Additional notes: I don't know the average magic resistance of Dark Elves, but in Baldur's Gate II, Viconia, the evil Dark Elven priestess who can join your party had a natural magic resistance of around 70/100.  Magic resistance in Baldur's Gate II does not count as psionic magic resistance, however.

The Seo'ur thing is getting mildly out of hand, but I noticed that (maybe it's just be) in all the schools I've been into so far, there has always been one or two prevailing games where just about everyone is mad about.  So far, I've seen… uno, bridge, blackjack, 'tai ti', Chinese chess and carumn, among others.  The 'weird' chess with 'white and black seeds' as described in the story is Weiqi, not reversi, but I don't understand reversi either.  I was forced to learn how to play Weiqi, and I still don't understand it.

I am also making up the bit about patrols and Masters from now on, because I'm too lazy to find the exact statistics, especially since I'm not gaining any chocolates from this.  Don't kill me.

--

Part 7

Sorcere

            The enforced months at Sorcere were even more boring than Melee-Magthere – the parts devoted to magic, that is to say.  There was no fighting, and magic always manages to weary me.  As a Dark Elf, with a natural innate resistance to magic, spells have never been very impressive.  With a bit of luck and speed, lightning bolts flung in an Ilythiiri's direction may at best just cause a few mild shocks to his or her system.  It looked more impressive than the Dance, of course, but if a warrior is careful, he can best a mage.  Just about the only wands that I have ever truly found useful were those of magic negation, for use against those annoying magical shields against weapons.

            I cannot remember the name of the student mage who instructed me, except that he was boring whenever he tried to teach me.  However, for some reason – perhaps because it was a game of mental stimulation – he was a Seo'ur player, and when his Master was not around, we occasionally guiltily played two-player variants in the room.  After all, having even more years of study to go than I did, he had to take his entertainment where he could find it.  In return for learning some new tricks in the game, I taught him how to use his staff as a melee weapon. 

            From the accounts of my classmates, apparently this arrangement, at least at that time, was not too unusual.  Sol'ranr's teacher was also a Seo'ur player, and I definitely hoped for him that both of them finished whatever Sol'ranr was to learn, considering my teacher remarked once that Sol'ranr's teacher was 'as fanatical a player as his student'. 

            I also learned how to play chess, and got much better at it more quickly than Seo'ur, perhaps because it was a type of fighting.  I gathered that, despite popular opinion, most student mages who had to undergo a teaching stint were those who were more tolerant towards warriors – there had been several 'accidents' on both sides in the past until the Academy decided to make this an unspoken rule.  Unless a Matron or some female with influence for some reason decides to pull strings, you generally end up with a student mage who will do his job, and possibly take the time to play chess or Seo'ur.  After all, except if they were in their dormitories, student mages spend all the rest of their time under supervision.

            I learnt all the required cantrips and spells quickly – the student mage went along at a brisk, manageable pace once we got past the basics – and therefore, we finished the syllabus ahead of time and spent most of the rest of our days 'studying' chess or Seo'ur.  There were three variants of Dark Elven chess which I learnt, though I preferred the classic one with castles, pawns, kings and such more than the strange weird one involving white and black 'seeds'.  The latter I never really understood, especially the crucial point on how to know whether or not I was winning.  You could have more seeds on the board than your opponent, and still be losing.    

            Occasionally I saw Nalfein wandering around Sorcere on errands for his Master, but not often.  When we did meet in corridors, we greeted each other politely, but otherwise did not engage in conversation.  Nalfein looked considerably more at peace in Sorcere than in all the times I had seen him in the House at the Festivals where he mainly registered in the background as a slightly harried, nervous creature, possibly because of the lack of his mother.

            Nalfein is one of those strange, rare beings who manage to find a consistent inner peace whenever engaged in a certain activity.  In his case, it was reading – reading anything, apparently.  I saw his face once, a little inexpertly hidden behind a tome as he was studying in the library at Sorcere, where I had been sent by my teacher to retrieve something, and it was startling in its quiet, absorbed calm, an emotion that I had beforehand never associated with Dark Elves, regardless of their religious slant.

            It took him several moments to realize I was staring at him, then his mind seem to come unstuck from whatever plane of concentration he previously occupied.  "Greetings, Zaknafein Do'Urden.  May I help you?"

            "Greetings, Nalfein Do'Urden," I had replied as formally, then sketched out the nature of my errand.  Absently, he waved at a shelf, and, to my astonishment, a book slid out from it and hovered in the air.  Nalfein blinked once then, slowly, as if something just occurred to him, then, a little furtively, he went to the shelf and picked up the book himself, thrusting it at me, before returning to his tome and pointedly ignoring me. 

            I described this rather strange event to my teacher later.

            "Oh, that," the mage said dismissively.  "He keeps forgetting."

            "Forgetting what?"

            "Apparently psionic power is hereditary," the mage said mildly.  "His mother is psychic, and so is he – though his psionic power mainly surfaces as telekinesis."

            This term meant absolutely nothing to me, and I said so.

            "Moving things with his mind," the mage elaborated helpfully, his eyes still fixed on the chess board.  He moved his castle.  "Check."

            "I have never heard of a Dark Elf being able to do that," I said, blocking his move and taking his bishop.  The mage cursed quietly.

            "Blast, I keep forgetting to pay attention to the knights," the mage grumbled.  "Yes, it is very rare.  Nalfein's Master gets irrationally irritated whenever he sees Nalfein doing it.  No one has much of an idea why."

            I reflected that I had never seen Nalfein exercise his talent in the House before as I moved my King to safety, either, but then, I had not interacted very much with him before, but kept quiet about that.  "Does it take up a lot of energy for him?"

            "Apparently not," the mage said, finally moving his other castle to leave the way wide open.  I fought to keep my face mildly curious.  "I am not sure.  Your turn."

            "But you have seen him use it?" I moved a castle, unobtrusively, and he frowned a little.  "Back to you."

            "Yes.  Pity that, with the way your House politics are going, he has a fifty-fifty chance of surviving."

            "Reprise has no mage – she might keep him."  Actually, as matters went, Nalfein had nearly as high a chance of surviving everything as I did, in my opinion.

            "Ah, but your House already has a passable mage."

            "Checkmate."

            "Vith."

**

            The six months at Arach-Tinilith, were passable.  I had by then learnt from some of my classmates how to fall asleep with my eyes open, so most of the lectures went over my head. The Priestesses, convinced in the righteousness of whatever they were going on about, never cared to check if we lowly, stupid males were listening, so we just let them ramble on. 

            Nights in Arach-Tinilith were filled with incident, to put it delicately.  Priestesses, even High Priestesses, occasionally get lonely for male company, and if you happen to have good looks, a reputation, and not be from a House of too high a ranking (so as to cause complications if there a pregnancy results), your bed for the most part will not tend to be slept in.  It is wiser for a male, surrounded by Priestesses in a school which is one of the hearts of Lloth's power, to go along and just enjoy it. 

**

            The first part of Graduation involving the glabrezu was disgusting, and I am still to this day trying to forget the details.  However, I am told that if the student does happen to survive it – and I do not really want to know how – if she is really 'favoured' by Lloth she will birth a draegloth, an even more disgusting half-drow, half-demon to be her personal assassin.  I do not want to know how this is anatomically possible, considering by all respects draegloths are large.  Personally, I had for a while in House Do'Urden vaguely pictured Briza as being a draegloth (she has the approximate mentality and, in my opinion, the look and build), except that Malice had not graduated as High Priestess as yet, so that should not have been a real possibility.  I hope.

            I was greatly relieved to find that neither Malice nor Reprise happened to be anywhere, or there might have been several problems.  Spent the second part of Graduation with a High Priestess who had sought me out several times beforehand in the six month stay – at least she was one of the few who let me stay on top.

            I have as yet to meet a Dark Elf male who does not take some pleasure in the Graduation – after all, sexual interaction is an open aspect of Dark Elven society.  We were young, it was finally over, and if you managed to ignore the glabrezu and the rather pointless heat from the brazier, it was tolerable.  Most of the talk the night before had been about whether or not it would be better to try and bed a student or a High Priestess – though I had declined to contribute to the discussion.

            At the end of it all, when we had cleaned up, graduated formally, and were leaving for our respective Houses, Sol'ranr grinned suddenly at myself, Raein't and Inofein just before we parted ways. 

            "I'm still the best player."

            I snorted.

**

            Two days of rest, before one had to leave for patrols.  I was dreading the thought, though I felt relieved that Malice and Reprise, still caught in their studies, would not be home.  Soelisk was waiting at the gate patiently, though, and he nodded to me when I approached.

            "How did you find the ten years in general?" he asked, as we went towards the House.

            I described to him the first six months in Sorcere as we levitated to the second floor, and he actually laughed, though now it was a hollow, slightly broken sound.  "I think I have forgotten how to play all of those games," he admitted.  "And Matron Daermone wants to see you."

            "How have you been?" I asked seriously.  The hollows beneath his cheekbones were growing more pronounced.

            "Fine," Soelisk whispered.  "Just fine."

            The rest of the walk to the chapel was in silence.  Soelisk waved when the guards indicated that I should enter, and left.

            Matron Daermone, with the inevitable tome, was tapping her fingers on the desk.  She regarded me with mild curiosity.

            "You summoned me, malla Ilharess?"

            "You have done well, Zaknafein," Matron Daermone said.  "There have been good reports from your Masters, and you have graduated with honours.  Congratulations."

            "It was an honour to serve the House, malla Ilharess," I said, and blinked at the sudden, if transient, return of that expression of frustration and sorrow that I had seen on her face in the first Festival.  Then I realized that instead of saying 'you', I had used 'the House', and she could not fail to see that my conviction in my resolve was declining.

            "Quite so," Matron Daermone said, and the metaphorical temperature in the room distinctly dropped a few degrees.  "You leave for patrols in two days?"

            "Yes, malla Ilharess."

            "You are to assist Soelisk in his duties for the two days, and prepare yourself mentally for the patrols.  Be very careful, Zaknafein – for 'accidents' frequently happen during the patrols, and I will not be pleased if you were to die." Matron Daermone said.  Her fingers were still tapping the table, and the sound was beginning to get on my nerves, because she slid the tip of each nail a little along the smooth surface before tapping again, causing a screeching noise.  "I might even expend the effort to resurrect what is left of you, and keep you in the dungeons.  Do you understand?"

            "Yes, malla Ilharess."

            "I take it that you will be in the point position.  Do not attack everything you see – report quietly to your group before going in.  I have been in patrols before, when I was still Priestess, and points have a low life expectancy compared to the others."

            "Yes, malla Ilharess." I was beginning to tune her out as she rambled on about the dangers in patrols, then a phrase jerked me out of my reverie. 
            "After you return from patrols, I may have to reconsider you for the rank of weapon master."

            I blinked.  "But Soelisk…"

            "Is obviously inferior in skill to you," Matron Daermone said curtly. 

            My mind raced.  Patrols, however, took up five years of time or so for fighters, where they were mixed around with others of varying seniority, after which they may be slated for a post as a Master.  If so, would-be Masters had to continue in patrols for a length of time until a post was open, so as to 'prove their leadership qualities', though I was always of the opinion that it was just a requirement that could kill off, or drive away, a lot of aspiring applicants.  "If I am accepted to Melee-Magthere as a Master…"

            "Then of course Soelisk will remain as a weapon master, if I see fit.  It is likely that you would benefit your House more as a weapon master than as a Master at Melee-Magthere, however."

            "Yes, malla Ilharess," I said, managing to keep the relief from showing in my face.  It was not too difficult to become a Master at Melee-Magthere – there were occasionally slots open, as many Masters were needed to properly train the students.  I did not want to think about the child and the hook horrors.

**

            I found the first period of time I spent in patrols among the most enjoyable in my life, if not the most so.  As each team only has one or two priestesses, far away from the might of Menzoberranzan, the priestesses are less inclined to be annoying to the males.  After all, 'accidents' do happen.  Mages are also fine, because each patrol is mainly made up of fighters.  For the most part of each day, a normal patrol does not meet that many monsters, as most monsters know that to come within a certain range of Menzoberranzan is to die. 

            Sentient creatures, oddly enough, are more stupid.  Duergar and deep gnomes are often lured by the promise of lodes of precious metal or stones, and when coming into the unauthorized zones, risk the near-certain danger of death. 

            Patrols were dangerous, admittedly.  I feel now that one of the main reasons why all who go through the Academy are required to spend a stint in a patrol is so as to enforce the idea that survival outside Menzoberranzan is all but impossible.  After all, verbal warnings are nothing compared to the real existence.  If you understand that all that is keeping you alive in the darkness is the strength of your team, you will understand more fully how it is impossible for an individual to stay alive.  The Underdark is a cage.

            I found that I liked fighting monsters.  I liked to kill, then, for I did not fully understand death, which gives life its value.  I liked the smell of blood, sweat, metal and the ancient, almost unnoticeable expression in a victim that is the promise of death.  Then, I found my peace in fighting – however paradoxical that idea is.  The satisfaction of a kill is nothing compared to the Dance itself, as you take the life of another creature with your blades – the feeling of power is intoxicating and corruptible, like most power.  My team mates saw this fierce, primal drive in me, and perhaps that was why they were mainly silent around me when we were on the move.  Being at point meant that, for the most part, I did not see them, in any case – all I had to do was signal and scout. 

Nights were different – as I had suspected, someone brought Seo'ur cards that got more and more battered as time passed.  To my disappointment – at least at the beginning – Sol'ranr, Inofein and Raein't were all assigned to other patrols, but at least this team had passable players, even if I do not recall their names.

            Bae'lan was in the second patrol I was transferred to.  Each time I looked at him I saw the child's eyes, but hatred is a useless emotion that has a tendency to foul up rational judgement, so I tried my best to let it slide.  It was not fully his fault – what else could he have done? Taking her back to the Academy would have been suspect, and I tried to tell myself that at least he had not decided to leave her in the Underdark, where her chance of survival would have been much slimmer.

            I still hated him, though.  It did not show – or so I hoped – but it could not go away. 

            It was under this second patrol, however, that I saw the Surface again.  I was a little excited, though I had to be careful that nothing in my speech betrayed the fact that I had visited the Surface before.  It was to be against some Surface Elf noble of some rank, and his small retinue – a difficult task.  Only the best of each patrol was chosen, and Matron Daermone was rather happily gloating away once she discovered that I was one of them.  She was in such a good mood that the obligatory threats as to what would happen if I failed the House were a little distracted. 

            The Surface was as beautiful as it was when I had last seen it, though I was one of the few who did not involuntarily glance up at the night sky – I was used to its emptiness, its speckled, vast majesty. 

            Bae'lan noticed that, and signalled, "The sky above does not astonish you?"

            I had to think quickly.  "I believed that we were here for a mission, not sight-seeing.  Sir."

            Bae'lan stiffened in displeasure at my insolence, but kept silent.  We were waiting in ambush, and the surfacer party, according to the mages, was approaching.  I busied myself quietly by wondering how intelligence had come to Menzoberranzan that such a party was to pass this area on such a night, considering I understood that sleeping in the night was a surfacer habit, and decided to swallow my hostility and ask Bae'lan later.  It could prove useful.

            A signal from the left – the party was approaching.

            The passing of the Surfacer Elves was careful and dignified.  The noble was the only one mounted, on a slender white elf-horse, dressed in flowing, embroidered cloth and light plate armour.  His retinue of elves, on foot, wore an assortment of weapons, especially bows, and each held a strange lamp in hand that did not smell of smoke or tallow.  The dim light lent them an unearthly beauty, illuminating the golden hues of their skin and hair. 

            Another signal, more surreptitious this time, and we charged.  The Surfacer Elves started in surprise, shouting at each other, but recovered admirably, forming a circle around the noble.  I headed straight for the first fighter, and realized he was good – he managed to parry most of my thrusts and avoid falling for the feints, but the shock of the ambush had not worn off.  A vicious slice to his wrist, and as he dropped a sword with an oath, a precise thrust through an eye put an end to him. 

            One of his companions tried to say something, and then realized that our mages had just put a globe of silence on the area.  His mouth opened in surprise, and then he gurgled as I dodged his badly-executed sequence and stabbed him through it.  Kicking him off my blade, one of their spears glanced off my armour, skittering on the adamantite, but as he tried to recover I was there, teeth bared in a wolfish snarl, the stink of blood and fear in the air as I cut his throat.  The lack of sound in the area was unnerving the surfacers, but by what I could see in my peripheral vision, the team was doing well.

            Surfacers just do not seem able to hold up against the savagery of a Dark Elf.  A problem with their attacks, as far as I could tell, was the fairly stupid, inbuilt instinct in them that told them to try not to kill.  For the most part, especially surfacer elves, if they did not absolutely need to kill you, they would not.  Dark Elves, however, would quite gladly kill you if they could.  We fight to kill – most surfacer elves fight to defend.

            I was at the noble now, and had to raise my swords to block his first swing, and then had to dodge to avoid the flying hooves of his steed.  Distracted, and trying to keep his balance as the horse reared and tried to kick me, I managed to run behind him and yank hard on his stupid, long cloak, sending him tumbling onto the ground.  Barely dodging another kick that could have killed me, I decided that the horse was a definite problem, and sliced open its throat and belly.  Its eyes rolling, and the mouth open in a silent scream, it staggered, then collapsed, still kicking impotently at the air.

            The noble stared at his horse in shock, but recovered in time to block a stab, his expression now that of incoherent fury.  Good – angry creatures generally made poor opponents.  Absently, I parried a blow from one of his companions, who had been trying to flank me, but the noble shook his head at his friend, and the friend nodded as if in sympathy, then engaged one of my team mates.  Very stupid move – he wanted to fight me by himself? Perhaps the animal had been a friend.

            His attacks were wild at first, and easy to block, but got calmer and more precise as the rage began to wear off.  I got gashes on my arms and a shallow one on my neck where I had not been quick enough to avoid injury – his swords were quick and sure. 

We seemed to fight for an age – blade against blade, kicking, dodging, parrying, and I saw I was tiring him.  Patrols and the Academy had honed my stamina and speed, and once I understood the pattern of his attacks, they were not too difficult to block.  A break in his defence – I slashed downwards, and cut the veins in his hand.  A sword dropped, useless, and as he backed off, glancing down at his injury, it took a moment to force his other sword down, and put my free blade through his throat.

            The noble's mouth opened in shock, and he actually managed to stagger back a little, still upright, when I pushed him off callously, and there was a terrible moment as I saw his face and understood all that I had forced him to lose – all that his existence entailed to him and, no doubt, to those around him – all his loves and desires, all the capability for emotion and his enjoyment in his time on this mortal world – all that made him alive… then the light in his eyes flickered off, and he died. 

            Frozen by this sudden epiphany, I contemplated, involuntarily, all the other lives that I had taken, and the knowledge was overwhelming in its pain and enormity. 

            If you would kill – never, never look in your victim's eyes.

            As the noble fell, his companions seemed to lose heart, and the few who were left tried to break for me, but my team was luckily in the way, and managed to clean them up.  The silence globe was dispelled, and the team was beginning to organize themselves for the return trip, but I still stared at the corpse of the noble, his clothes drenched in blood, and tried without success to make my mind a soothing blank…

            "Well done," Bae'lan said then, moving into my line of vision, and in an instant he linked this circumstance, unconsciously, with that of the child, and I would have killed him if he were in range.  As it was, I had to get a hold of myself, wipe the swords, and sheathe them.  Ignoring him, I went over to the dead noble and, pretending to try and remove the silver, delicately wrought band from his head for a keepsake, closed his eyes, to give him some dignity in death.

            "Do not take anything!" Bae'lan said immediately, as I knew he would.  "Some of those things are warded." 

"I thank you for your warning, Sir," I said formally, if a little coolly.

            Bae'lan ignored me, turning his attention instead to the body count.  

**

            At the end of my fifth year, I was told formally on one of the leave days – just before I returned to the House - by one of the more forgettable – and now dead – Masters that I was to consider going through further patrols in training to be a Master. 

            Matron Daermone seemed a little uncertain on this when I entered the chapel and told her. 

            "Did he give any indication as to whether your place in the Academy is certain?" was the first thing she said.

            "No, malla Ilharess, though he did say that my performance in Melee-Magthere and in the patrols was outstanding enough to…"

            "Feh, that is what they say to all possible Masters, I believe," Matron Daermone said, though she seemed pleased.  "But it is good that you have been told this."

            "I await your judgement, malla Ilharess," I said formally.

            Matron Daermone smiled, though there was no humour or warmth in that expression.  "Go, with the blessing of the Spider Queen."

**

            The advanced patrols, to my disappointment, were not all that different from normal ones, except that potential Masters had more free time to train in the Academy and sit in for Masters' meetings.  Advanced patrols also spent somewhat more time deeper in the Underdark, or occasionally at the Surface.  The knowledge from the noble's death eventually ceased to haunt my waking hours, and I dealt with it by devoutly trying to forget everything.  Killing had lost a lot of its violent joy, and the thought of my previous dependence on it for pleasure simply made me feel unclean.  I felt as if something had been forcibly and painfully removed from my life, and I could only react to it with an anger that I had no way to express or release. 

            Anger, if channelled, does make a difference in a fight, and I slowly, carefully, learnt how to use my store of the anger accumulated from frustrations and hatreds into a vicious single-mindedness in my Dance that lent it speed and precision. 

            I still killed, but now, not because I liked it, but because it was necessary.  Kill or be killed – the truth of that maxim had been impressed upon me countless times throughout all the patrols.  I felt myself becoming empty, and often wondered if this was how Soelisk was enduring.  More and more, I could understand why he did not care if he died.

**

            I lost count of all the Festivals that had passed, and have forgotten today how long I spent in advanced patrols.  One of them I remember, which began when I arrived at the House and realized Soelisk was not waiting for me at the gate.

            Rather worried, I went straight for the Weapons Hall and ascertained he was not there either, nor was there any sign that he had been there in the morning. 

            Now I was really worried.

            Turning towards the door, I saw with a start that Malice was there.  Against all reason, she was even more beautiful than before.  Something about her seemed to have matured, and her bearing was even more regal than I did remember.  Her step was confident, yet feminine, and she ran a delicate hand vaguely through her silver mane in a gesture that would have seemed whorishly artful in a lesser female.  When I accidentally looked into her eyes, I understood what it felt like to drown. 

            "Greetings, Zaknafein Do'Urden," Malice said politely, her voice all velvet and steel.

            "Greetings, malla Yathrin," I bowed, feeling panicky.  She leant on the doorframe, which meant I had no means of dignified escape, and at the moment, my mind was too arrested by the scent of her perfume and the expressiveness of her eyes to think of a suitable method.

            "I congratulate you on your good performance in the patrols," she said, after a pause, as if she was trying to think of something to fill in the silence.

            "I thank you, malla Yathrin," I said humbly.  It was not too difficult an attitude, strangely enough, to affect in her presence.  "May I ask a question?"

            "Ask."

            "Would you know where Soelisk is, malla Yathrin?"

            "Soelisk?" Malice tapped her chin, thinking.  "I believe I last saw him entering Saole's room, a few hours ago."

            That would explain it.  "I thank you, malla Yathrin," I said then, wishing that I did not sound so servile.

            Malice pursed her lips, and then seemed to come to a decision.  "You are aware of the current positions of my sister and I, in the House."  It was not a question, but a statement.

            "Er…"

            "I know you are." Steel now, less velvet.  "And…" Velvet again, as she plucked at the hem of her robe uncertainly, "…I would that you stay out of it."

            I frowned.  I had expected her to ask me to aid her.  Had she asked me, unfortunately, it was quite likely that I would have agreed.

            "Malla Yathrin?"

            "I know Reprise is trying to acquire your assistance," Malice said, still pulling at the hem.  "I personally do not… that is to say; it would be a waste if it turned out that I had to kill you."

            "Would you want my… assistance, malla Yathrin?" I asked awkwardly, still not really understanding what was happening.  All I had heard from others was that both sisters would be trying to get me on their side, and this did not seem very real.  Was there some hidden message there?

            "I do not want your 'assistance'," Malice said, her face now determined, as if she had just reached familiar ground.  All steel now, unbreakable in its resolve and conviction.  "I will become Matron, but by my own will, without the help of anyone, without needing to rely on any other strength but that of my own.  I do not ever wish to need anyone, or anything, to preserve myself or my own, or ever need to ask for anything from another.  And I believe I can do it."  She stopped abruptly, her mouth opening slightly, eyes darting away as if she had said more than she had intended to, and, with a slight flush on her cheeks, she fled as quickly as dignity would allow.

            I think I fell in love with her then.