Part 8
"It's still there," Matron Ilith'vir said in an unemotional voice when Nalfein and I entered her office and took our seats, Halsshar having told us that he preferred to stay in the figurine and eavesdrop. "The curious thing is that I asked some others whom he had been… acquainted with and they did not see anything either. So either they were mistaken, which is unlikely, or that only I could see it. Very curious."
"So the snake is in Jarlaxle, then?" I said the first thing that came to mind.
"Not too bad a choice, if it's concealment the thing wants. As a more or less powerful rogue male, the city at the moment is attempting to pretend he doesn't really exist. It might be 'in' him," Matron Ilith'vir conceded, "I dislike coincidences."
I reported to her what had been in the crate and gave her the sol'verna tile. She looked at it carefully, then put it daintily on her table. "As I said, I dislike coincidences. This investigation is beginning to remind me of the one you did several years ago, Qu'el'velguk – the clues in the right places, obvious, and all pointing in one apparent direction." She frowned. "It's as though whatever is behind this is in contempt of our intelligence, and is bent on leading us on by the nose. I wonder how much of this report to give to the Council."
"They might just decide to kill Jarlaxle," I offered. Ilith'vir knew that Nalfein had guessed – correctly – that the rogue drow was involved in this mess, and I knew there was no problem if I dropped the cryptic tone a little. "With the host dead, this might cease to be a problem."
Matron Ilith'vir sniffed, and the tips of her full mouth lowered slightly. "I have no doubt that by now that scoundrel has made himself invaluable to his affiliates," she said coolly, "Technically, in front of the Council, if I were to present full evidence and certainty that killing him would end the problem, he would be executed without delay – but we do not have that certainty."
"Unless you can somehow pin Jarlaxle in one place long enough to cut the designs of grafting we found on the first victim's body," I said, suppressing a shudder and the memory of the gory mess in the stalls, those few years ago. "Not to mention I really don't think he'd be very helpful, and I doubt we can obtain the alhoon fluids."
"We have another problem," Ilith'vir said mildly, "Those addicted to the… drugs undergo severe withdrawal symptoms – you are acquainted with them, I should think – if they attempt to stop. So we have some perpetrators from within trying to stop this campaign. The Council, as far as I can tell, is as yet uncorrupted by the drugs, but there may be drow who have succumbed in their houses and whom are feeding information to the suppliers. That may be why you two have been targeted with the stupid clues, and why I can see the tattoo."
"They know Investigations is involved," I muttered to myself.
"Don't you ever listen to me, Qu'el'velguk?" Ilith'vir growled. Somewhere under the table, I could hear snakes hissing. Time to back off a little.
"My deepest apologies, malla Ilharess," I smiled ingratiatingly. Normally she'd lash out at this, but Nalfein was in the room, so she had to act like a 'proper' Matron and seem barely mollified at my cringing.
"I've already had agents checking the luxury shops. There has been no new upsurge in buys by any new customer from the period of a few years ago to now… usually it's the same nobles, though some of them have certainly stopped, or decreased in purchase volume. It's possible that they've been spending their money on the drugs. So it's probably not a normal new drug dealer – a mortal one, that is, who would need to spend money on purchases… unless said dealer is using the coin to get items from other cities."
A horrible thought hit me. "Are there any in Investigations who have… sampled these drugs?"
"Any addicted, you mean," Ilith'vir looked amused. "There was one, but he was discovered before he could do any harm. I had him slowly eviscerated in view of everyone else in the House as a warning to them. So far I have checked several times personally, and have not found any of them using the drugs."
"At least the withdrawal isn't fatal," I grinned. "But even if we do stop this new… supplier, what's preventing those addicted from snapping up the drugs from other suppliers? With the demand increasing, there'd be new suppliers smuggling in drugs for sure."
"Council only wants us to find this supplier," Ilith'vir flicked a strand of hair away from her face. "So, we find it. After that, if they want us to find the other suppliers, I might have to start talking about expenses."
"Forgive me if this is imprudent," I said cautiously, "But why didn't you speak of expenses for this?"
"I did," she said dryly, "They said it was of no consequence. I intend to make them regret that enough to stop taking our services so lightly. Maybe this is the time to get you that riding lizard you're so intent on. Or do you want another pet? So long as you can justify it… "
I smirked. "Perhaps 'reduction in transportation problems'?" I glanced at Nalfein. Free portals. "I can make one up."
"I have no doubt that you can," Ilith'vir retorted, "That is why I always review your expenses closely."
Faced with that, I had to change the subject. "What are we to do next?"
"Did you look at the tile closely?"
"I don't play sol'verna," I admitted. "The tile seems to be some sort of cloudy porcelain…"
"The porcelain has a jade cover below, frozen into the porcelain" Ilith'vir picked it up and turned the tile over, showing that the thin, light gray-green layer was indeed jade. "While the snake design has been inlaid with a certain type of glass or semi-precious gem. I've seen sol'verna tiles before, and this is definitely not one of the mass-produced ones." She tossed the tile back to me. "Find out where this came from. It's expensive, so you might want to look in Narbondellyn." With that, she proceeded to ignore the two of us, so we let ourselves out, feeling as though we'd just been cross-examined.
**
We were lucky. The third curio shop we tried in crowded Narbondellyn was the correct one. The harassed drow male shopkeeper was in the midst of fawning on several priestesses at the same time, showing a remarkable about of diplomatic tact and multi-tasking abilities, so we decided not to press our business on him for the time being, instead looking idly around the shop as if we'd meant to come in all along. At least Nalfein didn't look out of place, in his mage finery, but I was beginning to wish that my armor and clothing were just a little more ornate – as it seemed, I looked more like Nalfein's bodyguard than his superior. The half-concealed, inquiring glances from the guards of the priestesses were getting embarrassing. At least they weren't allowed into the shop, or it'd get too crowded.
Come to think of it, perhaps that was part of the problem.
Eventually the priestesses left, and the shopkeeper let out a sigh of relief before turning to us. "Yes, my Lords? How may I serve you?"
"Does this look familiar?" I gave him the tile.
The shopkeeper looked closely at it, turning it over a few times. "Why yes. I believe this belonged to a sol'verna set called the Gray Jade that I sold yesterday. Why?" He turned suspicious eyes on us.
It took some word fencing and several reassurances that he was doing Lloth a favor and not betraying decent customer confidences for him to turn helpful again, and offer an approximate description of the customer.
"I sold it to a mage," the shopkeeper said, "Dark elf, male an' all that… other than the description, there's nothing much else I can tell you."
"His hair style?" Hair styles often showed House differences.
"It was just tied into a short ponytail," the shopkeeper frowned, "Ain't no House I've heard who does that. He was also wearing some sort of medallion on the outside of his robes – adamantite, it was. The symbols on it – 'ere, I'd show you." The shopkeeper darted behind the counter and fished out a piece of paper and a quill. Under the mage light of the shop, he painstakingly drew out a crude by rather accurate approximation of the sigil belonging to Bregan D'aerthe.
This was really becoming pathetic.
**
"I expected as much," Ilith'vir sighed. "Vith. I hate these sort of cases."
"Has the Council tried summoning… " I was about to say yochlol, except that Ilith'vir might just decide to lash out at me. She was just seething with fury, and searching for an outlet – I definitely didn't want that outlet to be Yours Truly.
"For petty, mortal affairs?" Ilith'vir raised one perfect eyebrow. "Of course not. Though your findings has proved quite sufficiently, in my opinion, that Bregan D'aerthe was not involved."
"What?" I blinked. "How… ah, I see. The corpse was not wearing such a medallion, but the mage was."
"The medallion exists, of course," Ilith'vir agreed, "But it is seldom, if ever, worn in public. Bregan D'aerthe has no need to advertise its presence, and members who wear the amulet openly tend to draw fire to themselves, if anything. It is more likely that someone unknown removed the amulet from Bregan D'aerthe headquarters, and that the only actual member of the band we've seen so far is the corpse in the crate. The amulet the shopkeeper saw might even have been his. Or, if somehow someone has managed to infiltrate Bregan D'aerthe and go posing around in the amulet. In any case, mages are not as common yet in the band." She shot me a significant glance, and I got the hint.
"More digging in the files," I sighed.
"I could go and ask Jarlaxle about the mage," Ilith'vir said thoughtfully, "Though he might get suspicious."
"He doesn't know of the investigation?"
"I'm sure he does," Ilith'vir said dryly. "But he might be suspicious as to why we keep poking at Bregan D'aerthe. I have no doubt that some agent of his entered the shop after you two did and asked the shopkeeper about what you found out."
"We impressed the 'keeper with the need for secrecy…"
Ilith'vir looked amused. "Do you underestimate them so much? There are any number of ways that one can get someone to talk – or tell you something without him meaning to. You know most of them."
**
I decided to go back to my office for a while. Sometimes when cases reach a dead end returning to the starting point helps lift flagging spirits and interest. Especially if said starting point has a few concealed bottles of good wine.
"We can read the file in here," I told Nalfein, as I unlocked and opened the office door, "Far enough from the House… oh."
Sometimes I wonder why I just shouldn't go ahead and install a curtain in place of the door, considering how people seem to get in and out of the office with ease, vith them. Inside the office, on the desk, was a crate that looked annoyingly familiar. This one seemed to have holes for whatever was inside to breathe, and there were scrabbling sounds from the interior. There was a sudden thump, and the crate jumped a little to the left.
"What in the Nine Hells?" I growled. Recovering quickly, I looked around for traps. Seeing none, I walked cautiously towards the crate, brandishing a piece of indicator paper and feeling like an utter idiot. Behind me, Nalfein closed the door.
"I sense no wards," he said blandly. "Are we going to open the crate?"
The paper showed a murky azure-vermilion color. "I wonder why this creature is still bothering, whatever it is. It's another color again… this time I can't recognize it. We'd have to go back later and check." Stuffing the paper into my pocket, I drew my dagger and reached cautiously for the crate.
When my hand was in a finger's length of touching it the crate jerked violently backwards, and tipped over the side of the desk. Whatever was inside let out a frightened squeal, then a pained one when it landed on the ground.
"Serves you right," I muttered. "Whatever you are."
With Nalfein's help, I succeeded in getting the lid open, and was immediately attacked by a flurry of fur, hooves and black. Sharp hooves managed to cut my cheek open, and I cursed until I managed to get a hold on the legs. Nalfein was muttering a spell somewhere, the creature was squealing in fury and attempting to bite, and I was trying to get a better grip on the kicking hindquarters.
Then the violence suddenly stopped. The thing collapsed on me, its little chest heaving. I could feel the hammering speed of its heart, and as I tried to catch my breath, I took a closer look at what it was.
It was the size of a month-old rothe calf, with four long, spindly legs ending with sharp cloven hooves, a short tuft of a tail and a spiky mane. Its eyes were a melting shade of deep blue that had lost its frightened quality and now seemed rather dreamy. I looked up at Nalfein for an explanation.
The mage seemed rather stunned, but whatever calming spell he did had worked. "That's a horse," he said, "It's a surfacer creature. I think the approximate term for the young is a 'foal'."
"What kind of clue is this thing?" I muttered, stroking the foal's neck. It turned its head and I nearly flinched away before I realized it wasn't about to bite. A small, rough tongue rasped over my knuckles.
"There's a scroll-box in the crate – a bit scratched…" Nalfein drew out a metal cylinder from the crate, unadorned and seemingly common, and unscrewed the top, carefully removing a scroll. He uncurled the paper and read it carefully, then tossed it to me.
I shifted the foal into my lap, and winced as it pressed one sharp hoof into the back of my leg, then looked at the scroll.
' To Ti'erlfein Ilith'vir,
The revenant-charger is a gift of appreciation, from the depths of the Planes. It is needless to describe its inherent properties as a trained steed when you have all of Investigations' resources at your disposal. Suffice to say that for mortals to retrieve such a foal it would prove unfeasible and most strenuous. If all the demonstrations of the power you have observed for this time and for the events of a few years ago in Braeryn have not made an impression, or if this gift is not sufficient to persuade you to cease your investigation, you are invited to meet me in the Compass Lake of the Dark Dominion, this day on the eighth blue of Narbondel. Don't be late – this game has begun to bore me.'
The writing was precise and tightly controlled and even, as though the letters had been printed. There was a crude symbol of a snake in the place of the signature, and I had a feeling that it was probably the same symbol as the tattoo on Jarlaxle.
The bribe was probably a halfhearted attempt to get me to stop – I was quite certain that the mastermind would know that, even had I the choice to stop, I would go on. Curiosity forbade that I simply gave up before I could see this through to the very end. It was probably just a veiled hint to me that whoever this was, he or she knew me quite well – even to the extent that they knew of my vague desire for a mount. It was a disquieting notion.
I turned the scroll over. The paper was uncooperative – no watermarks, no distinct hue or cut that would betray its origins.
"Would you know who wrote that?" Nalfein asked.
"I'm not clairvoyant, Nalfein," I said, studying the lettering. "But it's like none of the handwriting samples I've seen. Too neat – too perfect."
"So are you going? The eighth shade is three shades to go. We'd have to hurry."
"Somehow I'm not looking forward to it," I told him dryly. "Whoever this is has a lot of magical power – or a large number of associates." I patted the foal, and it attempted to eat the scroll. "I'd better inform the Matron."
There was one small consolation – the writing was definitely not Jarlaxle's, of which I had seen samples of before, and the mercenary leader always made a point of writing his own correspondence. I really didn't want to face down the mercenary leader.
**
We shuttled back to the House, the heavy foal in my arms, and I handed it over to some agents for a checking, in the eventuality that it had something planted in it. Went for a quick detour to the files to check what sort of magic it was, I found that it was gnomic illusion, for Lloth's sake! Whoever was behind this probably had a very perverted sense of humor. Ilith'vir looked none-too-pleased to see us back so soon, but she dropped the can't-you-see-you're-not-worth-my-time attitude when we presented her with the scroll.
"A strange bribe, if it was intended to be one," she muttered. "Did you send it for checking?"
I nodded. "Results are expected in two shades. Agents have been instructed to do whatever is necessary if they find problems."
"Why you?" she asked abruptly, stating the exact question that I wanted the answer to. "And why all this?" she used the scroll to indicate the paperwork pertaining to the current investigation.
I shrugged. Personally, I had no idea, unless the mastermind had focused on the fact that I was supposedly heading this investigation. "Do I go, then?"
Matron Ilith'vir pursed her full lips, and her eyes became slightly unfocused. I knew better than to interrupt, and lowered my eyes, ostensibly in respect, but actually to try and read the paperwork on her desk backwards. It was something to do – not to mention that I believed that Ilith'vir had just understood something about all this, and was choosing not to tell us.
That was frustrating, to say the least. What had I missed this time?
I took the time to examine facts that could align the present events with those several years ago, and realized belatedly that this day was the anniversary of those unpleasant affairs in Braeryn. Ah, damn… was there anything else that Ilith'vir could have seen that would be of consequence?
However, before I could try and delve further into this line of questioning, and try to find possible subjects – Dyrr, perhaps? Now that was one I truly wished had not written the note – Ilith'vir was speaking again, and I guiltily tried to pay attention.
Even if I suspected her of concealing observations from me – though that was common-enough practice – and of course, she was not obligated to tell me everything.
"There is too little time to gather reinforcements. In the light of the situation, I have no choice but to go. You will follow me – and Nalfein as well." Nalfein nodded his acquiescence. "As to soldiers…"
"I doubt they would be much use," I suggested, "Better than we leave the agents in Investigations – to initiate the failsafe. If this thing is truly magic-related, we could always try and get Caomh from Bregan D'aerthe to come along. He's still alive, I believe."
"Normally found hiding in Manyfolk or in the Clawrift," Matron Ilith'vir sighed. "Why him?"
"Because he has those swords," I said, "He might be able to summon the anti-magic sphere – there have been rumors of such occurrences."
"And you think he'd go along?"
**
"Sure," Caomh said, shrugging. Nalfein had scried out his position in one of the drinking pits of Manyfolk. "It's a way to get back at the stupid thing that nearly killed me the last time."
"It could kill you for sure this time," I warned him.
Caomh winked at me through his one eye and patted the hilt of one of the black swords with his one hand. "No one lives forever, Ti'erlfein." From the set look of his expression – I guessed at the last part of his words – he didn't want to live much longer either. The old elf had a death wish that had been somewhat evident since I'd first met him in Melee-Magthere.
The long-suffering Nalfein took us back to the House, where we retrieved Matron Ilith'vir, clad in a leather robe with thin, tiny plates of some adamantite alloy attached over each other such that it resembled the scales of a fish over her priestess robes. It was rather flexible and oddly light. She was also equipped with a pouch of scrolls, an enchanted flail and a piwafwi, then her Boots of Shadows – something that allowed her to occasionally step into some adjoining Plane that caused her to disappear and yet be able to observe this plane's events – and step back when she wished to. The snake whip she held in her hand hissed in excitement, sensing the possible battle ahead.
Nalfein was given a few wands from our storage – then the four of us, plus Halsshar, called out from a nap in wherever he went in the figurine, went to keep my appointment.
**
We arrived a little too early, and I felt that it was a bit of an anticlimax when I looked around the empty cavern housing the underground Compass Lake. The lake was so called because of its peculiar four-pointed shape, which was once rumored to fit the directions of a compass, but was in later years proven to be inaccurate. The lake was popular during certain seasons for fishing, as it was one of those places as yet not infested with weird Underdark monsters in the water. Underfoot we crushed fungus and mushrooms, and the dry fragrance clung to our clothes.
Sounds of chattering and trills above us alerted us to the presence of small birds that made their nests high up on the cavern walls and swooped about in graceful flight. Their droppings seemed to be part of the reason why parts of the walls and the entire ground were liberally coated with plant life.
"Your snake isn't here," Caomh seemed a little disappointed.
"That is obvious," Ilith'vir said, stroking the heads of the snakes on her whip. Caomh closed his mouth, lips forming a thin line. He didn't like priestesses, but he knew better than to proclaim his animosity in front of a High priestess.
There was not much to do but wait. Ilith'vir found a relatively flat and mushroom-free piece of rock to sit on, where she talked to Halsshar about the Abyssal Plane, while the rest of us spoke idly on differing subjects – weaponry, our different lifestyles, food and such. It wasn't unpleasant, but the dialogue was strained, as we anticipated the arrival of whatever it was. Time, as always in these circumstances, seemed to pass at a crawl.
Then Ilith'vir slid off her rock gracefully, and turned her head to regard something near the lake. "You called us here, I believe?"
The rest of us quickly looked to the lake. There was a smaller-scale version of a cobra there, curled up, the head and fan towering over our heads. The thick, tapering end of the tail, about an arm's width, flicked lazily, like the red ribbon of a forked tongue.
When the creature spoke, I half-expected a hissing sibilance, but to my surprise, the spoken drow was perfect, though rumbling and resounding. "I called Ti'erlfein Ilith'vir – but I expected this outcome."
"Lord Merrshaulk," Ilith'vir said, addressing the creature with stiff formality. "I would have thought you would."
Nalfein gasped beside me. "Merrshaulk?" he murmured, blinking. "A god?"
What? I signaled with my fingers. Caomh seemed just as bewildered.
"God of the Yuan-ti folk," Halsshar murmured, having moved to sit on his haunches in front of us. "I've always wondered if the snake-whips of your Goddess were from an agreement with her and Merrshaulk."
"Why did you call him?" Ilith'vir was asking.
"He has had a factor in the continued imprisonment of some of my power in this avatar on this plane," Merrshaulk targeted his amber reptilian eyes at me, hypnotic in their intensity. I felt like prey, helpless in the visage of the hunter – it was not a very pleasant experience. Part of me was desperate to flee, but to my consternation, a larger part was more interested to see what would happen.
"How could that be, Lord?" Ilith'vir asked politely. Her voice was steady and unafraid.
"The blood-ritual was to set me free," Merrshaulk swayed from side to side, in a sinuous dance, "But he escaped and broke the ritual. I have been forced to seek an unknowing host ever since. But vengeance is something that loses its novelty after a while, and I tire of the game."
Strange – maybe my senses had been truly addled, or Merrshaulk did not seem at all angry, nor did he display any emotion other than clipped detachment and an odd curiosity as he looked at Ilith'vir, like a mage observing a new species of bug.
"The drugs?" Ilith'vir asked.
"Part of some small revenge on your Goddess," Merrshaulk's voice seemed to take on some modicum of satisfaction. "For allowing her minions to keep me here. The rest has been an amusing game for a while – but as I have said, now it ceases to amuse. Your city is already rife with such drugs and suchlike self-destructive debauchery – I have come to recognize that it would not require any interference from me for it to collapse on itself centuries hence into chaos that would be far beyond the liking of even your Queen."
"Lord Merrshaulk…"
"I was to have called Ti'erlfein Ilith'vir here to end this," Merrshaulk interrupted. "He has an artifact on him that can be imbued with the presence of your Spider Queen for the purpose that I seek – my freedom."
"I do?" I said blankly. Ilith'vir glared at me, and I subsided.
"Your dagger," Merrshaulk's tongue flicked out, tasting the air. "Hand it to your sister and we can begin. She would have a better chance of summoning your Quarval-sharess' presence. I had thought of coercing you into doing it, as the Queen might decide to kill you for daring to try and call her – but such things do not serve my purpose very well. Hand it to your sister."
Ilith'vir looked suspicious, and rightfully so. "And the drug deliveries would cease?"
Merrshaulk laughed, a harsh sound like a thousand death rattles. "Without me to create them, deliver them, of course. What else would you have me do, mortal? Appear to your Council and give a statement?"
Matron Ilith'vir permitted herself a smile. I recognized that cold expression which meant that she was fast beginning to get angry. "I am not at liberty to speak on behalf of the Council, Lord Merrshaulk. Nor am I at liberty to presume to summon the Queen herself – especially on behest of another God."
"I could kill you with a thought," Merrshaulk said conversationally, but without the edged tone that usually accompanied a threat. Nevertheless, I noted that my companions had gotten a better grip on their weapons – and I had drawn my dagger, a rather useless gesture, considering the power that Merrshaulk probably represented.
"I am aware of that," Ilith'vir replied politely. "But it would be a while before you can reach a proper date again, would it, snake King?"
Merrshaulk hissed. "Call your Goddess! I would be free… even if I have to puppet you all to do it!"
Even for the threats, he didn't seem to be actually doing anything to us – could a God be indecisive, or uncertain? Apparently so – though it seemed as though there could have been something influencing him. Ilith'vir? I shook off this implication as quickly as it had formed, for what could influence a God?
"I will ask." Ilith'vir corrected. Without turning her eyes from Merrshaulk, she gestured to me. "Ti'erlfein. Your dagger."
I handed it to her, hilt-first, then quickly backed away.
"Where did you get that from?" Nalfein murmured. "Normally artifacts such as that are not given to males."
"Would you believe me if I told you I found it on my bed in the House after I graduated from Melee-Magthere?"
"Not particularly."
"Then I'd make up a story for you later," I replied absently, watching as Ilith'vir began chanting long threads of (to me) meaningless syllables, almost singing, the strange rhythm rather unnerving. The hair on the nape of my neck attempted to stand at attention – and Caomh muttered something uneasily.
The dagger began to glow with a steady purple light that brightened until our eyes had to make the change from infrared vision to normal vision, and then a stunningly beautiful drow female stood next to Matron Ilith'vir.
She was flawlessly shaped, and was draped with silver chains and pearls in geometric patterns resembling that of a large, intricate spider web, with a pulsing, small purple jewel at each juncture where a chain or a thread of pearls met. At the centre of the web, beneath her perfect breasts, was a large spider, about the size of one's palm, that seemed to have been carved of several metals and gems and fitted together into a lifelike masterpiece, every hair on the legs lovingly depicted, each eye a flashing diamond. Then the spider shifted, one leg curling in a little – and we realized that it was animated. The web-dress completely failed to conceal her – assets (let's just put it this way), and all three of us were soon staring; though we somehow had the presence of mind to fall to our knees.
Thankfully, Lloth ignored us males, and took the dagger from Ilith'vir. The Matron had also fallen to her knees in awe at the sight as she intoned a formal greeting. "Mzilst orthae, ultrine Quarval-sharess, yorn wanre bel'lae dos whol elamshinaein nindol zik'den'vever."
Lloth nodded, the liquid grace of her movements heart-stopping in their beauty – her voice pure music. "You have done well." Then she looked to Merrshaulk, and raised the dagger. "Merrshaulk. You have intruded in my city."
Merrshaulk inclined his head. "Many years ago one of your servants bound this incarnation of my power to his bloodline. It was not of my doing."
"The foolishness was all yours," Lloth said coldly, and Merrshaulk hissed; though he was obviously unwilling to attack Lloth on her home ground and in his diminished state.
"Release me from my incarnation and we will part ways," Merrshaulk said.
"I do not do favors."
"I have served that bloodline for well over a century!" Merrshaulk's voice thundered. "I am aweary of your city, and you might do well to release me, or it would be war between the snake-kin and your drow. Even the whips of your priestesses will turn against you all!"
"You are in no position to threaten me," Lloth replied, still cold. "My followers outnumber your preferred minions – the snake people - and are well versed in the gifting of death. You should consider well if you wish to start such a war, for my followers will not stop until every single one of your yuan-ti are rotting corpses only fit to feed the worms. What would you be then, Godling?"
"Release me, Goddess," Merrshaulk subsided a little. "And let that be the end of it. You are the only one who may call the drow taint from this incarnation. Is that too much to ask?"
"I do not do favors," Lloth repeated. "What have you to give me in return?"
"Years ago I allowed your priestesses to have the snake-whips…"
"That was years past, and you gained from it as well," Lloth cut in. "I repeat again. What have you to give me?"
I risked a look at my companions. All of them were staring at the divine confrontation with unabashed curiosity – and some fear. If there was some skirmish, we might just be caught in the backlash…
"I… what do you want?" Merrshaulk conceded, rather ungraciously. Lloth's lips curled up into a smile of satisfaction. For a long while they seemed to be communicating silently – or else had blocked our ears, because their apparent reticence served to make us uncomfortable. I began to be distinctly aware of the sharp gravel under my trousers, and attempted to shift position. Caomh seemed to be having the same problems – only Nalfein, with his layered robes, seemed perfectly comfortable, and utterly fascinated. Mages are so weird.
Finally, Merrshaulk reared back his head. "Done, Queen."
"And done!" Lloth smiled again, and I understood how so many millions would have willingly died for that smile to be on them. Merrshaulk's incarnation seemed to curl up on himself – and then he slumped to the ground, the eyes blank and lifeless – whatever had been animating the grotesque body having departed.
Lloth glanced at me suddenly, and I sucked in a sharp intake of breath at the shock. Her purple eyes crinkled slightly at the edges, as if in amusement, then her grip on the dagger tightened, crushing, and the metal crumpled until it seemed to turn into pure energy that she absorbed into her palm. "My gift to you has served its purpose, Empath," she said, and I was suddenly filled with the overwhelming urge to grovel at her feet, to obey her every whim. Empath? What was an empath? It was a very disturbing sensation… and I fought the impulse to breathe a sigh of relief when she turned her attention away – to Halsshar.
"Are you returning to the Terminus?"
Terminus?
I hate it when people have conversations over my head…
Halsshar snorted. "I might as well. This Plane is beginning to bore me. Mind if I hike a trip back from you?"
Lloth shrugged, and Halsshar turned its intense eyes on me. "The figurine, if you please."
I proffered it to the hound with a hand that trembled a little. It took it in its mouth solemnly, then seemed to swallow. "That's the end of it. It has been interesting meeting your kin."
"And you," I replied, with a small grin. Halsshar snorted, and padded over to Lloth.
"The city Council has been informed of your success," Lloth spoke to the Matron. "I shall be watching House Ilith'vir in the years to come. Sometimes the uncovering of truths is the pathway to a greater anarchy than lies can ever hope to achieve."
With that last, rather cryptic statement, Lloth and Halsshar vanished.
--
Translations and References:
Quarval-sharess: Goddess, specific to refer to Lloth.
Mzilst orthae, Ultrine Quarval-sharess, yorn wanre bel'lae dos whol elamshinaein nindol zik'den'vever: Most Holy, Supreme Goddess, your servant thanks you for gracing this plane.
