Chapter 11
Jarlaxle
Winter did not even flinch, and you had your hands full remaining 'impassive', easy when one does not have very expressive features. Jarlaxle leaned back in his chair, a smile which was not a smile on his lips.
Finally Winter said, "Sir?" in a voice which was convincingly uncomprehending.
"Do not try to deny it, Winter," Jarlaxle said neutrally, emphasis on the last word, but otherwise he did not seem...angry, or accusing, or even smug.
"Sir? My name is Velve."
Jarlaxle stared at her. "Surely you recognize the futility of continuing this charade."
"Charade, sir?" Winter looked puzzled, and slightly annoyed – exactly what would have been if Velve had been a 'real' drow accused of something he had not committed.
Jarlaxle frowned, but she held his gaze. "You are aware that Mikaras is of Bregan D'aerthe."
"Yes sir." Winter said evenly. "I read the rolls before. Sir." Still uncomprehending, but holding back a demand for clarification due to deference.
"He informed me of a powerful female drow approaching Menzoberranzan, on business with a certain artifact known as Crenshinibon." Jarlaxle continued, impersonally, as if reading out a note. "We had reason to believe that this drow would insinuate Bregan D'aerthe as a recruit, through one of the ways in the city Mekkane...with some calculation, the number of recruits we suspected were narrowed down."
"Female, sir," Winter said mildly.
"Illusion is not so great a trick," Jarlaxle replied with the ease of someone whom had tried out several angles of this conversation in his mind and was ready for any question. However, did you detect that the mercenary was now not so sure now of himself?
"Illusion, sir?" Winter raised an eyebrow, polite disbelief.
"That and the fact that this Winter had a child known as Kel following her. And though a child-turned-nigouar seemed unlikely at first – she may have sent the child back to Irinelaeran – it soon was obvious that it had, happened." Those eyes swept down to you, and you tried your best to look like what you were supposed to be – animal, not sentient. You bared your teeth at him.
"Shebali? A drow child?" Sarcasm and disbelief, and an underlying question as to whether Jarlaxle had a stable mental state.
Jarlaxle ignored this, and annoyingly, he was not even getting angry. He seemed as though he...expected this to happen. How Winter would react. And Winter seemed too calm – did she think this could have happened as well? Then why were they continuing to banter words?
"The recruit 'Velve' was also somehow intensely shielded from both magical and mental scrying," he shrugged. "Not even the concerted power of two of the greatest magical talents Bregan D'aerthe had could penetrate the shield, though I have reason to suspect one of those talents was not doing his best, given his history with you."
"Spying on me?" Winter did not make that sound like a question, merely and amusing fact. She did not ask about the 'history' bit, probably attempting to make Jarlaxle forget about it, shielding Rai'gy with her action, if Rai'gy it was whom Jarlaxle suspected. "Shielding artifacts are common."
"Not so common as Irr'liancrea, I would believe," Jarlaxle watched Winter closely, but she did not flinch, no tightening of the jaw, or clenching of the fingers, to give away any indication of who she really was.
"Common as what, sir?" she asked, innocently.
"Not even Crenshinibon could break your shields," Jarlaxle said, unwittingly, or purposely letting out the fact that Crenshinibon was not more powerful than Irr'liancrea in a direct conflict. "No 'common' artifact has that much power."
"Perhaps you were mistaken, sir," Winter said smoothly. "Concerted power focused on one function is greater than a large power focused on many. Can you tell me what this Winter looks like, sir? To dispel any...possible...misconceptions about my identity? With all respect."
Oh, very clever.
The sides of Jarlaxle's mouth twitched, as if he also understood the joke. Casually, he put both feet on the table and leaned back in his chair comfortably. "From all reports, blue eyes."
"Mine are..."
"Illusion." He interrupted.
"If you would think so, sir," Winter said in a 'humor-the-fellow', patronizing voice, which was bound to irritate, but which did not appear to affect Jarlaxle – he continued, unconcerned.
"Blue robes, but armor is easy to obtain."
"That is true, sir..."
"And even if the idea of a female dressing up as a male is unusual, it is not...totally unique."
"Female, sir?" Winter pointed out gently.
You were beginning to relax. Winter could take care of everything. In this light Jarlaxle's accusation seemed groundless and insane. Even he should be able to see that. Everything would be all right, would it not?
However, what Jarlaxle did next was totally unexpected, for the both of you.
"Take off your clothes."
"Sir?" Winter blinked, true surprise in her voice. She obviously had not thought of this outcome...and you prepared yourself to attack or run.
"Now, sir?"
This would, at best, prove to be embarrassing. Although Winter bound her...assets well enough such that she would be more like a male, illusion may not extend to...or did she truly create illusion to show...
Your mind raced, but the most glaring statement, in capital letters and underlined in red, was 'No Escape'.
"You heard me." Jarlaxle was definitely enjoying this – he smiled slightly, triumphant.
Winter shrugged, if a little helplessly. A subordinate obeying rather insane orders from a commanding officer. "Very well, sir."
What!?
It was what you would have expected her to do if she had attempted to continue her act, but would she truly...? Why would she...
Winter removed her cloak, jerky movements showing that she – as Velve - was humoring Jarlaxle, but feeling annoyed at this and hoping to get it over as quickly as possible. It fell to the floor in accusing folds, and you sat down on your rump in shock at what she was doing. A slip – you glanced covertly at Jarlaxle, and realized he was not paying attention to you at all.
Jarlaxle was staring – half stark disbelief, half sly expectation, and you really wanted to bite him. Preferably in a vital spot, causing him a lot of pain...
Chain mail, pulled over her head, dumped on the ground with a muffled chinking sound due to the thick carpet, to show a thin gray undershirt, smelling of rust and metal and oil, stained with what may be dried blood. Jarlaxle did not move to stop her, even seemed to stop breathing, so still he was, so Winter murmured something rude under her breath, and took it off as well, fingers navigating the flat buttons with businesslike efficiency.
You had enough self control not to let out a whine of surprise. Winter had created an illusion – to match the persona of Velve. Scars from blades and magic, some old and nearly healed, some rather new, marring a lean, muscled body which was very obviously male...
Just like her to ensure that the illusion extended to the unseen parts of herself. She could not have created the illusion in the short time of taking off her clothes...or could she? No, you did not hear her say anything, and this close to Crenshinibon, she would not use Irr'liancrea...
She raised an eyebrow at Jarlaxle, unruffled under pressure. Nearly impossibly so.
For a moment you wondered if Winter was the reality or Velve the reality...was this 'Velve' then, the real thing? A real male persona instead of an illusion? Or was Winter truly...then you shook yourself forcefully, mentally. Trust in her.
Jarlaxle looked seriously nonplussed, the expression on his face incredibly comical and out of place.
"Do I continue, sir?" Winter said dryly, hands on her belt.
"How..." The mercenary leader was out of his chair and striding towards the two of you in an uncomfortably short time, anklets and necklaces clashing and tinkling together. You automatically barred his way with a menacing growl.
"Down, Shebali!" Winter commanded immediately, and you unwillingly complied, sinking to the carpet, resisting the urge to savage him. To show your displeasure, and to keep in the role of an abbil-nigouar, you kept up a low and continuous growl, lip curling up slightly to show teeth.
Jarlaxle appeared to have erased you from his immediate universe – he stepped over you, then walked around Winter, anklets and bracelets and miscellaneous jewelry continuing to clash and scrape gratingly against each other, walking slowly, disbelieving, and she continued to radiate the air of deepening puzzlement and the beginnings of outrage, like Velve would have.
A master actress, and a master spellcaster. You felt awe, but still trepidation – Sithag'er and Rai'gy had both termed Jarlaxle 'dangerous', and you were sure that he was not finished with Winter yet.
Instead of being satisfied like most would be, and mutter some apology, Jarlaxle walked – no, stalked the full circle to return to facing Winter, tight grace, but angry, confused. He was taller than she was, and he managed to look her up and down with a casualness that bordered on insult.
"Sir?" Winter inquired, her voice flat now. If inflection were to become reality, the temperature around her would have lowered several degrees.
Jarlaxle made as if to turn away in disgust, then suddenly his right hand shot forward, a striking snake. Winter's eyes widened, shock, and there was a blur of movement, a crash of jewelry against jewelry, and the scene seemed to freeze – Winter firmly grasping Jarlaxle's wrist with her right hand, his hand a few inches before her chest.
Long, aristocratic fingers pointing at her, then relaxing, sagging down, curling slightly as if preparing for a fisted attack, but he made no other move, which would have been lucky for him – if he had tried something else you would have attempted to kill him.
"Sir?" A threat now, in her voice. And yet no hint of the apprehension she must feel – as illusion's greatest weakness, no matter how perfect it was or how beautifully one acted, was that it could not withstand touch.
Stalemate, as neither would back down, two strong wills clashing together, testing each other. For a long, agonizing moment the two of them stared at each other, as if frozen into living, grotesque sculptures, with you yourself half-rising, half still lying on the ground.
"Not touch?" Jarlaxle said then, mockingly, breaking the silence, all disbelief gone now, his fingers going deceptively limp.
Winter let out a deep, shuddering sigh, though she still seemed calm and collected. Outmaneuvered for once, you could see her resolve at what Jarlaxle termed her charade crumbling, though to show a new wall of determination. "I could break your wrist."
"You can try." Jarlaxle shook the arm she held slightly – his bracelets jingled together, some sliding on top of and under each other. Winter watched them suspiciously, seemed to realize something, and sighed again.
"Damn you."
Jarlaxle smirked.
Winter shoved him roughly away and picked up her undershirt. Surprisingly, he did not react – merely watched her quietly and with a certain degree of amusement as she pointedly buttoned it up.
"There is not much point in illusion now, is there?" he asked, when she reached for her armor. He folded his arms, leaned his weight on his right leg, and continued to watch her with unnerving intensity.
"I doubt it matters much to you what I look like," Winter said innocently, pulling on the chain mail and shifting her shoulders to accommodate the additional weight.
Jarlaxle looked annoyed for a moment, probably still partially thinking of Winter as Velve and hence subordinate, thus not used to tolerating blatant disrespect from such, before his face abruptly became bland again.
Winter turned her back on him as she fixed the cloak back on her shoulders, probably even amused by his irritation, then she turned back in her true self, and you wondered, inconsequentially, where the make up had gone. Ice blue eyes sparkled at the startled, then grudging admiration on his face.
One word from this drow and the two of you could be killed, and she was enjoying herself because Jarlaxle found her attractive? Sometimes you thought you would never understand Winter.
"I take it Mikaras failed to mention the more salient points of how I look like," Winter said whimsically.
"Mzilst ssin'urn*, but very vain," Jarlaxle said bluntly, though you did not like the new speculation with which he watched Winter with. You rose fully to your feet with a growl, but Winter waved you back down.
"Bel'la dos," She replied with a wicked smile, dripping with sarcasm. "Did it take four years for you to realize who I was? Very slow, sir."
"I knew whom you were a long time ago," Jarlaxle responded, and neither of you could tell if he was lying. "But by pretending not to, you have in this way served Bregan D'aerthe well for the four years. Bel'la dos, Winter."
"Vith'os." Winter smiled, not angry at all. As she had mentioned earlier, she did like 'working' for Bregan D'aerthe.
Jarlaxle's eyes widened slightly – not expecting this sort of response, then his mouth curled up at the edges, a half snarl-smile which you had already begun to recognize as something he did when he was going to say something shocking.
"Asanque *. Your oath on it?"
You were expecting such an answer, but Winter, oddly, had not been. She blinked once, owlishly, then recovered her composure and smiled sweetly.
"More likely in your dreams."
Jarlaxle smirked. "I will look forward to it."
Winter snorted derisively and changed the subject before it deteriorated further. "Why inform me now that you know who I am?"
"Because I may need your help, not as Velve but as Winter." Jarlaxle said seriously, then his mood changed again, volatile as ever. "Though if Mikaras had given me a better description of you I may have scheduled this occasion earlier by a few years."
"Help? What is so great a problem that the great Jarlaxle and Crenshinibon cannot solve?" Winter said mockingly, glazing over the last part of Jarlaxle's comment.
"Several centuries ago a being of great power broke an artifact of crystal and threw the shards across space and time, wherein two ended up on this world," Jarlaxle began, ignoring her rhetorical question as well.
"Usstan zhaun *." Winter folded her arms. "I have the other, remember?"
"Uss d'lil velvar *." Jarlaxle mused, flicking his gaze down for a moment, then added as an afterthought, "Which was one factor taken into consideration – 'Velve' was under less suspicion because 'he' carried two swords, both painfully plain. And 'he' was staying outside Bregan D'aerthe, while I believed that you would prefer to stay as close as possible to Crenshinibon. And 'Velve' was one of the few whom were willing to leave the city at the smallest notice."
Winter shrugged in unconcern, infuriatingly, then said lightly, "Now are you going to get to the point?"
Jarlaxle stayed calm. "The being's aim was pathetic. From what I know it was attempting to throw both shards onto an unpopulated planet and not onto one of the Fractured Worlds, which..."
"Having a high magical saturation and a high proportion of sentient or magically enhanced beasts, would be one of the worser types of Worlds to throw leech-shards on," Winter finished for Jarlaxle, grinned at his raised eyebrow, and explained, "I do pay attention to my lessons."
Ignoring the unspoken question 'What lessons?', she continued, "So, do you have something new to tell me?"
"Something of similar power-signals has appeared in the Underdark," Jarlaxle said frankly.
"Four years ago, I believe? A time after I came to Menzoberranzan," Winter nudged her luxurious ponytail over her shoulder and entwined her fingers of her right hand in it, playfully.
The distraction broke Jarlaxle's hesitation and astonishment at her answer, and when he spoke again his voice was quiet and cold, "Did it have to do with you?"
"Nav," Winter shook her head, ponytail bobbing.
"Then how did you know?"
Winter smiled, infuriating again. "Natha yorn vel'bolen zhahus naut natha yorn zhaunus *."
Jarlaxle bit his lip, furious at Winter's whimsical, playful attitude to something which he obviously thought very serious.
"Uss zhalus kulggen uss' abbilen *." Winter quoted.
"Whol abbilen orn alur kyorl dossta rath *," Jarlaxle continued absently, then his eyes twinkled.
Winter sighed and played along, finishing the rather incoherent proverb, "Jhal zhahn tlu kyone del rath'elgar, whol lil uss dos xal khal zhah dosstan *. Usstan zhaun. It does not have truth."
"Asanque, but I have no time to play word games with you. How did you know?"
"Natha yorn vel'bolen..." Winter began, placidly.
Jarlaxle held up a hand, cutting her off. "No matter then. But you do recognize that this...being is a threat to both our crystal friends?"
"Irr'liancrea is abbil to me, but I suspect Crenshinibon is but abban * to you," Winter said easily. "Nav, I do not see this threat. Has it moved against you in some way? Attempted to practice its throwing arm on Crenshinibon again? And why worry...that shard you currently call 'friend' is more trouble than even you can handle. This creature may be doing you a favor."
"Crenshinibon assures me this is a different being from the last, and more dangerous," Jarlaxle said sharply. "I will be the one to judge if the shard is 'more trouble than I can handle'. And no, although it has not moved in a concrete way against me or mine, signs of it have just surfaced in Menzoberranzan. My..."
"Territory," Winter became more and more placid as Jarlaxle grew more and more frustrated. "Like animals, hmm? Make your peace with it, then. This is none of my concern."
"Not if it takes Irr'liancrea?"
"It has not tried to do so. Irr'liancrea told me that Reima...ah, but that is none of your concern."
"Reima? How did you...what did your sword say about this?"
Winter shrugged, playfully.
"Winter..."
She shrugged again, and appeared to lose interest, her eyes wandering around the room. Jarlaxle was clearly furious now – his face glowed in the infrared, suffused in crimson.
"Elg'caress." he snarled. Winter chuckled absently at him, and continued to scan the room thoughtfully.
"Winter!"
"Oh, do be quiet," Winter said casually, frowning now, but at Jarlaxle's table.
You watched Jarlaxle tense, beyond fury now, and wondered mildly if he would burst a vein. He started for her, fingers curling, jewelry and boots silent now. His sleeve shifted up slightly, magically, to reveal the glint of hidden blades.
Throwing knives! You snarled a warning.
"Ah, there it is." Winter said brightly, and drew Irr'liancrea in a blur of gray metal that flashed into blue, the sword elongating and returning to its usual jagged-edged beauty.
Above the desk, something flashed once, red in the infrared and blue in normal vision, and a shard of crystal shorter than Irr'liancrea appeared, hanging in the air, pulsing an angry red of challenge. As you watched, Irr'liancrea too began to glow, a hard blue.
Winter cocked her head at Jarlaxle, who stared at her, then at Crenshinibon, then back at her, then she smiled – smiled - sweetly when she made sure she had his – and the shard's – full attention. "What did Crenshinibon say about this?"
--
Language:
Mzilst ssin'urn: Very beautiful
Bel'la dos: Thank you
Asanque: As you wish
Usstan zhaun: I know
Uss d'lil velvar: One of the swords
Natha yorn vel'bolen zhahus naut natha yorn zhaunus: A servant of Lloth which was not a servant of Lloth knew
Uss zhalus kulggen uss' abbilen: One should shield ones' friends
Whol abbilen orn alur kyorl dossta rath: For friends will then watch your back
Jhal zhahn tlu kyone del rath'elgar, whol lil uss dos xal khal zhah dosstan: But then be wary of backstabs, for the only friend you may trust is yourself
Abban: Ally