Chapter 6
Awakening
Jarlaxle
was instantly at the bed when Zaknafein moaned, peering into his brother's
face. "Are you all right?"
Zaknafein
was lying on his front, face carefully turned by Jarlaxle to the side such that
the elf would not suffocate. It had
been necessary – the back of the mage was a mess of glass fragments and
bruises.
Zaknafein
opened his eyes slowly and saw Jarlaxle's face too close for comfort, but
quickly remembered himself enough to try and make a joke. "Lloth, 'tis Jarlaxle," he said weakly, not
understanding why his voice sounded like a croak, "Am I in hell?"
"Very
funny, Zaknafein," Jarlaxle said, straightening. His arm was held in a sling, and Zak could make out a bandage on
his forehead. "How hilarious."
Zaknafein
tensed briefly as he checked on his wounds, then relaxed on the bed, knowing he
probably couldn't move much without a lot of pain. He was in his room, the mess having been pushed roughly to one
large pile in the side. The way the
sheets had been bloodstained suggested why he wasn't in the...other bed.
"Are
you sure you're not going to try and get up and say you're fit enough to walk?"
Jarlaxle asked.
"Oh,
shut up, Jarlaxle," Zaknafein said, "You know I won't – it's rather pointless
since I cannot."
"Sometimes
you are so practical you make me sick," Jarlaxle retorted.
Zaire's
features were the next to look up into his, and the cheetah immediately began
to wash his face with her rough tongue enthusiastically while he coughed and
protested. Jarlaxle grabbed the
cheetah's collar and hauled it back.
"Naughty
girl. Sit." Jarlaxle grinned at it,
while Zaire shot an angry stare at the weapon master and retired with dignity
under the table.
Zaknafein's
hand reached a cloth, and he wiped his face with it. Dampened in hot water. He
put it back down regretfully, feeling rather more refreshed.
"What
time is it?" Zaknafein asked.
"Well
into the next day," Jarlaxle said, "The rest of the House with the exception of
Lanfaye has gone to watch House Baenre's destruction."
"Baenre's
destruction..." Zaknafein mused. "Oh
my."
"Powerful
and strong as it is," Jarlaxle said, "It would not withstand the forces of Tier
Breche. I'm not surprised if Malice and
company are returning soon."
"Dantrag
got you?" Zaknafein smiled at Jarlaxle's bandages.
"Yes,
and Malice said she wouldn't waste any healing on me," Jarlaxle sighed, "So she
just got someone to treat it with salve and bind it up. You're pampered."
Zaknafein
chuckled. "It still hurts, though."
"Sure
it would," Jarlaxle said. "It's only
fair. You killed Gromph?"
"Same
as you killed Dantrag." Zaknafein said. Both brothers treated this like simple fact, but their smiles held
something of relief.
Jarlaxle
nodded. "Though how he managed to get
you in this way..."
Zaknafein
tried to shrug, but it hurt so much he stopped. "Carelessness. I stabbed
him, and he didn't have the grace to die properly and quickly. Enough breath to implode the glass sliding
doors."
"Gromph
never had anything much like grace in his life," Jarlaxle agreed.
Zaknafein
suddenly noticed something. "Where's
the chain of office?"
"Given
up to Sorcere," Jarlaxle said calmly. Zaknafein raised an eyebrow. "Relax. They know you killed
Gromph fairly. They're just going to
deliberate for a while."
Zaknafein
tried to tell himself he didn't care, failed, and shut it out of his mind. "I see," he said flatly.
Jarlaxle
smoothly changed the subject. "You
really shouldn't talk in your sleep, Zaknafein," he said with a grin.
"What
did I say?" Zak sighed.
"Well,
just after Malice finished healing you, you started to talk about Nina. And Sherl. Another dream?" his grin grew wider.
"Lloth,
yes," Zak groaned, "My life literally flashed before my eyes...all the bad
parts. I thought it was bad enough to
have dreams with you in it. How did
Malice take it?"
"She
wasn't very happy at all," Jarlaxle said. Seeing Zak's horrified expression, he relented. "I explained about them, don't worry. At least you didn't speak out about...others
until she had gone to go and accuse Baenre."
"Just
like her to feel jealous," Zak murmured, though he did feel proud. Proud about what?
"Bad
parts?" Jarlaxle asked sympathetically.
Zak
winced, and nearly winced again when pain stabbed through his ribs enough for
him to gasp out. "Yes. Like a long lecture with Sherl on the day we
broke the vase in the living room playing ball. Nina's lecture after than. Marena's lecture before we went to the bloody marketplace. Malice when I wished her luck to
Arach-Tinilith..."
"Isn't
that a good dream?" Jarlaxle grinned impishly, "I mean, she did kiss you."
"I
didn't have that part," Zak said sourly, "I had the part when you had to break
in on me, then the part when Raenral came along."
Jarlaxle
shuddered. "I think I've had enough
about dreams for the time being."
"How are the others?"
Zak asked.
"Fine,"
Jarlaxle said. "Lanfaye is still
sleeping off her exertions."
"How
is your luck?" Zak grinned.
"Bad,"
Jarlaxle sighed, "Coming up here, I slipped on some water on the stairs and got
this bandage on my head and a scathing speech from Taralyn." The drow priestess was two centuries younger
than himself, but she always managed to make him feel like a first year
student.
As
Jarlaxle continued to rattle off his string of bad luck, Zaknafein started to
smile. Everything seemed to be all
right. He still couldn't believe that
the House had survived, but from the way his muscles ached unbearably from last
night's strain, he knew he had also paid for it.
Briefly
he wondered how the other magic-users were turning up, but only enough to
wonder if they could still use the mage arts, or if they would ever wake
up. The enhancing artifacts purchased
from Laner had all but been burnt out by the massive use of magic, and he had
to watch the bazaar later. Whenever he
got up.
Zaire
looked out at him from under the table, and purred.
**
Malice
rode home on her driftdisc, forcing herself to stay awake. She wanted to collapse from exhaustion, but
watching House Baenre fall had been infinitely satisfying.
The
price had not been very high for House Do'Urden. All the magic-users had collapsed, and those who had woken up
could not even light a candle, drained as they were. The giant spiders had been carefully taken away someplace safe in
the Underdark by Sorcere before they had destroyed House Baenre, and her soldiers
had returned with only twenty fatal casualties to Baenre's hundreds. The others could be healed to fight for
another day.
Still,
there were still about two hundred Baenre common soldiers left, and she would
have to watch the markets closely.
Vierna's
eyes were sunken, and she walked with a zombie-like gait, but she would be
fine, as would the others. The Do'Urden
soldiers had a great boost to their morale, and went around flaunting their
House symbols, the only house to have undergone and defeated a Baenre attack since
Menzoberranzan's founding.
Many
had been surprised about their summoning of monster spiders to do their 'dirty
work'. She understood somewhat –
wizards never exactly played pivotal parts in raids, not like high priestesses. There were no repercussions from Lloth, and
though the city would be in slight turmoil for a while, it was nothing new.
This
was a first time of such high magic usage, and she suspecting it would not be
the last time. The other Houses would
have watched, and would learn. She
would have to tell Zaknafein to set up wards against this on the
house...Zaknafein.
She
had made sure he was fine until she had gone off to the council. There were those who would question such
actions with another drow, and a male at that, but she did not regret it. In this way, she was sure of his loyalty
above the rest, and although he often questioned her orders he hardly ever
disobeyed. At least, for the important
ones, or for those in which he believed would not harm her in any way.
Males
were odd. The unbroken ones like
Zaknafein and his brother Jarlaxle odder still. One had to maneuver around them carefully, and yet they would be
easier to manipulate than any others would. Called unbroken because although they acknowledged the power of
priestesses, they did not follow it fully enough. And yet these types were stronger than the others were. Odd, indeed.
Malice
knew she was...vulnerable in this point. She still could not forget the stab of pain and horror at her heart when
Drizzt told her about the injury. She
was comforted by the idea that if their roles had been reversed, Zaknafein
would as well, though she was also shocked by the sudden intense wave of
jealousy when Zaknafein started muttering about some female called Nina.
It
was probably thankful that Jarlaxle had been around, or she would not have been
sure of what she would have done. Malice had been raised from young to know that males were inferior, no
better than slaves, and she still held that opinion somewhat.
What
had begun centuries ago when she was still a youngling had taken root, and she
was sure that it would never be felled until her death. Lloth, sometimes she felt jealous about
Zaire!
At
that, she chuckled to herself, though loud enough for Dantrena to shoot her a
worried look.
Quickly
she sobered, and began deliberating on what she was going to say to Zaknafein
later about facing Gromph single-handedly and without help. Words rose to mind.
**
Zaire's
growl woke Zaknafein, and he opened his eyes reluctantly to realize that
Jarlaxle was already on his feet, swords half drawn.
Drizzt
stepped in hesitantly, looking around quickly before remembering that his eyes
should be on the floor.
Jarlaxle
and Zaknafein glanced at each other before laughing, though laughing made
tendrils of fiery agony shoot through his chest. Apparently Malice hadn't healed as much as Jarlaxle assumed she
had. Probably some obscure lesson...females
were strange at best.
"I
remember when we used to do that," Zaknafein managed to say, reaching for the
water. His throat felt dry, but
Jarlaxle had calmly told him that Malice did not allow wine to patients.
Drizzt's
eyes were up again. "Really?"
"It
is very boring looking at your toes all the time," Jarlaxle grinned, "And
horrible when your neck cramps something terrible."
Drizzt
looked like he had found paradise inside the room. "That's what I feel too, but my sisters...that is..."
"Sisters,
Drizzt," Jarlaxle said, "Thanks to this bedridden cripple here."
"Not
a cripple yet, Jarlaxle," Zaknafein said dryly. Drizzt stared at him as if fascinated. "What, lad? Have I grown an extra head?"
"Actually,
so long as they don't find out, why not?" Jarlaxle asked, "Zak and I spent
quite a bit of time locking ourselves in rooms we were supposed to clean up,
and stretching our necks."
"Being
born in the same year does have its rewards," Zak agreed, "Jarlaxle at the
beginning, myself at the end, but both of us get to be page princes at the same
time. For what it's worth."
"Company,"
Jarlaxle said, and they smiled.
"That
is true, Master Jarlaxle," Drizzt said, "Sometimes I wish there was another
page prince."
"Don't,"
Zaknafein shuddered, then coughed violently. Taking out so much raw magical power certainly had its drawbacks. He was going to think about getting another
stronger enhancing object. "Two page
princes share the same tasks, and since they believe two pairs of hands are
better than one, they give you enough work for ten."
"And
Silmar is not half as hard as Talyae had been." Jarlaxle said, naming the
current Mistress of the Kitchens, a glorified title for head cook. Talyae had been Mistress during Zak and
Jarl's time, and they had often likened her to a dragon with a sore tooth,
never sure when she'd bite off their heads. Or scorch their tails.
"No
talking in there!" Zaknafein made a passable mimicking of Talyae's harsh
voice. "Use more effort! Why, the both
of you eat enough to feed four times of you, and you say you're tired?" Jarlaxle shook with laughter.
Drizzt
smiled as if they had just given him a throne. The poor child had to be thirsting for someone to speak to. "Silmar speaks like that too," he said
tentatively, "Sometimes I think she has the eyes of an eagle to spot all the
unwashed parts of the bowls."
"At least Silmar does not have a figure like a battering ram," Jarlaxle grinned.
Zaknafein snorted. "Is it Silmar, now?" Drizzt looked at them blankly.
"Even I am not so
stupid as to choose someone like that," Jarlaxle said dryly. "Choose a female with any sort of power in
your life and you are asking for trouble."
"But Master Zaknafein
is patron," Drizzt's brows were furrowed in thought and an effort to understand. "Doesn't the Matron Mother have power in all
our lives?"
"That's different,"
Jarlaxle grinned, "Malice chose him."
"Oh, tell the world,
Jarlaxle," Zaknafein sighed.
"Maybe I will,"
Jarlaxle bantered, "But I heard Malice saying she wanted some words with you
when you woke up."
Zaknafein looked
sourly at the both of them. "Maybe I
should smother myself with my pillow now," he said.
"And miss the fun?"
Jarlaxle said archly, and Drizzt grinned.