Chapter Thirteen
The Perils of Darkness
"Would you like to finish your tour now, my friends?"
Vlosorbb was awake and cheerful after only a few hours sleep, as was Tylia. Her friends were amusingly sleepy. He was dressed the same way as the day before and a pa'das with lavender eyes sat by his feet in the common area where the guests were eating.
"Uncle, where's Vol?" Tylia inquired idly. Vlosorbb shrugged.
"He said that he would meet us in the city," the Consort replied, smiling at Pyra as she gagged on something that looked like steak. "Dragon meat, Jabbress Pyra. Deep dragon meat. An acquired taste, or so I am told."
Pyra smiled weakly and gestured to his companion.
"Who's your friend?"
My name is Denaskravital, the pa'das replied in a gravelly voice. You may call me Denask.
"Nice to meet you, Denask," the humans chorused.
After a moment, Denask rose-he was larger than Petrius, fully grown-and wound his way through the guests until he found Tylia and Saeras.
"Good morning, Den," Tylia said with a smile. He eyed her lazily, then reared to place his paws gently on Saeras' shoulders.
The Jhondraerdid not pull away, though she sagged a little under the force of those massive paws.
"Good morning, Master Denask," she said politely.
I am not 'Master' here, Denask refuted, tilting his head at her curiously. My Bond tells me that you are a danger to the others.
"Denaskravital!" Vlosorbb cried, horrified at his pa'das' bluntness. He could at least have spoken only to Saeras and not broadcast the comment.
"He's right, I'm afraid, Denask," Saeras admitted. "I shouldn't have come."
There are those here that welcome you, the large feline commented in an off-hand manner, then continued along the vein he had started. My Bond has made it clear that you need more watching than the others, for your protection and theirs. For as long as you are here, it shall be as though you are my Bond. Does this bother you?
"N-no." Saeras blinked at him for a moment, then looked over at Vlosorbb. "It's very flattering. But won't it bother you, sir?"
"Please do not 'sir' me," Vlosorbb replied with a soft smile. "We are family. And no, it won't. He often wanders on his own."
Denask pulled off of Saeras, careful not to push down on her as he did, and thudded onto the carpeted stone floor. He sat regally next to Saeras' feet.
"Zil." Vlosorbb turned to Scorpius, who was eying a steaming soup suspiciously. It was pale blue. "What is this?"
"Spider's milk soup," the Consort replied with a sly grin.
"'Spider's milk?'" Scorpius repeated, incredulous.
"That is what it is called," Vlosorbb admitted. "But it isn't really. Though it looks that way. It's very good. You should try some."
"No, thank you," Scorpius replied, turning instead to some slightly violet, partially translucent eggs. Tylia hid a grin; those were eggs from the enormous spiders that were kept in one of the lower levels of the palace.
"It really is quite good, Scor," Theodore replied. He and Eileen each had a bowl.
Now. Tylia sighed contentedly. The only odd thing about this scene is that they all look like sun-bleached Pasaelaer.
They do, don't they? Petrius agreed, ambling out of the shadows to cock his head at her friends.
They were all dressed in black leather or linen, save Eileen, who had insisted on silver. Only Theodore's dress looked remotely human, and that was mostly because he had opted for his trench coat instead of the cloaks that the others wore.
Coming with us today? Tylia inquired teasingly, knowing full well that he had no such intentions.
No. You won't see me again until the sacrifice. Tylia stiffened and Petrius sighed as he melted back into the shadows. Surely you didn't forget. You have to participate, remember?
"About that tour," Eileen suggested as everyone finished eating. "I for one would like to see the rest of the city."
Everyone nodded and left the refuse of their meal on the tables. It had been made quite clear to them the night before that there was a contingent of slaves assigned to clean up after them. Any slave caught with no work to do-because some helpful young human had cleaned up after herself, for example-was whipped.
"Truth to tell, there isn't that much more worth seeing," Vlosorbb admitted. "You've seen the palace, the temples, even most of the monuments. Has my niece told you of anything that you wish to see?"
"I would like to see the Slave Market." Eileen's voice was soft, but firm.
Vlosorbb's lavender eyes went wide. He smiled one of his charming smiles, but it seemed a little shaky.
"Do you remember that I promised that I would try to keep you from being further frightened or upset during your stay?" Eileen nodded. "I would be remiss in that promise if I took you to the Market."
"I would bear it," Eileen replied in that same velvet-over-steel voice. "I wish to see the Slave Market."
Vlosorbb glanced at Tylia as though asking for her help. She merely shrugged.
"It is as much a part of this culture as anything else, Ilninuk. If that's what she wants to see," the hybrid replied with a sigh. Even when she was acting like one of her mother's people, it was hard for her to bear the Market.
"You put this idea into her head," Vlosorbb accused.
"No." Tylia shook her head sharply. "You know how much I hate that place, Ilninuk! Actually, I think Tyraesi did."
Eileen nodded slowly.
"Waele unbuwunin inth lorug,1" the Zil muttered under his breath. "Very well. We will go to the Market."
He swept out of the common area, still cursing in Undercommon under his breath. The visitors followed, Denask stalking the shadows near Saeras.
Vlosorbb's contingent streamed out of open doors as they followed him down the hall. The man at arms, Alakzt, who had ordered Saeras bound was not there, but a new Pasaer had taken his place.
Kaleb, too, had been replaced, bringing their number back to twelve: the three torch-bearers from the cavern, Dureth and Lymeyrr, Alakzt's subordinates, four human slaves and two other Pasaelael guards.
They exited through a side door. The visitors stopped suddenly, though Tylia and Vlosorbb continued a moment more.
Fourteen pa'das sat, still as statues just outside the door. Eight of them stood and stretched as Vlosorbb's guards passed them, and they followed the men into the shadows and the crowd. A moment later, the other six stood and turned, flicking their tails in unison at the visitors as if dismissing them. Micarffyn stepped out of the shadows, a new priestess and their four slaves hovering behind.
"Are you coming?" Vlosorbb inquired of his guests a little sharply. The visitors started walking again.
"We're just not used to seeing so many pa'das in one place," Scorpius replied for the group.
"Wait until this afternoon," Vlosorbb returned, threading his way through the crowded streets of the Temple District. His guards formed a wedge behind him so that the passerby couldn't get near the visitors. The priestesses and their slaves closed off the rear.
"What happens this afternoon?" Teddy asked Tylia.
"A sacrifice to Jhyr," Tylia replied, disgust filling her voice. "A Sholyli2 caught in one of Jhyr's sacred tunnels."
"They're going to kill this Elf?" Pyra demanded as the crowd in the street thinned out dramatically. Eileen glowered.
"Of course," Tylia replied, sighing. "Only blood sacrifices are acceptable to Jhyr-ack!"
A slim, deeply blue arm slid around her throat, cutting off her air. Another held a knife to her ribs.
"Vlosorbb!" Theodore thundered, glaring at the priestess that held his friend.
"Refer to my goddess in your filthy language again," she suggested in a breezy voice. "And no amount of leverage that your precious uncle has with L'Jallil d'Orbben will save you from my knife."
"Elvanvyll, let her go," Vlosorbb advised, having come back at Theodore's shout. He sighed when the priestess did not loosen her death hold. "Drathirdalharil, why do you allow her to do this to you? You know the rules of our culture."
Tylia grinned that feral grin and promptly flipped Elvanvyll over her shoulder. The priestess was so startled that she foolishly allowed Tylia to slip the knife out of her hand.
The hybrid pinned the priestess and allowed the tip of the curved dagger to rest in the hallow of Elvanvyll's throat.
"Do not." Micarffyn's voice lashed out, sharp and fast as a whip, but it wasn't directed at Tylia. Elvanvyll's two slaves had started forward to help their mistress.
"Now. Stop struggling, or you'll get hurt." Indeed, there were already a couple of light scratches on Elvanvyll's throat. She stilled, sensing weakness in what Tylia had said. "By all the rights and laws of your people, I should kill you. But I won't. Would you like to know why?"
Elvanvyll nodded slowly.
"Because the deity that I follow forbids unnecessary bloodshed," Tylia replied, then her eyes narrowed. "That does not mean that I cannot kill. Just that if I went around killing every Jhyr worshipping fool in the Underdark, her rivers would run red into the light and my life would be wasted."
She rose and let Elvanvyll get up. She did not, however, return the knife.
"I warned you, you filth!" Elvanvyll snarled, snapping her whip out so that it wrapped around Tylia's neck. Tylia turned and hurled the stolen knife. It buried itself to the hilt in Elvanvyll's throat.
Elvanvyll dropped where she stood and Tylia yanked the whip from around her neck. She wound it slowly, not looking at her friends, who were gaping at her. She pulled the knife from Elvanvyll's body and cleaned it, then found and took the sheath, as well as the two other daggers on her person, and two of her three necklaces. The third was a medallion bearing Jhyr's mark.
One of the necklaces she pocketed. The other was renor plak'la3, carved with a Pasaelael rune. She touched it to her forehead and the rune changed. Now it was similar to House Zauval's symbol, with only a slight difference.
She touched the medallion to the runes on each of Elvanvyll's slaves-runes that matched the one that was originally on the renor plak'la pendant. They flared a brilliant scarlet, then faded, now resembling the new rune on the medallion.
"Your old mistress is dead," Tylia told them quietly. "I am your mistress now. You bear my mark and will follow my orders. Do you understand?"
The slaves bowed in response, and did not meet her eyes.
"Good. What are you called?"
"Maelthra'dalhar, Drathirdalharil'rothe4," replied the taller of the two.
"Lanke'chath, Drathirdalharil'rothe," replied the other.
"Lanke'chath, take the body to her family. Be polite, even if they are not; they have lost a child. When you have finished with that, report to my room in the palace and remain there until I come or send for you. You may leave to eat or relieve yourself." Lanke'chath nodded and picked Elvanvyll up gently before bowing and departing.
"Micarffyn, will you require another of your squad?" Tylia inquired politely.
"I think not." The priestess' voice was clipped and cold.
"Maelthra'dalhar, take these things to my room in the palace," she told the other slave, handing him the three knives. "I give you the same conditions as those I placed on Lanke'chath."
He bowed and scurried off.
"It is not for me to carry this," the hybrid continued, offering the coiled whip to Micarffyn. The priestess took it and, in a flare of pale gray light, it vanished. "I am no priestess of Jhyr."
"The Darthirii god does not forbid bloodshed. He is a warrior," Micarffyn commented, softening her stance a little. One corner of her lip twitched in a hint of a wry smile. "Almost admirable, even by our standards."
"Who told you that I worship Tysaelyl?" Tylia asked curiously, and Micarffyn did a double take.
"Who then do you worship?" the priestess asked. "I know that you do not worship Lolth."
"You may call her Steelheart, for any other name spoken by you she would take as blasphemy, even if I would not," Tylia replied, almost sadly. "She is a goddess of war, of law and of grief. Above all else, she despises unnecessary loss of life."
"You realize that you may have just started a House War, do you not?" Micarffyn inquired quietly. Only Theodore and Eileen heard her. Eileen thought that the question sounded almost like a threat; to Theodore, it sounded more like a warning.
"Such are the hazards of the Underdark, Priestess," Tylia replied with a shrug. "Shall we continue?"
Micarffyn nodded and the group moved forward again. A brush of velvet fur on her bare arm made Tylia look down into the scarlet eyes of a pa'das.
She was my Bond. The feline's voice sounded like glass needles. You have killed her.
I-I am sorry for your loss, micamer, Tylia replied with a little bow, wondering if there was a threat in that almost-painful mind-voice.
I thank you for my freedom, she replied, eyes blazing. Now I shall be one of those free in the tunnels and driders shall be my prey and I shall be as I should always have been. Telkai thanks you.
You're welcome, Telkai, Tylia called as the feline vanished into the shadows.
1 Stupid meddling sentient tree
2 Literally 'Wild One' the term that Jhondraelaer use to refer to their wild cousins
3 'black gold,' an alloy engineered by the Pasaelaer. It is a magical mixture of gold and iron. Black-gold has many unique properties which include being harder than ordinary iron and more malleable-for certain people-than ordinary gold.
4 This indicates that the speaker is the slave of whoever's name comes before the word 'slave' (rothe). In this case, Tylandraes.