of your true purpose."

Sabal knew better than to ask idiotic questions like 'Why?'. When Yvonnel ordered something like this, it was better to just do it and trust that the Goddess would handle the rest. "Is there anything else I need to know, Revered Daughter?" she asked.

"Your enemies will be behind you as well as before you. That is all."

Sabal bowed. "Understood, Revered Daughter." It was not the usual assignment, but it was an interesting one. It begged a lot of questions. "I have a question for you, but it pertains to something else."

Yvonnel looked skeptical, but she consented with a nod.

"Did what you let go of ever come back to you?" the wilder asked very softly. For a very brief moment, she felt a tidal wave of pain and anguish slam into the barriers around her mind. Then it was gone like a puff of smoke in the wind.

"No," Yvonnel said in a muted voice, brushing past Sabal. "It never will."