Chapter 20

"Thirdboy," Kyorl Oblodra said, her sharp voice lingering on that word, relishing it. She was not so slavishly devoted to Lloth as to waste good progeny. And here was the proof that she was, as usual, entirely correct in her thinking. "You destroyed your bedchamber."

Kimmuriel scuffed his boot against the stone floor and looked anywhere but his mother, stumbling over his response. He hadn't gotten the words in order before she took them from him.

"A nightmare?" she asked. She gave him one alluring moment of warm feeling seeping through his mind but it was not maternal care, only her being entirely pleased that such a little boy had caused such destruction. Soon enough it was replaced with a harsh arch of pain lancing through his brain. It dropped him to the floor and he gasped. It must not happen again. Control.

She picked him up by force of her mind and dropped him back on his feet, he stumbled again but managed to stay upright.

"You tutoring begins today. You will be a useful little prodigy."

His elder brother, Kirrel, strode into the room, his face impassive, his gait smooth.

Kimmuriel's knowledge of what to do was shoved into his brain without words and he followed after his brother as they left the hall, struggling to keep up.

"She is kept adequately out of here," Kirrel said as soon as they were in his chambers. Kimmuriel was already distracted from what he was supposed to be doing, interested in his brother's big books. He lifted one with his mind from its place and it dropped into his hands. No sooner had it begun to open but it snapped closed and shot back into its place.

"Kimmuriel, concentrate, come here," his brother spoke aloud and softly. He always spoke softly, and never a hint of emotion in his voice.

Kimmuriel came as he was beckoned and sat down opposite his brother.

"Alright," he began in a standard way, "Do whatever you think you must. Keep me out."

He didn't pause but as good as shoved Kimmuriel, pushing brutally into his mind, easy to spot so the child could practice.

Kimmuriel reacted on instinct and his blast of psionic energy was paired with a wild little shriek that sent his brother flipping off of his chair and slamming into the stone wall behind him. He touched the back of his head as he steadied himself.

"...alright...we will start differently…why did you scream, if I may ask. It can't have been useful."

Kimmuriel shrugged his little shoulders and smiled, "I dunno. You said do whatever."

"I did," he admitted, "That's correct. We won't be doing it again."

"Did I do good?"

"Speak to me like you've been educated."

He wrinkled his little nose, "Did I do well?"

"After a fashion, you did as I asked you to do, but you showed a dangerous lack of control. You might have hurt me badly."

"So?"

"So," his brother led, sitting across from him again, this time with a small box he'd fetched from his book case, "If you incapacitate me you'll have to be trained by your sisters. How does that sound to you?"

"Oh," he thought about it and wasn't sure how to answer, but he needn't have worried, the missmash of fear he'd be rude and fear of his sisters' quick anger and easy hand of punishment was enough for Kirrel to smirk, a slight turn of his thin lips.

"That's right, so now, control, do you want a gift?"

"Yeah!" he said happily.

"Alright," he drew a pretty golden ornament from the box. It was a delicate thing, spindly gold arms no thicker than a few strands of hair it seemed, tiny hinges. "If this survives the day, you may keep it. What I want you to do is lift it in the air, turn it around, and put it back into the box.

Kimmuriel reached out his hand but it put itself back into his lap. He tried again to the same effect, his hand becoming not his own and going back to where it came from. He pouted a moment but got the point and frowned at the toy. It shot into the air and his brother tsked.

"No no, careful, let me have it."

Kirrel put it easily back down on the table, one of its wings slightly bent, "Now, carefully. Control it."

Kimmuriel tried. It lifted and shook in the air in an effort to keep it in place. He knew he needed to turn it over in the air and put it back in the box. He did try to do it slowly but it all happened at once. No sooner had he envisioned it flipping over than it had whipped around and slammed so hard back into the box that it crumpled pathetically and broken beyond repair.

Kimmuriel gasped and whined. He'd wanted that little toy. He had almost nothing of his own.

Kirrel contemplated him grieving the toy, tilting his head as he considered, "Kimmuriel, I could teach you to fix it."

He looked up at him, eyes shining so brightly they looked pink rather than red, "Really?"

He spoke in his careful way, watching and feeling for all reactions, "Yes. But I won't let you keep it if you fix it. I'll give it away."

"To who?"

"To whom," his brother corrected, Kimmuriel only glared at him so he continued, "To anyone I like, an urchin from the Braeryn."

"...oh."

"Do you still want to learn to fix it?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation, "I still want to learn."

Tega left Jarlaxle's chambers early, they had much to arrange and not long to arrange it. She was still sore from the fight the night before and worried over what was to come. Someone else must have arranged Dor'rolik's capture if it wasn't an imposter of Jarlaxle's.

She stopped short, Kimmuriel sweeping around a corner and also drawing to a stop, the two of them almost chest to chest.

Kimmuriel looked her over and glanced behind her at Jarlaxle's door, his brow furrowed minutely and his eyes glinted coldly, "Good morning, Tega," his voice was like ice chips.

"Good morning, Kimmuriel," she said, her voice also tight, but nothing in coldness compared to his, "Are you looking for Jarlaxle?"

"Yes. I am."

"Did you interrogate Dor'rolik?"

He lifted an elegant eyebrow, "Yes."

This left four options, the first was that he'd discovered the plot and was now on his way to tell Jarlaxle. The second that Dor'rolik had no plot and was just an easy target. The third that Dor'rolik had some way of defending himself against Kimmuriel. The fourth, and the most dangerous, that Kimmuriel was the inside man.

"And what did you discover?" she asked softly.

"That is not for me to report to a little surface elf accountant who is in over her head," he sneered, "I am reporting it to Jarlaxle alone."

"Of course, lieutenant," she said, returning to formality.

He swooped passed her toward the door. She rounded the corner and drew out the pendant that could contact her Captain. She tapped it thrice, hoping to convey a warning before Kimmuriel got to his door.

She herself went to the meeting she had arranged with her little team. They were assembled when she arrived: Kar'Dritch at the head of the table, beside him the stocky and broad shouldered for a male Lazifeil. A small drow, shorter than Tega by almost a head and renowned for his lizard riding and wilderness navigating, Shirik paced at the back. The two other soldiers one magic, Dirinar and one melee, Vaidril sitting idly, both armed to the teeth. They'd been chosen carefully for their skillset as well as their history. Each of them had a reason to be ruthlessly loyal to Jarlaxle.

"We were mistaken, it isn't an imposter," she said as soon as the door was closed and warded.

Vaidril's head snapped up and he looked at her, "You attacked the Captain then? With a wand? And lived?"

"We got it all straightened out," she said, "He will join us shortly, there's still a traitor among us."

Their eyes glittered at this, bloodthirst for whomever was selling out their beloved mercenary band quick at hand.

Shirik paused his pacing to smirk at her, "So who won your fight? Did you get the drop on him? Blast him off his feet?"

"I had planned for attacking an imposter, not the Captain, of course I didn't get the drop on him." Partially true, but she lost nothing if they thought it had been an easy victory for Jarlaxle. He was the one who stood to be embarrassed that some combination of emotions and trust in his chamber's wards had allowed a fight with her to even be a fight.

"I have a spell set on Dor'rolik's cell," Dirinar said, his voice accented, he was not from Menzoberranzan originally, but a small city far to the lower west of them, "It will let me know if he leaves the cell. He will be planning his escape soon before we can slice him apart. Now we must consider what he wanted here."

"I've been thinking about that," Dritch said, speaking up. His stint as a spy at the Baenre compound itself had risen his esteem in the eyes of his fellow mercenaries, "He made an odd comment on the way into the compound. I think he is after Tega."

She snorted at the absurdity of this idea, but the other drow did not.

"Is it true that you can predict house wars?" Lazifeil asked, "The guards who were with you seemed to think that is what he thought you capable of."

"It has not yet been tested," she said, "It was what I was working on with Lieutenant Kimmuriel in the Great Eastern Library."

"Even if she could not," Shirik said, "She would make a good prize. Jarlaxle would pay handsomely for her return, and she would be an asset to his band as well if he could turn her."

"What else would be worth the risk?" Vaidril asked. His hair was coarser than most drow and knotted at the back of his head. It made him seem older than he was, which was not young.

Dritch spoke again, "It doesn't matter this instant. We need to discover who helped him or they will remain a threat even if we kill Dor'rolik."

"It certainly does," Dirinar countered, "If they knew he was aiming for Tega, then it is either an enemy of the Bregan D'aerthe who wished to see us weakened, or an enemy of hers. She has them."

"Kimmuriel is an enemy of hers," Dritch said, looking at her.

She'd hoped he was not, but perhaps that was right.

"So might be Berginyon," Lazifeil said, "Losing the Do'Urden run away was an embarrassment to his house.

"Anyone who was bested by the desert rat iblith may be out of blood as well," Vaidril said.

"Artemis," Tega supplied automatically.

"Aww, how sweet, you named him," Vaidril said as one might to a child who named a stray.

She was glad for Vaidril's sake, and the sake of the meeting, that Artemis himself was not privy to this exchange.

"And the one-eyed Mazikel," Dritch said, looking at her. That was the drow that so seemingly long ago had tried to kill him and she had made an enemy, harboring him in her rooms.

"So many enemies for a little elf," Lazifeil commented and she had to agree, she had always been so deeply under Jarlaxle's protection she had not counted them. "So then…" he continued, "Berginyon may be in on it or not, but he has not been here long enough to be the originator of the plot. I do hope it is not Lieutenant Kimmuriel, that would be trouble."

"Yes," she agreed, "It would. He's a dangerous adversary."

"Do you think it is him? I know you have worked closely with him," Dritch said.

She tried to put away her emotional ties to him that begged it not to be him. Not only because it would be immensely dangerous to fight him, but because she was also sure Jarlaxle would come out ahead in this and she did not want it to end with Kimmuriel's corpse rotting in the underdark. The thought made her heart constrict.

"I…" she began, "I do not know enough about the Khazir or Ched Nassad to be sure. It's a smaller mercenary band, but he isn't looking for leadership. What are their academies like?"

Dirinar answered quickly, always eager to talk about drow education, "The schools in Ched Nasad are not highly renowned in the area. Menzoberranzan boasts the finest education for priestesses by far in Arach Tinilith, and Sorcere is an excellent academy for those who cannot get into something more prestigious or are too gentle to leave their home city." This prompted a derisive snort from the Lazifeil. "The high nobility of Ched Nasad prefer to bring in gifted tutors for their children or send them abroad. Ched Nasad is a trading hub, not an academic enclave."

"What about Melee Magthere?" Lazifeil, an alumnus of the school of fighting, asked pointedly, "Surely that is the best in the Underdark."

Dirinar shrugged, "I don't know much about schools of fighting, I know more about academics."

"I was educated at the LaVielle Mharduk Academy of Mathematics," Tega said and Dirinar became distracted in his interest.

"Really? You must tell me about that sometime, did you study under Master Messitha?"

"I did, a dreadful bore, but brilliant."

"Enough," Shirik said with a small frown, "Talk of elite academies will not help us find out the rat. Why did you want to know, ma'am?"

"Lieutenant Kimmuriel would not go to Ched Nasad if it didn't benefit him. He's a scholar before he is a soldier."

"Then neither Dor'rolik nor Ched Nasad would hold much allure for him," Dirinar said, "Thank Lloth."

"Indeed," Tega said, glad there was empirical reason to put him aside.

"I would not discount him so easily," Dritch said, looking meaningfully at Tega.

"He's right," Shirik said, "He may not want to leave, he may only want Tega out of the way."

Kimmuriel looked at Kirrel as their mother spoke. What she was saying was the same blur of plotting and planning as usual. Kimmuriel wanted to return to his brother's chambers for training. That was much preferable to this. He didn't really understand what all this talk of house war was or why it was so important that all this time needed to be dedicated to it.

He wiggled, bored and a little stiff from standing. His brother gave him a small, telepathic nudge to him to settle down and be still. It was enough to earn their mother's attention. She stopped talking and looked at them.

He understood what would happen without words being said. She'd simply placed it into his mind. If he was going to wiggle then his training was to be tested.

He was scooted forward without his feet moving, she didn't want to wait for his compliance, just dragged him in front of her. With no warning she began the same test Kirrel had used, forcing her way into his small brain, but she was a vicious as a punch to the face.

His long, soft hair lifted off his shoulders as unregulated power swirled around him, like a whipping wall on all around him, shoving her back and out. The power lashed out, unable to be contained. Her throne scraped back a foot and a half and all the windows of the chapel blew out, the glass shattering down around them.

When silence returned to the room, Kyorl was looking at him with acute interest, "Kirrel, take him away," she said finally.

Kirrel laid a hand on Kimmuriel's shoulder and led him out, saying nothing either in words or telepathically until they were back in his chambers.

"Kimmuriel, you must be more careful."

"...I didn't have any time to get ready," he defended.

"I told you, we must work on your control. Matron Kyorl is pleased with you now-"

"-she is?!" He smiled.

"-She is pleased with you now," he continued, "But if you hurt her or one of your sisters she may lose patience. You are very powerful, Kimmuriel, but even the best sword is useless if you cannot wield it."

Kimmuriel was young and slow on the uptake, "Am I the sword?"

This made Kirrel's lips twitch, "Yes, you are the sword, and she means to wield you. She'll break you like a kobold if she must."

"What's that mean?"

"...I believe it is time for a new lesson, come with me, say nothing, do not leave my side."

Kimmuriel tagged along after him through the winding halls of the complex, doing his best to imitate Kirrel's graceful stride. They came to a solid wall and Kirrel began levitating upward, looking as elegant doing that as he did walking.

Kimmuriel had his own family insignia which let him levitate, but was not much practiced at it, and in his haste to follow his brother got flipped upside down, coming up to the ledge with his hair and robes all askew, not quite all the way upside down or right side up. He looked at his brother sheepishly.

His brother's face was entirely impassive, but the telekenesis which flipped him over and set him on his feet was gentle.

Kirrel didn't say another word but kept walking down this new hallway, keeping young Kimmuriel right at his side.

They entered a small, sparsely furnished room with a bed along one wall, a prone form laying motionless in that bed.

"Approach him," Kirrel said softly to Kimmuriel.

Kimmuriel didn't want to, but crept out from behind his brother's robes and toward the form. It was a drow male, and Kimmuriel could see traces of his own and his brother's features in him. He lay perfectly motionless except for the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"Is he going to wake up?" Kimmuriel asked.

"No," his brother said simply, "Reach out with your mind to him."

Kimmuriel furrowed his brow and did as he was asked. He gasped and fell back against his brother's knees, hit with a cacophony of painful, chaotic noise. His mind was entirely jumbled, as if wailing without purpose or direction.

Kimmuriel whimpered and looked up at Kirrel, holding his hands over his ears even if that did nothing to stop the noise.

"Push him back out, just a little, like closing a door, come now, don't hurt him."

Kimmuriel's head was aching, he covered his face in his brother's robes and tried to do just that. He didn't want to break more windows or fling the desperate, prone male through a wall.

The walls shook.

Kirrel laid a hand on his shoulder and did it for him, closing the door between Kimmuriel and the man on the bed and allowing merciful silence to fall upon Kimmuriel's mind again.

Kimmuriel was still clutching his brother's robes and hiding, clinging to his legs long after the door was shut. Kirrel stood awkwardly for a moment then pet the boy's head, "It's done."

Finally Kimmuriel let him go and looked up at him, "Who is he?"

"He's our brother, the secondboy, Karafeil. He was a powerful psionicist in his time. I trained him as I am training you."

"What happened to him?"

"He struck out against Matron Kyorl and reaped the reward."

"He was a sword," Kimmuriel said, reaching out to take Kirrel's hand.

Kirrel did not object to Kimmuriel's hand holding for a moment, then shook himself free, "Yes, and not one easily wielded."

"So...I should let mother wield me."

Kirrel looked at him for a bit then said, "Yes, that is your place."

All of the soldiers stood when Jarlaxle entered their little meeting room. He beamed, his teeth glinting like the beak of a hook horror.

"So this is the team assembled for my rescue," he said, looking around at them all, half surprised at the middling quality of the soldiers she had picked. No one that was even high on his radar. "Who assembled you?"

"Lieutenant Tega," Dritch said, cocking his head at Jarlaxle. It wasn't strictly her title, she didn't strictly have a title. Something of an assistant, something of an academic, something of an accountant.

"Lieutenant Tega indeed," Jarlaxle said, turning his cat's grin on her.

She was of two minds on this, one of them pleased at the idea of a title and promotion, the other bristling that she'd gotten it after bedding him. Regardless, she didn't have time to pick through that now.

"We are loyal to the Bregan D'aerthe, Captain," Shirik said softly, "We suspect treachery."

"I would certainly hope so, if there were no treachery what fun would this little tea group be?"

They laughed a little, looking to him for guidance on what to do next.

"So, what have you come up with now that you know I am not the target?"

There was silence, no one wanting to be the one to put the target on his favorite elf.

Dritch was finally the one to do it, "We believe he is after Tega. Her project would allow her to predict house wars."

Jarlaxle looked at her hard, "Dor'rolik spoke the truth? You've said nothing of it to me."

Dead silence fell over the room, deeper than the uncomfortable silence before. Keeping something so valuable secret from their Captain was itself almost a treachery.

"It wasn't ready. It isn't tested. It could very well be nothing."

He shrugged, "So then it would be worth a kidnapping before I learned of it and locked your security down more tightly. Who knew of the project?"

"It was in my chambers and I worked on it at the Library and the inn we stayed at. So the list is not long, "Dritch, Kimmuriel, the librarian perhaps."

"Or anyone in the inn that broke into your room or cleaned it up," he said, "If they were canny it would be easy to see it's value. Or perhaps Ched Nasad has spies in the library." He looked at her for a bit, "Go and speak to Lieutenant Kimmuriel, let him know of your promotion."

She hesitated, then nodded and stepped out of the room. When she was gone, Jarlaxle nodded to Shirik, "Follow her."

She headed to Kimmuriel's office and chambers, where he was sure to be working and knocked once.

The door swung open and he looked up at her from his desk, "Yes, Tega?" He asked quietly, "You cannot have news to report."

"Lieutenant Tega," she said.

He frowned, "I see, I should have suspected." If she did not know him so well she would not have noticed that he relaxed a little into his chair, "When were you promoted?"

"This morning."

"Timely."

"I should say."

"Was Dor'rolik right? Half wild elf?" He asked, standing and facing her, coming closer.

"Yes, I didn't know about the moon elf, my mother left before I was old enough to remember her."

"Lucky you," he said, thinking of his own mother, "I would have expected then for your skin to be darker, although it seems to be dark enough as it is." It was a compliment she believed, he was calling her drow.

"Moon elves are notoriously pale. My brothers are darker."

"All of your people would be, yes? Your twin brothers, your elder brother's wife?"

"...yes," she said, unsure where this line of questions was coming from, "Why mention them?"

"I have been thinking of them." He came closer to her, barely a foot apart and signed, so no one could see his hands but her, "You know you were followed here."

"I suspected," she signed back, "Was it you, Kimmuriel?"

She hadn't had any lead up to the question but they both knew what she was asking, his hands remained still.

"Don't get yourself hurt," she warned. Kimmuriel noticed what Drizzt had noticed as well, the softness her fingers put into the words.

"It is my wellfare you are concerned with?"

She did not know how she wanted to respond to that, well she rather wanted to hit him, or hold him, or whap his stupid nose. What sort of a question was that.

"Do you trust me?" He asked her.

She snorted because he spoke in drow, so it was something like, "Do you think I'll not kill you yet."

"Take the ring off," He took her hand even, to do it for her.

She clenched her hand into a fist so he could not and the room shook, she felt her lungs momentarily constrict.

With her free hand she drew her wand, now fully recharged, "Kimmuriel, let me go."

He stared at the wand and spoke aloud in his even voice, "I could tear you apart before you would ever fire."

"Would you like to try?"

"Could you even hit me from where you are standing? Your aim is notoriously poor."

She smiled viciously, "You might like it even worse if I were to miss and hit your books."

She was correct there and she felt him release her. She took a step back, "Lieutenant."

He inclined his head, "Lieutenant."

He too stepped back and the door swung shut between them.

"Kirrel, I've finished," Kimmuriel said, Kirrel's book zipping back to it's spot on the bookshelf.

"Good," Kirrel said, not looking up from his own book, "Do you want to try it now, or read another in preparation?"

"...Read another," Kimmuriel said, getting up to fetch this one, for no reason other than to stretch. He could reach the books on the top shelf now without even levitating.

"Fix your hair, you look like a Braeryn orphan boy," his brother chided him when he glanced up at the movement.

Kimmuriel made a face at him and his hair began to rebraid itself.

"Put the book down if you will be like that and come here."

Kimmuriel hesitated but had no choice, not sure if he was about to face punishment for making a face.

When Kimmuriel was situated in front of him, Kirrel put away his own book, "It won't do to only guard your mind, you must also guard your features or anyone can tell what you're thinking, psionicist or not. So, we will practice. Keep a straight face no matter what."

Kimmuriel nodded and tried to make his face as carefully blank as his brother's.

Kirrel sat impassively for awhile then did something absolutely unheard of, he stuck out his tongue.

Kimmuriel was so taken aback that he laughed and grinned.

Kirrel jolted him just a little, "I said keep still."

Kimmuriel wrestled his features back into order in time for his brother to do it again.

"What sort of training is this? This is a game."

"Games are excellent ways to learn."

"You're the teacher," he said, pleased with this sort of training rather than the horrible drills he would be put through sometimes that made his nose bleed and his head hurt.

Kimmuriel didn't take long to keep his face impassive to Kirrel's little expressions so he made it harder, "Your sister smells like old mushrooms," he said all of a sudden.

Kimmuriel's face almost cracked, but just barely held.

Kirrel might admit this was less than dignified, but he had to appeal to the sensibilities of a youth if he were to properly train him in this, "Your bedroom guard has a butt face."

Kimmuriel lost it at this, laughing the wild laugh of a child and tipping right out of his chair.

Tega was silent walking back to the meeting room, accompanied by Shirik. Silent with a choice to make.

"So?" Jarlaxle asked when they had entered and shut the door, "What do you think? Is it our clever psionicist?"

Yes. He had not been at ease. He'd been trying to tell her something. Either he was the instigator or he knew something and was standing aside, each as bad as the last.

"No," she said, making her decision, "I don't think so."

Only Dritch and Jarlaxle caught her pained look which gave up as much as honestly.

Dirinar stood suddenly, "The ward is broken, it is beginning. We shall see where he goes."

Jarlaxle nodded, confident enough in his soldiers that he preferred to play this out and see what Dor'rolik was after.

"Kar'Dritch," he said, "Do not let Tega out of your sight."

Dritch nodded and stood beside her, "Yes, Captain, I give you my word."

Jarlaxle would not risk her facing off with the commander if he was after her, "Take her to my office, I will go and see what our darling commander Dor'rolik thinks he is doing in my home."

It had been a gamble, certainly, but Jarlaxle was interested in discovering if the guard had freed him or had been killed. The treachery would have disappeared into shadows if they'd simply murdered him.

Dritch took her by the wrist "Come now, Lieutenant," he said.

She looked a last time at Jarlaxle who smiled at her, the last of his team to leave, the three of them alone for a single moment.

"I will see you soon," he said to her, voice losing its Captain's edge, "This is but an entertaining diversion. I'll even let you remain in your chambers for the bloodshed afterward, when we have the traitors named."

"I'll see you soon, happy hunting."

His grin returned and he left with his soldiers.

"Come on," Dritch said, taking off through the corridors, hand wrapped around her wrist.

She pulled to a stop halfway up a hallway at a turn, "Dritch? This way, he said his office."

"My chambers will be safer, they won't expect you there."

"...his chambers have a score of armed guards and enough magic to fend off a small army." Was he simply being dim?

"My chambers, Tega."

She tried to pull her hand free from his grasp, the second time now that this had happened today, "Dritch?" She shot her hand into her pocket for the wand but found it empty.

"You are an easy mark," he said in velveteen softness, twirling her wand in his free hand, "No, no, don't go for that pendant. You know as well as I do you won't live through a direct hit." He poked her chest with the wand, releasing her wrist so he could take the pendant that called Jarlaxle off of her neck and toss it aside.

He hit her with the wand anyway, not as forcefully as he could have and she dropped to the ground with a scream, convulsing and unable to control her body.

He used the time to pocket that wand and draw another, the wand of teleportation Jarlaxle had given him.

"Now, Lieutenant, it is high time we leave."