Chapter XIII
Lea watched Jarlaxle pack the leather satchel full with magical items, daggers, and random things he would need for a long journey.
"You cannot be serious," she insisted yet again. Jarlaxle bustled past her, furiously searching for any thing he might need in his trip to the Underdark...and to the surface.
"Never more so, I'm afraid," Jarlaxle replied with a mocking bitterness. "Something does not seem right."
Lea let out an annoyed sigh, crossing his arms. "You just do not want to accept the fact that Zaknafein Do'Urden is dead!"
Jarlaxle stopped his pacing and turned on his heel to glare at Lea'Veril. "You should be more concerned, Mistress Lea'Veril. Might I add that you asked him as well to aid you in your mission?"
"He would have been an asset," Lea admitted, "but he is dead. Even Matron Malice has accepted that fact! She has already chosen a new patron."
"Malice chooses new patrons with the each glow of Narbondel," Jarlaxle snipped caustically, beginning again to search his chambers for any other items he would need.
Lea's lips thinned. "Do not go, Jarlaxle. There is too much at stake here."
"You mean this?" Jarlaxle asked sharply. He picked up a thin book and tossed it to Lea. She caught it in her hand a looked down at the title: Legends of the Goddess. Lea flipped to a marked page, a think band of red ribbon peaking out from the top of the book.
There on the page was a finely illustrated drawing of a gem, blue in color but on it swirling clouds of whitish silver.
"The MoonCrest," Lea whispered, hardly audible. She looked up at the mercenary. "You know of the danger here in the city, and you are still planning to go to the surface in search of a dead drow?"
Jarlaxle sucked in a deep breath, as if the air would somehow grant him the patience he so dearly needed. "Zaknafein Do'Urden is not dead," he said crisply. "I will return shortly, and I doubt that anything will happen in the time I am away."
But Lea knew that Jarlaxle's words were hollow.
*** *** ***
Helarin was waiting near the door, pacing back and forth in an intense worry. Lea had gone to House Monstre nearly three hours ago. Not only were the dangers of the drow streets reason enough to worry, but she was going to an enemy house! If Lea had been attacked within Maelent's walls, House D'teknil would have no choice but to retaliate, and in the condition the house was in....
"My sister has not yet returned?" a voice asked sweetly, stealing the worrying thoughts away from Helarin's mind. Z'ress stood on the top of the long and finely decorated stairwell.
"She has not," Helarin mumbled humbly, knowing better than to anger Z'ress when she was in such a calm mood. The false tranquillity would shed away at the first sign of the male's impudence.
Z'ress snorted. "She does not understand. Lea'Veril will not make a good matron mother." She eyes Helarin carefully. "Do you agree?"
A fine trap she's got me in, Helarin grumbled in his mind. Slowly, he opened his mouth, choosing his words with utmost care. "I—"
The door opened. Lea'Veril entered, her beautiful eyes seeming tired and stressed. Her usually straight and beautiful hair was messily tossed to one side. Lea paused and looked at Helarin for a moment and then passed the look on to her sister.
"Is something wrong?" Lea asked curiously, studying the looks on the two drow's faces.
"Nothing, sister," Z'ress replied. "Good night."
Neither Helarin nor Z'ress even made a gesture to reply Lea let her eyes follow her sister's smooth movements until the door closed behind Z'ress, leaving them alone in the common room.
"She's too ambitious," Lea grumbled, seeming to be concerned about her sister. "When Matron L'lonneal dies, I wonder what her actions will be."
"None that will aid the house, I guarantee," Helarin replied stiffly, straightening his back so that he stood a few inches taller than Lea, who was slightly shorter than most drow. She looked up him, knowing the question that was racing through his mind. Still, she waited for him to ask it.
"Did you speak to Matron Maelent?" Lea grimaced at the name, fearing the worst. Helarin did not miss her reaction.
"She reassured me that she would never dare to attack a house while a matron mother was so afflicted," Lea informed him, skepticism lining her voice. "But," she went on, "after a new matron mother comes to the house...."
Helarin nodded. "Your soldiers will not fail you," he told her comfortingly. He knew the weight of the burdens Lea had upon her shoulders in the times of late. "They have not in the past and they will not now."
Lea forced a smile onto her face. "Thank you," she responded, giving an appreciative nod.
"Did you go to the mercenary?"
"Yes." Lea glanced away. She was still thinking of her visit with Jarlaxle.
Helarin sensed her uneasy feelings, but he still pressed her for information. "What did he say?"
"Jarlaxle will continue to help us," she said and offered nothing more. This time, Helarin did not pursue with questions.
*** *** ***
Jarlaxle told his lieutenants that he would be gone for a short time, but he said nothing about where he was going or what his reasons for going were. Only Melyac could guess that the cause of his departure lay in the friendship he had shared with Zaknafein Do'Urden. But Melyac respected his commander's privacy and kept silent as Jarlaxle gave his orders for the time he was away.
But soon Jarlaxle had left the compound, leaving the Bregan D'aerthe in good hands, he knew. Sometimes "opportunities" called him away to more distant places, and his lieutenants had never failed him before when he was absent. Few in Menzoberranzan—even in his own band—knew that he was away.
"Now is no different," Jarlaxle told himself as he journeyed into the first few tunnels of the Underdark maze. "The MoonCrest is safe."
He sank deeper into his thoughts, hardly giving a mind to the turns he was making in the dark. Jarlaxle knew the areas here as well as he knew the back of his hand. He had explored many times each tunnel that led to the surface so that he could find his way through the darkness to the world of light...where he was certain Zaknafein would be.
"The duties of friendship," Jarlaxle sighed, pausing briefly to straighten the large hat on his head. His hands came down and switched the eyepatch from his left eye to his right. With that, he began to stalk his way through the stone labyrinth, the stealth of the drow making him near invisible to any watching eyes.
*** *** ***
Maelent's fingers strolled across the map of the Underdark that lay on the desk before her. She sat in the chair, her chin propped up gently with one of her curled hands.
She had bought the map nearly two weeks ago from a merchant band from Ched Nasad, and everyday she had come into the library her in house to look at it. But everyday was the same. She came no closer to finding the Hall of the Guardian.
Maelent sighed heavily, sinking into the chair in frustration. She grabbed the parchment beside the map, an old and tattered paper marked with a deep and messy scrawl. She had taken nearly a full month to translate the legend from the blasphemous words in the Common Tongue to the drow language. There was no room for mistakes in her quest; every word was a key.
Her eyes scanned the parchment, her finger tapping the torn corner of the aged document.
Hidden in a cave
Forgotten by time,
Where the angels still sleep
And demons do rise.
A relic of power,
To raise and bind,
To break and bid
'Til the end of time.
Lloth the Redeemer,
Keeper of dark,
Protected her children
And gave them this arc.
"Raise your cities," she said,
"Let your words become law.
I grant you this power
To aid you in war."
And so the Dark Ones
Kept by her words,
Guided by the crest
Of power unheard.
They knew not its destruction,
Or of its true song,
All the knew was their Goddess,
Who came them this wrong.
But long had they drifted
From their sun-dancing kin
They now cursed the sun-world.
They were covered in sin.
They began their wars,
Their battles and fights.
They found their enemies
They had found their long Night.
House against house,
And drow against drow.
Where the dagger did speak,
A land without vow.
Soon they did not need
The power of the gift.
Lloth smiled at her children,
There was nothing she missed.
She now had her killers,
Her assassins more.
They were her image,
Evil through, down to core.
She took her treasure,
From their caves of dark.
She took it away,
And so did part.
The killing continued,
Betrayal's kiss
With dagger's bite:
Death's promise.
Far from blinding sun
And far from silver sea
Far from the palaces
Of grand chivalry.
Down to the world
Where time stands still,
Deep in the caverns
Of ancient thrill.
Dark in the lair
Of the Guardian's Hall,
Waits the patient MoonCrest,
To curse them all.
Maelent let out the breath she had been holding as she read the legend. She didn't care how long it would take her or how much it would cost her. The MoonCrest would be hers.
