Chapter 8
Miscellaneous
Finally Winter stopped her rather aimless wandering and stepped into one of the poorer regions of the city – where the housing materials were not even made of stone, but what materials could be scavenged from the city. Gaunt commoners watched the two of you pass with wide eyes, fearful eyes, then returned to their businesses hurriedly. You shuddered inside at the blank hopelessness in every single move of theirs, and kept closer to Winter.
Walking zombies...
"Yes, rather sad," Winter murmured, sounding annoyingly uncaring, "But our business is not here. Not yet." After that rather cryptic comment she continued to walk quickly, and you did your best to follow. Then she just as abruptly ducked into a shack made of cloth held up precariously by rusty metal rods, and you went in after her...
The shack was totally empty except for a white chalked circle on the ground. It stank, that makeshift, tiny room, of rust, rotting cloth and something which had been burnt. Winter peered at it, then beckoned, and the both of you stepped into it.
Nothing happened.
Winter muttered something obscene under her breath which you had heard Petriarch say before during that time when three drunk customers had started a large fight in the main room, then something else, which took a bit of time which you spent shifting your weight from paw to paw in agitation. Concentrating on your new senses, you could nearly 'see' the two soldiers which had been following the two of you outside. By their rather uncertain movements, you could deduce that they were...puzzled. Jerky, gesticulating, impatient...in the infrared the bits around their heads and heart were more pronounced.
Then everything seemed to blur, everything outside the circle, like some wet painting smudged by a sponge...a feeling of dizziness and displacement, and you shut your eyes tight...
It cleared to show an octagonal chamber, littered by what you could broadly call junk – magical-looking junk. This place smelled old, musty, like an ancient storeroom – you sneezed at the dust and a black robed, masked figure shot up from where it had been reading in a nest of books, startled.
"Jalynfein, I presume?" Winter smiled, if rather viciously. You winced.
"What...who are you? How dare you enter my chambers!" The figure's hands began to radiate some sort of angry dark blue light.
"Oh, for pity's sake." Winter sighed theatrically. "Did not Morikan think to actually speak to you about me? Sometimes I wonder about Sanctuary – they ask me to do a 'favor' for them, then actually forget to inform the recipient..."
The blue light faded away slowly. Jalynfein seemed uncertain and apprehensive, an attitude which seemed to happen to people in a certain radius of Winter after a while – yourself included. "You are the representative of Asur?"
Winter watched him patiently, but you could tell she was enjoying this immensely.
"Can you...prove it?" Jalynfein was losing the initiative again.
Winter sighed, and showed him the covered side of her cloak. The white dragon blurred into view once, then blurred away again. "My name is Winter. Were you not supposed to expect me?"
"Winter? But I was told you would be...er. Female. I believe."
You could not see Winter's face, but Jalynfein started back once, then – unwillingly at first – began to laugh, laughter that had a slight edge of hysteria in it, that put your teeth on edge, showing that this drow had been under a lot of pent up pressure for so very long.
"Precisely. This is not my primary objective – just that Sanctuary has a habit of saying 'Since it is along your way anyway, why not complete it?'. Which is why I am here."
"Who was the person who 'recommended' me?" Jalynfein asked suddenly, "I was..."
"Nominated by Zaknafein. He wishes you to know that the two of you are now 'even', whatever that means." Winter stepped fastidiously out of the circle, and you followed. More dust, but you managed to stop sneezing. Both of them ignored you. "Now hurry up. Do you agree or not? If you do not agree, then I will get out of here now."
"This is my only chance, it appears, to wriggle out of her grasp," Jalynfein said, almost to himself. "I did once tell Zaknafein that only by 'serving' Lloth may one oppose her, but I have come to admit to myself that such a move is most difficult, especially for one in my position. You can count all the 'good' deeds I have done on the fingers of one hand...because I am afraid, inside, to oppose Lloth. Then you – your Asur – tell me that if I choose them over her, I may serve their desires. What do I know if they are...what if they are worse than Lloth?" A challenge. Winter returned his stare – eventually he looked away.
"Zaknafein serves Asur," Winter said evenly. "Do you think he would serve something worse than Lloth? Look, I am not here to convince you. If you are not happy with the proposition, then I will go now. I have an appointment elsewhere." She made as if to step back into the circle.
"Wait!" Jalynfein was clearly desperate, like a dying drow pulling at straws, "Wait...but how am I certain that you can reverse what she did to me?"
Winter turned back, and she looked bored. "A demonstration may be in order." She retrieved a small iron marble from her satchel, then spoke to it in the language you did not understand. After a few blinks, the marble crumbled to dust which she dropped, then glanced up at Jalynfein.
"Remove your mask and touch your face, oh ye with no faith." She seemed to be making another private joke, because she smirked.
Jalynfein hesitated, then with an exclamation of defeat tugged away his gray mask, showing a face which was handsome in an ascetic sort of way. He tentatively touched his cheek with his fingers, then his eyes widened, and he ran his hand over his face in astonishment, then delight, then suspicion. Then he stared at Winter.
Winter bowed flamboyantly. "I can just as easily reverse it, of course..." That had a blatant threat in it.
"No! No...this is very good. Yes...but how..." Jalynfein seemed to give that topic up at the palpable amusement radiating from Winter. "Very well. How may I serve Asur?" His face showed distaste at the word 'serve' – this one was proud.
"They've explained that to you, I think. No? Then they soon will. Now, have you been observing Crenshinibon?"
"The crystal shard? Ah...no. It has not as yet moved against the city – not that we could ascertain...but Jarlaxle is clever." This last seemed to be an explanation.
"What? No widely publicized and amazingly devious coups? No sudden strange upsurges of supremacy and insane behavior in the Houses? How boring." Winter said whimsically. "Well, well. This has been a most interesting session, but I have to go now."
"You need no...help?" Jalynfein frowned.
"No – I am not the quester you are supposed to aid." Winter nodded. "Come, Kel."
"There is one thing," Jalynfein said just before Winter stepped back into the circle, suddenly very helpful.
"Yes?"
"There has been one circumstance of a power surge in the past month, but outside the city...about as long as the distance to Blingdenstone except in the west. It did not have any traces on it we could link to Crenshinibon...but I thought that you may find it to be of interest, since it was magical in nature and not, apparently, of this world."
"Really? Interesting. Well then, enjoy your new face."
You followed Winter into the circle, and the landscape blurred again, then returned to the shack.
Winter began to laugh silently, and you watched her in mild curiosity.
What had that all been about?
"Asur needed a representative in Menzoberranzan," Winter shrugged. "Hence, Jalynfein the so-called Spider Mage, chosen not only because of Zaknafein's nomination, but also because taking him would be tweaking Lloth's perfect nose. Jalynfein is desperate to be shielded from Lloth, and also desperate to get rid of his...changed face."
What had been his face before the...iron marble?
"You do not want to know. Seriously. Now, time to go outside and pick a fight..."
Winter pushed the flap aside and strode outside. You saw the two soldiers, which had been standing outside the shack. They blinked. Obviously the conversation in the shack had been shielded from them.
"Why have the two of you been following me?" Winter said in a voice which would have passed for male.
"Following..." one began, but Winter cut him off with a deep sigh.
Instead of saying something like 'Now I have to kill you,' or something about Bregan D'aerthe, Winter simply attacked, drawing both swords quickly and engaging the first. Startled, he barely drew his weapon – a long sword, before she deftly disarmed him by slicing open his hand then slapping away the blade, kicked him in the stomach, and rammed her elbow into the back of his neck. He dropped to the ground, barely conscious.
Winter, very sure of herself, did not even turn to see if she had dispatched him, but began to attack the other – her swords clashing with his, dodging his kick, then slamming one booted heel into the joint of the leg supporting his weight. He went down, but rolled away out of her sword strike, but when he got into a crouch her sword pointed at his throat.
"Shebali, sit on the other, would you?" Winter smiled.
You did so, standing on the back of the fallen one, letting out a menacing growl for good measure and he tensed, then kept very still.
"Now, any sudden movements, and my sword will have a very terminal association with your throat, while my friend over there will tear out the throat of your friend. I would advise you to speak the truth to me, because I undergo involuntary muscle contractions when upset." Winter smiled, a terrible smile. Her sword tip touched his throat.
The soldier whom she pointed the sword at swallowed.
"Hmph," Winter nodded, in satisfaction. "Now, I would not insult you by demanding where you came from. Bregan D'aerthe can be quite transparent..." the soldier blinked at the name. "Oh, come on. Did you expect me not to notice that I had been followed? And by who? Nevermind, do not reply to that. Now, tell me what Bregan D'aerthe wants of me? I believe I bled them of enough of their money the last time I fought their representative in the Sithyrr."
"If you would be good enough to join," The soldier said slowly. "And what your business was in the city."
Winter let out a bark of laughter. "If I were to join it would be on my choice. My business in the city has been completed. As to whether I am good enough – if the two of you are typical of Bregan D'aerthe, then I would be ashamed to be part of it."
The soldiers did not even flinch. "Bregan D'aerthe will be willing to pay you well."
"Money does not drive me," Winter said coldly.
The soldier frowned at this. "Nor power?" You had a feeling the two of them were reading off some unseen script.
"If I wanted power I would not be noamuth velg'larn." Winter said calmly. "However, since I have no contract on the both of you I cannot be bothered to waste any effort terminating your worthless lives. You can return to your masters and tell them to vith'tir. If your master is so interested in getting me to join, he can come and talk to me himself instead of sending the likes of you. Shebali?"
She turned her back on the soldier in contempt, stabbed the long sword of the first one an inch from his face, then walked away calmly. You growled once more for good measure, then padded after her.
You were beginning to wonder if that was such a good idea after all. What if Jarlaxle got seriously annoyed by her treatment of two of his soldiers? Bregan D'aerthe was too powerful now, here, in their home base...
"Hmm," Winter smiled at that, then began to whistle a catchy tune.
You shot a backward glance at the soldiers. They were (unsurprisingly) gone.
**
The two of you reached yet another of the gaps in the otherwise rather closely clumped together shacks. Strangely, there were children playing in this one – there were two pairs of rusted poles stuck in the ground, some distance away from and facing each other. Between them about a dozen drow children in scruffy clothes played with an even scruffier ball.
You were mildly surprised at this rather idyllic scene in a 'Dark Ages' city.
"Children everywhere are like this, Kel..." Winter murmured. "Play is as much part of their lives."
The ball, kicked away, came straight by accident at Winter, who whirled, then began to dribble and roll the ball dexterously on her shoulders, down her back, then kicked up by one foot, keeping it in the air without the use of her hands, showing off. Finally she bounced it back to the wide-eyed children with a smile.
"What are you playing?" She asked politely.
The children stared at her, fear in their eyes, then one male one was pushed forward. "Ball," he said carefully.
"And kicking this...ball through those posts scores a point?" Winter asked.
"A pebble," the boy pointed at the 'sidelines', bolder since Winter was simply asking about a game. Four pebbles on one side, six on the other...
"Oh." Winter brightened up. "Mind if we join in?"
You blinked at this, but the children obviously were frightened of Winter, and nodded dumbly. You joined the four-pebble side, while Winter joined the other. The game started off tentatively at first, then the children appeared to accept the both of you as strangely shaped versions of their kind, and you thought again about trust as you pushed a ball away from Winter with your shoulder, to one of your 'teammates'...
Why was Winter doing this?
"I need to relax a little," Winter murmured at you as she passed. She snatched control of the ball, then attempted to weave past your team's defense, but the children had played the game for longer than she had, and she was quite unsuccessful. She laughed at this, and passed it to one of her own teammates.
Infrared and dull light from the inferior – grade candles...weaving of small bodies, dirty teeth, tiny feet...
The ball came your way, and you managed to bump it to another of your team-mates, identified by the bit of ribbon tied to his wrist. The other team wore no ribbons. And you knew that drow society was not all killing and fear...and you wondered why most others, including drow themselves, thought it so...
Winter did not attempt to dominate the game or spoil the fun – she always let another score, but did not make any team feel disgruntled – in fact the children seemed to be enjoying their two new 'playmates'. Finally a truce was called, and some of them patted you, if a little tentatively, chattering to themselves.
Winter bowed to them. "Thank you, my friends...that was possibly the most fun I have had in weeks." She tossed a coin to each of them, and waved.
They waved back, collected their pebbles, and disappeared.
Winter watched them go, then, without turning around, said "You can come out now."
There was a pause, then a drow male stepped out from one of the makeshift huts, dressed in typical warrior costume, hands on the hilts of his two swords.
Winter turned around then, and sighed. "Now who the hell are you?"
"My name is Berg'inyon," the drow warrior bowed slightly.
"Ah, Bregan D'aerthe again," Winter folded her arms on herself, but in a way that made the traditional gesture for peace seem sarcastic. "I told those two..."
"Jarlaxle is in Abburth," Berg'inyon stated.
Winter raised an eyebrow. "So?"
"The offer remains," Berg'inyon said calmly. "But first..."
He drew his swords and darted forward, then suddenly used his momentum to spin tightly, before he reached Winter, one hand stiffly behind him and one in front, such that he became a small whirl of slashing metal.
Winter's move was so quick you would have missed it had you not been watching her intently – she dropped to one knee when Berg'inyon was close enough, and struck away and out with one sword – Irr'liancrea - forcefully, actually managing to pick Berg'inyon up and throw him away several feet.
He got up to his feet instantly, pain crossing his face once, a visible dent in his chain mail, but held his swords firmly.
"Very unorthodox," Winter said mildly.
"Yours as well," Berg'inyon said politely, unwilling approval in his voice, then charged again, going into a tight spin earlier than before, though his swords now seemed to sweep around rather madly, a rather insane cocoon of steel. Winter cursed once, blocked a slash which came too close for your comfort, leaped backwards out of range, then darted further away.
Berg'inyon stopped to face her, then had to defend quickly as Winter lunged at him, viciously driving him in circles with savage skill, attacking his hands and arms rather than other vital spots, until you realized that Berg'inyon seemed to be weakening, the crippling blows numbing him.
Finally another forceful slash – Irr'liancrea's edge on Berg'inyon's sword edge – and to your absolute amazement, Berg'inyon's sword was sheared cleanly in half. Winter reversed her move, and slammed both swords into the other – Berg'inyon managed to keep hold of it, but it cracked all along the edge.
Winter leaped backwards again, and smiled at Berg'inyon's amazement.
"Not of wonder that you could defeat Tantras'nen in Mekkane," Berg'inyon said, finally, lowering his sword, calling for a truce.
"It will not be your sword that I break the next time," Winter said with frank honesty. Her sword-tips also lowered. "That was the famous Tantras'nen?"
"None other," Whatever response Berg'inyon had been hoping to get, he was disappointed.
Winter shrugged irritatingly at him. "Not of wonder that you were defeated by the rogue known as Drizzt Do'Urden, if that is how you fight." she remarked, using his words on purpose.
Berg'inyon stared at her, puzzled and slightly annoyed. You began to feel a sense of deja vu.
"Hmm." Winter chuckled, a harsh sound now. "Killing you may be interesting, but quite useless. I would not mind engaging Rand'eran as well, if you wish. However, Jarlaxle may just need to get more captains in that case, because I am beginning to get irked."
"You could be a captain," Berg'inyon began, though from the expression on his face he probably disapproved of this measure. "You have the potential."
"You sound as if it is Bregan D'aerthe that chooses, not myself," Winter said coldly. "Which, I assure you, will not be the case."
"Allow us a chance, then," Berg'inyon said calmly. "See if you like being inside Bregan D'aerthe. You may always leave if you wish."
"I will always leave if I wish," Winter corrected.
"Are all other noamuth velg'larn like this?" Berg'inyon muttered.
"The last I met one of mine was several decades ago," Winter shrugged. "Slightly insane fellow who liked playing with feathers. Bregan D'aerthe too, I believe. Who cares. Most of them would have killed you and gone off by now."
"Then why not you?" Berg'inyon challenged.
Winter sheathed her swords. "It is a long period between assignments. I believe I may condescend to 'try out' your organization."
Berg'inyon also sheathed his swords. "What is your name?"
"You may call me Velve," Winter shrugged.
Blade?
"Appropriate," Berg'inyon watched her warily, giving no indication that he knew that she was more than he thought. "Accompany me to Bregan D'aerthe." It was not a question.
Winter nodded with supreme indifference.
A dimension door appeared, leading to a room where several drow sat at around a table. Berg'inyon stepped through, and you followed Winter, the static between the two places not uncomfortable.
The drow looked rather carefully at her, especially the one in rather plain priest-robes, who seemed to be in some sort of nervous quandary – his eyes kept flicking over to the rest of the group, then at Winter, then back again.
Another one in armor this time closed the dimension gate with a nod of his head. There were four in total sitting at the table, and one of them looked distinctly familiar – the drow at Sithyrr.
"Some explanation may be in order," Winter said mildly.