Zezdrin limped through the remains of the army camp, the mind flayer crumbling into the Sunless Sea in the distance. The death toll from what he had seen was horrible—the drow forces had been decimated. This was a bittersweet victory, particularly for House Despana, who had taken the largest number of casualties.
The Matron's tent was almost completely empty, only Divaufein and Tebatar there to meet Zezdrin. "What happened to everyone?" the Weapons Master asked through cracked and dry lips. "We were all to meet here again."
"Malagzar is dead," Tebatar said, his face etched with exhaustion. "As are Matron Mayna and Yasmur'ss. We have no word from Vornas or Pellanistra, but if they're in that city still..." There was no need to finish that statement—everyone had seen the towers that were alight with unnatural energies begin to crumble.
"What of Sabafae?" Zezdrin asked. All he could see in front of him was the civil war that would break out and claim all of their lives if House Despana had no female heir to take power.
Divaufein motioned to the curtain that had been drawn, creating a small partition in the tent. "Back there," Sabafae's consort said quietly. "The healers have done their best, but they're not sure that she will wake. She was badly wounded even before she was struck with a poisoned blade. The House doesn't know of her condition yet—the last thing we need is ambitious matriarchs trying to finish her off."
Tebatar inwardly cursed his deceased twin for her poisons. They needed a Matron, and Yasmur'ss couldn't help with her head no longer attached to her torso. But out of spite, she might just have ensured that Sabafae would never take their mother's place either.
Zezdrin sank down into a seat, closing his eyes. "Goddess..."
The tent flap opened up as Vornas came stumbling through, supporting a bloody Talra. They both looked horrible. "There you two are," the House Wizard mumbled, helping his half-sister to a seat before falling into one himself.
"Where's Pellanistra?" Divaufein asked. It was the first thing he could think of.
Vornas was so beaten and tired from their flight out of the city that he hardly processed the question. "Outside, with Mother and the others," he said with a gesture towards the door of the tent.
Divaufein and Zezdrin both stood up, going outside to look. Pellanistra was there as Vornas had said, but not in the way they had all hoped. She was laid out with the others of the family that had died, face still and peaceful as though she were sleeping. Like this, it was easy to see how young, how close to a child Pella had really been.
"House Despana has much to mourn," Divaufein murmured. They were drow. There would be no tears for the fallen, no lamentation. Just hushed voices, despairing thoughts, and prayers to Lolth for the dead.
They returned to the tent to find Tebatar with his sword drawn. "You brought back that snake?" the male drow hissed, leveling his blade at Vornas.
"Talra is no snake. Just a fool, fumbling in ignorance, who touched the surface of something she didn't understand," Vornas said. "She thought she could control it."
"This is her doing!" the male drow snarled. Tebatar was not a complicated man, and not a particularly thoughtful one either. With Yasmur'ss gone, he had no one to guide him. And so he looked for someone to blame.
Talra was silent, saying nothing in her own defense. Her eyes were fixed on the floor. "Tebatar, this isn't the answer," Zezdrin counseled. "We don't know everything that happened."
"She was in the mindflayer city! What other explanation do we need?" The warrior was advancing towards Talra, rage glittering in his eyes. "Just because Pellanistra couldn't kill her doesn't mean I shouldn't! Someone has to pay for this!"
"That...is...enough," a voice said quietly, from behind him.
Divaufein felt a wave of relief wash over him. "Sabafae!" He rushed over to support her swaying form.
The priestess was still clearly in the grip of her fever, but she'd mustered the will to wake, stand, and speak. Her armor had been stripped off so they could bind her mangled arm to her side and treat the other wounds she'd acquired. But she was wearing the Matron's circlet, a gesture that ensured everyone knew just how much power she commanded.
"She deserves to die," Tebatar growled fiercely. "She's not even Despana blood anyway."
"Be still!" Sabafae snapped. Her brother fell silent with a sullen expression. "I am Matron. Talra, you will receive judgment in front of the House. What you have done is not in question—what you deserve is. Am I understood?"
"Yes, Matron," Talra said softly, everything in her posture submissive.
"You will remain here until I send for you," Sabafae ordered. "Tebatar, Zezdrin, Vornas—go assemble the House. Divaufein, will you please help me outside?"
The new Matron's consort guided her to a seat out of the tent while her brothers scrambled to get the House together. "How are you?" Divaufein asked softly, touching her good hand.
"How would you be in my place?" Sabafae replied dryly, leaning against him. "I shouldn't be Matron—Mother wanted Pella to succeed her. Everyone knows it. And everyone is dead..."
"We're here," he said in a hushed voice, watching the camp start to form up. "We will have to keep going without them."
"I know."
It took only half an hour for order to be restored to the remains of House Despana. They'd lost a great portion of their force, but not enough to put them in jeopardy of falling to some upstart house. Once they were assembled, Sabafae let Vornas explain what had happened and sent for Talra. As she promised, judgment would be passed in front of the house.
Talra was a small, lonely figure that looked as frail as a twig in winter before her older sister and all of Despana. Her time away from the house as the thrall of Shothotugg had not been kind to her.
"Talra Halarra dal Malagzar of House Despana, you stand before us charged with high treason and heresy. Do you contest these charges?" Sabafae said coolly. She had to give her half sister a chance, as small as it was, to claim innocence. Part of her wished Talra would—enough of their family was dead and waiting to be cremated.
"I do not, Matron," Talra said, looking down at the sand.
"Do you have anything at all to say in your defense?" The mood of the crowd was quickly turning ugly. They would want blood for this.
"I do not, Matron."
Sabafae sighed. "So be it. Your crimes warrant not death, but the punishment of living with the knowledge of what you have done. Talra, you are sentenced to exile from the Vault of the Drow on pain of death. In the eyes of the drow, you are now a dead woman and will conduct yourself in all affairs accordingly. I surrender you now to the justice of the Spider Queen. Go from here, and never return," the new Matron commanded coldly. It was clemency, and at the same time a crueler punishment than death on Lolth's altar.
Talra turned and walked away into the darkness, alone and unmourned. She would not be seen again within the Vault of the Drow.
Many miles away, G'eldzar and his people broke through to the surface. It was night, and the shimmering veil of stars was alight with the glow of a comet burning its way across the sky. "What is that?" one of his lieutenants asked, pointing up at the new sight.
"I don't know...some kind of strange star? They say on the surface that it is a harbinger, an omen of some kind," G'eldzar said with a sigh. T'risskacha had not come—and most likely never would. "What does it matter?"
"As you say, my Lord. Where should we go from here?" the man asked.
"We aren't far from Cormanthyr. I think we can seek shelter with some of Eilistraee's followers if we watch our words, at least until everyone has healed. Then we will return to the Underdark," G'eldzar ordered.
The masked Vhaeraunite cast one last glance back into the darkness of the tunnel. Be well, T'riss. You and all your House.
