Chapter 3
Mikaras
Drow in a dwarven city!
You stared at the elf in the chair. He was impeccably dressed, though also rather plainly – hair unadorned and unfashionably short, clothes robes, shirt and breeches, all in plain colors of blue and gray. He steepled his fingers and peered down his nose at the two of you, dark eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Please be seated," he spoke with a familiar accent – Irinelaeran accent! You feel stunned by this, and so unthinkingly allowed yourself to be lifted into one of the chairs by Winter. She sat down in the other, and frowned at the male elf.
"How..." she began.
He interrupted her. "Circumstances," he said dismissively, "But it is most astonishing to see the poise of the fabled Lin'Fayaenre Ra'Kest falter, no?"
Winter regained her 'fabled poise' with amazing speed, settling into the chair and giving him a cool stare. "I am afraid you have the advantage of us..." she left the sentence hanging.
"My name is Mikaras," the drow said, then gave you a curious glance. "The child's name, however..."
"Kel," you said, before you could stop yourself, then looked at Winter in chagrin. She shook her head slightly as if to say it was no matter.
"And how did you know..."
"One of my dwarven soldiers told me than a female elf who wielded a talking sword of crystal was coming," Mikaras said wryly. "It did not take much brain work to figure out who it was, no?"
"What did you bring us here for?" Winter said, to the point.
Mikaras smiled charmingly, or tried to. Certainly to you he seemed to succeed. "The pleasure of the company of a famous drow?"
"Notorious, more like it," Winter responded.
"Notoriety is more wide-ranging than simple fame," Mikaras agreed. "But I am digressing. Any soldiers my patrols find this close to the city, they take to me, and the city usually allows me to deal with them."
"And this dealing involves?" Winter's poise did not change, but you were suddenly aware of a coiled up tension within her. A predator ready to spring.
"I speak with them, then send them on their way," Mikaras said. "As to what I do say...that varies, but the effect is that this city has not been attacked by drow in living memory. I...I suppose the word is [dwarven word] the city, and I shudder to think what our murdering kin would do to it, yes? Charming. Our language does not even have a word which goes even close...except 'lust', which is not applicable in this case."
Mikaras did not seem like any sort of drow you know, and you are aware that you were continuing to stare.
"Tell me, Winter...yes, I am aware of your nickname – why are you back in this area, and with a child?" Those eyes swept back to you, and you automatically tried to sink into your seat. "A street child, at that...what was that charming name the old city had for them? Ah yes, 'street svirfneblin' – evil, tiny light fingered creatures." The way Mikaras spoke the last phrase – whimsically – took all criticism or seriousness out of it.
"You see much," Winter said coolly. She obviously did not like being upstaged by a fellow drow, and she was stalling, such that not much of why you were there could be shown.
"Many have spoken of your intelligence," Mikaras said suddenly. "Would you like to tell me about myself?"
Winter raised an eyebrow. "What people hear tends to be inflated, but very well. I see before me one Mikaras...Tre'kerena, past his second century of age."
Mikaras looked as though he would have asked a question, then touched the medallion half-hidden by his shirt and smiled wryly. You recognize the design on the medallion as well.
"You are, of course, head of a band of soldiers whom also take mercenary jobs on the side-line, as well as other illicit dealings that also involve merchants, judging from the paperwork that I can read from here..." Mikaras chuckled at that.
Winter shrugged and plunged on. "You are doing very well, as is obvious from the fact you can keep so many soldiers that look so well...fed. However, you did not build this place, in fact I am sure that you bought it from someone...no, inherited it, which would probably explain why so much dwarfish furniture is around, so I would assume some duergar bequeathed it to you."
"I could have purchased the furniture..." Mikaras began playfully.
"Your office here is obviously your personal sanctum – it is plainly done, most unlike that of the outside. You inherited this, Mikaras. The fact that everything here seems like it has been there for more than two centuries, judging from the dust in some of the less-swept corners I passed up here, means that whoever had this was also a mercenary, probably the person whose 'group' you took over."
Mikaras nodded slightly.
"You used to hold swords, one long and one short, but you have not for some time, preferring to devote yourself to the energies of your work. The fact that you...[dwarven word] this city has been mentioned by you, but also can be seen in other ways – the window, which is newer than the rest of the house, and the paintings, for one."
"The swords?" Mikaras asked.
"I can see the calluses which have faded a little to tend towards that of holding a pen."
You watched this verbal fencing match, slightly openmouthed.
"Anything you can tell about my personality?" Mikaras smiled.
"Other than you have once been scorned in some [same dwarven word] affair or lost it, and that you are unsure about how you feel about your family, some sort of scandal perhaps? I cannot deduce much about how your personal life is like. However, you are probably a likeable, strong person with hidden talent – dwarves do not follow...ah, but I see something has upset you."
Mikaras was leaning forward, half-standing in shock. "How..."
Winter looked more smug now that she appeared to have the upper hand. "About the affair? Why, you have, on your arm, under your robe sleeve, a band with a design for '[dwarven word]', dwarfish, of course. The inscription, from here, appears to have been neatly sliced to obscurity. I saw your arm when you invited us to sit. As to your family, the fact that you still wear your medallion is evidence enough for me."
"Very good," Mikaras murmured, settling down into the chair. "And correct in all points except – one, I still do use my swords, though not very often...two, I have severed myself from my family. The medallion just has a ward on it that prevents me from eating poison, and other such sort of attacks on my person which proves useful."
"And, there is something worrying you – perhaps a rival group or such that has serious imports on your own," Winter finished, and smiled slightly in triumph when Mikaras blinked again. "You have eye-rings from lack of sleep, and the fact that you have them means this is not a common occurrence – hence something is worrying you. It cannot be some act of prejudice because you are probably used to it...but I admit that was a little of a guess."
"Very good," Mikaras repeated. "And true. The rival group Ironhammer recently acquired a new leader...whom everyone does not know who it is, but I suspect..."
You were tired, and the words were failing to register – your eyes closed somewhere after Winter had begun to explain her deductions on Mikaras' affair. Now they flew open as Mikaras paused, and you felt dismayed as you realized both Mikaras and Winter are looking at you.
"Yes'm?" you asked.
"Kel is tired," Winter said to Mikaras, "Do you have a guest room?"
"The child can sleep here," Mikaras grinned. "Kel looks comfortable enough, and you can tuck the child in to bed later...poor thing seems frightened of my dwarven friends."
You flushed slightly, but Mikaras was right – the chair was comfortable...from somewhere Mikaras produced a cloak, and Winter covered you with it as you spiraled slowly into sleep, their voices over your head...
**
You woke in a soft bed, head on a pillow of soft feathers, and luxuriated a little in the warmth before sitting up quickly. You were in a room also of dwarven furnishing – rich and with weapons on the walls. Winter sat on the other bed, absently combing her hair. She smiled at you as you slipped off and tidied your clothing and began to wear your boots.
"Truly sorry for keeping you awake so long," she admitted.
"Thou was...occupied," Irr'liancrea spoke up.
"The sword was tellin' you 'bout all those things, right? 'mean, I didna think you could guess that well..." you blurt out.
"Ah, Kel, again you surprise me," Winter grinned. "Yes, it was...about why he was so tired from lack of sleep only, however. Certainly it was worth the cheating to shock him again."
"'e wants you t' kill somethin', right?" you continued. The satchels were in a corner and not close at hand, meaning you weren't going to leave anytime soon, but Irr'liancrea was still close at hand and Winter was in her armor, something that she did not like, but would use in a job that may involve fighting...
"Correct," Winter smiled. "Why Kel, you should have talked to Mikaras...you may have told him what he ate after he woke up and what he wore yesterday."
"Kill what?" you pressed.
"As forward as always. Well child, I am to enter the compound of Ironhammer and see what their leader is. And perhaps kill him if need be. You on the other hand, stay here."
"Wot if...somethin' happens? T' you?" you could not help asking.
"Mikaras would take care of you, and so would this sword," Winter patted the scabbard calmly. "Nothing on this plane can destroy Irr'liancrea, I believe, and its will is its own. It should be able to move back here. But why speak of death, Kel? Wish me luck."
"Yes'm," you replied, feeling slightly downcast.
"Chin up, Kel. After this Mikaras promised to help me with Menzoberranzan...he has a few spies there, as in every city which is open to duergar trade. You might like to speak with him at the moment...can you read and write?"
"No'm."
"Pity, or you may have helped him with that mountain he calls paperwork."
**
You were ushered back into Mikaras' room, where you clambered back onto the chair you had slept in.
Mikaras continued to write, though you were aware that he was paying very close attention to your every move.
"Well met again, Kel," Mikaras said, jokingly, "Winter told me you are a very smart child."
"She tol' me I kin prob'ly tell you what you ate when you woke up, an' what you wore yest'rday." You said carefully. Winter's words, not your own, hence he would not be able to see much of yourself from there.
"And can you tell me?" Mikaras inquired, with a humor-the-child tone.
"You didna eat an' you're wearin' the same thing." You replied confidently.
Mikaras looked up then, disbelieving, then smiled wryly. "Out-guessed by a child. Maybe I really should go and sleep."
"I kin see the signs," you said, because you had been hungry before and seen others hungry before. "And your clothes crumpled, like. You prob'ly slept with head onna table."
"Very good," Mikaras unconsciously echoed Winter. "Well then, what would you like to do now?"
"See Winter," you said automatically, caught yourself, then smiled sheepishly at Mikaras. "Naw. I'd juggle for a bit."
"Juggle?" Mikaras raised an eyebrow, then rooted in the drawers until he located a small bag of coins, which he gave to you. "Here you go."
You managed to get eight into the air until that ticklish feeling in the nape of your neck alerted you to the fact that Mikaras was watching you. Feeling impish, you turned his gesture back on him – you raised an eyebrow.
Mikaras chuckled and returned to his work. When you tired of juggling you returned him the bag. He glanced at you.
"I should count the coins, should I not?"
You sighed and removed the small amount of coins on your person and returned them to him.
"All the coins, my dear."
Obligingly you returned him the lot. Mikaras wasn't to be underestimated, and you wondered vaguely why he had sent Winter to do the 'dirty work' instead of leaving himself...but of course, Winter was expendable.
You crouched in your chair and simply watched everything you could at once, drawing into yourself and keeping yourself quiet, the essential part of hiding.
Time seemed to pass slowly, marked only by the scratching of Mikaras' quill pen on papers, and his occasional mutters, which you could not decipher and did not seem important.
Then the door opened, and Mikaras looked up and smiled. "Winter. How did it go?"
You felt a strong wash of relief as Winter, bloodied and slightly wounded in her neck and left arm but otherwise fine, sat down in the other chair, ignoring Mikaras. She tapped Irr'liancrea, then spoke words in drow that sounded like the healing spell but was subtly different.
Her wounds closed up quickly, then she looked back up. "The leader was as you say – illithid. Quite easy to kill if you have shields on your mind, but this one unexpectedly could fight. I left the dwarves alone – I doubt any of them could see me."
"Doubt?"
"Unless one of them had power surpassing my sword." Winter smiled.
"Not possible, then. Well done. Now I shall keep my side of the promise..."
"How have you been doing, Kel?" Winter glanced at you.
"Fine'm." You replied.
"It is quite impossible to concentrate on paperwork with Kel staring at me, but otherwise the child is most entertaining," Mikaras said. Entertaining? Your hackles rise a little, then you push them back down as Mikaras leaned back in his chair with the air of one going to start a long story.
"You know of Matron Baenre's amusing sally on Mithril Hall?"
"Obviously. Did this city send representatives, I wonder..."
"No. Mithril Hall is none of our business. We had trade relations, that is all...I have a sword from Mithril Hall," Mikaras said, unnecessarily, you thought. What was Mithril Hall?
"In any case...do you know who is head of the city now?" Mikaras decided, obviously, to sound out Winter's knowledge.
"Triel Baenre is head of House Baenre, which is still First House. Barrison del'Armgo is second...Q'Xorlarrin third I believe. Who cares. I am more interested in Bregan D'aerthe...they accept females now, though I believe they are watched more often. I do not know anything of this group other than that its leader Jarlaxle is the current wielder of Crenshinibon and he has not, strangely, built a Cryshal-Tirith or a crystal tower inside the city, for odd reasons of his own."
"Then what would you like to know of Menzoberranzan?" Mikaras inquired. "You seem to have the grist of the matter."
"Currently? Menzoberranzan – do they allow 'foreign' drow to enter?" Winter asked.
"Yes. They lost a large number in the defeat at Mithril Hall...newcomers are welcome, but you'd be hard put to get any adoption by a House, but I see that is not of your concern..."
"Unless I appear at the gates blatantly non-Lloth," Winter said wryly. "I am tempted to see if I can ride through the resultant scandal."
"Though the child may cause some comment." Mikaras looked at you.
"True. But I doubt it would cause a building-toppling stir." Winter said dismissively. "Now, are there any 'safe spots' you can recommend in Menzoberranzan?"
"The dwarven quarter," Mikaras said promptly. "The inn there known as...roughly translates as 'Axe wrought from Mithril' I believe. One dwarfish word translates to four drow words...interesting. That is the base for Klaendarkr spies, and also the embassy, of course, though it is an embassy no non-drow in the city should know of. You can have quarters there if no one sees you enter and leave."
"Thanks," Winter nodded. "Now to Bregan D'aerthe. Who are Jarlaxle's closest?"
Mikaras consulted a list. "This is tentative, mind. We have not been able to infiltrate Bregan D'aerthe, since it is all drow. Kimmuriel Oblodra, psionist. Rai'gy Bondalek of Ched Nasad...oh, you know of him? Yes, he was high priest once. Male priest of Lloth...most interesting, but hardly the topic of discussion here."
"Rai'gy in Bregan D'aerthe?" Winter murmured to herself. "Hmm. But the Book said that Bregan D'aerthe was instrumental in setting the coup that caused Rai'gy to drop from High priest to outcast..."
"Jarlaxle is quite the clever one," Mikaras smirked. "Inner circle has Berg'inyon, once of Baenre...Ran'deran, once of DeVir. Tantras'nen, once of Hun'ett. Three captains of three sectors of warriors, then Rai'gy for priests and Kimmuriel for magic."
"How many weapon masters does he have?" Winter blinked. "I've heard of only Berg'inyon..."
"Quite a collection. Jarlaxle takes the finest, does he not? There are probably several more, but those three are the most prominent."
"Then he should have taken Zaknafein."
"Why he did not, you would have to ask him," Mikaras shrugged. "I have heard of this Zaknafein...Zin-carla, yes? Dead now."
Winter smiled slightly but did not refute it. "Dead, certainly. A pity – he would be most amusing to meet in Menzoberranzan."
"He does not like females, from reports," Mikaras said.
"Ah? Well, I find that hard to believe." Everything from Winter seemed to speak of underlying mirth.
"Strange that he did not take Drizzt Do'Urden...certainly he took Dinin Do'Urden and Vierna Do'Urden, albeit for a short period of time."
Winter wasn't smiling anymore, and you wondered why. Then she shrugged. "Drizzt is certainly good though not as good as his father. He lacks focus and is a most confused person, you could say. Half of him says one thing and the other half does the other..."
"You have met Drizzt?" It was not a question.
"Oh yes," Winter's eyes looked far away, and she absently pushed a lock of hair from her eyes. "Quite a nice fellow. But that is not the point...I doubt he would have joined Jarlaxle's group in any case. The fact that Jarlaxle healed him is strange enough – even Za...nevermind." Winter caught herself. "Jarlaxle is most unpredictable."
"Bregan D'aerthe's move of reaching out to all cities regardless of race for information is revolutionary." Mikaras agreed. "His spy network is probably larger than mine."
"Do you know how one joins this Bregan D'aerthe?"
"One makes a large enough spectacle of oneself," Mikaras grinned. "Pick a fight somewhere, like in the main square where there is sometimes a Bregan D'aerthe soldier – incognito, of course, offering passers-by money if they beat him. Only that sword of yours is a little noticeable."
Winter drew Irr'liancrea, and murmured to it. Blue flashed once, then turned to the gleam of polished adamantite. She beamed at Mikaras.
"Now your problem is winning the fight," Mikaras said dryly.
"That may be a problem," Winter said enigmatically, "Or it may not." She sheathed the sword. "I looked at the map to Menzoberranzan, but maps change. Anything untoward on the way?"
"Illithids, but not much from them after Zaknafein and Drizzt passed through...not the same city that those two wrecked, but this one is probably also wary of drow. Blingdenstone if you use the safer route. The faster route goes near a goblin enclave, though these probably do not like drow and will try to keep away. And a large part of it is nigouar - Underdark wolf – territory. Vicious little creatures. Obviously, where there is nigouar there is rothe and other hooved animals, but they take offense at creatures poaching on them."
"Not much of a problem," Winter smiled.
"After that is some unknown space, then you go to the cavern of sand. It is like a miniature desert...who knows what is in there, but there are all sorts of rumors. You'd pass a few rivers on the way to the city which you can drink at, but I suggest you hold water for your passage through this place. 'Cavern' is deceiving."
"More unknown space after that, then you'd reach Mekkane, the mongrel city. It's mostly trade, and the city drow pointedly ignore it, but there's probably Bregan D'aerthe somewhere in it...though I suggest you ignore them until you reach Menzoberranzan."
Why 'mongrel city'? you wonder.
Winter glances at you. "Mongrel city, Kel, because it is just about the only city where the proportions of races are more or less equal, even drow. It will be most amusing to visit."
Amusing would not be the word you would use, but you are content to keep your peace.
"Mekkane is still under weapon law – that is, no laws at all except those your swords or magic can talk you out of. It may be a good place to impress Bregan D'aerthe, but that is entirely your choice," Mikaras shrugged. "If you would explain more of your quest I could help you more."
"Sorry, Mikaras," Winter smiled.
"It is about Crenshinibon, though?"
Winter nodded curtly. "What else do you think is important enough in Bregan D'aerthe that I should want to look into it? I have much better things to do than traipse around the Underdark."
"Teleport there."
"And make my presence loudly felt? No thanks."
"I...see." Mikaras nodded. "Anything else you wish to know?"
Winter paused. "Can we buy supplies here?"
"Of course...I can get my dwarven friends to help you if you'd like."
"I'd give them a list. I do not want my supplies to be totally of dwarfish lager, thank you."