Chapter 2
The Underdark
Clean and wearing a new set of more comfortable clothing for travel – robes supposedly warded against physical attack, a satchel of your own, a piwafwi, of all things, and boots which felt strange on your feet, you meekly followed Winter, still in her male dress, out of the city, where she curtly nodded to the guards. They stared at her – a mercenary venturing out into the Underdark with only a child? – but apparently ignored and forgot her.
When you left all sounds and sights of the city Winter breathed a great sigh of relief, and loosed her hair enthusiastically, the tresses spilling over her shoulders. She smiled at you. "The clothes fit? It was a little rushed."
You could only nod, already feeling apprehension at leaving a familiar place and venturing into a strange one, and a dangerous one at that, and yet excitement at the new undertaking.
"Your name is Kel, yes?" Winter continued, as we picked our way through a tunnel that seemed to get rougher and rougher as we progressed.
"Yes'm," you replied. Winter had an intimidating presence, and also a curious one as well. How could any female like her not be worshipping Lloth or some other gods? She had such poise that you had automatically classed her as 'noble-born', but she did not seem to be anything at all, not mage, even with the wands she had purchased, not warrior, even with the sword at her hip, not priestess....
"I suppose you wonder what I am?" Winter inquired, breaking into your thoughts. You blink furiously at her. A mind reader?
"Not me, but the sword," Winter admitted, patting its hilt. "Ah, a large step." She hoisted you up the obstacle, then vaulted nimbly up. "I suppose I might have to explain...the sword Irr'liancrea informs me that we are not as yet into the unpatrolled bit of the Underdark yet, so we can afford to make a bit of noise. I am a Loremaster, but before that my name was Lin'Fayaenre Ra'Kest, of Irinelaeran."
You saw her watching you closely as it dawned on you why she seemed a little familiar. Ra'Kest...House Ra'Kest was the top house in Irinelaeran. Before you were born there was some sort of trouble in the House which was still whispered around to this day, a favorite topic of gossip in Petriarch's tavern, some daughter stealing something and running away, a daughter with an unheard-of power.
"Ra'Kest," you managed to murmur, before blinking again. "Ah."
"An answer of sorts I would believe," Winter shrugged. "Mind your head...oh dear. Are you all right? Yes you are. Very well...I was Ra'Kest until I fled the city and later ended up in another world, but I see you are beginning to doubt me, yes?"
You stared at her, rubbing your head where you had accidentally hit it on an outcrop. Another world? That sounded like the words of a drug-induced sleep of an addict of some hallucinogen, but she seemed so sure...everything about her seemed sure.
"It is true, Kel. There are many worlds out there, but needless to say I managed to end up in the correct one at the correct time...and events led me back here. When we reach Menzoberranzan I will try to portal you back to Irinelaeran if you wish, but your gift may serve me well there – and I will be most willing to take care of you."
Take care? If it was anything like what she had already done – outfitting you with expensive and comfortable equipment, even purchasing a large, beautifully wrought dagger when your eyes had fallen on it...this would indeed prove to be an interesting trip. And as to a portal back...you decided you would see, but you did already miss Irinelaeran.
Walking in the Underdark seemed to be like walking in blindness. No signs of anything except heat signs from yourself and Winter, which was not the least bit comforting. If you could see the heat signs, so could monsters, things that lurked in corners and waited to rend your flesh! No, not comforting at all.
The stone was cold and did not show up in the infrared...if not for Winter's directions you felt you would have fallen into some crevasse already. Her sword was glowing, some bluish light that was just enough to see by, but carelessness may mean crippling or death. Having grown up in a world that was of flat streets and buildings, the Underdark came as a complete shock to you, like one of those tales adults told to frighten children come true.
But Winter was unafraid and you seemed to draw from her strength, and your feet somehow continued to walk calmly on instead of leading your body to bolt in terror.
"How long have you been a thief?" Winter was asking, a little playfully.
You stared at her.
"Do you know how old you are, then?"
"No'm," you replied.
"And you can call me Winter, Kel."
"Yes'm."
Winter sighed. "Not much for talking, are you?"
"Not like thee, whose words foam from her mouth like water in a creek," You nearly jumped – the sword talking was still fairly shocking.
"Hmph."
Your mind wandered back to what had happened after Winter had outfitted you and you had bathed. Petriarch, running into the room.
"Winter! You have to leave...they've begun to look for you!"
"Will they find me?" Winter had said casually as she helped you put on your boots.
"Not here."
"Then there is not much as yet to worry about," she had said dismissively. "Oh all right, Petriarch. I won't be staying long, anyway. And how did you know Ra'Kest was looking for me?"
"The children told me. That was what I called all of them back for, to look out for Ra'Kest elves walking the streets," Petriarch gave you a sidelong glance. "How much money are you spending on Kel?"
"Enough to make Kel comfortable," was her succinct reply. "When I walk out of here I will be dressed as a male...I will be a male, my walking, my talking, my attitude. I am rather good at acting, thank you – you were the one who taught me, remember?"
"But..."
"Either I do this or they find me and I die slowly," Winter had said, as calmly as if she had been discussing the state of carpets in the room. "So I will be the part. Males are hardly noticed, after all, and they will be looking for a robed female, not a male in chain mail, though it chafes and it is damnably heavy."
"You had better be sure," was Petriarch's reply before he left. Winter had merely smiled.
"Petriarch helped and shielded me when I was still living here," she had explained. "Though he is like a mother hen, I suppose he does mean well..."
You had watched the entire episode in astonishment, and now you wondered, inconsequentially, what a mother hen was.
**
You led and she followed, your gift leading you through tunnels and caverns, and everything seemed gloriously boring. There were no monsters behind sinister rocks, nor were there fungi with poisonous fumes. You began to feel slightly let down.
Winter finally asked for a stop for rest – even you were already feeling tired, and you sat down next to her gratefully. She drew Irr'liancrea and stabbed it into the ground, then moved over a few medium-sized flat rocks about two-feet across, then began to murmur in some arcane tongue to herself.
You had seen this before, but it was still miraculous to watch. The rocks began to glow in the infrared – heat, and a strong heat at that – you feel it from where you sit and shuffle away slightly.
Winter then used her scabbard to draw a circle around the makeshift campsite, muttering again, and the small trough glows slightly blue in visual light before returning to 'normal'. Satisfied, she sat down and put down her satchel, before taking out rations – dry biscuit and fungus that you had found, some mushroom, and some dried meat.
Then the part you liked most, when she uttered more words and held out both hands. There was a distortion in the air, and a pot materialized in them. More words and it half-filled with water. She left the pot to boil on the heated rocks, then began to cook efficiently.
You find some small pebbles and settled back to juggle. You managed to get five pebbles up into the air before you heard a chuckle from Winter's direction – turning to look at her, the pebbles continue to fly in the air.
"Most dexterous," she approved, holding out a bowl. "Ready to eat yet?"
You toss all the pebbles into one hand, then dump them at your side, reaching out eagerly for the bowl, remembering your manners and adding, "Thanks'm."
The bowl is hot and metal, so you set it on the ground, using the spoon in it to eat quickly. You look up once to see Winter watching you in bemusement.
"Why do you eat so fast? You may burn your tongue," she commented, eating her portion more daintily.
"Used t' it, mum," you replied cautiously. In Irinelaeran, if you did not eat quickly your food may be snatched away from you.
"Well, no one's taking it from you here," Winter said, unconsciously perhaps having listened to your thoughts again via Irr'liancrea. "Eat more slowly, or you may be sick."
"Yes'm."
The last of the stew eaten, Winter frowned at the bowls and pot, speaking again, and they suddenly gleam, clean, before she did the vanishing trick on them.
Emboldened by impulse, you asked, "'ow did you make 'em go 'way like that?"
"I am a Loremaster," Winter smiled. "A type of magic-user. I merely send those pots and bowls away to another place. It is rather an easy task. However, I do not send food, because in that other place it may be taken or go bad. Sending the heavier things away means our packs need not be so heavy."
Your full stomach makes you realize that Winter had in fact left most of the food to you, even if she did give you the semblance of eating.
"Sleep now. One wilt watch." Irr'liancrea suddenly spoke, but Winter nodded, making blankets appear, half of which she handed to you. You managed to make a sort of nest that you curl up in and sleep, your last thoughts of crystal swords and heated rocks...
**
"Thou hast company."
That ominous phrase shocks you out of sleep and you rub sleep-blurred eyes. Vision is murky for a moment, then jumps sharply in focus and you let out a small gasp of fear – duergar!
Not the merchants in the city, but lean, muscled soldiers that encircled the protection at a respectful distance, muttering to themselves.
Winter rolled gracefully to her feet and plucked up Irr'liancrea in a single fluid move. Her armor was not on, but she still looked competently dangerous. Some of the duergar took a step back.
You watched as she spoke some words in the duergar tongue – a harsh language that you have never been actually able to pronounce.
The duergar hesitated, then replied slowly.
"I should have paid more attention to the maps," Winter muttered in drow, finally. "These dwarves are from a nearby city they call 'Klaendarkr'...asking why we are invading their land."
"We ain't invadin' 'em," you said quickly, staring at the duergar. All of them held axes, in a way that made you know that they did know how to use the cruel-looking weapons. Swords looked dashing, rapiers courtly, daggers mysterious and bows noble, but axes looked barbarically obvious – a weapon for killing and no other, most businesslike.
"So we aren't," Winter agreed. "This is stupid." She spoke again in the duergar tongue, something that caused mild consternation in the duergar ranks.
Winter translated for you, haltingly. "Something about attack...ah, some of them think we are an advance scouting party. A single female and a child, even if both are drow? Sometimes I wonder if those helmets they wear impede their thinking processes. Now all of them are looking for hidden drow, when even the best drow magic cannot truly conceal heat traces or sounds."
Indeed the duergar were shooting glances into the darkness.
"I suppose I will have to resort to primitive threats," Winter sighed and spoke again in dwarfish. The duergars' grip on their weapons tightened, and you put a hand to your dagger, wary.
The dwarves finally seemed to reach some sort of agreement, and spoke. Winter frowned in annoyance. "Now they want us to go to this Klaendarkr. For Morikan's sake, we were only passing through! Sometimes dwarves...damn."
"Agree, then." Irr'liancrea spoke up. The dwarves gave it a horrified glance, then began to whisper in earnest to themselves.
"Hah! They do not like 'drow magic'. Fine...I may be able to play this to my benefit...firstly, why should we go to Klaendarkr?"
"Because there are those there who 'keep tabs', as thou'rt prone to say, on thy destination. Better to ask duergar than goblins or svirfneblin, who do not trust thy kin at all...duergar have worked with drow before. An' 'tis better off by far for thee to actually know something of Menzoberranzan present. The books thou read in the Library are slightly out of date."
"Into a dwarven city?" Your voice quavered slightly, but Winter cocked her head, a sign that she was thinking thoughtfully.
"Might as well, I suppose," she said.
"What?" your ears seem to be playing you up.
"Oh, Kel," Winter smiled. "Dwarven cities aren't that different from drow ones, and I did say I will protect you. You have nothing to fear...if there is a problem I will simply portal the lot of us back to Irinelaeran. I doubt there is anything on this plane that can stop Irr'liancrea. And I do need this information, I suppose." She turned back to the duergar and spoke.
They glanced at each other, then debated, pointing at the sword and at us.
"Dwarves adore arguing," you realized with shock that Winter was standing right next to you. She had walked without a sound! You feel slightly annoyed when she ruffles your hair in reassurance, but then you have to fight off the impulse to cling to her when the duergar turn back to look.
"Here we go, then. Kel, pick up your satchel. Good." Winter nodded, wore her armor quickly, and stepped out of the protective circle. You followed her, watched as she dispelled the magic – the duergar were watching her as if she were a berserk ogre.
You walked as closely to her as possible, still frightened, but now it is a dull terror underlying your thoughts. Duergar horror stories were very common, and each time one of the humanoids shot you a glance you would look away quickly.
Winter, as usual, was supremely confident, murmuring soothing words to you from time to time. Irr'liancrea, sheathed, still glowed faintly through the scabbard.
The duergar plainly did not know what to make of you and Winter. Their speaking in a language you do not understand made it worse – you kept imagining that they are speaking about you, making you feel more tensed and suspicious. What if they were to kill the two of you in their city? What if Winter didn't know what she was doing?
Winter kept up a near-steady stream of talk during the trudge to the dwarven city, in both dwarven and drow, some jokes, some stories, but you did not have the heart to listen to her, fear like lead in your stomach.
The duergar, unwillingly at first, listened to her tales and quips, then some started to laugh, then all of them, at Winter's sly wit, and when we finally reached the city they were already telling some of their own stories to her.
Just like Winter, you thought wryly.
The only thing of the city you can see is a pair of massive doors that seem both strong and beautiful at the same time – trademarks of dwarven craftsmanship. The bearded guards stared at you and Winter, and spoke with your 'escort' before finally letting you and the rest into the city.
**
Klaendarkr was incredible.
Your eyes grow used to the increased amount of lighting, and notice something – everything looks as though it had been touched by dwarven hands. The walls are too straight to be natural, and the cavern head is an immense dome over the city with uneven decorations at the side, all plated in metal and carving. This metal glowed, giving the city some sort of light.
"A timeclock," Winter murmured to you. Apparently the duergar escort were explaining things. "Grades of infrared heat according to the time now."
The walls looked carved, as did the cobbled grounds, all symmetrical and beautifully planned, like a single work of art, dwarven art – built to withstand a siege but also built to showcase dwarven talents.
"Everythin's cut from rock," you find yourself saying. "'ollowed out. Thisy was just rock, once."
Winter looked surprised. "That's right. Very good, Kel."
You find yourself smiling at her praise.
Duergar pause from what they had been doing to stare at you and Winter as you pass by. You see that their homes seem more open and 'friendly' than Irinelaeran – certainly you do not see any 'street svirfneblin' wandering around.
Some of the escort are questioned, but then you and Winter are hurried down some more streets, past one garden of brightly glowing fungi, past an interesting waterfall...towards a large residence.
It was another large cave-like structure, but this was obviously a rich one. Guards at the entrance blinked at us, then spoke with the escort, then waved us through. Inside was a well-tended, beautiful garden, lit in soft mage-lights. Some of the fungi were pleasantly scented, and the path was of crushed marble, making crunching sounds under your boots.
Two large flights of steps swept down from either side of the curved walls of the large cavern to face each other in the garden, but you were herded under the balcony of the several-storey high building, to the first storey.
Inside you changed escort to a more well-equipped guard, who lead you inside while the old escort drifts away 'to get some rest' as Winter put it.
You carefully kept your hands to yourself. The inside was just as richly furnished as the outside, dwarven style, with weapons and armor taking the place of tapestries and paintings, everything solidly made and practically colored in pleasing shades instead of the gaudy hues that some elves seem to favor.
Eventually you ended up in what looks like a waiting room, and the escort stood while waving you two to the padded benches that line both walls. The room was carpeted and a vase stands on a table in the middle, with what Rose calls 'mock-roses' inside, fungi that glow in the dark and resemble half-opened rose blooms. Very, very expensive.
Winter sat down on a bench and helped you up next to her. The bench was comfortable and to your mild consternation you found yourself about to sleep. The guards seemed perfectly content to wait it out, and Winter continued to speak. You wondered vaguely why she never seems to run out of things to say.
When she seemed to be on the verge of winning the guards over, the other door in the room – leading to the office of whatever you two were supposed to see – opened, and the guards shooed you in.
The office was plainly furnished – no carpet, some cushioned chairs in front of a desk, behind of which was yet another chair, turned with the back facing us, the occupant looking out of a narrow window over a street. The room held mostly file cabinets and paper...and nothing else, making the large room seem rather empty.
The chair turned around, and the both of you gasped...
Because the occupant was drow.