Siblings
Part VIII.I: The Endgame: The Game of Kings, I
2
Over the next three days, Veldrin and her companions acquitted themselves admirably.
They were called into the service of Phaere Despana, the current matriarch of the Ust Natha branch of House Despana and daughter of Ardulace Irenicus' betrayed ally. After the downfall of Ardulace, her cunning daughter took over the reins of her House—and made it survive, if not flourish, amid the destruction; even though she had suffered the loss of the eggs of the silver dragon Adalon. It was only when Sendai the Bhaalspawn entered the outpost, with her favoured mate Thelynn'ss, her illithid ally Mithykyl, her beholder ally the Hive Mother and her priestess Diaytha commanding the mighty Earth Elemental Prince Ogremoch—that the eggs, fallen deep beneath the collapsed platforms of the city, were found. Sendai kept them in a hidden place within her own temple, and let no one access them; Phaere Despana, who had tried to steal them twice already, was otherwise, in public, the half-breed's staunchest ally.
Matron Phaere welcomed Sendai with open arms when the daughter of the rivvin god first arrived into the city, facing for the sake of the unclean one the grumbles of the citizens—and even the temple of Lloth; she helped Sendai settle her lesser-race armies in the caverns around Ust Natha and, further on, keep the peace between the encampments; between the beholder hive and the illithid, these allies were as likely to attack each other, or Ust Natha, as await the call to spill into the surface world.
It was rather not expected that Veldrin's presence in the city would impinge in any way on the delicate balance of power; either between the matriarchs; or the temples; or the old, collapsed city and the fresh blood and flesh of the armies around it.
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Solaufein, the male in the service of Phaere to whom they were assigned, was one of those tasked with policing the uneasy peace—
A floating orb with multiple eyes and a huge, gaping maw with many rows of sharp teeth— "Incoming, Nasadran! Central ray, antimagic—"
Twisted, degenerate; and, above all, immensely cruel, hybrids of dwarves and rivvin— "Iblith."—
Tall, grey creatures with tentacles for faces; caught in the process of devouring a brain— "Mithykyl himself is an ulitharid, and has vampire illithid in his encampment. Tell me, female, how would you deal with a vampire illithid if you had to?"
A screaming female—
A gamut of slow, all-devouring, all-encompassing, all-destroying jellies— "Use fire. Don't even try fight it with a sword. Even adamantine has its limits—"
A massive quadripedal creature with a chitinous exoskeleton and a pair of gigantic mandibles. "Be grateful to the Goddess that we are immune to its gaze, Veldrin." "I heard the illithid use them as bodyguards." "Yes, Veldrin. Mithykyl has two scores them in his section of the caverns."
The beholder, they intercepted smuggling adamantite out of the encampment; the derro were rioting slaves; the illithid kidnapped the favoured daughter of a minor House; the priestess was named Qilue and refused to acknowledge that a half-breed daughter of a rivvin god may fit among the drow, or even lead them— The slimes had been called in by some cultists of Ghandanaur; and the umber hulks, finally, the Nasadrans destroyed in their free time, in pitched fights in an arena in the tavern, to the joy and good sport of all.
That all did not earn them as much as a look from Phaere herself; but they did get to meet her more important than Solaufein, for being female, servant, Imrae.
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"Good, you are here," Solaufein commented dryly upon their arrival in the meeting place. "Imrae, favoured of Phaere and Sendai as one: this is the traveller from Ched Nasad who has proven of use to us so far."
The female watched Veldrin with interest. "This is the one? Smugglers, rioters, slaves, cults and heretics! Are you sure? To me, she looks scrawny, and there is... something... odd..."
The male answered, quite impudently, "I am positive that this is the one. She could prove of great use to the Matron Mother."
"Ehh... perhaps," Imrae replied. "Let her prove it, then, if she is to be favoured in the eyes of Despana—" She turned directly to the newcomer. "You there. Veldrin, yes? Pay attention. You have proven yourself as competent. That is good. House Despana needs competence, a rare commodity when one is surrounded by fools." She gave an unpleasant, and unmistakable, look to Solaufein himself.
"House Despana is about to embark on the path to greatness, Veldrin," she continued. "You can tie yourself tightly to us. Mother Lloth approves of the successful— But we require something rare to begin this path. You might acquire it for us. So we shall give you the task and see if you can earn Despana's favour."
"We need the blood of one of the old races, Veldrin. The Kuo-Toa, to be specific. But it must be the blood from their most powerful member: the Prince. A dangerous task. As usual," she looked to the male beside her, "Solaufein will accompany you."
The male stirred. "Must I be reduced to a nurse for these doddering children again, Imrae?"
"SILENCE!" the handmaiden yelled out. "Foolish male, how dare you interrupt me? Are you really that looking forward to another visit in the pits?!"
The male said nothing, as well he should not.
"An old ruin of the Kuo-Toa lies in the western caverns," Imrae continued, before finishing. "Go then, Veldrin. Bring me the blood of their Prince. House Despana awaits your return... but do not tarry. This is my command."
Veldrin of Ched Nasad bowed and said, "I will do my best, Mistress."
The handmaiden eyed her coldly. "Of course you will. Go, now, and begin your task."
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The hunt was to be on the following day; Kelaun returned to the tavern to prepare his spells. The two females remained behind, taking a slow walk through the city.
Ust Natha had always been small, little more than an outpost; located close to the surface; and to the remains of the darthiir city of Suldanessellar that Ardulace had so unsuccessfully attempted to capture recently. For years far removed in quality from the greatest of drow cities, it had decayed even further, both in its psyche and its physis, after the Exile's explosion, whose epicentre had been located under the Temple of Lloth, and which had partially collapsed the entire cavern. To those of lesser races, Ust Natha might have been imposing; to the Nasadrans, it was clear why it presented an apt target for overtaking by Ghandanaur; or a half-breed. It had long lost the true favour of the Mother.
"Do you think we will see Sendai herself soon, Mistress?" Erelffyn asked of Veldrin as they watched the arrival of a pair of envoys from the illithid troops from the top of a high balcony. The grey, tentacled abominations, here to explain the kidnapping "accident" of the day before, looked, as always, half-disgusting and half-alien.
The older female played with her flail as, in the distance, mind-to-mind communication took place. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "Solaufein did say that she rarely leaves the temple. Imrae and he seem to guard the access to her and Matron Phaere well."
The eyes of her younger companion glimmered. "Am I the only one who thinks that this male's obedience towards the Handmaiden was quite lacking?"
The silver-eyed started. "They did seem to have something... personal between them."
"Perhaps we could use that to our own ends," the bodyguard suggested.
Veldrin played with her necklace. "Perhaps."
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Dola Fadoon, they met in the marketplace while browsing the enchanted items brought into the city from the recent raids; although, of course, items crafted by the lesser races could never measure up to those drow-made. He was a djinn, and tortured as a target of spells and blows by several young females under the keen eyes of a tutor; revived and restored when he was weak so that, dead, he could not escape to his native elemental plane.
Veldrin's face tightened as she saw the creature; she took out her flail, and in one swift move, crushed its skull, destroying it completely; the body crumpled to the floor while the spirit within it, freed, escaped.
"See what you have just done, foolish female!" the overseer snarled at her. "You interrupted training and cost me my slave!"
"Forgive me, Mistress," the silver-eyed replied calmly, cleaning the bits of the brain and skull off the flail. "It was entirely my own mistake. I underestimated the strength of my blow."
"I'm not interested in excuses, female, only in the compensation! Either twice the worth of this slave—or your own life, in the fighting pits. And know that I belong to the House Jae'llat, so think twice before refusing my price!"
By this point, the girls around had stopped examining and kicking the dead body and turned their attention to the incipient fight; Erelffyn hurried to her Mistress' side as well.
"Will you not reconsider?" Veldrin asked. "House Jae'llat is, indeed, noble, old, and powerful. But I serve the House Despana."
The tutor stammered. "House Des-Despana? Well," she changed her song smoothly. "In that case, the exact worth of the slave will be enough—" Veldrin looked at her. "Nine-tenths of that if you repay in kind. Payable until tomorrow. This is my final offer."
"Fine," Veldrin said, reattaching her flail to her belt. "Which way to the slave pits?"
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As they walked towards the slave merchant's, Erelffyn sidled to her leader. "Mistress," she started.
Veldrin halted the outburst with a raised hand. "Shush. I already know what you wanted to say. We can barely afford this."
"Exactly, Mistress."
"By tomorrow, we will be known as the slayer of the Kuo-Toa, and our ties with House Despana will be ascertained. And the ruinsought to have enough gold in them to pay for one djinn."
Dissatisfied anger crossed through the younger female's face. "Mistress, the gold is the least of the threats here—"
Veldrin's face was tight again. "Be silent, fool! Stop talking aloud about matters as though I were not aware of them. Look. We are not alone."
The handmaiden Imrae was walking among the cages in the company of the slave merchant, fussing about. "They are sick, dirty and hungry," she was saying. "They are not even derro, they are rivvin. The weakest of the weakest, blind and worthless. How can I be sure that they will make for good sport at all? Matron Mother Phaere is exquisite in her tastes, and so is the Favoured Sendai. You would not want them disappointed."
"Malla Imrae!" the merchant took umbrage. "I resent that! Of course I will have them healed and fed before the chase, if that is the Matron's wish."
"Of course you will," the handmaiden agreed. "And equipped. Equipped well. None of that 'blunt swords, holey mail, rotten bowstrings and gauntlets of clumsiness' nonsense. We don't want them to be defenceless... You wouldn't want the Graced Ones to be bored, do you? I will give you half again their price for the equipment."
Judging from the merchant's face, the female was not driving a pleasant bargain. "Will you be really taking them all, Malla Imrae?" he asked. "I thought to retain the spawn at least. They do not run fast, and the children of Lloth would enjoy them."
"I will be taking them," the handmaiden interrupted coldly. "The Matron Mother enjoys playing with them. The rivvin often find unexpected sources of aggression in themselves when their young are threatened. It sometimes makes for most interesting surprises during the hunt."
She approached one of the caves, where a rivvin female sat, ululating in her coarse, unpleasant language, to the two of her brood she was holding close to herself; rocking back and forth. "Have them ready for tomorrow. Release them near the entrance to the surface."
Behind her back, the merchant bowed low. "As you wish, Malla Imrae." And left.
It was at this point that the handmaiden finally deigned to notice the Nasadrans; she turned around to meet them. "Oh, it's you," she said. "Have you come here to buy slaves, to feed them to the spiders, perhaps? If so, as you can see, you're too late. Don't worry... soon, new parties will ride out to catch new ones."
She looked, rather pleasantly, at their discomfiture, and continued, "But for now, I really think that you should relax before tomorrow's hunt. Solaufein told me that you enjoyed fighting against the monsters in the arena. Why don't you try fighting against real fighters, perhaps? The bets are made in the tavern, just like for the monsters. I may even come to see you if you do."
Veldrin, with a tight face, bowed. "Your wish is my command, Mistress."
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Dim and adamantine, the main tavern of Ust Natha stretched over a part of the city almost immediate past the marketplace at the entrance of the outpost. In its soft corners, prosperous life brimmed: storytellers, such as Ilmryn, Tathlyn, Baragh and Nym Khalazza wove tales of Ust Natha, of the Scattering, of the Descent, of the Bleedings, of the Collapse and the arrival of Sendai the Bhaalspawn; Szordrin the Baiter set up arena fights against monsters; lust chambers prospered; and slaves, both pale and drow, were killed and tortured for fun and amusement; all to the smell and the taste of the dark drow drinks and relaxing substances. The drow-against-drow fighting pits were here, too; down a shaded set of stairs in the back.
"You want to participate in the fighting, Nasadran?" Ilmryn asked, surprised. "On your third night in the camp? You really are keen on making a name for yourself, are you not? And here I was told that House Despana has already almost marked you as their own—"
"They did, male," Veldrin responded, rather rashly. "It doesn't matter. There can never be too few ways to advance in the eyes of the Mothers, and promotion can never come too soon."
The old storyteller nodded. "True, that. Although those who are too ambitious can soon find that ambition, too, has its downsides. The knife that sticks out will be pushed back into the wound; the best knife is the unseen one; survival is both strength at arms and wariness. Search for Sondal, female, if you wish to participate in the madness."
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Lasaonar was the first fight of the night: she watched as he entered the arena, set against four far younger, and, as presently occurred to everyone in the vicinity, far too overly ambitious for their own good, fighters. The first one of these ended up disembowelled; the second had his sword hand removed; the third, hit off-hand with a glove, hung on one of the hooks set into the walls of the cage arena; the fourth was simply beheaded. All the cuts were instantly seared; the successful male's sword was enchanted with fire.
"How do you like our hot-blooded champion, Nasadran?" Sondal asked.
"I would like him better if he stopped playing with children," she replied. "The challengers were clearly far less experienced than he was. What fun and what sport is there in a display such as this? Did that male feel he had something to prove to his Mistress?"
The pit master smiled like a voracious spider. "Those are words of blood and poison, Nasadran. I take it you will be the next to challenge Lasaonar?"
"As long as Lasaonar himself is not afraid to take on a female," she replied, sweetly, "Yes."
"Well then!" the pit master yelled out as the guts and corpses were cleared out from the arena, "Our most worthy guests, the bloodthirsty females and fierce males of Ust Natha! Prepare yourselves! For your entertainment, in the next round, current champion Lasaonar will face a new challenger: a newcomer to our city, Veldrin of Ched Nasad!"
She sought out among the crowd the familiar faces: Imrae was there, in the Despana space, and, next to her, Solaufein— And a third figure. Was the promise of a good fight enough to draw Phaere from her duties? What of Sendai— No, she was not there.
At last, the fight started; she watched the male with amusement. Lasaonar attempted a strike, just to see how quickly she would block it— Then, another; and another. He was faster; she, behind her shield, was stronger, and undaunted, and surer—and slower; and, therefore, sighed. Erelffyn's advice had been, again, obvious— A win without style, and humiliation, did not count for much.
She let him attack several more times, just for the form; the crowd around her roared. Then, she sighed once again; dropped her shield; slid by and slithered out of the path of the sword as Lasaonar attacked; and then shook the figurine out of the sleeve of her mail; activated it as it was leaving her hand; and finally watched as Kitthix appeared on the male's face and chest, topping him over and quickly enveloping him in her web—
He fell to the ground under the giant spider's mass; in doing so, he dropped his sword; she kicked it away from him; by this moment, as she approached the man, flail in hand, Lasaonar was already screaming, "I yield! I yield!"
She looked to the audience, to Sondal and Szordrin and Egeissag and Erelffyn; to the Despana box where Imrae and Solaufein were languidly conferring. Yielding, in a combat arena, was unheard of among the ilythiiri. The male was already dishonoured; and he had provided no such courtesy to his victims— Now, only to wait—
A figure stood up in the Despana box; and the roar of those demanding blood around the arena rapidly calmed down.
The figure was wrapped in a shawl; once uncloaked, it revealed— Herself. Matron Mother. Phaere. She dropped to her knee, and dropped her head.
"As a favour to our allies, the noble House Jae'llat," the Matron Mother announced, "House Despana wishes the Master of the Arena to allow House Jae'llat to collect the life of the mate of the Favoured Daughter Chalinthra. His equipment, in accordance with the rules of the arena, is forfeit to the winner."
Lasaonar was to survive, then— Had she been betrayed? No; from another box, another slender figure stood up; and responded, "The House Jae'llat is grateful for the favour of the House Despana. Nevertheless, Lasaonar was a favoured male. The House Jae'llat, and I, Chalinthra, therefore demand the right to revenge!"
Imrae, with a raised eyebrow, looked at Sondal from behind Phaere. "Master of the Arena? Is the Honoured Chalinthra's request admissible according to the rules?"
The male, trapped between the powerful females, wavered; but eventually took the correct path; the path of the stronger. "Malla Chalinthra, forgive my mentioning this, but you are a spell-weaver—"
A small gasp escaped her throat: a spellcaster? A spellcasting female? —The Master of the Arena stilled her words. "—The newcomer Veldrin is not. The match would be on unequal grounds."
Chalinthra looked around the arena, to the left and right; and, lightly, leapt over the barrier surrounding the Jae'llat box onto the field below. Sidestepping over the body of her still-whimpering mate, still on the ground, still wrapped in a web and still guarded by Kitthix—she strode to the centre of the arena. "The House Jae'llat demands satisfaction!" she repeated, looking Phaere in the eye.
She considered: Kelaun, perhaps, had some spells with him already—
Phaere smiled. She reached to her neck; unclasped her piwafwi shawl; let it go. "Solaufein," she said as the dark cloth, slowly, floated down to the arena floor in the air heated by the bloodlust and the bated breaths of a hundred onlookers, "I seem to have misplaced my cloak. Be a good male and fetch it for me, will you?"
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Pressed to the wall of the arena, with Erelffyn by her side, she watched as Solaufein lightly, efficiently, without hate or love, pierced and dispelled the magical protections around Chalinthra; and then, once done, called upon a hakeashar to devour and destroy the mage— Once done, rather exasperated, he gathered the piwafwi, and Lasaonar's searing blade, from the floor of the arena, and left; without ever looking at the body of the fallen enemy; or waiting to hear Sondal pronounce him the victor. Despite her own failure, she must admire the Despana: they did enjoy competence in their employees. And ruthlessly showcasing their arrogance and superiority.
She overheard him with Imrae soon— "Favoured Imrae. The Matron Mother's mislaid possession." "What took you so long? I got bored waiting." "Forgive my clumsiness, Favoured Imrae." "Well, perhaps, male. This one time."
Her, he found soon enough afterwards, in her rooms in the tavern; already devoid of the cloak; and scowling. "Erelffyn," he said, first, to her adjutant. "Leave."
Once left alone, he first presented her with Lasaonar's searing sword, wordlessly; and, as she took it, backhanded her.
She had one recourse: her gender. "How dare you, male—"
Again. "You are a worm," the male said. "A Nasadran. A newcomer. Who gave you the idea to attack Lasaonar?"
She set to attack. "Every fool knows that Jae'llat is the only House that could challenge— The Handmaiden," she admitted, quickly, swallowing blood, and pride, remembering.
Solaufein, for his part, seemed startled. "Imrae?" He caught himself. "Have you tried to go behind my back to her, Veldrin? I admire your ambition, but don't ever try that again. Not with Imrae, at least. You will find yourself disappointed with the results. If you survive, that is."
That was— "And you—?"
The male scowled. "I have no complaints about your talents, so far, yes. If I did, Nasadran, why would I ask the Matron Mother to help me spare you after that display of foolishness?"
He laughed, darkly, as she tried, blindly, to search for his and Imrae's weaknesses. "You know the overt truths, Veldrin. Do as you are ordered, and live. The Matron knows best."
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Since they were alone, it felt natural to try small talk, socialising, and seduction, next: a touch of the silver hair, a twist of the body, a smile, a glimmer in the silver eyes; finally, most important of all, deep interest— Solaufein watched her, amused. "Don't, Malla Veldrin," he said.
She tsk'ed. "Fine, male. But what is it between you and the Handmaiden? Am I intruding on her territory? Given that you are here, it doesn't seem so."
"No," he rejoined. "And neither should you expect me to take you into the confidence of the Handmaiden's secrets, female. I still value my neck more than I do yours."
This was less than she expected for her efforts; before he said, "Well. Enough time has passed. Let's go."
She blinked. "Go— Where?" Suddenly, she understood. "To House Jae'llat?"
"Yes, of course," the male replied matter-of-factly. "They will not touch me; but they will not stop the vendetta against you, either, unless we strike first—" He produced a wardstone. "Chalinthra's," he explained. "Compliments from the Handmaiden. It will lose its power soon— Let's go," he insisted. "Take the sword."
The compound of the House Jae'llat sat in the least destroyed part of the city; that had been, indeed, the source of its success after the Collapse. The guards were easy to deal with; slit throats, all in all—
The insides were more difficult; but at least, she had with her not a flail, but a sword—
Hindra Jae'llat, the Third Daughter, died as she was awakening from her reverie; Ist'tar Jae'llat, the Second Daughter, with a sword to the gut after all her protections had been dispelled; Rilloa Jae'llat, the Matron Mother herself, was the only one who gave them trouble— Not for long; and she had a delightful set of mail on her, too.
She had never destroyed an entire House before. Even in that half-collapsed excuse of an outpost, it felt— Interesting.
Sheathing the sword, she turned to the male. "Well," she said. "That is the work of a day and a night done. May I go now, o illustrious Solaufein?"
He turned to her, sheathing his own blade. "Must you, Malla Veldrin? I had something else in mind."
She flashed him a luxurious smile. "The lust chambers?" she proposed.
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When she woke up from the deep sleep that was not a reverie, the male was already half-dressed; for a moment longer, she let herself admire the silver scars that adorned the obsidian back; the mark of a proven-and-bled warrior.
In the end, he turned back to her. "Come, Malla Veldrin," he said, dryly. "We must go."
"Go, mrann d'ssinss?" she asked, feeling spurned.
He gave her a brief half-smile. "The proverbs have it right, Malla Veldrin," he said. "A good lover is the best magic toy— Come. We really mustn't linger. Your companions are waiting for us. As is the carnage to be wrought."
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The caverns of the Kuo-Toa were humid and cold; full of half-built granite and basalt structures, covered in algae, slime and mould, slippery with running water; damp and moist; and smelling of brine and salt and sea— Fighting the creatures was the simple matter of shooting a crossbow. They were weak, and had weak magic; they fell easy and did not even give a good sport.
The male, she found combing through a slime-covered pool. "Look, Malla Veldrin," he said, raking his hand through the disgusting water, "These tadpoles. They are diseased."
"And?" she asked, irritated. "What does it mean for us? For the mission?"
He frowned. "Nothing, Malla Veldrin. For now."
They moved on, down a set of stairs, and then another; she thought, viciously, that the worst danger to their mission was in that they slipped and broke their necks; eventually— Eventually, she saw.
She saw; or she did not. For the Prince was blurred to her eyes, however she tried to perceive him; blurred, and fast. She felt her blood, frozen in these cold, impassive caverns, finally sing, sing with emotion and hedonism.
The creature had a cortège, equally bug-eyed and slime-scaled, with it: all those whips and monitors and priestesses— Erelffyn and Kelaun stepped out before them, shooting the fish creatures with their crossbows: one bolt, one creature; one bolt, one creature.
When it was done, the cold water at their feet was running red with blood. She turned to the male. "A'dos quarth, abbil." At your command, my "friend".
He did not reply; instead, he knelt by the body of the fallen beast, and drew blood, collecting it into a small vial before it coalesced; and then, held the vial to a conjured, bespelled light; and then, finally, swiftly, took a tadpole and dropped it into the blood. For a moment, the creature writhed and wriggled in the liquid; then, suddenly, it died.
"Well," he said, self-satisfied. "It never fails to be sure."
She reached for her sword. "What are you doing, male?!"
He ignored them, both her and the crossbows trained on him. "I do not particularly care if you are spies for Lloth or for Eilistraee, Malla Veldrin," he said, instead. "If you try to return to Ust Natha, you will find yourselves arrested for destroying the Jae'llat. So— Don't."
"Don't—" She wavered. "Eilistraee?"
"You are far more accustomed to fighting with a sword than with a flail. Your companions are named for moon, song, dance and spycraft. And that necklace you constantly wear—" He looked at her almost tenderly. "You were wise not to show it to me. But after years and years in one place, it made an impression— However, as I said, it matters not whether you are an idiot, or merely a proficient spy pretending to be one."
"What really matters," said a second voice, "Is that you are in our way, female. And we don't want you to be. So, you see, we would much rather that you did not return to Ust Natha. If you do, you will be killed—" Imrae, emerged from the shadows of the ruins, nodded at the male. "As he said."
Erelffyn, by her side, suddenly burst out, "We were loyal! We were loyal to the House and the Family!" Veldrin shushed her: even young as she was, she should be aware that, ultimately, loyalty meant nothing. Lives did.
On her part, the Handmaiden sighed in agreement. "Yes," she said. "Yes, you were. It's not your fault, really— We don't want to kill you. We understand the Mother's and the Daughter's objection against rivvin gods interfering with your people. It is entirely justified."
The male stood by her with crossed arms. "You may rest assured that the matter will be soon resolved. But now, go."
"If you are afraid to return to Ched Nasad," the Handmaiden said, not ungently, "The human slaves you saw yesterday, Veldrin, are close by and making their way out of the caverns. They haven't yet gotten far, and could take you to a place called Arnise. You may tell them the Windspear sent you." She smiled, unpleasantly. "If you are not, remember that there is much more of them than the three of you. And they are equipped. And your spells are spent, jaluk," she turned to Kelaun.
The silver-eyed did not hear the female much; it was the male who had her attention; she was much more accustomed to being the betrayer than the betrayed. "You," she said, at him, with as much contempt as she could muster. "You. Is 'Solaufein' even your real name?!"
He started; and then scowled at her. "Whyever would I want to tell you that?" he asked. "Is 'Veldrin' yours?"
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The three drow figures disappeared behind the corner of the ruin as they looked after them. "Well," Imoen said. "There go our fall guys." She looked to the man beside her. "Had your fun, brother?"
Languidly, he stretched. "Yes," he said. "That was good exercise. After four years."
She knelt next to the body of the mad Prince. Dead, the beast lost the natural magic that blurred it to the eyes, and could be seen clearly. It was not a particularly pleasant view. But not dangerous, either. "So, Villynaty's people will now have a place to live," she laughed. "And flourish, possibly, even— Do you really think this will work?"
Sarevok shrugged and scratched his scalp. He must be still unaccustomed to the feeling of having hair again, she deduced; gods knew turning into a drow had had some surprises in store for her as well. "It has to," he said. "We have no alternative." He looked back to her. "Unless your exploration of Sendai's chambers found you a way to get into that room after all, sister."
She shook her head as she rose and they started to walk back towards Ust Natha. "No. I'm afraid not. She's smart, our sister is. Even Thelynn'ss does not have a copy of the key. It's no wonder Adalon could not get to them in all these years."
He gave her an amused look. "So, you see, we do have no alternative, Imrae, Favoured of Phaere and Sendai as one."
She bumped him on the shoulder. "Silence, you insolent male! Do you want me to send you to the spiders?! —Anyway," she decided, "Look at the bright side. Thanks to your girlfriend's misunderstanding, the Jae'llats are out. The demons are not yet here. And everyone else is still here, and not yet in Amn— What?" she started, looking at his expression. "What did I say?"
"Ssussun pholor dos," he pointed out. "Light upon you. 'Look at the bright side'? Really, sister— That's a fundamental cultural misalignment error."
She smacked him.
