Chapter VI
The party heading to the surface raid was gathering together, readying to leave on their journey. Jarlaxle watched from the dark as the drow selected for the raid began their march out into the deeper caverns of the Underdark, leaving Menzoberranzan behind.
"He's going through with the raid then?" a soft voice asked at his side. Jarlaxle turned, hardly seeming surprised.
"Apparently," he dryly told the approaching drow. He took a second glance and raised his brow questionably. "Shouldn't a drow like you be in your house? The streets are dangerous."
The frosty smile was still on the drow female's face as she lowered her cowl and looked Jarlaxle in the eye.
"Mistress Lea," the mercenary said sternly, straightening his back, "someone like you would find no advantage to being seen out here in the allies of the city. I suggest you put your cowl back on." His voice was like ice.
Her reply was cold with accusation. "You still don't trust me, do you?"
Jarlaxle's eyes widened. "Of course not," he responded, crossing his arms as the last of the raiding party vanished from sight. "Your men warned me to stay off of the streets-why would I trust anyone who does that? And in the first place, why would I trust anyone?" His burning eyes flashed to her and she winced from the pressure of his stare.
"I had no idea that my men would do that," she admitted, lowering her head to escape Jarlaxle's eyes. "They have answered for their deeds, trust me."
Jarlaxle offered no reply.
"Have you considered my offer?" she asked him.
Jarlaxle leaned against the wall of the building, seeming relaxed and comfortable. "Of course I have," he replied stoutly.
"Well?" she pressed.
Jarlaxle's face twisted as he muttered sarcastically, "Well, miss, I am going to need more time."
"More time?" she echoed exasperatedly. "Time is running out, Jarlaxle!"
Jarlaxle's eyes flickered at her tone. He turned his head to her and snapped quickly, "I am not a person to hurry into situations that do not favor me. Your problem-as it is your problem-is no different. What you want to do is dangerous, Mistress Lea'Veril."
Lea snorted. As if she had forgotten.... "Things in Menzoberranzan are changing," she told him simply, "and not for the better. If what is being planned takes place...." Her voice drifted off in a disheartened sigh. "I want to make things right."
"The predicaments drow place themselves into are not always easy to fix." Jarlaxle sighed, looking at Lea. "I am making no promise to help you in this. You have started something that only you can stop-I won't guarantee the Bregan D'aerthe's aid."
"Understood," she agreed, disappointed but keeping her voice strong. "But what will Jarlaxle do...since the Bregan D'aerthe has been spoken for?" Her eyes lit up again as she watched Jarlaxle contemplate her question.
"We'll see what he will do when the time comes," Jarlaxle replied, his voice low. Without another word, he smoothly glided to his feet and walked away.
*** *** ***
"Well?" Helarin asked eagerly as soon as Lea'Veril had entered the room. "What did he say?"
Lea'Veril whisked off her long cloak and lay it on the arm of a cushioned chair. "Jarlaxle will aid us," she said with certainty.
"He agreed?!" Helarin coughed, his hands twitching with delight.
Lea shrugged nonchalantly. "He didn't disagree," she put in, her voice quiet.
Helarin's excitement ended quickly. "Well, that means nothing," he replied sourly.
"He'll help us," Lea assured him strongly. Helarin nodded, but his former enthusiasm wasn't there.
"Lea'Veril?" a voice called from another room. "Is that you?"
Lea'Veril glided across the floor and entered the chambers of the Matron Mother L'lonneal. The old, withered drow sunk against her pillows weakly and Lea'Veril's lips thinned as she sensed the sickness in the room.
She strode towards the bed, but stopped shortly before, bowing low in respect. "Matron L'lonneal, I've returned home," she said.
"Good, daughter," she rasped, her voice trying to show her former strength. It came out only as a whisper.
"Are you alright?" Lea asked, looking at her mother's hollowed face and lifeless eyes. "Should I send a-"
"I'm not leaving you with much, Lea," L'lonneal pouted guiltily, "but I hope this life will suit you. The house is not the strongest but-"
"You're not dying yet," Lea said strongly. L'lonneal reached out with a bony hand and grasped her wrist. Lea had to order herself not to shudder.
"I am old," L'lonneal stated, the loudest her voice had been since Lea arrived back. "I will not lost much longer. House Gauka D'teknil will be yours soon."
Not if Z'ress has anything to say about it, Lea grumbled in her mind, thinking of her sister.
"Matron L'lonneal!" came a shriek from behind. Hastily bowing her respect, Z'ress hurried to the matron mother's bedside.
And speaking of.... Lea carefully hid her annoyed expression at sight of her sister.
Z'ress watched the matron mother was horror striken in her eyes. Matron L'lonneal was still.
"Lea'Veril," she gasped, using Lea's full name. "Is she-"
"She isn't dead," Lea replied stiffly. The young drow slid to her feet and shuffled out of the room. "She's only sleeping again."
Z'ress didn't seem convinced, but she followed her younger sister out of the room without another word.
Helarin was still waiting patiently when Lea breezed into the anteroom. "She lives," she told him quickly, not even waiting for him to ask the question. Z'ress opened the door and walked in, not far behind Lea.
"But she won't last much longer," she added, passing Lea a glare. It was no secret of their animosity. When Matron L'lonneal promised her youngest daughter the house, feelings were bound to arise.
Helarin felt the flares beginning to burn in each of them and he quickly stepped in to intervene. "Lea, you've been out. Perhaps you should go into your room to rest?"
If any other male would have spoken to any other female in that way, he would have been killed. But Lea followed his advice without complaint, breezing away from her sister and leaving them alone.
"She will not be a good matron mother for this house, Helarin," Z'ress told the drow spy. "She will not bring us glory in Lloth's name."
Helarin shrugged, feeling the swords at his hips. He had been the weapons- master for House D'teknil for many years. He had watched both Z'ress and Lea'Veril grow, learning of the world of drow around them. He was convinced neither had come away unscathed.
"Fortunately," he said distastefully, "that matter doesn't have to be discussed. Matron L'lonneal has already promised Mistress Lea'Veril the house. The decision has been made."
Z'ress eyes narrowed and she skirted away from Helarin. "Have it your way," she snapped as she threw open the door. It clipped her in the heel as it swung close and Helarin could not hold back a spiteful smirk.
The party heading to the surface raid was gathering together, readying to leave on their journey. Jarlaxle watched from the dark as the drow selected for the raid began their march out into the deeper caverns of the Underdark, leaving Menzoberranzan behind.
"He's going through with the raid then?" a soft voice asked at his side. Jarlaxle turned, hardly seeming surprised.
"Apparently," he dryly told the approaching drow. He took a second glance and raised his brow questionably. "Shouldn't a drow like you be in your house? The streets are dangerous."
The frosty smile was still on the drow female's face as she lowered her cowl and looked Jarlaxle in the eye.
"Mistress Lea," the mercenary said sternly, straightening his back, "someone like you would find no advantage to being seen out here in the allies of the city. I suggest you put your cowl back on." His voice was like ice.
Her reply was cold with accusation. "You still don't trust me, do you?"
Jarlaxle's eyes widened. "Of course not," he responded, crossing his arms as the last of the raiding party vanished from sight. "Your men warned me to stay off of the streets-why would I trust anyone who does that? And in the first place, why would I trust anyone?" His burning eyes flashed to her and she winced from the pressure of his stare.
"I had no idea that my men would do that," she admitted, lowering her head to escape Jarlaxle's eyes. "They have answered for their deeds, trust me."
Jarlaxle offered no reply.
"Have you considered my offer?" she asked him.
Jarlaxle leaned against the wall of the building, seeming relaxed and comfortable. "Of course I have," he replied stoutly.
"Well?" she pressed.
Jarlaxle's face twisted as he muttered sarcastically, "Well, miss, I am going to need more time."
"More time?" she echoed exasperatedly. "Time is running out, Jarlaxle!"
Jarlaxle's eyes flickered at her tone. He turned his head to her and snapped quickly, "I am not a person to hurry into situations that do not favor me. Your problem-as it is your problem-is no different. What you want to do is dangerous, Mistress Lea'Veril."
Lea snorted. As if she had forgotten.... "Things in Menzoberranzan are changing," she told him simply, "and not for the better. If what is being planned takes place...." Her voice drifted off in a disheartened sigh. "I want to make things right."
"The predicaments drow place themselves into are not always easy to fix." Jarlaxle sighed, looking at Lea. "I am making no promise to help you in this. You have started something that only you can stop-I won't guarantee the Bregan D'aerthe's aid."
"Understood," she agreed, disappointed but keeping her voice strong. "But what will Jarlaxle do...since the Bregan D'aerthe has been spoken for?" Her eyes lit up again as she watched Jarlaxle contemplate her question.
"We'll see what he will do when the time comes," Jarlaxle replied, his voice low. Without another word, he smoothly glided to his feet and walked away.
*** *** ***
"Well?" Helarin asked eagerly as soon as Lea'Veril had entered the room. "What did he say?"
Lea'Veril whisked off her long cloak and lay it on the arm of a cushioned chair. "Jarlaxle will aid us," she said with certainty.
"He agreed?!" Helarin coughed, his hands twitching with delight.
Lea shrugged nonchalantly. "He didn't disagree," she put in, her voice quiet.
Helarin's excitement ended quickly. "Well, that means nothing," he replied sourly.
"He'll help us," Lea assured him strongly. Helarin nodded, but his former enthusiasm wasn't there.
"Lea'Veril?" a voice called from another room. "Is that you?"
Lea'Veril glided across the floor and entered the chambers of the Matron Mother L'lonneal. The old, withered drow sunk against her pillows weakly and Lea'Veril's lips thinned as she sensed the sickness in the room.
She strode towards the bed, but stopped shortly before, bowing low in respect. "Matron L'lonneal, I've returned home," she said.
"Good, daughter," she rasped, her voice trying to show her former strength. It came out only as a whisper.
"Are you alright?" Lea asked, looking at her mother's hollowed face and lifeless eyes. "Should I send a-"
"I'm not leaving you with much, Lea," L'lonneal pouted guiltily, "but I hope this life will suit you. The house is not the strongest but-"
"You're not dying yet," Lea said strongly. L'lonneal reached out with a bony hand and grasped her wrist. Lea had to order herself not to shudder.
"I am old," L'lonneal stated, the loudest her voice had been since Lea arrived back. "I will not lost much longer. House Gauka D'teknil will be yours soon."
Not if Z'ress has anything to say about it, Lea grumbled in her mind, thinking of her sister.
"Matron L'lonneal!" came a shriek from behind. Hastily bowing her respect, Z'ress hurried to the matron mother's bedside.
And speaking of.... Lea carefully hid her annoyed expression at sight of her sister.
Z'ress watched the matron mother was horror striken in her eyes. Matron L'lonneal was still.
"Lea'Veril," she gasped, using Lea's full name. "Is she-"
"She isn't dead," Lea replied stiffly. The young drow slid to her feet and shuffled out of the room. "She's only sleeping again."
Z'ress didn't seem convinced, but she followed her younger sister out of the room without another word.
Helarin was still waiting patiently when Lea breezed into the anteroom. "She lives," she told him quickly, not even waiting for him to ask the question. Z'ress opened the door and walked in, not far behind Lea.
"But she won't last much longer," she added, passing Lea a glare. It was no secret of their animosity. When Matron L'lonneal promised her youngest daughter the house, feelings were bound to arise.
Helarin felt the flares beginning to burn in each of them and he quickly stepped in to intervene. "Lea, you've been out. Perhaps you should go into your room to rest?"
If any other male would have spoken to any other female in that way, he would have been killed. But Lea followed his advice without complaint, breezing away from her sister and leaving them alone.
"She will not be a good matron mother for this house, Helarin," Z'ress told the drow spy. "She will not bring us glory in Lloth's name."
Helarin shrugged, feeling the swords at his hips. He had been the weapons- master for House D'teknil for many years. He had watched both Z'ress and Lea'Veril grow, learning of the world of drow around them. He was convinced neither had come away unscathed.
"Fortunately," he said distastefully, "that matter doesn't have to be discussed. Matron L'lonneal has already promised Mistress Lea'Veril the house. The decision has been made."
Z'ress eyes narrowed and she skirted away from Helarin. "Have it your way," she snapped as she threw open the door. It clipped her in the heel as it swung close and Helarin could not hold back a spiteful smirk.
