Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Through a Mirror of Spite

Jarlaxle walked past the door of Zaknafein's room, then stopped. There were sounds behind it – something unusual as late. He twisted open the door.

Zaknafein looked up from where he had been picking books off the shelf. His eyes now had a harder edge than before, and there were perpetually lines of sorrow or anger, of which Jarlaxle did not know which, etched on his face. His mouth had a near-perpetually sardonic, bitter twist instead of a grin.

Which was no wonder, considering what Malice had been openly doing.

"Moving out?" Jarlaxle asked casually. Zaknafein's room was nearly bare, what was left of it neatly arrayed, a bad sign. Even Zaire's mess of cloth under the table had gone.

Zaire glanced at him. Her gold-flecked eyes had no discernable expression, as always. Other than possibly boredom.

"Rearranging," Zaknafein said curtly. A blue-purple portal was open through which Jarlaxle could see Zak's Sorcere room.

Jarlaxle rolled his eyes. "As if. Look, this is about Malice and that Rizzen fellow, is that right?"

Zaknafein stopped to raise an eyebrow at Jarlaxle. When he spoke his voice was deadly calm. "The Matron of a House is allowed to do whatever she wishes," he said coolly, "If it involves sleeping with another what is the patron to argue?"

"Well, the two before disappeared suddenly," Jarlaxle said.

Zaknafein never hesitated as he carefully picked a book of the shelf. "They got what was coming to them," he said calmly. Zaire made a nasty-sounding chuckle.

"Why don't you ask her why?" Jarlaxle inquired. "And don't tell me you don't care. I know you do."

Zaknafein glared at Jarlaxle then suddenly looked very tired. "Perhaps I do," he said neutrally. "I asked her that once. She just smirked."

"I don't know why she's doing it," Jarlaxle shrugged, "But she does still...care. Two days ago I walked up from behind where she was watching Narbondel to ask a question, and the first thing she said when I spoke up was your name."

"She mistook you for me?" Zak asked, and Jarlaxle saw a brief flash of hope that suddenly vanished under centuries of rigid discipline. "Huh. Not much of a compliment."

"She's probably doing it as some sort of punishment," Jarlaxle shrugged. "Lanfaye only spoke about you getting what was coming to you."

"How's Lanfaye?" Zak inquired.

"You won't change the subject that easily," Jarlaxle said. "She does seem to be keeping a lot of tabs on me, especially when I go to Bregan D'aerthe HQ."

"The shields aren't working?" Zak managed a half-smile.

"No," Jarlaxle said sourly, "Your daughter takes a horrible satisfaction in breaking in."

"She was always curious," Zak mused.

"I was meaning to ask," Jarlaxle said cautiously, looking at the wards on the doors and in obscure parts of the room.

"They're still working," Zak shrugged, slipping back into the dead calm.

"How is Drizzt?" Jarlaxle decided to work up to it.

"Two years to graduation," Zak said curtly. "Top in the Melee every year. This isn't about him, is it? You could just as easily asked Vierna."

"No," Jarlaxle sighed, "Are you staying with the House?"

"You mean am I going to go rogue?" Zak asked, amused. "Well, I can, easily – I am ArchMage, after all."

"You're not answering the question," Jarlaxle said.

"What would you do if I did?" Zak inquired.

"I'd go with you," Jarlaxle said simply, "I've been following you for too many centuries to stop now. And I believe Drizzt might, as well. We can survive with Bregan D'aerthe."

"All the males defecting," Zak laughed, a harsh sound, "Tempting, but no. No rogue has sat on the Master of Sorcere and ArchMage seat before, and they might decide to vote me off. Currently being in the Second House has its advantages. To give up my rank altogether, after the four centuries of work I put into achieving it? Not likely."

"I'm not asking you to," Jarlaxle sighed, "It was a thought."

"One that will not come true," Zak said firmly.

Barrison del'Armgo had a serious disagreement with Oblodra half a month ago, and was destroyed. Oblodra was currently smugly on top position, with Nalrann and Ver'ginran both suffering fatal accidents.

This had a note of sorrow, or at least regret in it – N'aryo had perished in the incident – the old mage taking out several hundred del'Armgo soldiers in one last, final blaze of mage fire.

"I see," Jarlaxle said somberly. "Will you ever be visiting?"

Zak looked at Jarlaxle for a long moment. "As much as I can manage, no," he said coolly, "I will, however, continue to spend time in Bregan D'aerthe."

"Good," Jarlaxle said helplessly. There was no way he was going to try and persuade Zak to stay anyway – just for company was...selfish. Jarlaxle squirmed inwardly until his conscience fled into a deep recess of his mind.

Zak nodded to Jarlaxle. "Give Lanfaye my regards – if she'd accept them." He shrugged, and moved through the portal, Zaire padding through after him. After a short moment, it closed.

Jarlaxle watched with faint horror as the wards abruptly faded. He walked over to the shelf with the room behind it, and tweaked the lever.

Nothing happened – it had been jammed shut.

"This is not a good sign," Jarlaxle said under his breath.

::What isn't a good sign?:: Lanfaye inquired. Jarlaxle groaned – the heavy mind-shields had also dissipated, apparently.

"Well, take a look," he said wearily. There was a not-uncomfortable sensation behind his eyes, and something else seemed to look around for a while before withdrawing.

::I see...:: Lanfaye said. ::Oh dear. Does Malice know?::

"Did you think he'd tell her?"

::Did he really take everything?::

"Yes." Jarlaxle said shortly.

::Did he renounce the house?:: This was asked carefully. Lanfaye knew too well what Jarlaxle would probably have done if Zak had.

"No," Jarlaxle said curtly.

::Good,:: Lanfaye said. ::Oh dear.::

"I'm glad you know that," Jarlaxle growled, but Lanfaye's presence had already gone. "Damn females," he said, then walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

**

Malice looked pensively out over the balcony, tracking the advance of Narbondel with sensitive eyes. She propped up her exquisite face with one hand, elbow resting on the adamantite railing, the other hand absently drumming an erratic rhythm on the railing.

Part of her wanted to go find Zaknafein to apologize for the past two years – no, not apologize – perhaps to explain, or tell him it was his own fault. You don't even know if it's his fault in the first place. What if you had...

Malice pushed back the pessimistic voice in her head that represented the part of her that wanted him back instead of the pathetic Rizzen or any others that she could have chosen amongst the ranks – drow with not as much backbone as an illithid. True, some of them were more handsome – but just not the same.

It was his fault, no matter what her weak mind might say. She'd very clearly heard him and Jarlaxle discussing some women known as 'Kirane', or 'Zekres'. There were even names she had heard him say before in his sleep, of which she only had Jarlaxle's word and his that they were their 'childhood caretakers'. The caretakers couldn't have lived that long. Not in Menzoberranzan, at least...

He was still patron, though. Malice irritably repressed the shiver that came when she thought of him still having that rank. Since Zak was essentially not Do'Urden in birth, if he was no longer patron he would be a commoner. A commoner ArchMage would not be affiliated to the house, a powerful tool she could not afford to lose. Did not want to lose, the voice corrected. Her teeth bared in an angry snarl at herself.

Strong hands slid around her waist, and she near-automatically leant back into the embrace, until she saw it was Rizzen and jerked away furiously. Rizzen backed off hurriedly, mumbling apologies. Malice contented herself with glaring at him enough to make him squirm, then dismissing him with a sharp wave.

Shouting at Rizzen wasn't as entertaining as shouting at Zak – Zak knew perfectly well when to answer back and when to actually listen. It was more satisfying shouting at Zak, even though he usually either found a way around whatever she would demand of him or simply ignore it, though not in her presence. For a moment she'd thought...well, it didn't exactly matter. Or does it?

The Matron returned to her thoughts. Zaknafein would not betray the House – she was pretty sure of that. He needed the rank it gave, and though there had been a commoner ArchMage once, there would never be a commoner Master of Sorcere. He had worked too long to achieve what he had today to give it up in one moment of righteous rage. If he ever had those kind of rages.

That is, she thought he wouldn't give up the House. What if he did? You know Jarlaxle and Drizzt would follow him...

She was getting maudlin lately. And you know perfectly well why.

Lanfaye's presence abruptly filled her mind, then her daughter caught herself and withdrew, 'knocking' politely.

"Yes?" she asked.

::Zaknafein has packed his room, Matron,:: Lanfaye said, excitement bubbling inside her, as well as a certain trepidation.

"Packed?"

::Everything that belongs to him is gone,:: Lanfaye said, feeling fringes of intense emotional storms inside the fiery Matron. Despair, anger and horror were some of them. Technically, the shelves and such furniture belonged to the House.

Malice felt stunned. Her fingers clutched at the rail.

::Jarlaxle says he has not renounced the House.:: Lanfaye said quickly.

There was some comfort in that. "Where has he gone?" Malice demanded.

::Sorcere.:: Lanfaye said.

Sorcere – the one place where even a Matron would not be welcome except on official business. A Matron would not be welcome in Tier Breche except on the most important excuse.

And what would she want to find him for, anyway? Better that he would stay there, and stop bothering her. With this last thought Malice mentally dismissed Lanfaye and fled to her room, before any treacherous thoughts could undo her.