Part 8
Soelisk
Translator's Note: Certain sexually-explicit scenes from this part have been omitted due to historical irrelevance and potentially offensive content.
What I felt for Malice was like a fit of madness in its intensity and irrationality – surpassing even those feelings I once had for Naetalya. I spent all my free time thinking of her, wondering what she was doing, how she was feeling, what she would look like if she smiled… it was probably a good thing that advanced patrols prevented me from staying in the House, or I could have disobeyed all commands and tried to kill Reprise myself. The thought of losing her was unbearable – it seemed so momentous that my mind flinched from the very concept, and I was left feeling drained, frightened and insignificant.
Thankfully, at point position one is not allowed time to dwell on such thoughts – a point scout must stay alert at all times, or endanger himself and his patrol. But I noticed that the emptiness that had been inside me was seeping away, and I silently thanked her for it.
I was both relieved and disappointed when in all the Festivals after her outburst she avoided me scrupulously – relieved that I would not betray my feelings, and disappointed that I could not be close to her. I knew she was looking at me, though – I had become so aware to her presence that I seemed to notice every single detail of her actions – how she touched her hair or robe when she was nervous with the tips of her fingers, how she ducked her head and pulled at her fringe to frame her eyes when she talked to one of authority… as I said, it was like madness.
Because of my 'valour' in the previous Surface mission, I was chosen again for the next one, which involved attacking an outpost. This one was just against one of their patrols, and was less difficult, though if any of my team mates noticed, I was studiously averting my eyes from that of the slain. The words 'Kill or be killed' recited themselves desperately in my head, like a mantra, when I cut down – slaughtered - the surfacers.
It was easier to think that given the chance, I would be the one to fall by their blades, if you ignored the fact that we were the ones to attack them first. Surface raids seemed rather pointless, actually. They never really attacked us, being mortally afraid of the Underdark – and raids were timed such that only when they began to let down their guard did we strike – hard – at another area. We never, however, attacked the humans, oddly enough. Perhaps it was because we were, like the surfacers, afraid of their intense, short lives, where they had the will to change so much in so brief a span. If they united, the Dark Elven Cities would definitely fall – with their numbers, and ingenuity, who knew what they could accomplish?
Humans are occasionally seen in Menzoberranzan, though not very often, and mainly in the form of traders. They were treated with contempt, but were not killed unless they broke a law. Traders from the surface were welcome, as they were often rich and laden with precious goods to trade.
I did not understand their garbled, unwieldy tongue, and kept my distance. Save for duergar, I had never really viewed other races with anything more than an idle curiosity. The world of the Dark Elves was my world, and I could not imagine leaving its established dangers and intrigues to brave the outside unknown, even though I listened occasionally to some of the male team mates consider this vaguely, as they sometimes spoke in quiet voices during breaks of the pointless, unceasing insignificance of their existence in Menzoberranzan. None of us, however, truly, deep in our hearts, would have considered leaving. It was too much of a risk.
**
Years passed in patrols, and both Malice and Reprise completed their trainings as High Priestesses. Festivals now seemed rather strained, as both sisters kept glaring at each other, but at least Malice was still avoiding me. Reprise, thankfully, would have nothing to do with a male, and generally kept away.
Soelisk, from the drawn look on his face each time I saw him, was obviously being pressed harder by Saole, but he never discussed anything about her or about House politics to me. From what I could gather, Malice was quietly building up loyalty from the soldiers somehow – bribes, perhaps, but my mind refused to consider what myriad forms such 'bribes' would take – but Reprise and Saole were not. They did, however, have Soelisk, and the soldiers did follow him somewhat.
Nalfein, too, graduated, and was now in patrols, and theoretically at this momentous development, the sisters' scheming would soon come to a head. I never did think much about the House – I tried not to.
**
Both sisters have been accepted into Arach-Tinilith as Mistresses. My offered congratulations to Malice in the Festival after that had seemed very nervous and stuttered. She seemed distracted by something, however, her eyes glancing everywhere except my face when I spoke to her, and did not appear to notice. But somehow I could tell she was pleased that I had congratulated her before her elder sister. For some reason, that was extremely satisfying.
Matron Daermone stopped speaking to me except when necessary. There was no sorrow or frustration in her now, just a strange, empty resignation that was somehow even more disturbing. It was almost as though she had seen her death and found it near, and had given up all hope.
**
"Your House has changed Matron," the Master in my patrol said casually.
I gaped at him in comical astonishment. "What?"
He pointed at the communications disc, which was already dissipating, its function spent. "The reports in that disc spoke of a change in Matron for your House. It did not say to which."
"But…" I frowned. Matron Daermone had been in perfect health when I last saw her.
"You may have leave to look to your House when we return to Menzoberranzan after this circuit."
"Yes, sir," I bowed, and went back to point, mind racing. A change in Matron… I was not afraid of my continued position in the House – a few cycles ago, it had been confirmed that I would be a Master after three months, just in time for instructions before the next intake. One of the Masters had died in a patrol, and I was to take his place.
Rather, I was dreading returning to find Malice dead, or worse…
I nearly got myself killed in that circuit, just thinking of possible consequences, until the Master noticed my distraction and changed my position to guarding the mage. I did not get a dressing-down for it – understandably, a change in Matron was a suitably large enough event to require much speculation.
**
The scenery between the Academy and the House rushed by in a vague blur as I sprinted back to the House after the circuit. I reached the Gate out of breath, tired, and slightly unbalanced, as I had been trying to prepare myself for the worst, and, as usual in such endeavours, had just managed to upset myself further.
Malice would be dead, or Soelisk would be dead… that absolute expectation played in my mind. Malice, or Soelisk…
The Weapons Hall was empty. The soldiers cleaning the weapons inside looked up, startled, when I clattered in, still out of breath. "Where…" I began, and then let out a deep, heartfelt sigh of grief and relief when I saw Soelisk emerge from his room. He blinked when he saw me, and then smiled hesitantly.
"Zaknafein! Did you run from patrols?"
"I…" I leant against the doorframe, gasping ignominiously. Do not sprint long distances in full armour. "The Master… let me off… at the news."
"The communications disc reached you, then," Soelisk said, stating the obvious. He seemed older, somehow, and I was trying to figure out what it was when I heard a very familiar voice behind me.
"Greetings, Zaknafein," Malice said.
I whirled, blinking, and looked her up and down, in my astonishment and confusion forgetting that she might take offence from that insolence. "Wha… Malice… why…"
"You may now address me as 'malla Ilharess'." Malice corrected me primly, with an enchanting half-smile, and I had to fight the urge to kiss her.
I went down on one knee before her respectfully, bowing my head. "Yes, malla Ilharess." It seemed, at that moment, the most natural thing to do.
"See me in my chambers. After you bathe." A rustling swirl of robes and retreating steps, and I stood up, looking after her until she was gone.
"What happened?" I asked Soelisk, when he dismissed the soldiers. "And why are you still…"
"Alive?" he supplied.
"Yeah."
"Daermone's, and Reprise's, hearts stopped beating three days ago," Soelisk said flatly, with no inflection in his voice as to his opinion of this. "In their sleep. Saole, however, had been missing for a while, so she is presumed dead." His expression did not change as his fingers made out one word quickly before falling to his side – 'scrying'.
Ahh. Malice, or one of her minions, could be spying on this conversation.
"Why are you alive?" I repeated curiously, if bluntly. "I had thought…"
"Because if you become Master at Melee-Magthere, there would be no weapon master available until you get settled in and they let you take it part-time," Soelisk smiled. It was a painfully bitter expression.
"Then after that?"
"I die, I believe," Soelisk said matter-of-factly, as if he were discussing the shades of Narbondel. It was a terrible thing, listening to someone who no longer wanted to live. "You had better be going."
**
"Much better," Malice said when I entered 'her' chambers. "You stank."
I had been wondering why she had picked her chambers instead of the Chapel, but had eventually reined my mind away from speculation, in case I began to presume. Assumption on the part of those who would deal with priestesses is a deep and often lethal mistake.
"Please accept my apologies, malla Ilharess," I said, trying not to grin. There was something about her fastidious indignation that was highly amusing. Laughing was however something that my brain restrained and labelled, in this context, as a 'suicidal tendency'.
"You still smell of oil and metal," Malice said irritably. "Why must you wear armour all the time?"
"The smell may distract the enemy, malla Ilharess," I replied, and carefully maintained a straight face. Malice shot me a look as if to try and gauge whether or not that had been a joke, then gave up and sat down gracefully on a recliner. I tried not to look around. These were the Matron's personal chambers, and I had last seen them only under the rule of Daermone. Nothing was changed, symbolic in a sense – the House remained, but Matrons were changed like movable, easily worn-out furniture.
"You wonder why I called you here." Malice was always in the habit of stating things instead of asking questions, possibly feedback from her mental intrusions.
"Yes, malla Ilharess."
"I wished to know if you were still loyal to the House."
"I am yours to command, malla Ilharess," I said, and for appearance's sake and because I knew females liked this sort of thing (strangely enough) I dropped to one knee, armour clinking. The move came more easily and less ungracefully each time, apparently.
"I suppose that is an answer of sorts," Malice mused thoughtfully. "Stand up, Zaknafein."
I rose, warily, and attempted to keep my eyes averted from hers. This wasn't difficult at this angle, because the cut of her robe allowed for an excellent view.
She watched me quietly, and the silence seemed to extend for ages. I dared not say anything, and she did not seem inclined to break it. I considered the idea that she was reading my mind, and was mildly curious as to whether or not she knew the extent of the madness.
Knowing Malice, it was quite likely that she did.
Finally, when she spoke, her words seemed to catch in the still air, framed like a precious tapestry. "You are at my command?"
Malice's voice in a purr of pure velvet was a weapon in itself. I shivered involuntarily, and hoped immediately that she did not notice. "Yes, malla Ilharess," I murmured.
"Take off your armour and disarm yourself."
When I was clad only in my undershirt and pants, she stood up and approached, delicately skirting the pile of armour, swords and knives, then just as delicately unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it off, dropping it into a heap on the ground. Critically, almost clinically, she examined with nimble fingers the scars I had collected over the years – the inevitable mark of a soldier, and I had to bite my lip to keep from making a sound, afraid that such an action would make her stop.
Then she kissed me, and I surrendered my heart.
**
"I would like to ask a favour of you, malla Ilharess," I said indistinctly, a little muffled by her hair. I loved its complex, alluring scent.
"What?" Malice's voice seemed sleepy, but satisfied after all the exertion. Definitely a good time to ask.
"May Soelisk's life be spared, even were I free to assume the role of weapon master? I can convince him to… disappear in Menzoberranzan. You will never see him again, or hear from him. If he uses his knowledge against the House, you can be assured that I will personally kill him slowly before you. There is not that much to gain from killing him now."
There was a pause, and then Malice shifted in the circle of my arms such that she could see my face. Her eyes met mine for a moment before I could look away, and as far as I could tell, she was merely amused. "Why this concern for his skin, Zaknafein?"
"Soelisk has been a… good friend to me, malla Ilharess."
"A friend, Zaknafein?"
"It is hard to explain," I admitted.
"Do you not belong to me, Zaknafein?"
"All I am and all I could be or do are yours, malla Ilharess." I said honestly.
"Then what can you give me to convince me that Soelisk is worthy of my pardon?"
"I can make this much more… enjoyable for you, malla Ilharess." I whispered, and rubbed the tips of my fingers over a sensitive spot.
She hissed in pleasure. "But if I were to… order you to do it, instead of trading favours?"
"It would not be as whole-hearted an endeavour, malla Ilharess," I smiled, and caressed another area.
Malice chuckled. "Did you learn this in the Academy, Zaknafein?"
"No, but I learnt much about the pleasures of females that I could demonstrate to you, given enough incentive, malla Ilharess."
"Would the bite of my whip be enough?" she said, a little playfully. Somewhere on her dressing table, the snake-whip made slithering sounds in response to its mention.
"I would not be in much of a condition after that to adequately… perform."
Mentally, I breathed a sigh of relief when Malice smiled and said, "Very well, I agree. Now show me."
**
"You're free to go, once I return as weapon master," I told Soelisk. "I managed to… convince the Matron." We were in the bazaar, taking advantage, apparently, of the rest of my leave, and more importantly, of the noise and the crowds, to hide ourselves from eavesdroppers, magical or otherwise. Our clothes we had searched thoroughly before leaving, in case of little magical spiders.
"I would not ask you how you accomplished that," Soelisk said dryly. "But I thank you."
"Would you… take the chance to live, Soelisk?"
"Oh yes… since she is still alive."
"I rather suspected that to be so," I said mildly. "Though I do not understand why you would do this for her."
"Because I feel for her as deeply as you feel for Malice, Zaknafein," Soelisk said, and his head was turned, so I could not see his expression. "Would you do all I have done for Saole, if you were in my place and Malice was in hers?"
I smiled ruefully. "Yes."
"There you have it. We are a pair of foolish males, no doubt."
"Do you know where… she is now?"
"Yes, but I cannot tell you, though I can admit that I was the one who gave her the information to escape and the way and the place to disappear. I am sorry. I have learnt how to conceal my thoughts from 'readers, after several embarrassing moments in Malice's youth when she was going around reading everyone who was open. You have not, nor, I suspect, can you bring yourself to in the Matron's presence."
"I did not want to know where she was," I said. "Will you need anything? I mean, when you have to go? I cannot see you again, after you leave, or risk endangering all of us."
"No, I will not need more of your help. You have done enough already. Do not worry, I will take you up on this chance." Soelisk grinned wanly at me. "For her, foolish as I am, I am willing to live."