Volume 3, Chapter 38: Power, You Have
The carriage ride went by in a blur; the three Moonstar agents sitting with her were warmly congratulative, as if she had just won a barrel race rather than a riskily plotted trial. "A life as a galley slave," said Wescett appreciatively. "The gods know a man like him deserves it, but I still feel a bit of sympathy."
"That makes one of us," said Fen dryly. "You were outstanding, T...er, Ednia," she said quietly, lowering her voice when she caught a sharp look from Jearl. "I dare say some of the stories we've heard about you are true."
Torio merely nodded, her voice escaping her as the carriage pulled away, her insides settling in her body like cold lead.
Jearl must have noticed something in her expression, for he said, "No more talk like this until we return to the wheelwright's," and the ride passed by in blessed silence, the carriage rattling to a halt outside of Maxxil's shop.
Torio followed the others inside the side door, glancing up at the high afternoon sun. Tonight, she thought. She wouldn't wait any longer...just long enough for the servants to be freed, not long enough for Nivarra to become comfortable and hire more guards, or more servants, or pack up and leave Luskan. Tonight.
Maxxil ushered them all into the building and to the back, down the stairs. He had been pacing around his workshop all day like an anxious hen; but once he saw the three agents and Torio emerge he knew they had won. Wescett had practically skipped from the carriage. Fen looked like she wouldn't be able to stop smiling for days. Even the normally stoic Jearl had a hint of light in his eyes. That's all he needed to know. They had won. "I'll leave you all to your discussions. I'll be upstairs if you need anything. Congratulations!" The dwarf tried to keep his knowledge of their plans to a minimum; it was safer for all involved.
Wescett poured them all celebratory wine. "To Dornan. He got what he deserved."
Jearl took the wine but did not drink from it right away. "Maxxil and Ivery have told us you need to rescue the elf. How do you intend to do that? March in through the gates, kill the girl, take the elf?"
Torio drank a long swallow of wine, her eyes gleaming ironically. "Maxxil halfway suggested that, already; he did mention that the estate would be somewhat chaotic, what with half the servants being released, and Nivarra taking control. All I know is that if we wait too long, she may leave the city...or amass the type of personal guard that would make things very, very difficult for me." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "The chaos can work to my...our..." she encompassed the Moonstars in her glance, and Wescett could not suppress a grin back at her, "…advantage." She shrugged her shoulders lightly, her mouth quirking in a smile. "Disguises might even work; guard uniforms, servants garb; I'm sure with the confusion over household numbers over the next few days, our Lady Nivarra wouldn't notice a few extra bodies amongst her serving crew; and if she does, why should she complain? She's losing half her household as it is, she'd probably just count it as a boon."
Fen shrugged. "So we get Ivery back here, she changes your appearance and I can sneak you onto the estate grounds. Nivarra has many personal female maidservants; you could probably even kill her in her sleep." The woman actually laughed. "This will be the easiest assassination in Luskan history I think."
Jearl walked towards the curtain. "All right, since you want to do this immediately, I'll go fetch the mage. You didn't waste time with our request, we won't waste time with yours." A flash of light and the agent disappeared. Wescett turned and grinned at Torio, pouring her more wine. Soon there was another flash of light and Jearl returned with the large mage.
"Ah, Torio. Time to change your skin again, is it?" she sat beside her and offered hand. "Congratulations, by the way." She dropped another strand of coccoon silk on her hand and went through the now familiar Polymorph and Permanency spells. The four Moonstar agents clustered around Torio, examining her the way one would examine livestock before a purchase.
A thin, waif like girl with drab, shoulder length brown hair and gray eyes stood before them. She was barely into her 20s, her face with a bright, freshly scrubbed look. Ivery put her hands on her hips, slightly puzzled that the eyes never changed but shrugged it off. "Well?"
Torio blinked dizzily for a moment, feeling slightly queasy...was it dangerous to polymorph too often? She shook her head to clear it and glanced down at herself. Her skin had gone from delicate, soft, slightly lined parchment to firm, smooth tautness, and she felt the fringes of hair brushing her shoulders, once scarlet, now a deep, rather dull mouse-brown. "As long as I don't look like myself, it'll do." Her robes were hanging off of her thin frame, and she plucked at her clothing, arching a brow at the four figures around her.
Wescett chuckled. "You look like you need a decent meal, that's for sure."
Fen laughed. "I'll get something you can wear, hang on." As she slipped towards one of the far chests, Jearl said evenly, "You'll need to consider how to kill Nivarra, before you enter her manor; it will not do to charge in there and think that you can simply slide a blade between her ribs and slide back out again with your...partner." Torio's eyes snapped to him sharply at the inflection he put on the word, but his face remained impassive. "The woman has many guards on the estate, still, and you will be, after all, a lowly servant."
"What about poison?" asked Fen as she returned, handing a folded pile of linen clothing towards Torio.
"What kind of poison?" countered Wescett. "You've been in that house more often than us, Fen, do you honestly think it's easy to get close to that woman?"
Fen shrugged, her features unconcerned. "She does have to sleep eventually, you know...and like I said, she has personal female servants that she must have around her at some point during the day."
Torio's voice was wry. "Just get me inside...if you've got anything deadly besides just cold steel, I'll take it. I think I should be able to impersonate one of her personal servants." After all, it's not terribly difficult to dress a lady's hair and bathe her feet...or poison her wine...
Fen returned to Torio's side with a ratty beige dress. "Here, dress in this and wear your traveling cloak. Getting inside the estate requires a bit of traveling through sewers. I hope you don't mind, Ambassador. I know it's a far cry from your usual entrances."
Jearl handed her a very small vial with a green paste. "Your basic snake venom poison from a Chultan asp. Nothing too fancy - drop it in her food or coat it on your blade. Any antidote potion will cure it so make sure she's dead. But it may help."
Torio took the small jar, eyeing it appreciatively. "Trust me," she said quietly, "I'll be as certain as I possibly can."
She changed behind the partition once again, hearing Wescett and Fen argue over weapons, the clatter of metal against wood, steel against iron. Jearl was changing in the storeroom, determined to accompany her up to the point where she was able to enter Nivarra's estate grounds.
In the end she was given a long, curved dagger that she strapped to her thigh underneath the long, plan skirt, and a pair of smaller dirks that she slid into sheathes against her wrist, pulling her sleeves down and tucking the ends underneath the straps to cover them up. Their blades had been liberally coated with poison, and she slipped the small jar into a pocket of her skirt, saving the rest.
The cloak was tied around her shoulders just as Maxxil appeared at the top of the stairs, the wall panel sliding back and revealing a reddish, orangey glow spilling in from the windows...the sun was setting. "Time to move, lass," he said, stumping down the first few steps in order to bend down and look at them below the ceiling line.
Fen and Wescett both clasped her shoulders. "Thank you," said Fen. All of them had gotten her to this point, and she dreaded to think what she might have had to do had she ended up trying to take on Luskan alone. "You've done a good thing, today; Dornan was a foul man, and trust me when I say that he deserves everything he's getting and more. We've been watching him for years, trying to take him down, and...I'm not sure we could have done it, in the end, without your help."
Wescett grinned. "As last minute as that help was." He ruffled the mop of brown hair falling from her head, which, along with her youthful appearance, made her feel painfully undignified. "Good luck, Ambassador."
Jearl led her out of Maxxil's shop, the dwarf's eyes twinkling as he opened the side door and let them out into the street. "Ye take care of yourself," he said quietly. "Any time you need help, you know where to find me...just leave that master of yours at home."
Torio cracked a smile. "I can almost guarantee you that."
Dusk was falling rapidly as Jearl led her down side streets, avoiding the main roads that ran through Luskan like arteries, foot and carriage traffic still thick even at this time of day. The final side alley revealed a moldy, metal grating covering a square, wide hole, and Jearl reached down, pulling it up and gesturing for her to climb down the rusted ladder.
Torio took a deep breath, instantly regretted it, and climbed down.
Fen whispered quietly to Torio. "Keep your head down and move quickly. There are many unsavory things which lurk here; criminals on the run, undead, aberrations from misfired spells. If they see you down here they assume you are like them but if you start looking around, looking lost - they will know you're an outsider."
Jearl was following them from behind and they heard the grate fall shut with a loud clang. He gave Torio's shoulder a firm squeeze and then they were off. The path to Nivarra's estate was winding and circular; the stench nearly unbearable. Large rats hardly moved out of the way as they walked and even appeared to stare at them with beady eyes, annoyed. Several times they had to duck into side tunnels and press themselves into the slimey walls as groups of filthy, raucous men made they way past; once, a shambling greenish beast ambled nearby, moaning frightfully.
Fen moved unerringly, her footsteps sure in the sliding muck. Several times Jearl behind Torio slipped slightly, but Fen always knew where to place her foot. It took nearly thirty minutes to finally reach a dead end chamber with a ladder moving up. The girl climbed up the ladder quickly, and gestured for Torio to follow.
Jearl smiled, his teeth flashing white in the dim light. "Thank you Torio. The Moonstars now look to you as an ally. Best of luck."
The ladder led up to a narrower, low ceiling tunnel which required both women to crawl through. Luckily the stone here was dry and this portion of the sewers appeared unused for many years. At the end was a small portcullis, hidden behind a shabby wall hanging and as Fen swung it open, it moved without a squeak.
Torio slipped into a small alcove after Fen, surrounded by utter pitch black for a moment before her eyes began to adjust; it looked like they were in a large, expansive sleeping hall, the torchlights guttering low and casting long, ominous shadows across the nearly deserted room. Only a few servants lingered, most of them bustling about actively, on their way in or on their way back out. Her and Fen were currently cloaked in complete darkness.
"Be careful who you speak to," the half-elf whispered to her. "Most of the servants left now are the paid or pampered, and may not be above informing Nivarra or the guards of your presence if you confide in any of them. Nivarra's quarters are up the short flight of stairs in the West Wing...the kitchen is straight down the hall from here, and below are the cellars and dungeons." Fen's hand touched her lightly on the shoulder. "When you are....finished, return through the sewers this way. I'll be waiting for you for as long as I can, to lead you back." She couldn't see the half-elf's smile in the darkness, but she could sense it in her voice. "Good luck...hopefully I will see you again."
And with that, she disappeared back into the wall hanging, shutting it behind her with a *click* of finality.
Torio took a deep breath and slipped out into the servants' quarters, keeping to the shadows.
Alysin bustled through the sleeping quarters, checking on sleeping servants to make sure that those that remained were not slaves but paid workers when suddenly she noticed a slight, young girl, inching along the walls. The girl was unfamiliar to her and Alysin had made a point to at least recognize the faces of all those who worked for Dornan. She approached her. "Hello there. I'm Alysin the healer at this household." She dropped her voice. "I don't think we've met. Are you... a surprise from our friends?"
Torio nearly jumped when the old woman's voice touched her ears; she could feel her spine stiffen uneasily as the white haired, white robed woman spoke. Hells, Torio...not even five minutes and you've already been found out. Fen's warning words were ringing through her ears, and she said, cautiously, "I'm...here to replace Lady Nivarra's maidservant until she can find a more permanent solution." The woman's eyes flashed kindly at her, and Torio glanced over her shoulder; a incredibly well starched man was speaking briskly to a pair of well starched women, piling linens into their arms, and she whispered, "Don't let anyone know that you've not seen me before, please..." Without even thinking, she let out, "I'm here for Sand."
She felt a flush stain her cheeks...but she realized it probably sounded better than I'm here to kill Nivarra.
Alysin nodded and then took her by the arms, escorting her to her room. "Come now dear," she said loudly. "Let's see if we can't get a look at that nasty burn." When they were safely back in the room, the cleric sat on the bed. "Oh I'm so happy they've sent someone for Sand. Poor thing's had a rough time with both Nivarra and her father. I'm so glad he's not being left behind."
She eyed the girl before her critically. She looked as though the gentlest puff of wind could blow her over but who was she to question their new powerful friends? They had managed to free all the slaves which was nothing short of a miracle. "Want me to bring you up to see him? He's probably with his mistress right now. She always keeps him close by."
Torio felt her stomach turn queasily at Alysin's words. Always keeps him close by. "Yes," she said woodenly. "Yes, it would seem less suspicious if I were introduced, instead of wandering up there by myself." Her skin felt cold, clammy...she was nervous, excited...and absolutely terrified, now that her chance to retrieve Sand was finally upon her.
What if he refused to come back?
"Just lead the way," she said, her voice unusually steely for a young girl. "My name is...Adyla."
When they exited the courtroom, they were instantly surrounded by laughing, jeering crowds.
"The old man got what he deserved eh!"
"Let's see how he likes the hard life!"
"Good job, elf - I wouldn't wish you on my worst enemy!"
"Little girl, think you can manage without daddy?"
Sand kept his head down and followed Nivarra to the waiting carriage. It would do no good to threaten them all with a spell - with one eye so swollen he'd probably miss the crowds and bring down the courthouse instead. At least the driver had the decency not to abandon them here - or perhaps he had been instructed by the Moonstars not to abandon him here. With a pang, Sand realized that once Matthew and the rest left, he would be utterly alone in the mansion with Nivarra.
They entered the carriage and sped off, Sand resting his head against the wooden side. He hoped Alysin would still be there. Dornan's fist had connected quite solidly with his face and he needed all his faculties and focus if he was going to work on the Nightbringer ritual tonight.
Nivarra's face was practically glowing as they carriage took off, the words of the hecklers outside the courtroom hardly seeming to phase her. "It will take a few days for his sentence to be enacted," she said as she glanced out the carriage window, her voice eager. "But once he's assigned a ship, the title and deeds to the estate will be written in my name."
Her eyes darted to Sand's face, and a slow, lazy smile curled her lips as she slid across the carriage to sit beside him. "Poor little slave," she said, purring, curling a strand of Sand's silky hair around her finger. "You look terrible; ensure that you go see Alysin when we make it back to the manor. While you're at it, I will have a list of names sent down from my father's study, of all the servants that will need to be 'escorted' off the grounds. I can trust you to oversee it?" Her face clouded for a moment, her brows furrowing together in a frown. "We'll need more servants, of course...but tonight, when we perform the ritual..." She sighed almost longingly. "The Hosttower will practically be eating out of my hand, come morning; I should be able to handpick acolytes to serve my household...or maybe I will sell off the entire property, and seize chambers in the Hosttower itself."
The carriage ground to a halt, and the driver opened the door, revealing the Manor house rising tall before them. She stepped down and glanced behind to where Sand stood. "Heal yourself, and get those servants off my lands. And be quick about it! We have much to prepare for tonight." She was nearly skipping as she bounded up the steps, her skirts flying around her pale legs and swishing as she disappeared through the front door.
Sand stepped down from the carriage and turned to the driver. "We lost the case - spread the word, those who wish to leave the property may do so. They're all free. Those who wish to stay can as well and work for regular servant wages." Sand trotted to the front door and down through the familiar hallways towards the servants' quarters, the hallways suddenly bigger, brighter and less oppressive now that Dornan was gone. "You're all freed! We lost!"
Sand couldn't keep the gleeful note out of his voice as he ran down the corridors, slaves and servants popping their heads out of doorways, joyful squeals and sobs of relief following him where ever he went. He heard clatters of trays being dropped, hurried footsteps; Master Yune ran up to him, blocking his way. "Is it true? You lost?"
Sand took a quick step back, wary of the man who had caused him so much misery. "Yes..." and he realized he was nearly flinching as he said it.
The large man's shoulders suddenly sag. "Oh thank the gods - I can return home..." He turned and disappeared around the corner and Sand blinked, shocked. It had never occurred to him that Yune had been a slave too. His steps carried to Alysin's chambers and he called out, "I lost! I lost!"
Alysin's face was beaming. "So I heard; you have a rather lovely voice, wizard, and it carries far when you put your mind to it." She arched a brow at the swelling over Sand's face. "A result of your successful defeat?" She tsked, and pulled Sand into the room, placing a hand over the swiftly bruising flesh and shutting her eyes. As she was praying, loud whoops and shouts, laughter, the sound of running feet out in the hallway, the clanking of armored guards trying to herd people through the manor in an organized fashion, all of it nearly drowning out the old woman's calm, soothing voice
The familiar flash of light filled the room, and almost as soon as Alysin's hands fell away from Sand's healed face, the door to her room burst open, and a wave of bodies spilled inside of it. Matthew's arms went around Sand, hugging him unabashedly, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes. "You did it!" he shouted, his voice muffled as even more servants threw their arms around the wizard, until Sand was nearly buried in the press of sobbing, laughing, celebrating bodies.
"We can never thank you enough," said Matthew roughly, after a moment. "There is nothing we could ever do to repay you; but thank you. Thank you." Hands patted Sand's head, his back, his shoulders; a few of the more enterprising women kissed his face before they all turned to spill from the front door, Matthew's faint thoughts trickling through Sand's mind. We'll never forget you.
"No...really...no thanks... oh, ah you're embarrassing..." as hands and lips found every inch of him, squeezing, patting, kissing, hugging. Somebody (he suspected - rather hoped - it was the pretty blond half-elf and not the toothless old woman) even gave his bottom a pinch and he flushed insensibly at the open show of gratitude. He caught Matthew's eye. I couldn't have done this without you - count yourself among the heroes...
And almost in the same instant, a new voice seemed to whisper in Sand's ear..."Come to the study, Sand of Neverwinter...without your Mistress. We have much to talk about."
The whispered voice was gone as quickly as it had been magically summoned, and yet it was unmistakably Vergo's...it left behind a faint chill in the air, and Alysin visibly shivered, before she smiled sweetly at Sand.
"I'll know soon enough if Lady Nivarra will still require my services; if I, too, must leave, then I wish you luck, wizard. And I will most assuredly see you again, if you remain in Luskan."
Sand sighed happily, still sitting on the floor and watching the former slaves run down the hall towards their freedom. Sure beats Nevalle's method of showing gratitude which consists of yet another life endangering task… He wondered, briefly, if Nevalle had even noticed he was missing.
Sand turned to Alysin and clasped her hands in his. "You are too good for Luskan. Take care, dear girl, no matter what happens."
Sand left the cleric's room, his face betraying none of the fear that was steadily building in him as he approached the study. The Brotherhood - here. Wanting to meet him without Nivarra. It was if several Alarm spells were chiming inside of him at the same time, every instinct telling him to turn and run. But still he walked towards the study, the hallways now eerily deserted. Even the paid servants seem to have taken leave for the day.
Sand had no idea where Nivarra was as he slipped inside the study and greeted the chubby halfling mage. "Master Vergo. Well met. To what do I owe this .... pleasure?"
Vergo was sitting comfortably on one of the armchairs as if he himself lived there. He seemed completely unperturbed that he was in someone else's house. "I wanted a chance to speak with you, Sand, without your...keeper overhearing, for a moment. Please, sit." He gestured to the chair opposite him, his golden eyes glowing eerily in the firelight that crackled from the study's fireplace.
"Don't worry overmuch about your mistress...she is currently...occupied, and will not bother us during this little conversation." The halfling leaned forward. "Tell me something, wizard...what would you give to be removed from under Nivarra's control?" His supple, ruddy cheeks dimpled as he smiled thinly. "And no posturing about how you wouldn't dream of leaving her service...I am no fool."
Sand sat, his velvet robes silent under his movements and considered Vergo's word very carefully. "To be removed from Nivarra's control - as in, given my freedom? There is much I would do for my freedom." He shifted his legs under his robes. "But I suspect the Brotherhood of the Arcane is not offering me my freedom. So perhaps I should ask, what do you want from me?"
Vergo chuckled. "Of course, we want you, Sand. Nivarra's wealth is inordinately tempting, but it is not ultimately what we're after; power is, and power, you have." One golden eyebrow arched over one golden eye. "Albeit focused in a rather unprofitable direction, at the moment. We bestowed Nivarra's geas over you ourselves, and we can…move it, so to speak."
Vergo's eyes seemed to dance as he lowered his voice. "There is, of course, something we could offer you in return. It has come to our notice that a certain personage has...returned to the Prime Material plane. We have begun picking up traces of her presence south of here, and it will not be long until we find out where she is." Vergo leaned forward, his eyes never leaving Sand's face. "I'm sure you know who I'm speaking of, Sand of Neverwinter? We are, of course, going to bring her to justice. I fear she will not receive as warm a reception in Luskan as you have; many influential people would give much to see her hang, and I'm afraid once they catch her even my persuasions will have little effect."
Vergo paused, sitting back in his chair. "However," he said quietly, "I am, currently, responsible for the mages tracking her movements. I could simply...abstain from such actions, if I were to have the assurances that you, powerful wizard that you are, would cooperate with the Hosttower. Your mistress is...unstable, at best, and it will not be long until we move against her." The halfling's mouth twitched in a smile. "Lord Birren has brought some rather disturbing things to light in our eyes, thanks to your own spying we hear, and we feel Nivarra will not be seated on her proverbial throne for very long."
His eyebrows went up, expectantly. "So tell me, wizard...what say you?"
The fledgling fear that had been inside him, burst into a fully grown terror when Vergo mentioned Torio.
She was back? How could she be back? Why would she come back?
Every single curse he knew flashed through his mind. Oh you stupid, idiot girl...
Sand knew Vergo would not be bluffing with information such as this. He was certain Vergo knew how he was feeling; the halfling was looking at him with a cold, knowing stare. A stare that controlled Torio's fate and indirectly his. His overactive imagination pictured Torio walking across the wooden planks of the gallows dress in a beautiful dress, the rope going around her slim jeweled neck, the trapdoor opening beneath her heeled feet, the sharp snap as the rope pulled taut...
He was gripping the armrest of the chair so hard his fingernails were leaving marks. He had saved Torio once and become chained to Luskan; he would save her again and become Luskan. "Very well. Call off your mages. Change the geas." The geas in his chest, which had been quiet for so long as he obeyed Nivarra unquestioningly suddenly exploded in a white, hot burst of pain and Sand grabbed his chest, his breathing strangled. His vision went grey and then black; he could feel his legs flailing and kicking as the magical bindings twisted inside of him. There was no way to ease the magical pain and he choked out to Vergo, "Hurry before the godsforsaken spell kills me..."
Vergo was incanting before Sand finished speaking; his words were succinct, expert, his gestures precise and almost liquid in their movements, and soon the spell gave a straining snap! and suddenly...changed.
"Sand," he ordered. "Stand up."
He smiled as the elf complied.
His voice, when it came again, was quiet. "It will be some time...two days at most, until we are able to act...do not, under any circumstances, try to run from Luskan or it will go very badly for you." His eyes flashed momentarily. "And for Torio Claven, as well."
A voice could be heard calling through the manor. "Slave!"
Vergo chuckled. "I believe, wizard, that that is for you." He slipped from the chair and gave Sand a long look, before folding his small, chubby hands into the sleeves of his robes and disappearing from sight.