Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Malice

Zaire growled again, and Jarlaxle's hands flew to his swords.

"No need," Zaknafein smiled, "It's Malice."

"Matron Malice," Malice corrected, leaning on the frame of the door with a steely glint in her eyes. She turned her stare to Drizzt, who quickly lowered his eyes to his feet. "What are you doing here, page prince?" she asked harshly.

Zaknafein gambled on whether he should help Drizzt and get into further trouble, or ignore Drizzt and let the lad get a beating. He sighed. "Drizzt is here for someone to talk to, Mal-that is, Matron. Having to talk to Jarlaxle alone is torturous."

Jarlaxle raised an eyebrow, but had the sense to keep quiet. Malice transferred her scathing gaze to the Weapon Master. "Out," she said.

"Yes, Matron Mother," Jarlaxle said, and when moving out pushed Drizzt in front of him, shooting Zaknafein a sympathetic grin. Malice shut the door.

"Master Jarlaxle, what is going to happen to Master Zaknafein?" Drizzt asked, with wide eyes.

"No whipping, don't worry," Jarlaxle said with a grin. "Just a scathing that he'd recover from soon."

"What's scathing?" Drizzt asked, his eyes growing wider.

"Does Silmar scold you about not washing properly?" Jarlaxle asked.

"Yes," Drizzt said.

"That kind of scolding," Jarlaxle said seriously. Drizzt nodded in comprehension. "How old are you, child?"

"Thirteen," Drizzt said proudly.

"Three more years," Jarlaxle mused.

"To what?" Drizzt asked, warming to the brothers.

"Just hang on," Jarlaxle grinned, "And don't let go."

The door opened, and Malice glared at them. "Still there?"

"We're just moving along," Jarlaxle said innocently, and they quickly moved away under her stare.

**

Malice closed the door, then looked around the room. "Still a mess," she remarked.

"Did you think that would change?" Zak bantered.

"I believe I ordered you once to clean it up," she told him.

"I did," Zak said innocently. Malice looked at him disbelievingly. "It just got messy again."

Malice shrugged and sat on the side of the bed. "How do you feel now?" she asked neutrally.

"Terrible," Zak said truthfully, "I feel like someone hit me all over with a warhammer."

"Good," Malice said savagely, "What did you mean, fighting Gromph with not even a staff to help you?"

"Jarlaxle was fighting Dantrag," Zak said mildly.

"Jarlaxle was using swords and his dice," Malice said coldly.

"Swords are useless in a magical battle," Zak replied.

"You know very well what I mean," Malice told him. "What if he had won?"

Zak shrugged, then stifled a gasp as his shoulders tensed involuntarily. "Then I'd have died, I think. Gromph isn't one to let enemies live, and neither am I. I just wished I stabbed him a little lower."

"Stabbed?" Malice asked, sounding startled.

"I wanted to end it quickly," Zak said, "So I used a dagger as well. What would happen if I tried to roll over?"

Malice put her hands on his bare shoulders and pressed down hard, making his breath hiss out in pain. "Worse than that." Her eyes glittered. "And far worse than that if you ever try such a stupid thing again."

"As the Matron commands," Zak grinned, "So will I obey...ouch!"

Malice's hands began their gentle kneading of his shoulders again, loosing the tension. "And do not taunt me."

Zak smiled faintly, eyes half closed. In an effort to change the subject before she launched into another tirade about his faults, he said, "Baenre is destroyed?"

Malice smirked. "Of course. Their wards were certainly rather powerful, but not enough. Two hundred or so Baenre soldiers have been 'salvaged', and Vierna and the others will take turns watching the markets."

"We will probably only be awarded a hundred at most," Zak said rather drowsily.

"It would be more than I would expect," Malice said.

"Use half to create a mercenary group in the city," Zak said, "For hire."

Malice's hands stopped. "Whyever for?"

"Power?" Zak smiled. "And more money, of course. Mercenaries frequent taverns and such, and when the group has proven itself, the Houses would start using it as a tool, as they use the other groups."

"Everyone knows it is dangerous to hire mercenary groups openly allied to a House." Malice said.

"If the price is reasonable enough...Lloth knows the other mercenary groups seem to charge their own weight in gold...many houses will use it." Zak said, "Those below us, who think that we have no interest in the group other than the money. Or perhaps the actual ownership of the group could be kept a relative secret."

"More like a spy network," Malice said, "Such that not all members of this...group is revealed."

"Yes," Zak said.

"And who would head this group?" Malice asked with a mischievous grin.

"Why, Jarlaxle, of course," Zak grinned back, "And myself. It'd give us something to do until I can get out of bed without collapsing from the pain."

Malice frowned at him, but her hands continued mechanically. "You should like the two of you have already planned this beforehand."

"I do?" Zak asked innocently, then hissed again when her hands pressed down, harder. "Well, maybe we speculated a little."

"Actually, I am sure the both of you have this very well planned out," Malice said dryly, "Right to where you would base the group. And don't give me that look, Zaknafein. I do have my own eyes in my own House."

"We did not plan on the soldiers, as yet," Zak protested.

"Opportunists," Malice accused.

"Any drow alive must be," Zak murmured, but refused to let his mind wander on that subject.

Malice shrugged. "And what would this group be called?"

"Jarlaxle said it should be 'Bregan D'aerthe'." Zak said with a grin.

There was a silence while Malice worked, thumbs moving in small circles. "Who is Nina?" she asked in a completely neutral voice.

Zaknafein twisted over to look at her with a horrified expression, ignoring the stab of pain. "Wha...I thought Jarlaxle..." He stopped when he saw her amused smile.

Malice pressed him back down. "So he did," she said calmly.

"Why, you..." Zak murmured irritably. Females!

Malice's mouth twitched up in a faint smile. "Nalrann of House Barrison del'Armgo lit Narbondel today," she said, changing the subject again.

Zaknafein raised an eyebrow, but did not take the bait. "Is that so," he said solemnly.

"House Barrison del'Armgo is the First house, now," Malice said in the same neutral voice, a dangerous voice, but the corners of her mouth twitched again. Zaknafein didn't seem to react at all, which was frightening in a way. Whoever lit Narbondel was usually considered to be the Archmage. "Is there something wrong with you?" she asked irritably.

Zaknafein looked back up at her again, a half-smile on his face. "What did you think I would do?"

"Get worked up?" she suggested.

Zaknafein chuckled. "Too much effort for the time being. When I manage to walk, then I'd think about it. Does Sorcere know I'm alive?"

"Representatives came to the House to get the chain of office," Malice said. Jarlaxle refused their entry further than the gates, but he gave them the impression that you were alive, especially since Zaire made a brief appearance to snap and snarl at Paelr'an Tlabbar." One of the Masters of Sorcere that Zaire hated with a fervent and deep passion, since he had kicked her once. Paelr'an was of House Faen Tlabbar, Third House, and he disliked Zak as well as Zaire.

"Lloth, I hope she got him," Zaknafein grinned viciously.

Zaire made a discontented rumble under the table.

"She didn't," Malice said unnecessarily. "But she did give Paelr'an a fright, since he had probably decided you were dead."

The Masters of Sorcere was a strange reflection of Arach-Tinilith's. Only those from the top few houses had the Master's bracers, and Zaknafein was one of them, though he spent most of his time in Sorcere reading up the spell books or fast asleep in his room. Sorcere's Master chambers were nice and quiet, unlike House Do'Urden where he would be constantly called up for all sorts of 'errands'.

"How his heart must have broken," Zak murmured, "If he has a heart."

A low growl from under the table gave implications of what the cheetah would like to do to Pael'ran's heart.

"What are you going to do about this?" Malice asked, the dangerous tone of voice in turn implying what she was going to do to him if he was going to do something stupid.

"Sleep," Zak said promptly. Malice's eyes narrowed. "Oh, very well," he said, "When I can walk, I am going to Sorcere and look up the rules, then confront the council."

"Do not get into any more fights there," Malice said, "I think you should wear the ceremonial robe, and obviously the bracers. And get a staff."

"Why that robe?" Zaknafein asked desperately, "It's hot and cumbersome." And it really looked as though it had been made by someone who believed a robe was only for show and not for comfort.

Malice continued as though she hadn't heard him. "Gromph's staff is still here. Merge his staff with yours, I think. And comb your hair. The way it looks like now, you seem like a houseless rogue. Maybe you should bring Jarlaxle."

Zaknafein, quickly growing alarmed, shuddered. "No thank you. Fighters are barely tolerated in Sorcere. Merging a staff is going to be rather difficult."

"You don't seem to have anything else to do," Malice said relentlessly.

"Very well," Zaknafein said neutrally. He was already beginning to devise ways on how to wriggle out of this.

"And you had better obey, patron," Malice said as if she had read his thoughts. For a moment, Zak quickly checked his shields, and noted that they were down. Damn.

Malice smiled viciously at him. "Perhaps that is as good a word as most," she said serenely, ignoring his glower. "Mind your language," she added when he bit out a few curses against mind-reading females. Her hands began to wander, effectively stoppering further protests.