Chapter 21
Kimmuriel sat in his brother's chambers, enjoying the physical and mental quiet of their time together studying. If he tried, he could hear what was like a low murmur from his brother's mind, but beyond that only the occasional flutter of one of them turning a page.
"You were quite impressive this morning," Kirrel said in that soft, even voice of his, "You kept what you were studying from Matron Kyorl, why?"
"I wanted to show you I could keep things from her. So you could stop keeping things from me."
"And you are certain I am keeping things from you?" He asked, continuing to read.
"Yes," Kimmuriel said, "I am sure."
"You were always smart," he said, almost gently, "Yes, I have kept secrets from you."
"You told me that we were allies."
"And we are, but you are young, Kimmuriel, if Matron Kyorl had not been convinced that you ought to stay under my tutelage you would still be in your first year at the Academy. She wanted to send you to Melee Magthere."
"The school for fighters?!" He squeaked and received a glare. He swallowed his alarm and modulated his tone, "The school for fighters? Why? That seems a waste of my ability."
"Yes, as I convinced her. You no doubt would have been killed if you did not submit yourself to some teacher."
He did as his brother had taught him and used psionics to force his face to remain cool when he wished to blush. "That would not have been in line with the dignity of house Oblodra. We do not so readily give in to the weaknesses of the rest of the city."
"That's correct," he said, "So here you remain. And you see that we are allies and that I am interested in you remaining undamaged."
"Why?" He asked.
"That's a good question, Kimmuriel," he said, "You are right to wonder why anyone prefers you undamaged. Because we are always going to be subservient to our mother and sisters. Our lives are in their hands."
"That doesn't answer my question," he whined.
His brother jolted him a bit and he repeated his comment in a better tone.
"It does, Kimmuriel, think."
Kimmuriel struggled with it, "...I suppose… I suppose that our sisters will always be our adversaries… and… I can't change that and nor can you. So… if we have a common adversary it is better to have aid."
His brother inclined his head, "Very good. But now I must caution you not to extend that trust to anyone else. There are those amongst our people who would betray you for the thrill alone."
"Then how do I know you aren't doing that?"
"You do not. By the nature of the question, you can never know."
"I could use psionics and look."
"Can you? Let us spar."
Kimmuriel sat for a long time, looking at a Jarlaxle who was as silent as he was. Jarlaxle drew a bottle from his desk drawer and poured two glasses of mushroom liquor. The second glass floated from his desk into Kimmuriel's outstretched hand. They both drank.
"Berginyon betrayed us."
"As did Kar'Dritch."
Silence fell again for a long time, both mercenaries lost in their own musings as they drank the liquor.
"They must have had someone to lead them."
"Gromph?" Jarlaxle put forward.
"It is possible," Kimmuriel hedged, "it would explain how Dor'rolik knew of Tega. Kar'Dritch to Gromph to Dor'rolik."
"If he learned his consort was from me he would have been angry."
"It was dangerous to post him there," Kimurriel shot, "Foolish to trust Kar'Dritch."
Jarlaxle didn't argue, although he wanted to, "... so now? What would you have me do?"
"She was indeed working on a project to better predict the outcome of house wars. A statistical project you understand. Not magic."
"I would be more surprised if she were dabbling in magic, although she's recently become fond of wands. She didn't tell me about the project."
"She is an academic," Kimmuriel defended, "She wished to test it first. It may have been nothing but chance. She had only been successful with wars she knew the outcome of. She wished to run tests with ongoing wars."
"I should find Lieutenants who are less similar," Jarlaxle complained.
"Such as Berginyon?"
"I believed he would be an asset."
"And?" Kimmuriel asked, knowing he was being too forward, "Has he proved himself to be an asset?"
"Possibly," Jarlaxle said, pouring himself another glass, "What do you suppose she is doing there now?"
"You mean if they are not torturing her for her information on the workings of the Bregan D'aerthe?" Kimmuriel asked coldly.
Jarlaxle held back a flinch, "Nothing she hasn't endured before."
"What do you know of what she has endured?"
"I know she has been a slave of the drow, a slave in Calimport. She came out ahead in both of those experiences."
"Ahead? Is surviving coming out ahead?"
"Yes," Jarlaxle said simply, "I would think you would agree with that. What would you do with her if you captured her?"
"Strip her mind of what I wanted."
"And if you didn't have a handy psion?"
"I am uncertain if torturing her would be productive, though that may not stop them from attempting it. As I said, her work was in its preliminary stages. They will need her to interpret for them, until they don't."
Jarlaxle mused, "They could not withstand a frontal assault from our army."
"You are not that foolish, even when you are desperate."
"I am never desperate."
The bottle lifted itself off the desk and poured more liquor into Kimmuriel's glass, which he drained in one, "The Khazir are highly prized by the Baenres. A frontal assault may upset our most profitable matrons."
"What do we gain by leaving her?"
Jarlaxle watched the small twitch of Kimmuriel's face before he answered, "You made her a lieutenant, what do you think she is capable of?"
"I would be interested in finding out," Jarlaxle said, "I do not think they will long keep her held in a prison. She is too adept at getting people to unlock her."
"She may join them earnestly," Kimmuriel said.
"Why would she do that? We are by far the superior mercenaries."
"And you believe she calculates her allies by their profit margins?"
"That can't hurt," Jarlaxle said with a small shrug.
"You're right that you are more powerful and capable than Dor'rolik."
"Stop flirting, Kimmuriel, this is hardly the time," Jarlaxle said, winking.
Kimmuriel ignored him and pressed on in a soft voice, keeping it even, "Even the best sword is useless if you cannot wield it."
"Then, Kimmuriel, you believe I am a sword she means to wield?" He asked, waggling his brows, "And what about you? Is she wielding your sword?"
Kimmuriel did not answer this and the two of them sat in renewed silence, the speed with which Jarlaxle drank another glass giving up that his flirting was more distraction than sincere.
"What will you do if she aligns herself with the Khazir, Captain?" Kimmuriel asked.
"What can I do? She knows far too much about the Bregan D'aerthe. I will kill her."
Tega lay in the overly soft bed looking up at the stone ceiling. She'd been the slave of a pasha before, she didn't need any time to adjust to the idea that a golden jail cell was still a jail cell. She had every possible amenity: rose scented water in a wash bowl, perfume, a bookshelf full of tomes, excellent clothes just to her liking. But still a jail cell.
She sat up when there was a knock and rose from the bed. She wouldn't be caught lying about.
She didn't give him the dignity of responding to the knock. She would not play that she was here voluntarily. Finally, unbeckoned, Dor'rolik came into her room.
"My dear, Tega," he said, sweeping back his hair, "I'm glad you're looking well."
"I cannot say the same to you," she responded in elvish.
That made him smile and he followed her into her own language. She was happy to note that he was rather poor with his pronunciations. "I had rather hoped we could discuss your work."
"Had you?" She wondered if he remembered her from before or only knew her as Jarlaxle's accountant. Jarlaxle's Lieutenant.
"I have had your papers collected. Not that we have gotten into the chest yet, you have it good and locked down, but I imagine that my wizards will be into it soon."
"Wizard you mean, you have but one," She asked daintily, as if she would have learned of him and not poked around about his enterprise.
His smile was icy for just a moment before he laughed, "You've done your homework."
She fixed him with a calculating look as he sat down on the bed beside her. "I am a mercenary, Dor'rolik."
"In spirit as well as in profession, I hope."
"Do you think academic training alone would allow one to become a lieutenant at the Bregan D'aerthe?"
He paused just a moment too long, he had not known she was a lieutenant. Jarlaxle's pet elf sure, a pet elf with a good head on her shoulders maybe, but to kidnap a lieutenant was an insult. Jarlaxle would certainly want to pay back that injury.
"Then you know a good deal when you hear one," he said quietly, looking down at his hands.
She let her eyes rest on the features that had so long been burned into her mind. She had some corrections to make. He'd become prettier and more terrible in her memories. She logged the inconsistencies for herself. He had a squarer jaw, a thinner nose. He'd changed his hair too, it had been long before, but now was a jaunty, stylish cut that fell around his cheeks.
"Yes," she said, switching to drow, "I will let you know when I hear one."
He laughed as he had when they tortured the little elf children, "Well then, how about I do you one better than letting you live? I'll double your salary, give you an armed escort so you can move freely."
"All for the price of the project."
"Not so great a price," he said with a shrug, "You've already done most of the work."
"Hm," she added, lost in thought for a moment, "You're not asking for an easy thing, Jarlaxle doesn't forget a slight."
He leaned in, eager for the kill, "I broke into his house, Tega, stole you, stole from his warehouse too. I am more than a match."
"And Kar'Dritch, is he working for you as well?"
"Yes, he saw clearly how to progress his career, spymaster is better than consort."
She logged that away, he had not been a consort in years, not since before working at the Baenre compound.
"I will want an office."
His grin became deadly and gleeful, "I hear you worked in Jarlaxle's. You can work in mine."
Is that how he saw himself? Jarlaxle rising? She shrugged, "I will not have you breathing down my neck the way he did."
That made him bark a laugh, "I don't have to give any of this to you, elf."
"Don't you?" she asked, "What else would you do? Kill me? Then you've made an enemy of Jarlaxle for no reason." He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off, "You could hand me over to your torturers of course, I doubt you still do that sort of thing yourself. But what would that gain?"
"It would gain what you know."
She laughed an earnest laugh, long enough for him to squirm in frustration, "I'm not relinquishing a name or a location, you think if you pry off my fingernails I will suddenly explain how to complete a mathematical project a century ahead of drow work?" She wasn't sure it was that advanced but she also wasn't sure he wouldn't believe her.
"...Your own office then."
"I would hate to lose rank," she pushed, "You gave Kar'Dritch a promotion."
He laughed genuinely this time, she could see why his soldiers liked him, he was earnest in a way drow often were not, "He did, well I have my lieutenants. Chief Strategist maybe."
"That sounds like a good deal, Commander Dor'rolik."
He put out his hand and she looked at it for awhile before shaking it. It was dry and rough under her skin, the hand of a swordsman. This was certainly the long game for him. If it weren't for him she would never have become someone he found valuable. How many weeks of pay would it take to recoup what he'd sold her for?
"Come with me, Tega, you'll find Ched Nasad to your liking, we are not nearly as Lloth abiding as our sisters to the north, there are more non-drow, you'll like it here."
She smiled and got up, letting him lead her, for the first time, out of her room. These halls were not nearly as winding or complicated as those of the Bregan D'aerthe, they were blocky mostly, and of a slightly different stone.
It didn't take long to reach his office, set high in the complex with crystal windows that let one see the whole glittering city. It was certainly beautiful. She liked the view.
"Tell me about the city while we wait for your wizard to bring my things," she said. She didn't often use the authoritative voice of a female drow, but did now, smoothing it out a bit and easing off the demanding edge it usually had.
He came up to stand at her shoulder, she could feel the warmth of his chest as he spoke, "The first house, there you see it, upside down in the west corner, they control half the city, the Dunodans. They do a brisk trade."
"In what?"
"Spices mostly and mushrooms from all over."
"And the second house?"
"The Ugundans, there it is, the low one, don't be deceived, it digs deep into the earth. I worked with them once in my life."
"On to bigger and better things now," she said, letting him have a little fuel for his ego.
"Oh yes, far more things interesting."
The wizard entered with a knock, and they turned from the window. He was certainly a petit thing, and young, she wondered if he would even be out of Sorcere if he were in Menzoberranzan. The end of one of his ears was missing and an ugly burn scar swept down the side of his face, just touching his lips.
He dropped the chest on the ground, open, "I"ve got it, sir. I opened it."
"Excellent work, Myradin," Dor'rolik said with a smile for him, "You are always clever."
"I see she took your offer, you must be pleased."
"Oh yes, come closer, let me introduce you, Tega, this is my First Wizard Myradin, Myradin, this is our newest weapon, Chief Strategist Tega."
He bowed slightly to her, "It is an honor to meet you, madame."
She touched his chin, lifting it so he met her eyes, something she had seen female drow do when they wanted to express gratitude to a male, "I assure you, the honor is mine, those locks were set by Jarlaxle himself." This was not quite the truth, she'd set the locks and it wasn't one of her specialties, "You must be a prodigious boy."
He was not insulted at all at being called a boy, but rose up proudly, "They weren't that hard even."
Dor'rolik watched the exchange carefully, "Myradin, you may go."
"Yes, sir," he nodded at them again and took his leave.
"You like them young," he said, something in his voice.
She could feel the retorts under her skin but she held them in check, "I prefer them paler."
"Ah," he laughed, "Not hungry for the skin of the drow? Well that can be arranged."
"I suppose it can," she said and took the packet of papers from her open chest and handed them over, "Here. Your weapon."
She enjoyed watching him scramble through it, as he got deeper his nose wrinkled and brow furrowed. He handed them back, "So who do we attack?"
"That will take time. I'll need more information about the city first. There are a number of variables I must consider."
"What do you need to accomplish that?"
"A small team should suffice. Khazir insignia if it will buy me anything."
"No one will hassle you if you wear it, I'll get you a uniform."
"I'll need the team to be intelligent if you can spare them."
"Of course I can spare them, I have enough intelligent soldiers, you may take what you like."
She tilted her head to the side a little, as she'd seen Kimmuriel do a thousand times when he was considering something of moderate interest, "I wouldn't doubt that, Dor'rolik."
"Commander Dor'rolik."
She inclined her head, "Commander Dor'rolik."
"I'll get you that uniform."
"And Commander," she said when he was in the doorway.
He turned back, "Yes?"
"I'll need details about your own operation as well."
He hesitated, "You will need to prove your loyalty somewhat before I can offer you that."
"As you wish, but I can hardly tell you about any war without it."
He glowered and left the office without giving an answer.
The crack of rock broke the silence in their little enclave, Kirrel putting out his hand to still Kimmuriel, "Did you hear that?"
Kimmuriel nodded and reached out with his mind to the world beyond this room. The soldiers were scrambling, power was bursting.
"Are we under attack, Kirrel?"
"I believe we are."
"They will be no match for us," Kimmuriel said assuredly.
"If the Baenres are besieging us as I fear they are then do not be so sure. But come, it is time for your training to be put to the test."
The wild rage of the battle almost knocked Kimmuriel back the moment his brother opened his door. Kimmuriel had never before been in a battle. He grunted and shoved a dying soldier away from him with his mind, following his brother up the winding steps that already were slick with blood.
The wall beside them blew apart, stone flying around them but thanks to their quick reaction, not hitting either of them but flying wide.
Kirrel looked out at the troops marching upon their stronghold and a psionic wave dropped upon them, knocking them back.
Kimmuriel seized one of their minds and struck down her fellows before she was overpowered. He had not prepared for war. His breath was coming so fast his throat was starting to hurt.
His sisters were on the parapets doing their worst and he wanted nothing more than to run.
"Come, Kimmuriel, this way, we must find a vantage point."
He raced along after him, choking on the smell of blood in the air.
Tega stood in her room, now slightly less of a jail cell, and looked herself over in the mirror. She'd never worn anything quite so drow as this Khazir uniform. The high, stiff collar would take some getting used to, and the tight, thick fabric. It was some sort of snug armor she thought, in the female style that was less provocative than the male. Chief Strategist indeed. The sharp Khazir insignia glinted on her chest.
She touched the gem by the door that called herself a servant. It was a nice touch.
There was a gentle knock and the servant entered, eyes downcast. She was younger than Tega and not a drow, a surface elf slave.
Tega didn't speak for a moment, caught off guard by her and her dark hair and bronze skin that shone in the lamplight.
"Madame? You called? How might I serve you?"
She regarded her too long and the girl looked up.
"Please bring me the wizard Myradin," she said softly.
"Yes, madame," Tega could almost smell her hatred. Orders from a drow must be bad enough, orders from a fellow elf surely stung.
She slid from the room, away for only a few minutes before returning with the young mage.
"Come inside," Tega said, "Both of you."
She watched the girl's nose wrinkle for just a moment, perhaps anticipating why someone might want them both.
They did as they were bade and allowed Tega to close the door.
"I read through your papers," Myradin said excitedly, "I could hardly make sense of them, where were you trained?"
"An academy on the surface," she said, "and you?"
He cherished being asked, "A tutor that my mother imported from Menzoberanzan, one of the best available."
"You're young, I'm surprised he was done with you."
"He was not, my- my house fell. Dor'rolik arranged it actually, he said he wanted me as his wizard."
"An honor?"
He shrugged, "Yes, an honor."
"Perhaps you wish you'd been able to finish your studies."
"Certainly," he looked at his shoes, uncomfortable looking her in the eye, "There are no wizards here to teach me either."
"You'll stagnate. Even mediocre wizards will outstrip you if you don't push forward."
He fired up, "I do not need to be reminded of that."
"What do you plan to do about it?"
"..." he eyed her, took a steadying breath and asked, "Are there wizards at the Bregan D'aerthe?"
"Yes," she said, "Excellent wizards, and a library."
"A library?" He asked hungrily, "Ched Nasad has some but they're all in the big houses so I can't get into them."
"It would be a pity to waste your talent," she said, feeling a bit like Jarlaxle.
"Why did you join up with Dor'rolik then?" he asked, "It seems like a step down."
She walked away from him a few steps, stood before the mirror and watched both of them in its reflection, "Dor'rolik caused the fall of my house as well."
"He did? On the surface?"
She drew the bracelet out of her pocket and held it up, "Yes, a long time ago."
The slave girl's eyes shone, clinging to the bracelet, but she had the good sense to stay quiet.
"So you came for revenge?" He asked.
"Among other things."
"Why tell me? I could report you."
"And then?" She asked.
"And then what?"
"And then stay here with the commander? Opening chests for him? What else does he have you doing? A mage of your ability should be training with the best wizards money can buy."
He bit his lip and looked so very young when he did, "...Do you think Captain Jarlaxle will come for you?"
"Yes," she said simply, "It's a matter of time."
"And do you think that perhaps if… If I were to assist you in your revenge… do you think you could ask Jarlaxle to see to my education?"
She found the request so adorable, a boy almost playing drow, looking for a good teacher. And she was sure Jarlaxle would love him, a little mage primed to be excellent if someone could just look after him a little? This was exactly what Jarlaxle liked best.
"Oh yes, he would probably enjoy being asked."
"That's why you asked me here, to get me to help you."
"Of course, but to help you too. I believe it will be mutually beneficial."
"Let me know what you need me to do."
"First, I need a short list of soldiers who might be willing to come to the Bregan D'aerthe if the Khazir were to fall."
"I'll have it done, madame!" he said, excitement evident in his voice, "Am I dismissed?"
"You're dismissed."
He shot from the room, leaving the elf girl alone with her to shut the door again.
She approached Tega cautiously, "I recognize that bracelet."
Tega barely recognized her, but she almost began to cry none-the-less, "You must have been so small when it happened."
The girl's chin shook and she nodded, "I don't remember it very well."
"What's your name? I'm sorry I don't remember, you were a child, you look so different."
"Hala."
Tega did cry then, she remembered Hala, precocious and silly, bolting around their home looking for bugs and beetles, "You mother was Ailala."
She inhaled sharply and touched the golden bracelet Tega still held, "Is that why you've come? To bring us home?"
"Yes."
Kirrel and Kimmuriel felt more than heard their mother's death screech. It rocked the whole building.
"It's over then; we've lost," Kirrel said. Even in the face of this his voice was even, "There are few options for us. Adoption by the attacking house if they'll allow it."
"They won't," a cold voice said, a Baenre soldier illuminated in the hole blasted in the wall. He charged, sword flashing.
Kirrel held up his hands and blocked the assault with his mind, pressed back. The soldier's sword caught in midair and splintered, energy shook back through it and Kirrel pulled his hand closed, the drow soldier gasping for breath before going still.
But he was not alone. An army of soldiers flooded in, swords held aloft, coming for their lives.
Kirrel and Kimmuriel stood with their backs to the wall, watching them come.
A sword swung down toward Kimmuriel who blocked it as his brother had. The wall behind them shook. Kimmuriel glared at the soldier as he struck again. Kimmuriel saw his death coming for him, approaching with the flash of a soldier's sword. He screeched and unstoppable energy blasted off of him, shattering the rock at his back and tearing apart the bodies all around him.
His nose was bleeding and he was shaking with it was done. The soldiers around him reduced do mangled flesh. He turned to Kirrel, but he was gone, replaced by a bloody, wrent body haphazardly wrapped in his robes.
"Kirrel?" he whispered, "Anyone?"
"What a show that was," a smooth, male voice spoke from the broken wall.
He looked up to see a flashily dressed male, slim in his high cut vest and jaunty hat.
He raised his hand to strike again.
"No no," the male said, "I'd advise against it. And I'd advise against lingering too. I don't think you can stand many more attacks like that. More soldiers are coming."
"Who are you?"
"My name is Jarlaxle, come with me."
Shirik liked the quiet of the Wilds, preferred it to the bustle of the city. He was upside down, astride his favorite lizard, Moxa. He had left early, before the archmage had ever lit Narbondel. His absence would just be being noticed. They'd report him to Jarlaxle. He tried to ignore that. They wouldn't send out a hunting party, they would know that a team of second class trackers couldn't capture him, he was always the best. It had been why Lieutenant Tega had selected him for her team.
He eased Moxa over the edge of a cavern, her claws silent, not waking the mother hook horror that he could smell lurking beneath them.
He had joined her coup for a reason, she had lowered the body count of their wars and increased the profits. Jarlaxle trusted her. Shirik had spent time in Ched Nasad before he had joined the Bregan D'aerthe and was familiar with Dor'rolik in reputation. He was wily. He didn't like Tega's odds particularly. He wanted to go and get help.
It didn't hurt that this self-assigned adventure required crossing the Wilds and sniffing out one of the only other drow ever known for surviving the Wilds.
The silence was so complete that it felt like pressure on his ears, pressure he had always liked. He smiled broadly into the dark, energy shivering through his chest as he patted Moxa to move a little faster. He would need to make record time to the surface. He could not take weeks to make it where he had to go. But then he didn't have a little troup of 15 loud fighter graduates tromping scared witless to some raid. Just him and Moxa as he liked it.
He didn't camp until Moxa was sluggish, getting her to take them into a little crevice the two of them could only barely fit in. He smiled again as he snuggled up on her soft belly, munching rations and poking some into her mouth too, she drooled on his hand as she ate what he offered. He loaded his crossbow and secured it to his arm, arranging himself so it would be in the face of anything that might crawl in after them so he could rest.
Even so secure he did not rest long, full of energy for the adventure, and Moxa was a twin in spirit and didn't like remaining idle long. Soon they were zipping on her clawed feet through the winding tunnels, sometimes fitting through holes so small he had to unpack her and pull each bag up on its own, climbing himself after she shoved her way through.
It was impossible to track time for sure, but he had a fairly good internal Narbondel and though he was making pretty good time. He couldn't help but sway on the back of Moxa as they moved. Even if Jarlaxle had sent soldiers after him he was at least a week ahead of them. It helped that he was absolutely miniscule, something the females he'd grown up around had always teased and flirted with him over.
Well no one was here to tease and flirt now. Just the creatures they crept passed like something a little less material than a shadow.
He did regretfully have to get to a more real road near the end so he could actually find the thing. It was supposed to be a secret but they'd been at war here not all that long ago, he wasn't about to forget the route.
He munched on dried rothe jerky and hung where he was, upside down again and looking at the big door.
He could break in and find him. The thrill of that made him urge Moxa forward a little. But it was also stupid. The place was packed to the brim with dwarves who didn't like drow much, he didn't speak dwarvish or any other fancy language, and he was no expert fighter who could hold his own against the renegade if it came to it. Did what he was doing make himself a renegade as well? Could one as low born as him even be a renegade?
He knocked, after a fashion, hucking a rock at the door.
It did not take long to open, a squat, broad dwarf shoving it open and staring around. Shirik waved.
"What day is it?" he asked in excitement, wanting to know his time through the Wilds. But he spoke in drow, so the dwarf did not answer, just lifted a crossbow much bigger than his own and roared something at him.
He put his hands up, well down, he was upside down. "Drizzt!" he shouted, hoping to avoid a confrontation.
The dwarf did not lower that crossbow so he nudged Moxa to begin edging away. He yelled something at Shirik in his own heavy language.
Well growing up in the slums of Menzoberranzan and working in the Wilds had not taught him an array of languages and he was helpless here at the last leg of his journey.
He led Moxa down the rock, leaving her back, out of range for that crossbow, and dismounted, approaching on foot and right side up.
"Drizzt?" he asked again.
The dwarf looked him up and down, unsure if this tiny drow was just small or if it was a child. All elves with their beardless faces looked a little like children anyway so it was hard to tell. He was certainly shorter than Drizzt.
He lowered his crossbow and beckoned the drow forward.
Shirik didn't really have any other good options. He'd come this far and if he returned empty handed Jarlaxle would run him through. So he stepped forward and let the dwarf search him and take his dirk and crossbow. He pointed at Moxa and mimed drinking. The dwarf nodded and Shirik beckoned her forward to also submit to a search that found nothing other than his change of clothes and provisions.
Shirik tried to look as Lieutenant Tega-like as possible, cute and non-threatening, and smiled at the dwarf. He looked more wary than before but did bring them inside where they were soon flanked by three more dwarves and led up the hallways.
They must have been mining down here because the air was thick with the clang of metal on stone which hurt his ears and made him wish for the silence of the wilds.
He frowned and held his hands over his ears for the duration of their walk up through the mines. But it was only worse as they climbed. Sure the noise got better but now that they were up into a mountain there were windows cut into the walls and beams of light shot in, blinding him and practically making his knees buckle. The dwarf behind him poked him forward. He stumbled and almost fell he was so disoriented. They'd left Moxa behind at the doorway but he wished he had her here to push his face against and hide it from this terrible, piercing light.
Some dwarf shouted at him and he could tell from the echoes they were in a new room but he couldn't see anything and his head was pounding. He tried opening his eyes in a squint and looking but the sun made him gasp in pain.
"Please, I came to speak to Drizzt. I need help," he said, "Drizzt."
A slender hand touched his shoulder, which made him jump. It lead him somewhere else and, when a door closed, he was returned to the merciful dark. He opened his eyes again and looked at his guide, the renowned, lavender-eyed run away, Drizzt Do'urden.
"You came looking for me? Who are you?" Drizzt asked, his voice wary even if it was delicate.
He was glad to hear his own language again, "What day is it? I've been in the Wilds."
"Alone?"
"It's how I prefer it."
"How old are you?" he asked, "You look young."
"I'm not so young, younger than you by a few years perhaps. What day is it?"
"It's the sixth day of Highsun. But you didn't tell me your name?" Drizzt was frowning in the face of this confusing, jumpy conversation.
Shirik whooped, "Thirteen days! I made it in thirteen days!"
"Thirteen days? Where were you coming from?"
"Menzoberranzan, the Bregan D'aerthe."
"You got here in thirteen days? Your count must be off."
He shrugged, "I'm using your date."
"Yes but what are you starting from?" Drizzt shook his head, "It doesn't matter."
"Sure it does, I want to know if I made a record time."
"...Why? Who are you?"
"Shirik. I'm a scout for the Bregan D'aerthe. I've come here to find you."
"Why? I have no interest in joining the Bregan D'aerthe."
"Wish you would, though, Jarlaxle would be pretty pleased with me if I could bring you down. Bet he'd make you a lieutenant."
"...Shirik," he said, patient only because no threat had been leveled yet, "Why have you come?"
"Your friend Tega, you remember her."
"Of course, she helped me escape with my friend."
"Right, Artemis, I remember him. Lieutenant Tega likes him I think."
"Lieutenant? She doesn't seem suited for that - and no, not Arte- not Entreri. He is no friend of mine."
"You're the one who called him your friend. Don't you like humans? They're not that much different than dwarves, taller I guess."
"I never called him my friend, you did. I meant my friend Catti-brie, she's a human too. His not being my friend is by nature of his personality, not his race."
"His personality being that he smells like sweat?"
"Humans… smell like that sometimes. It's hardly their fault."
"Does your friend Catti-brie smell like that sometimes?" He decided he liked Drizzt, he was funny, and he always felt a little chatty when he was fresh returned from the silent Wilds.
Drizzt blushed, "No- well- as I said - Why have you come, Shirik?"
"Tega needs you. She's been kidnapped."
Drizzt stiffened, "Kidnapped? By who?"
"A rival mercenary named Dor'rolik. He wants something out of her."
"I'm sure Jarlaxle will see to her release. He seemed fond of her."
"His office guards told me he was not. He wants to see if she will do something productive while she is there. They're worried."
Drizzt looked suspicious and surprised, "They're worried for her? Drow?"
"Of course they are."
"That is not in line with the drow mercenaries I am familiar with. Most drow I knew would be more than happy to see an elf cut down."
"Why? She's nice to have around. We get raises more often now. And there are fewer combat deaths. Drizzt, you should see her supply trains when she does all the logistics."
"So she is profitable for you?" he asked darkly.
"Why are you so worried about why I want her saved? Don't you want her saved? She helped save you and your friend Artemis- Cattie who ever."
"Catti-brie."
"Human names are confusing."
"You're right, she did save my life. Where is she?"
"In Ched Nasad. It's a slave hub you know."
"...is it?" he asked.
"Yes, since they do so much trade out of there. It's full of surface elf brothels and workhouses and stuff."
"...You mean to take me there, to help her?"
"Of course, that's why I came all the way here."
"Take me then."
Author's Note:
Well I am at the end of my long weekend! So I will, by necessity, slow down the updates. I am hoping for one every week or so until I finish, but work is well... work. So here's to hoping.
I love hearing what you guys liked or characters you took a shine to!