Chapter 7
Towards Menzoberranzan
"That old shebali." Winter muttered as you led her out of the city. "Didn't give me any definite answers."
You didn't reply about that, simply feeling nervous about the tailings. You had a very uneasy sensation, especially between your shoulder blades...knives flashing, stabbing down, the short period of nothing, then a shorter, sharp period of intense pain...
"They will not attack us," Winter murmured. "Or if they do, probably not you. I believe it is the time to suddenly disappear..."
Judging by the noise level, the two of you were re-entering the market zone. The commercial district, though bustling, with creatures hurrying about their businesses, seemed positively sedate by comparison...
Winter chose the thickest crowd and squeezed in, and you had to do your best to follow, hoping that no one would tread on your paws. You turned your head back once, and saw what looked like drow feet trying to near the two of you, but Winter skillfully weaved in then out of the crowd, somehow (nearly upsetting a raekio seller, the brightly colored fungus in his basket barely escaping becoming part of the unidentifiable messes on the cobbles) emerging out precisely where she wanted – where your gift had pointed you.
You took the lead again, loping forward quickly, and she ran smoothly beside you, the two of you trying to melt into the Underdark before the followers tried anything.
Sounds easy? Try it in a place where your very footprints act as beacons.
Once Winter thought it safe to slow down, she began to explain. "Tagnik'zur is Sanctuary's representative in Mekkane. No, not all the cities have representatives...it just happens that Mekkane's...diversity? Yes, that would be a good word – is amusing to the World-Makers. What does he do? He keeps track of everything he can lay his clawed hands on – the price of adamantite in the drow city of Tyrybblyn, the current scandal in Llurth Dreier...mostly politics, however. He keeps track of the few billion threads that make up the weave of the Underdark."
"Mekkane is under his care...what can he do? Well, there are all sorts of the normal stories sentient creatures come up with when they have too much spare time...no one really knows...just as no one really wants to know why he's half-dragon. Morikan knows no dragon would willingly...my dear Kel, that sort of imagination is most unhealthy for one of your age."
"As to what does he do...well, he ensures a relative stability of a city whose very structure is of chaos. Occasionally he pulls a few threads of the weave, keeping Mekkane spinning on the thin balancing rope above civil war."
You couldn't think of an answer for that, just tried to keep the reek from the rothe waste of many caravan's passage out of your nostrils, and not really succeeding.
Finally the two of you veered off the main route and into a less-used one – too uneven for wheeled vehicles. You wondered wryly whether you should have specified 'safe' for your gift – the atmosphere seemed to be getting warmer and warmer, which was not a good sign. Reptiles liked warm conditions, and most of the reptiles in the Underdark were of considerable size.
"Too late for that now," Winter said neutrally.
The air began to smell different, a small tinge of sulphur, and some earthy, papery scent. As the tunnel began to widen and dip downwards, the air became more and more balmy, until you were panting, the wolf way of sweating, and Winter was muttering about the heat conductivity of metal chain mail.
Soil became dark, nearly black, under your paws, and nearly overgrown with fungus and mushrooms, even on the walls, a most...unnerving sight. What was with this soil, anyway?
The tunnel led to a large cavern, slightly dome-shaped, that seemed to be larger than all of Mekkane. There were small fissures in the carpet of fungus and mushrooms that occasionally emitted some weak jet of that slightly sulphurous gas. Southwest-wards from the center of the cavern was a mound, also overgrown.
"I do believe we are in what was a laccolith," Winter said in mild surprise.
Laccolith?
"A large fracture where magma from under the earth gathered. This place must be rather old for it to have weathered to this state."
Er...
"Just take it that this is natural and nothing to be afraid of...oh, sh..."
Winter yanked you back just as a pair of large jaws longer than your current form surged out of the soil, snapping impotently, before whatever it was sank back in. In the caved-in hole you caught sight of a scaly tail snaking away.
"Tunnels within tunnels," Winter said in mild surprise. You sat down abruptly on the ground, feeling too stunned to be frightened.
What the...
"Ragthar, subspecies of crocodile," Winter said with interest. "Wonderful. How are we going to cross without invoking Irr'liancrea? Rykvaz probably wouldn't listen to a call for help, unlike Graywolf..."
The two of you retreated to more solid rock, and discussed ideas, ideas which got more and more desultory and incredible, until finally you tugged at Winter's trousers – the two of you would have to circle around the cavern and hope that you would join back to Menzoberranzan.
Winter cursed under her breath at the delay as the two of you retraced your steps, and your gift led you down another route.
As the two of you walked, you thought about Winter's 'magic'. How did it work?
You were expecting her to be 'listening in', and she did answer. "By telling it stories. Magic is...in my case, a sentient entity. It trades stories – soothed into giving you the aid you specify. Hence most spells of Loremaster class that are of power take ages to cast – some take months – but Loremaster Adept spells are the best."
What sort of stories?
"The more lurid and sordid, the better," Winter chuckled. "I think magic is perverse. The story of Carmen by a certain composer known as Bizet on one of the joint Morikan-Belnarath worlds gives a rather potent firewall spell. What is it about? A girl who takes a lover, then another lover, then gets killed by the first lover, and both lovers end up killing each other, I think. I have not used that spell for years. Yes, those sort of stories. And each story is usually set to do something – magic never tires of the same story, I think."
It sounded like a lot of work and sore throat.
"It doesn't have to be continuous," Winter shrugged. "I can pull the casting of the firewall spell, for example, for several days with a few hours each day, or simply complete it in one sitting. How we do that is a little complicated."
Are there different amounts of strength one could have in this, or did it depend on memory space?
"Both," Winter navigated a fissure precariously, "A Talent can tell a story in a word or a gesture, for some reason. They aren't common. There is only one natural Talent living, and I'm afraid he is a little bonkers and about to be terminated on another world. Unnatural Talents? If their magic is boosted by...implements. Like a Nexus bond, of course, though that is even rarer. Apparently there's one in progress now which is exciting quite a bit of Sanctuary."
Nexus bond? Implements, like Irr'liancrea?
"Irr'liancrea can't boost my Loremaster power," Winter grinned, "It does have limits, you know. Nexus bond is a special link between two...beings...it is even more complicated, but I suppose we have a lot of time."
She explained that as the two of you picked your way through the tunnels, her voice sure and commanding, a natural public speaker. Then she spoke of 'Sanctuary' again, in wistful tones, of its beauty and its differences, and you listened to a world which seemed so far away and yet brought to life by all the anecdotes and quips...
And you wondered suddenly if this 'Loremaster' magic only worked in the 'Sanctuary' tongue, or had Winter been spellcasting all the while as she had been talking?
"Very good, Kel," Winter smiled. "I only thought of that yesterday. Yes, it works, but more slowly. Not wasting words, hmm?"
What was she doing?
"Weaving a very strong set of shields on Irr'liancrea," Winter explained, "Setting up a radar system for warning of living creatures coming our way. Seeing if anyone is following or scrying us. Little projects, nothing major."
And...?
"No creatures large enough or many enough to pose threat for miles – the Underdark is pretty boring sometimes, hmm? Drizzt must have been rather unlucky to have thought it full of evil and toothy creatures out to have his blood at every step. Thing is, there are certain conditions for life, and those conditions are only around at certain places in the Underdark, not everywhere. Nearly like forests in that way."
"What are forests? Large numbers of trees – plants taller than houses sometimes – that are together in one spot. Usually large amounts of life that keep out of the way of noisy and nosy humanoids. Some think it's totally dangerous, like the Underdark, and unknown, hence by default, evil. Silly, is it not?"
"Following us? No one. Keeping track of us, yes, there's a minor spell I can break easily, but that will tell them something is wrong with us. Listening in on us, no. They can't really be bothered – I'm not of much importance to them...yet." Winter kicked a pebble.
You didn't like the sound of 'yet'.
"Too bad, Kel." Winter chuckled, throaty and rich.
What would be the excuse for entering Menzoberranzan?
"Passing through...oh, maybe to Sshamath? Assassinate a few mages. Who knows. They probably wouldn't believe whatever I say, anyway. Vel'Xundussa Magthere's motto is Zhaunil dal Waerr'ess, after all – Knowledge from Deceit. Playing with words should be fun."
What was her strategy? Infiltrating Bregan D'aerthe was probably easier said than done, and by your knowledge of mercenary groups, most soldiers never got to see their commander in their lifetimes, or at least, not close up. So how was she supposed to observe Crenshinibon?
"So long as I am close enough to build up a certain spell, I don't even need to see him," Winter said dryly. "In fact, I just wish to get close enough – about two hundred metres – body lengths – to set a few parts of it. However, since I have to be in the area for a large part of the time, having some sort of purpose would be nice. I will not join a House, and I will not work as ssins d'Aerth...and I cannot see myself being a shopkeeper in this guise. Hence."
Other groups?
"Bregan D'aerthe has rooted them all out," Winter smiled. "Join them, or die. Not much of a choice."
Teach somewhere?
"Talk about calling attention. Besides, the only place where I could possibly teach would be at Sorcere or Melee-Magthere, and I am not a graduate of either. In Menzoberranzan, their Sorcere still is Ulfaerz'un'arr...a female Arch-Seeress, and not based on the most talented. How amusing. Only their Melee-Magthere has a male master, the Ul'Saruk. Menzoberranzan is a Dark-Ages class city – the only constant is chaos. And I thought Irinelaeran was bad."
Where would she take rooms?
"Several suggestions from Qarrin and Mikasa...but I think I shall use Vel'Xundussa Magthere property. Even if it is not luxurious – hence not noticeable in Menzoberranzan, but it will be safe. Guild members protect members, most of the time."
Is not Vel'Xundussa Magthere a competitor of Bregan D'aerthe?
"We're currently stronger, so we ignore each other's existence – though we try to poach from each other. There are quite a few Bregan D'aerthe mercenaries who are Veldriss or Veldruk...and vice versa of course."
Winter continued to talk through the long walk, the two of you plodding on.
You eventually lost count of the number of sleeps, your days passed in tedium allayed barely by Winter's dialogue. Then you began to notice something – little wisps of transparent things, irregular and fleeting in sighting.
They became slightly more frequent as the two of you continued onwards, until finally you realized that they seemed to resemble creatures – drow, duergar, svirfneblin...children, female, male, adult...
You asked this of Winter.
"Oh? Ah yes, nigouar can see ghosts."
Ghosts!
"Discontented spirits. These are harmless...you can always tell when one is nearing a drow city by the sudden increase in wraiths. It is rather sad, really...they're scaring you? Oh very well, I'd tell them to leave us be."
Winter spoke a jumbled, erratic and highly unlikely story of a merchant and a sock, in drow, and then the spirits abruptly faded away.
In drow?
"Practicing," Winter said sheepishly. "I am experimenting to see if 'story-telling' can be brought in normal speech."
You still felt much relieved. Some of the expressions on the ghosts would haunt you for years to come, and you felt ridiculously happier that you could not see them now.
**
The harassed-looking guards at the gates the two of you approached let both of you pass with a few cursory words and returned to the unruly knot of duergar caravans.
Did Winter want to find Bregan D'aerthe now?
"We wait for them to find us," Winter said quietly. There were less drow, theoretically, in Menzoberranzan than in Irinelaeran, but here it seemed like more. "We are in a commercial area. Now, I need you to find this person..."
An image of a drow leapt into your mind, female, wrinkled, and with the remnants of a once proud beauty. You paused a little, then loped confidently forward into an alley, Winter following you. After a few twists and a long walk the two of you reached the back door of an unassuming house – Winter examined what appeared to be a crack on one filthy wall microscopically before knocking politely.
The door opened quickly, to show that selfsame female. This case, the intelligence in her eyes in the projected image was replaced by dull stupidity. She stared at the two of you.
"L'alurl gol zhah elghinyrr gol," Winter said softly, with a rather manic twitch to her lips – holding back laughter.
The best goblin is a dead goblin?
The female opened the door wider, and Winter stepped in – you followed. She closed the door, then waited.
Winter rubbed her face with both hands, and the disguise of the male disappeared when she removed them. She grinned at the other's snicker to see the face of a handsome male replaced by a pretty female one.
"Very imaginative," the female's dull eyes disappeared, replaced by definite intelligence, and she produced a book from beneath the dirty robes. "Name?"
"Winter. Lin'Fayaenre Ra'Kest."
She flicked open the book to a page, then held it out. Winter pressed her thumb onto a square for a few blinks, then removed it. The female peered at the heat mark left, then lit a candle and compared it to something in the book. Then she got a brush from the table in the cluttered room and dusted the mark, then compared it again.
"Correct," she shut the book and replaced it under her robes. "What help do you need?"
"Rooms for a while," Winter grinned. "Oh. And food, a bath..."
"One at a time, noamuth velg'larn," the female laughed. "My name is L'hurdre. And your friend here is...?"
"Kel," Winter nodded. "Actually drow. Transformed. Thank you very much, L'hurdre. Now, for that bath..."
"This way."
Winter emerged from the bath place wearing her blue robes and combing her hair. The interior of what was affectionately known as Olist El'lar, the stealth house, was considerably cleaner and more comfortable than the outside, and you were already snuggling onto one of the beds in the rooms that you had been provided with.
She grinned at you. The room was not large – two beds, desk, wardrobe, chest at the foot of each bed for belongings, lantern, no window, no carpet, but the beds were comfortable and the room gave a general feeling of security. You burrowed deeper into the sheets, having submitted to a washing courtesy of L'hurdre and now being clean.
"A short while before I have to wear that armor again," Winter sighed. "I hate it already."
You made an unsympathetic snuffle, and closed your eyes in contentment.
**
When you woke up some time later Winter was gone, so you considered your options. Should you wait for her to return, or should you go to look for her?
Your patience ran out after an interminable amount of time where you counted the cracks on the ceiling, then the folds on the bed, then finally let out a small sniff of annoyance and leaped off the bed, feeling absurdly proud of the graceful move.
Nudging the door open, you padded out of the house. L'hurde, mending a dress on a comfortable chair at the foot of the rickety old stairs, nodded at you. "She is wandering around their market. You would like to be careful here, Kel. Elves here do not like nigouar very much."
You nodded at her, then headed out of the door and focused on Winter. She was...not nearby, to your annoyance, so you set off at an easy lope in her general direction. Feeling dizzy from the nap, you barely avoided the stinking heaps of some unknown substance, and felt relieved as you came out into a cleaner street. You saw what L'hurde meant immediately – a drow elf, commoner, by the sight of her, shrieked when she saw you. Hurriedly you turned tail and decided to find a less open way to find Winter.
Maybe you did need a collar. Collared nigouar would be classed as 'pets'...hence less probable to be bothered.
You managed to find the market eventually – after several mishaps with a group of soldiers, another female, and a few rothe. There were too many humanoids in it – and you regretting walking so openly into the place – some of them fled, some backed off and shouted, and a few drow soldiers took a few steps forward.
You bared your teeth hopefully, trying to scare them off. They took one collective step back, then drew their weapons. You prepared yourself to turn and run, claws digging into the cobble stones...
A hand landed on your head, and you started, then relaxed when you noted the familiar scent of Winter. She ruffled your...fur affectionately, ignoring the astonished onlookers. "Shebali, vel'klar inbal dos tlus?"
Where have you been? You automatically attempted to say 'Looking for you', but it came out as a series of rather savage snarls. The crowd buzzed uncertainly.
Winter produced a collar from her satchel – a rather plain, soft black leather one with a pendant in the form of a plain adamantite coin attached to it. She attached it rather loosely to your neck, said rather loudly, "That is better," then in a softer voice, "That may have called more attention to me than in the last half an hour. Thank you, Kel..."
You let out a rather wolfish 'chuckle', and padded after her as she started off back into the market. After some hesitation, the crowd got back to their normal distance, though they gave the two of you a berth.
Winter was inspecting a stall, which sold sharp implements with interest. She picked up a large flat ring of metal with sharp outer edges curiously, running one finger over the carving. You caught something she said under her breath about thinking these sort of weapons only existed in 'Xena'. Finally she paid for it, hooked it onto her belt, then winked briefly at you.
You blinked, then looked around more carefully – ah, two soldiers three stalls down trying their casual best to look inconspicuous. You shook your head in resignation at Winter, who chuckled, nodded imperiously at the frowning shopkeeper then swept off, intensely amused.