Briza Do'Urden was annoyed. She paced around the chapel room of the newly restored House Do'Urden impatiently glaring dangerously at any male soldiers who dared to catch her eyes.
"You should be grateful," Raphael commented as she sat happily on the throne that should have belonged to Briza. "Your house will be more powerful than Baenres and soon, the renegade will be begging for mercy in your dungeon."
"How long must we wait?" Briza demanded, turning to glare at this intruder as Raphael snacked on a pile of cave crab legs. She knew she should hold her tongue. This was no drow female, despite what appearances might suggest. The powers contained within this delicate frame seated before her were considerable, and Briza didn't want to get on this thing's bad side.
But House Do'Urden should belong to her. Malice was dead and her other siblings were no threat to her. Maya had been left dead and decayed at Briza's request, and Dinin and Vierna had joined the Bregan D'aerthe, deserting their house like the vile traitors that they were. Now all that stood in her way was this formidable being dressed inside a drow's body.
As though the thought of Bregan D'aerthe had brought its leader forth, Briza's thoughts were interrupted when the doors swung open and a soldier entered the room, glancing between the two females, wondering which one he should address.
"What do you want?" Briza demanded, stepping forward before Raphael could speak. This was still her house.
"Jarlaxle is here, mistress," the soldier explained nervously. Briza snarled and shot forward, catching the soldier with a backhand so quick, it knocked him hard into the wall.
"Matron!" Briza corrected venomously. "You will call me matron, you impertinent swine!"
The soldier scrambled to brace himself against the wall, holding his face as he cowered in the priestess's wake. Briza reached to her belt to pet the five-snake whip on her belt as she glared menacingly, contemplating whether this male should taste the venom of her precious pet.
"Go greet our guest," Raphael's voice commanded before Briza could think to punish the soldier more. Briza scowled before finally stalking out of the room. She found the infamous mercenary waiting for her on the balcony of House Do'Urden's grand entrance hall. The terrace overlooked the scenery of this part of Menzoberranzan, and could only be accessed from the outside by a levitation spell.
"Briza Do'Urden," Jarlaxle took off his extravagant wide-brimmed hat and bowed graciously. The reflection of the purple and blue fairy fire which lined the thick carved columns of the outer terrace could be seen shining on his bald head. Briza caught the subtle scent of patchouli and amber oil in the air. "How nice and surprising to see you. Alive."
"As if I couldn't forget how House Do'Urden met its end 30 years ago," Briza commented, accusingly as she scowled at the mercenary.
"Ah yes," Jarlaxle commented as he replaced his hat and stroked his chin thoughtfully, as if recalling the memory. "Pity about the zin-carla. Perhaps Malice should have chosen a less formidable warrior than Zaknafein Do'Urden. One whose will she could have controlled better."
"You know full well that the zin-carla is not what I am referring to," Briza snapped, resisting the urge to beat the arrogant male into submission. His knowing smirk only egged her on.
If there was one male in all of Menzoberranzan, save for the renegade Drizzt- who infuriated Briza more, it was Jarlaxle. He had far more power and influence than any houseless male should be entitled to. And he dared to flaunt his prestige everywhere he went. From his shimmering brightly colored cape that glowed in every color of the spectrum to a drow's heat seeing eyes, to his massive loudly clanking boots, to his many rings, bracelets, and jewelry that jingled incessantly as he moved, to his eye patch which seemed to switch eyes, to of course his brightly colored clothes made of the finest material, everything about him was an affront to the submissiveness a male should exhibit in this city. And it was said that everything from the diatryma feather in his hat to his clothes had some sort of magical value.
"Oh, I do recall that some of the soldiers I lent you may have been faulty." Jarlaxle's tone of voice feigned contemplation. "Well, could you hardly blame them? When they are hired to defend you against your rival and then your rival turned out to be the first house itself, what's a male to do?"
"What does the first house know about our return to prominence?" Briza asked, ignoring Jarlaxle's attitude.
"The miraculous and mysterious resurrection of House Do'Urden has not gone unnoticed," Jarlaxle replied honestly. "But Matron Baenres is biding her time. She has other matters to attend to at the moment, which is to your fortune. Her eyes are turned away from House Do'Urden and towards her latest ally."
"Ally?" Briza realized that she had been unaware of the current politics of the city. Jarlaxle only shrugged.
"A mysterious fellow has been lurking about the first house," the mercenary explained. "Matron Baenres will not reveal the identity of her strange guest but I suspect he is far more powerful than whatever creature you have with you."
Briza scowled, knowing that the mercenary was referencing Raphael. She had wanted to keep the powerful being a secret from the rest of the city, but it would seem that House Do'Urden's affairs were not as secretive as she had hoped.
"I want to know who this creature is and how it can threaten my house," Briza demanded. Jarlaxle only shrugged casually. The priestess knew no one came by information better than the leader of the Bregan D'aerthe. How Jarlaxle gained his knowledge was always obscured in mystery. But it seemed that his eyes and ears extended to the far reaches of the realms.
"You are not the only matron mother who is curious about that one's identity," Briza should have expected this response. "And you must know that my information does come at a price. As does much of my assistance."
Briza sneered dangerously. Oh, how she would love to pull this cocky male's spine out through his throat. But she also knew that his death would bring unwanted attention to the newly reformed House Do'Urden. Her house was still weak and needed allies. Which is another reason Briza had sent for the mercenary.
"As you know, I am lacking in nobles," Briza regarded the mercenary as she paced back and forth in a manner that portrayed her willingness to negotiate for her needs. "Matron Malice erred by killing Zaknafein Do'Urden, arguably the most powerful weapon's master in all of Menzoberranzan."
"Matron Malice erred in a lot of matters," Jarlaxle agreed casually as he leaned against a column and seemed to admire the tapestries on the far wall.
"How do my brother and my sister fare these days?" the priestess asked coyly. "Are they aware of their house's illustrious return to power?"
"Yes, and they are quite aware of its inherent weaknesses," the mercenary replied. "The former ninth house has no seat in the ruling class of this city. It possesses only one priestess, no weapons masters and no wizards. It has produced no daughters as heirs. Oh and of course, the renegade Drizzt Do'Urden's deeds still cast a shadow on any of your current endeavours."
"I am their blood!" Briza's burst of rage startled a few goblins who wandered around far below them on the streets. Curse Dinin, curse Vierna! How dare they not rush back to her side the moment they heard she was alive!
"Ahh yes, loyalty is a tricky thing in Menzoberranzan, is it not?" Jarlaxle's chuckle grated on Briza's nerves.
"I will demand their return!" Briza shrieked again. "And I demand one of your soldiers as a house patron. As compensation for what happened 30 years ago."
"The members of Bregan D'aerthe do not enjoy being traded and bought," Jarlaxle responded, unimpressed by her outbursts. "Though they may be willing to leave my organization and be joined to you as mates if you offer them incentives."
The two drow, the volatile priestess and the coy and cunning mercenary, regarded one another, eyed one another as if trying to search for any weaknesses to exploit.
It was Jarlaxle who broke the confrontation. He stepped back, taking off his hat to bow low. "I shall see you again, Matron Briza," he said casually. "I am afraid I do have duties to attend to. Come find me again when you have a little more to offer. Oh yes, and welcome once again to the land of the living."
Jarlaxle left House Do'Urden and returned to his home in the clawdrift. As he moved aside the stalactite door that guarded the entrance to his humble abode, he found Dinin Do'Urden and Berg'inyon Baenres inside, already waiting for him.
"What did my sister want?" Dinin asked, his tone more subdued. Dinin certainly had not taken the news of Do'Urden's return with delight. He wasn't eager to return to his sister's side after having spent the past 30 years as a member of Bregan D'aerthe.
"Yours and Vierna's return," Jarlaxle responded casually. The mercenary had certainly had his fill of meetings with matron mothers that day. This had been his fourth one. And each meeting had brought him a plethora of information, information he needed to process.
"You do not plan to return me to House Do'Urden do you?" Dinin dared to ask. Jarlaxle chuckled at the former elderboy's anxiety over the prospect. Dinin was a ruthless leader, certainly a credit to his people. But he lacked purpose and drive. He lacked ambition. But for all his shortcomings, Jarlaxle was rather fond of him and was not ready to part with him.
"No, we can give Vierna back if anything," Jarlaxle responded. He wasn't too bothered at giving up one of the few females in his organization. Vierna's unpredictable nature was something he'd just assumed to be rid of.
He then turned to his newest acquisition. Berg'inyon Baenres, the youngest of Matron Baenre's sons. "Though Briza Do'Urden is searching for a potential patron among the members of Bregan D'aerthe. Surely having a Baenres as her mate would do wonders for her reputation."
Berg'inyon flinched, and the look of concern on his face had Jarlaxle laughing heartily. "Not to worry," he assured the young drow. "She has nothing to offer me in exchange, and even if she did, I would not part with my newest acquisition so easily. Especially when his assistance will be required on my latest venture."
Dinin and Berg'inyon both exchanged curious glances at the vagueness of Jarlaxle's words. He let them squirm for a moment before continuing. "The three of us will leave Menzoberranzan," he explained. "I find myself in the middle of the schemes of four powerful matron mothers, and only one has offered me anything worth my time thus far. Matron Mez'Barris Armgo wishes me to travel to Gracklstugh and convene with the king of the duegars."
"Gracklstugh," Berg'inyon groaned, clearly weary about the aspect of leaving Menzoberranzan.
"Not to worry my young friends," Jarlaxle assured them both. "To be worldly and well traveled is to hold the wealth of knowledge in your hands. If you want to be valued by allies and enemies alike, knowledge is by far your greatest asset."
Dinin and Berg'inyon nodded hesitantly. Jarlaxle waited for them to leave, letting them get their things together for their journey. He only smiled to himself as he sat down in his chair. He hadn't told them everything. He hadn't told them about Mez'Barris's interest in Gracklstugh, nor K'yorl Oblodra's alliance with mind flayers. He hadn't told them that he suspected that Matron Baenre's mysterious new house guest was a powerful sorcerer from another land, nor did he dare to tell either of them that he hoped that their path would take them beyond the duergar city and onto the surface where he could meet with the renegade Drizzt and see for himself if this purple eyed drow was really so much like his dear friend Zaknafein.
Jarlaxle planned to take his young charges on an adventure. After all, as he hoped they were about to find out, one could not gain much wisdom if they were not willing to leave home.