Pemmiraj'Kaix looked up from his book as Sailanshin trotted past. Sailanshin was an image of drow perfection in a male, all surety in his own deadly power. A sword hung from his hip with the easy comfort that came from familiarity.

He almost tripped in his haste to keep up with him. "What were you doing?" Kaix asked, his voice low. Sailanshin had been heavily involved with the Tith'Rix family lately, and having private discussions with Priestess Ondalia. He had the creeping feeling that he would be involved somehow.

Sailanshin rolled his eyes and cast Kaix with a lofty expression that reminded Kaix all too much of his personal failings. He'd never measure up to Sailanshin. The elder brother said, "Suppose this might be a lesson, Kaix. What do you know of my errand, and what can you surmise from it?"

He paused as he stewed over the answer. Sailanshin had gone to Tith'rix, presumably to entice a former lover to bed. What had been her name? It didn't matter-he had gotten into the house. What did he know of Tith'rix? Not much; despite that the Tith'rix family had more money than they had ever had, he didn't really care to learn much about commoners.

Had he planted some delightful surprise there? Or had he been delivering some kind of message? Or something more interesting?

Think. What did Lady Ondalia want from Tith'rix? What would be to gain in destroying their family? It would turn their social class on their head and create a power vacuum if they were gone, which would be good for the commonfolk, he imagined. But where was the gain for Ondalia, unless she had previously allied with another merchant family? Why, though? Or did this go the other way? Had Tith'rix reached out to Ondalia?

Perhaps it was her trade routes. She had been looking for surface routes to procure more slaves. That seemed awfully mundane though. He sighed. "I assume it has to do with the slave pits."

"You're an idiot, then. Pull your face out of those books once in a while and look around you," Sailanshin said coldly.

Kaix smoldered. "Wizards have to read."

He snorted. "You really should have pursued fighting."

"The family doesn't need two swordsmen, and you're good enough at it," he muttered. He left unsaid that he was no competition for Sailanshin in swordplay. His only safe bet in the family was wizardry. But what Sailanshin had not said-had never needed to say-was that Kaix wasn't really smart enough to be a wizard.

Sailanshin was silent a long moment. "Kaix? You never wished to study wizardry. Did I ever tell you I wanted to be a paladin?"

Kaix blinked in surprise. "What?"

He nodded. "Yes. But we are limited by our station and our sex, Kaix. Make the best of it."

The younger nodded, but his shoulders sagged. Sailanshin was perfect, from his looks to his mannerisms, to his intelligence, to say nothing of his grace with the sword. His elder brother just didn't understand.

Worse, if Sailanshin, perfect as he was, couldn't be what he had really wanted in life, what hope did Kaix have?

#

Eilora snorted. "So Aestith went out with four drow last night and came back around dawn?"

Kairon nodded. "I keep saying, we'd make a ton of money if Aestith were a courtesan."

Aestith glared from the top of the stairs. "Good afternoon."

Eilora blanched, then called to her honey badger as she bustled out the door. Tim said, "We heard that Emerick's bar burned down."

"Did you now."

Kairon stared at Aestith. "You had nothing to do with it, I gather."

Aestith smiled sweetly and went to make tea. Tim forced a grin. "Kairon and I went out to look at bakeries this morning. We were thinking of expanding to offering more sweets. Anyway, we got you a funnel cake."

Aestith slowly turned toward him, lips curled in disgust. His eyes fell to the funnel cake on its china plate. It was covered in white sugar. The Underdark had few sweet things, so far from easy access to sugar; he had tasted sweet foods a handful of times before he had come here and found them to be too much for palate. "I hate sweets."

Tim's face fell. "Oh, well we just thought…"

He sighed. "I bake nearly every morning, and you've never once noticed that I don't put sugar in any of my cooking?"

Tim glanced at Kairon. "No."

"I don't eat your cooking," Kairon said. Aestith sneered and turned back to the tea. Kairon sat down in a chair. "You know, Aestith, we really don't know anything about you."

"Well, you don't ask," the drow snapped.

Kairon nodded sagely. "Fair. So, Aestith, tell me about yourself."

He measured out tea leaves. "What do you wish to know, Kairon?"

The tiefling's tail twitched as he considered. "What kind of food do you like? You hate cake and cookies, so what do you like? Chocolate?"

"Absolutely not." His older sister, Haeltania, had once told him that if he ever wished to hide the flavor of something, to put it in chocolate.

"You like peppermint."

Aestith almost laughed. "I like the smell. And making peppermints is a rather relaxing activity. But no. I don't actually like eating it." The scent of peppermint also masked the smell of anything.

"What's your favorite meal?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "I like a good deep rothe steak, still bloody. Or a curry." He set the kettle on the stove to boil.

Kairon nodded in agreement. "I gotta say, I do love steak."

Tim bobbed his head like a parakeet. "Agreed, but I really like a good stew."

Aestith picked up a teacup. The others were silent, perhaps expecting him to carry on the conversation; he did not. After a silence long enough for Aestith to select a tea and the water to start boiling, Tim said, "So tell me about…" He scrambled for anything he knew about Aestith. "About Lolth."

The cleric frowned and glanced at him over his shoulder. "What?"

Tim shrugged weakly. "Well, I don't even know the name of my patron."

Kairon and Aestith slowly turned toward Tim. The tiefling said, "Tim. You sold your soul to something and you don't even know its name?"

"Well, the temple handled all the paperwork. I just thought it was something you do."'

"Where are you from again?"

"Thay."

Suddenly, Tim's quirks could be viewed with greater clarity. The kettle whistled and Aestith tended it. He said, "Kairon, what is your god? I make no secret of mine. And don't say 'Helm.'"

He shrugged. "I do my thing, he does his. We have an understanding."

Aestith raised an eyebrow. "It's a demon, isn't it."

"I never said that."

Tim turned eagerly to Kairon. "Do you know its name?"

Kairon sighed. "Yes. Because I worship an equivalent of a god."

"Which greater demon?" Aestith said.

Kairon's face twisted into a pained expression. "Mephistopheles." Aestith raised an eyebrow; it explained much about him.

"Do you think the demon I pacted to could be related?"

"That isn't something he would concern himself with." He sighed. "Tim, perhaps you don't know its name because demons don't like giving up their true names, because it gives you power over them."

Tim was silent a long moment as he contemplated how he had sold his soul to something for the ability to cast a few spells. Aestith commented, "The three of us owe our abilities to another, for it is not through our own power that we cast spells, but through their grace. You owe your patron your allegiance for that." He stared at Kairon.

The tiefling made a face, but Tim seemed thoughtful. "What does that mean?" Tim said.

Aestith shrugged. "I suppose for each deity, or patron, what they wish of their followers is different. I cannot tell you how to contact or worship your patron. They're all so different."

"How do you do it?"

Aestith poured the tea into a cup. "Sacrifice. Daily prayer and meditation. My eternal devotion and servitude." He set the teapot down and looked at Kairon. He lifted his cup. "Perhaps you should be more grateful to your god, Kairon. Without it, where would you be?"

He sneered. Tim said, "But how would I contact my patron?"

The cleric sighed. The tea was still too hot to drink. "I don't know. I'm not a warlock."

Tim frowned and glanced at Kairon. "You're like a fiend, right? What if I pacted to you instead?"

Kairon's fingers clenched, caught in some kind of internal struggle. Aestith said, "Tim. You can cast spells because your patron gives you an amount of their own power. Kairon gets his power from another. You would stand little to gain by that."

Kairon's lips curved into a sneer, hate reflected in his eyes. Was he really so offended at the thought of not having that kind of power for himself? Interesting. "Does anyone want lunch?" the tiefling said as he rose from the barstool.

"I could eat," Tim said.

Aestith cautiously sipped the tea. "What are you making?"

He started to say something, then gave a dim nod to Aestith. "I was thinking steak."

Aestith blinked in surprise. "I suppose that would do." He watched Kairon prepare it, and each of them discussed different foods from their respective homes. Aestith lamented that he missed the cheeses in the Underdark. He waxed poetic about how they set better because the environments were easier to control, and he particularly missed deep rothe cheese. Cheese was one of the few things that he and each of his cohorts agreed upon, so there was usually a fair amount of it in the Traveler's Club at any given point.

"You know, Aestith, I think this is the most I've ever heard you talk," Tim commented. "More than a few sentences anyway."

Aestith fell silent and stuffed the last piece of steak into his mouth. He picked up the plate and went to the kitchen. Kairon muttered, "Way to ruin it, Tim."

"What?"
Aestith took a long, deep breath. If he was being this open with those two of all people, about Enainsi, he must really be homesick.

The newspapers were filled with talk about the failure of the tower. The stolen residuum was not mentioned at all, likely because it was presumed buried in the rubble. The heist went unnoticed, or at least unreported, until the day after-nearly two full days after the heist. Well done, Xaiviryn.

Aestith stepped out into the sunlight, and contemplated purchasing a parasol. A hat would ruin his hair, but all this sunlight couldn't be good for his complexion.

Xaiviryn's stolen residuum and temple gold was smuggled out of Waterdeep in pieces. Xaiviryn was rather busy and Aestith himself was uninterested in much beyond his temple. He purchased land just out of Waterdeep, past the farms and hidden behind trees. The Piece arranged a meeting with an architect that did some of their own work. The undertaking would be time-heavy and a slow process, but Aestith was patient in this regard; it needed to be done right.

He had his own dreams and visions of it, and Honest Jack was able to put things into a more realistic perspective. For one, there would need to be a road out to the construction site so the workers and the equipment could make it out there. After that, there were all sorts of other minor complications that could crop up. Then of course, there was the matter of building permits, and what kind of things Aestith would claim was being built instead of the secret chambers and rooms.

Aestith left Honest Jack to draw up plans. He went to a bank to make a deposit and setup an arrangement so Honest Jack could use the funds without Aestith paying him directly.

In the sunlight, Aestith squinted down the street, trying to stay in the narrower, darker side streets and alleys to avoid the glaring light of the day. Despite his efforts, some light was unavoidable. Drow stood out in such places, despite how much smaller he was than the humans around him. They avoided the one with the long white hair pulled back in braids with the dark skin, except for one.

"Aestith!" someone said and sidled beside him.

"Hi, Arcedi," Aestith said. He was a convert, because he said that Aestith's faith inspired him. It would do.

Arcedi grinned, pale lips pulled back over white teeth. "What are you doing?"

"I was just running an errand. Come home with me?" Aestith smiled, letting Arcedi know by his expression what he had in mind.

Arcedi nodded, pleased at the idea. If not for the way Arcedi behaved, Aestith might have been able to look past the moon elf tattoos that ran from his left temple all the way down to his ankle in a stylized night sky. He could even look past his mess of hair-mostly loose, some thin braids, odd thin dreadlocks-feathers, beads of every sort, wire, all fitted into his hair with a third of it by his left ear shaved. Any time someone asked about his hair, he gave a different answer. Aestith could even say that he liked the way his own grey skin looked against Arcedi's leacustic skin. But the moon elves had not trained him to reign in his impulses.

Aracnelxeth was entertaining in his way, but even the twenty minute walk to the townhouse felt longer; he was annoying.

Arcedi liked to juggle, and had a set of colored juggling balls he would play with as he walked. It drew attention, and sometimes someone would flip him a coin, which he expertly incorporated into the juggling balls before he pocketed it. If he wasn't doing that, he would play a beaten viol, or he would dance to any music a street player would play. If he could somehow prevent himself from doing any of these activities, then he would talk incessantly and with passion about whatever subject came to mind. His stories were often long and rambling, and told out of order. He laughed the most at his own jokes and worse puns. He thought it was funny to magically alter a logo on a cart to something more obscene.

If it were all an act to keep people thinking he was a moon elf, Aestith would not be so irritated; it wasn't an act.

The house had come furnished-though the rents were high due to his race-and Aestith had moved everything from the bedroom into the living room to make room for his laboratory. That door was padlocked and had a glyph placed on the floor, and the front was reinforced.

Aestith put an end to Arcedi's talking.

He left the pale drow naked on the bed and went to check on his mushroom spores and begin the next batch. A knock at the front door drew him out. Had they been too loud and the neighbors complained? Ridiculous; Aestith was nearly entirely silent in bed.

Aestith poked his head out. "Arcedi, can you get it?"

The pale drow shrugged and yanked on his trousers. He neglected to lace them and wandered toward the door. Aestith turned back to his mushrooms. The carefully labeled jars would need to sit for a month on their shelf before the alcohol extract was usable, though twenty days was a minimum. The water extract was faster to produce, but not nearly as effective and had a much shorter shelf life; Aestith preferred a double extract, and so did Adam apparently. Soaking the mushrooms for a month in a high proof vodka and then boiling removed most of the hallucinogenic properties from the mushroom itself, but the finely chopped pieces could be strained, dried, and used sparingly in some foods. Nothing wasted. In general, he didn't even have to sacrifice the spores, and each spore could make a mushroom, and each mushroom produced many spores. The results were cultivated in small glass terrariums on a sturdy bookshelf. They had never seen daylight. It would take decades to get anything remotely like he had grown up with, but it was a start. If anything, keeping them in the terrariums, while he could only ever realistically have small batches rather than the massive production of the Tith'rix family, meant they were easier to monitor, neutralize if need be, and carefully tend in an easily controlled environment.

"Arcedi, I didn't realize you knew Aestith."

Aestith froze, eyes wide. He stepped back into the laboratory and removed his gloves. He pulled the mask off of his face and took a deep, calming breath. He tried to hastily finger-comb his hair, then placed the heavy apron on its peg.

Arcedi replied, "Zelvier. Thought you'd be leaving."

"I wanted to see Aestith before I left."

Arcedi pulled the door open. Xaiviryn was in that damned hat again. Arcedi stepped back, arm out inviting. Xaiviryn strode inside and Arcedi shut the door. The disguise shed like discarded clothing. They made a beautifully contrasted pair.

Aestith crossed his arms. "I appreciate you dropping by. Uninvited and without being told I rent this place. What's the occasion?"

He glanced at the unnatural setup in the parlor. "I have a gift for you in my townhouse." He glanced at Arcedi. "If you're busy, I suppose you can come by later, though I plan on leaving in the morning with the tide if I am not delayed."

Aestith hoped his discomfort did not show. "You aren't interrupting anything."

Xaiviryn's gaze flicked past Aestith, to the rumpled bed, and back at Arcedi. A faint wisp of a smile sat smugly on the pale drow's face. Xaiviryn tilted his head. "Well, Arcedi, I would have thought Aestith would be too much for you."

"I imagine Aestith is really precisely what you would most prefer, though, isn't he?"

Xaiviryn blinked. "He?"

Arcedi's eyebrows rose in mock surprise. "You never actually asked Aestith how he thought of himself, did you? You just made assumptions."

Xaiviryn's lips curved into the beginnings of a sneer, then he smirked. For a fleeting moment, Aestith was almost glad that Xaiviryn had attributed "she" when thinking of Aestith; not because it was self-affirming to him, but because of what that meant in their culture, to be replaced by a hard lump in his stomach. Or did he not give him that? "No, I suppose there were always other things on my mind, with little space for such trivialities. I'm glad that he can talk to you, though."

Aestith's teeth clenched. "You can either end your petty conflicts now, or take it outside. I've no interest in it."

Xaiviryn smiled. "But I have interest in it." He glanced at Arcedi. "Several interests, in fact, if the albino is willing."

Arcedi bristled, and Aestith thought the other would storm out in a huff of indignance, but he stepped forward. "Aestith?" His earnest expression could have been taken as either a plea to end this line of discussion, or else as invitation, and Aestith could not, on Arcedi's pale raised-by-faeries face, distinguish the two. Arcedi's tattooed features twisted. "I don't want him to touch me."

Xaiviryn smirked. "I've no desire for you, fae."

There was no higher insult than to call a drow a fae, and if Arcedi knew, he only glared. Aestih said, "If the two of you are going to fight, please take your clothes off before you do-it will be more entertaining."

But the leucistic drow had long ago submitted to Aestith's will. He said, "Would it please you?"

Aestith smiled. "Well, if it is to be like that, you had best undress, Xaiviryn." Aestith gestured. "Arcedi, please help him."

Arcedi slunk toward Xaiviryn, subservient as he ever had been to Aestith. Despite their exchange, Xaiviryn's fingers ran over Arcedi, a smirk on his lips daring Arcedi to push him away against the cleric's wishes. Arcedi only tolerated it; his interest in males was only the same way that Aestith occasionally liked a sandwich. His movements were dutiful, at the first, kneeling to unlace Xaiviryn's boots, then Xaiviryn lifted him up, bent his head and kissed Arcedi's pale neck. A short, startled gasp escaped his throat-a noise Aestith recognized as a pleasant sound.

Xaiviryn may have touched and groped Arcedi, but he watched Aestith. Arcedi was like a toy that both of them enjoyed and Aestith was each of their primary interest. Arcedi may have said that he didn't want Xaiviryn near him, but his actions were quite different in the moment.

Arcedi was the first of them to stop and slink to the sofa, then came back when the other two had finished to slide behind Aestith. They were nearly the same height, and he fit perfectly around Aestith's body. Arcedi's dampened eclectic hair spilled over the bed. Xaiviryn lay on his back, two fingers played along one of Arcedi's long braids until he reached the jade bead at the end, where he let the braid fall against the mattress. Another braid sported a tattered red feather, a thin dreadlock a coil of copper wire. Most held nothing.

Xaiviryn's lips formed a semi-permanent self-satisfied smirk. "Aestith, do you have wine or anything here?"

Aestith snorted. "I just moved in and all my furniture is in the living room, so what do you think?"

He nodded. "Of course. Arcedi, a pitcher of water, if you please."

Slowly, the albino pulled from the bed. He tossed his head slightly, his beautiful mess of hair thumping against his back. He wandered toward the water pump. Aestith stretched. "That went well," he mused.

Xaiviryn shrugged. "Oh, it was all right. You should have told me you liked threesomes, though. Arcedi likes you, but he isn't as interested in men as I'd like. We could organize something else."

Aestith laughed. "If but we had the time." He left unsaid that he would never find another drow interested in Aestith. Xaiviryn was degenerate and Arcedi just didn't know any better.

"Yes, I suppose. Which reminds me, come back with me to my townhouse. There's something I'd like to give you before I go."

He sat up, surprised. "Besides the money?"

"Yes."

Aestith's lips pursed. "You could have had it delivered."

"I wanted to speak to you before I left." He added, "Not here."

Arcedi came back with the copper pitcher and a set of mugs. "Aestith, your kitchen is almost completely bare."

"I am cognizant of this, yes."

Arcedi gave Aestith a cup first, then passed a filled cup to Xaiviryn. Arcedi had marked his position in the hierarchy. Xaiviryn shifted, as if uneasy. Had he wanted to be at the top? How could he, male as he was, and a wizard? Xaiviryn drank, and seemed to forget his discomfort, or shove it aside.

Aestith grew restless. He had little tolerance for "cuddling" and would have liked to go back to making candy. He slid from the bed and found a comb. Without Aestith, the other two got up. Arcedi was lackadaisical about it, but Xaiviryn was dressed before Aestith. He entertained himself by asking Arcedi pointed questions while Aestith fixed his hair.

"So, the star map on your body. What methods were used in creating it?"

"Can't imagine why it would even matter."

"I imagine that any number of sailors would pay for such services."

Arcedi smiled. "I imagine they can find someone who can do something not too dissimilar, if they had enough residuum."

Xaiviryn snorted. "Didn't you say you were a sailor once?"

"I don't think I mentioned that to you, no. Has Feinrekt gone telling stories again, Zelvier?"

Xaiviryn tilted his head. "Well, when I ask, he tells me of course."

A condescending grin tugged on Arcedi's mouth. "You asked about me?"

"I've found it to be wise as well as profitable to know one's hirelings."

"Ah, poor you. So much responsibility. So many possible knives in your back at any given time."

"And you, without a care in the world, no names or titles or land to weigh you down, nor money to gamble away or misplace."

Aestith rolled his eyes and laced his boots. "Xaiviryn, are we going?"

He turned his head toward Aestith. "Yes. I'll find a carriage." He reached for his hat.

Arcedi flopped over onto the sofa, which had been jammed awkwardly against a table. Aestith and Xaiviryn left him there. A carriage was waiting.

The carriage trundled toward Xaiviryn's townhouse. Aestith said, "How do you know Aracnelxeth?"

Xaiviryn shrugged one shoulder. "An albino drow with moon elf tattoos, and raised as one, would have been useful, particularly with his talents. I attempted to recruit him." He made a sour expression. "He turned me down."

Aestith nodded. "Sounds like Arcedi."

Xaiviryn tilted his head. "He said he was tired of taking orders and working for someone else, but he'll obey you."

"Mostly. Arcedi has his own agenda, and I have to be careful about what I ask." He inspected his nails. "I wouldn't rely too heavily on him."

"Have you considered what you want for the temple?"

Aestith raised his eyes to Xaiviryn's face. There had been an inflection on the last few syllables that implied ownership. "Lolth's temple should be underground, so as much as I'd like to have it closer to me, I can't build such a thing within the city limits. I purchased land and have discussed building prospects with a contractor. Such a thing will take months, but it will give me time to find proper furnishings."

"You've been busy the past few days."

The cleric smiled. "Xaiviryn, you've given me that which I most desired. I do not consider the founding of this temple to be settling for less. To the contrary, in fact. It is ideal, aside from being on the surface." He laced his fingers together. "Which brings me to another point, you wish me to be a contact for you in Waterdeep. That I can do. And, when time permits, I can run errands for you if you so desire, but my primary focus and what I must always weigh your wishes against will be the running of this temple and my duties to Lolth."

The human guise nodded. "Aestith, that is exactly as I would wish it, and exactly what a priestess of Lolth should be."

Priestess. He swallowed. He was no priestess. He wasn't even Ascended, nor Anointed. He believed he was blessed, but such stature was granted by the clergy themselves, not something he could give to himself. They could call him a priestess, but calling him that didn't make it true. Did Xaiviryn think he could be a priestess one day?

The carriage rolled to a stop and Xaiviryn moved to the door. Aestith tried to control his shaking hands.

There were people coming and going around the house, mostly from the basement and out the door. Xaiviryn brought Aestith to his room. An open wardrobe proved it was empty, save a single item. Xaiviryn went to the wardrobe and hung his hat.

"I've a last gift for you." He removed the item from the hanger.

The dress was perfectly tailored to Aestith's body, perhaps going off of Xaiviryn's intimate knowledge of it. It was a riding dress, exactly as Aestith preferred, meant to be worn with the matching deep rothe skin pants. The purple four-ply silk lining shimmered with silver thread in a web pattern, finely woven into the threads rather than stitched over it. The purple silk trimmed the cuffs and the deep neckline. Like a high priestess's robes.

Aestith reached for the dress, gently pulling it from the other's grasp. It was heavy, a light armor in its own right, with some kind of enchantment on it.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears and threatened to break his ribs. He set the dress on the barren table. His fingers traced the silver web pattern finely woven into the spider silk. The leather was smooth and supple, obtained at high expense from the Underdark. Each of the seven amber buttons entrapped a tiny spider. An eighth dangled from a necklace on a fine gold chain.

It was beautiful. It symbolized everything he wanted in the world, everything he could become. No male drow could wear something like it. There might be male clerics, but no priests. Such a position was not fit for a male. Did Aestith dare to even attempt it? Or was he female enough and worthy? Only Lolth would know.

Wrenching his eyes from the dress was a slow, almost painful, movement. Xaiviryn's face was unreadable as he waited for Aestith's reaction.

"You've given me all I could ask for. What do you wish of me?" Aestith inquired.

Xaiviryn's hands settled on Aestith's hips. "Loyalty." He bent his head as if to impart a kiss. "May I request that you will continue to be loyal to me, should I have need of you?"

Aestith's hands gripped the other's shoulders. "So long as this relationship continues to be mutually beneficial and does not interfere with my duties to Lolth."

"I'd never stand in the way of that." His lips covered Aestith's.

#

Sometime after morning back at the Traveler's Club, Aestith slipped into the dress and looked at himself in the heavy full-length mirror. He turned to one side and the hem just brushed his ankles. The dress had interior pockets. It conformed to his body perfectly and swayed with his hips when he walked in a manner that accentuated his form. The sleeves could be detached. It was enchanted beyond what any of his other items were. It was not only beautiful; it was practical.

He wondered, like Haeltania contemplating a dark shade of red on her lips, if it was too bold. If he truly dared to wear such a thing, if it were sacrilegious. He had not yet earned the mark of priestess, had he?

He removed it and put on his normal attire.

Xaiviryn had sent half of his men with a caravan and he took the rest of their goods onto a caravel. He may have planned to leave that morning, but some matter delayed him and he said he had to see someone about his townhouse and some other business. Aestith couldn't imagine him roughing it by traveling over land.

Tirowan rapped on the opposite door. "Aestith, it's been hours! I need to bathe before opening."

He scowled. "That's hours away." He went to his room and shut the door anyway. He locked it from his side. He hung the dress in a garment bag in his tower.

In the common room, Tim was showing off his latest pet to a bored-looking Kairon and a disgusted Eilora. He turned toward Aestith. "Aestith! Meet Handsy." A crawling claw scampered from Tim's robe to sit obediently on his shoulder. "We're psionically linked."

Aestith attempted not to unintentionally mimic Eilora's expression. "I see. Well. It's important to accomplish one's life goals, I suppose."

He left to finalize construction plans with Honest Jack, which was more involved than he had originally thought. There was talk of materials, types of tile, mosaics. What sort of hidden doors or traps he might require. He would need artists too, sculptors. The Piece had a few such contacts, Honest Jack assured him. Aestith needed to drop off a shipment of candy anyway.

At the Traveler's Club that evening, they had interviews and even hired on a few people. Tim took care of orientation, and the new manager spent several hours redoing Tim's accounting. While Aestith disliked Richard on principle because he was an elf, he supported the way Tim glowered and huffed when Richard corrected Tim's errors and presented Tim with an updated accounting ledger.

He particularly disliked the new barkeep, Rhyder, but so long as the elf was bringing in clients, he had little to complain about. Rhyder reorganized the menu and took the time to make unique themed drinks for each room. They had not bothered with mixed drinks prior, so the extra mixers and liquor was a small but necessary expense, and the patrons approved.

He took a carriage down to the docks; Xaiviryn was, as ever, late, and had not yet left town.

Finding him was surprisingly simple. Aestith stayed back for a moment and watched him bawl at the dock workers, berate the foreman about the handling of particular crates, and all around be the kind of person you want to quickly get rid of. He hid in plain sight by drawing attention to himself.

Aestith wasn't as familiar with each of their individual disguises, particularly because they could change, but he recognized the way Feinrekt moved and the cadence of his footsteps on the planks. "You walk like a riding lizard," Aestith mused as the other walked past him.

He grinned. "A parade lizard. The sort that have been trained and bred for high-stepping, because it looks poised and dignified." He set the box down on the pallet and walked to another small box. "What are you doing here?"

"Should I not be here? Take what I wanted and leave, is that what you're implying I should have done?" Aestith feigned a scoff. "Suppose I'll keep in mind that this is what you expect from me."

He propped an elbow on the box and raised an eyebrow. His grin conveyed precisely what he knew about Aestith. Damnit, Xaiviryn, you immature twit. No one cares about your sexual conquests. Feinrekt tilted his head toward Xaiviryn. "That good, huh?"

Aestith fought down a sudden blush. He was glad it wasn't dark and both of them were limited to inferior vision. He made a face and waved toward Xaiviryn. "Is he going to be doing that all day?"

He nodded, then turned his head. "Hey, Zelvier," he called.

Xaiviryn spun toward them. His open brocade coat shifted as he moved. He held up a finger to the unfortunate dock workers he was verbally abusing, and moved away from them. The other seemed relieved. He stopped in front of the drow and gave a very elaborate bow. Aestith crossed his arms and sighed. Xaiviryn said, "To what do I owe the pleasure, dear lady?"

Still with the female connotation? No, that wasn't Xaiviryn being cruel, but it was bestowing on him a sort of title and rank, setting the cleric as above the others. "Lady" was a title, after all, as well as a descriptor of the feminine. It was a compliment, and perhaps conveyed a deeper meaning. Or Xaiviryn's wishes.

Aestith rolled his eyes. "Zelvier, I have a copy of a blueprint for you to look over. I'd like your opinion, and if you know anyone raised in the church, now is the time to confess." The joke had been intended, and he smiled to make sure it landed. "You contacted that paladin yet?"

Zelvier groaned. "That was terrible. Yes, of course, I'll look." He frowned. "And no. I've been busy."

"Too busy for a Sending spell?"

"No, too busy to deal with his whinging. Self-loathing is as primary to him as breathing and it's exhausting."

Aestith stared at him in shocked silence for a long moment. He recovered. "You must contact him immediately. I need his expertise and his knowledge. Xaiviryn, I am a cleric, but I am unlearned. I need someone like an anointed paladin to assist me. Surely you see that."

He looked as though he might argue, but sighed instead. "Alas, you provide an excellent point, and perhaps this paladin will be of service to you. I will contact him." He smiled. "But first, won't you join me for dinner?"

Neither ate much.

What Xaiviryn had done with Emerick would have been more than enough. The temple was more than he could have wished. Why was Xaiviryn acting this way? What had Aestith really done to help? Or was it just more assurance for Aestith's continued loyalty? That seemed to be important to Xaiviryn.

Xaiviryn poured over the blueprint as if he were trying to memorize it. "How's the temple coming along anyway?"

"Slowly," Aestith admitted. "I wasn't anticipating such patronage, I must admit."

Blue eyes studied Aestith. "It is an expense I gladly make." He set the papers aside.

Aestith felt warm, beyond the warmth of the room. Something like his blood warming him, but deeper and somehow buoyant. He didn't understand it. "And in exchange?"

Xaiviryn leaned back. He made a face, then rolled his neck until his spine clicked. "I told you who that clerk you had was?"

"Yes."

"I hadn't arrived in town yet, and we were being watched. I heard that the drop itself was less than ideal, however, and a rival faction received word of the situation, and when they had trouble breaking in, I believe they tipped off the guard as well. Yet you somehow managed to keep the clerk secure, so well done there." He smiled. "And, yes, I could have had someone else steal the letters, but again, we were expected, so I had to send someone else. Preferably someone with ties to the city and a clean criminal record." His eyes rolled toward the ceiling, as if in defiance of the station in life he had been born into. "Then Arcedi said he wouldn't have gone into that house had you not asked him. Getting on the tour was clever too. I would have tried to sneak inside-but I suppose that's the way Drow think compared to the way he was raised. You should keep him around. He'd be useful." His eyes flicked back down, smoldered briefly, then cooled to blue. "My point, Aestith, is that I have more money than even I was anticipating I might have. And you have been a help in that."

Xaiviryn sure loved to hear himself talk. Aestith made a face. "Don't buy my affections."

A pause. "In a few months, when the temple has been constructed, I'll send a wizard to Waterdeep. I'm interested in placing a teleportation circle in the temple."

Aestith nodded. "You and yours could use it for smuggling in and out merchandise and I could get imported fruit more easily."

He chuckled. "It would benefit both of us."

There was that warmth again. What was this? How could he know what it was?