Yasha met Deekin before the great doors of the temple bright and early the next morning. At least, she imagined it would have been bright if she could have seen the sun. For that matter, she wasn't even sure if it was early, as she had lost track of the day and night cycles some time ago.

"Good morning, Deekin," she said, determined to maintain the fiction that it was bright and early, regardless.

His smile was brief and distracted. "Morning, boss."

An uncharacteristic silence descended on the kobold then, and he fidgeted with various straps and buckles on his equipment without saying another word for some time. Yasha alternated between looking for Valen and Nathyrra, and watching Deekin with growing concern. She was relieved when he finally sidled over and spoke.

"Ummm, boss?"

"Yes Deekin?"

"Does you remember old master at all?"

Yasha blinked, taken off guard. Of all the topics she thought he might bring up, speaking of the white dragon that Deekin had served was the last one she would have thought of.

"Of course I remember Tymofarrar," she replied, once she had gathered her wits once more. "Last I heard he was still as blasé as ever," she added in a lower tone.

Yasha frowned at the memory. Part of her felt guilty for her dealings with Tymofarrar; as if she had betrayed the world by not challenging the wyrm to combat rather than bargaining with him. He did arrange the raid on Hilltop and the attempted murder of her mentor, after all.

"Deekin remembers when you tells Deekin that he be free," the kobold said thoughtfully. "He almost not believe it that old master lets him go. Deekin was very happy."

Yasha smiled, and remembered anew part of the reason she was so satisfied with her deal with the dragon. Things turned out well, after all, and the dragon certainly didn't seem very eager to fly off and raid the surrounding villages anytime soon, at least.

"Deekin just wonders," he continued carefully. "When you talks to old master, did he talks about Deekin at all?"

Yasha looked back down at the kobold, her smile fading, wondering fort he first time in a long while if he actually missed staying with Tymofarrar. While she considered him, Deekin studied his hands for a while before looking up at her hopefully.

"He talked about you with affection," she finally replied. Then her brows furrowed as she winced at the memory. "Sort of."

"Oh. Sometimes Deekin misses old master, too, but that not what Deekin talks about. Old master tell Deekin once that Deekin gots lots of dragon blood. Deekin not be sure about that. Deekin not be bigger or stronger," he added, waving at himself. "He not breathes fire or anything."

An odd mixture of relief and renewed concerned swirled in Yasha as the kobold spoke. He was not considering return to the dragon, then. However, talk of dragon blood heritage was no small matter, either. Once he finished, she knelt down before him so that they could be eye to eye. She gave him a serious, appraising look before replying. "Maybe the potential is there. You never know."

"Maybe. Deekin not really thinks so, but sometimes he wonders. So Deekin wonder if old master not say anything abouts Deekin? Nothing likes that?

Yasha closed her eyes, focusing as best she could on all the conversations she had with the dragon, and reviewed them for any hint or aside referring to what Deekin just said. Finally she sighed and opened her eyes, shaking her head. "I'm sorry Deekin. He never did."

Deekin looked crestfallen. "Oh. Deekin hopes that...well, Deekin just gots to makes the best of it."

Yasha bit her lip for a moment, and then put her hand on his shoulder. "You do seem different from when I first met you. Perhaps the dragon blood is starting to show itself?"

He was silent for a while. "Sometimes," he began with a quiet voice, "sometimes when Deekin fights he feels heart beating really fast and he feel," he paused, his clawed hand over his chest. "He feel strong." He looked back up at her, both earnest and embarrassed. "Does that seem silly to you, boss?"

"Not really." She paused, concerned but unsure of how to address her worries directly without alarming her friend. "Where do you think it could lead?" she asked tentatively.

"Well," he began, shuffling his feet. "Deekin thinking maybe he tries to, ummm, focus on the dragon blood...on the strong feeling. Deekin thinking he learns to control it. Old master never tells Deekin about this but...maybe it be good thing?"

Yasha released his shoulder, and rubbed her chin. Her experiences with dragons in general had not proved very positive. What sort of dragon blood did he have? If he pursued this heritage, would his personality change? Would he still be Deekin?

Seeing her troubled look, Deekin withdrew a bit. "It be up to you, boss," he assured her quickly. "Deekin do what you tells him to. If you wants Deekin to just be faithful bard, instead, Deekin do that and be happy."

Yasha sucked in a shamed breath at his reaction. "I can't tell you what to do in this matter, Deekin. You must be the one who decides." She paused, and then put both hands on his shoulders once more. "I will support you either way you decide, in whatever manner I can."

Deekin grinned bashfully. "Then...then Deekin work on focusing on dragon blood for now. Deekin hopes that okay. You tells him if not, boss."

Yasha patted his arm. "Very well," she said, grinning. "You just let me know if you feel a sudden desire to start a hoard or roast me for dinner or anything like that."

Deekin nodded, a small smile on his face. "Sure thing, boss."

The sound of approaching footsteps prompted Yasha to rise again. Valen, distinctive in his green armor, threaded his way through the columns of the temple's main hall. He halted when he reached them, and glanced between them briefly before speaking.

"Yasha. Deekin. Nathyrra. Good morning. Are we ready to leave, then?"

Yasha bit back a rather rude exclamation, and glanced around her quickly. Sure enough, Nathyrra stood little more than three yards away, and gave her an amused expression when their eyes met.

"I am prepared," the dark elf said smoothly, a condescending smirk on her face, "if Yasha is."

Yasha sighed. She glanced briefly down at Deekin, who was already shrugging his small pack onto his back.

"Well, then. I suppose we should get started," the paladin replied with resignation. She motioned for the drow to lead the way. They were on the verge of leaving the small outpost behind and entering the maze of caves that was the true Underdark when Yasha decided she should put away her thoughts on how she could have avoided bringing Nathyrra at all, and instead make the best of it.

"Can you give me any more information on this village we're heading for - this Drearing's Deep that may be the source of the undead allies of the Valsharess?" she asked.

Nathyrra glanced back at her, red eyes flashing disturbingly in the dim light. "Not much more than I have already told you. It is a small village made up of escaped slaves, we believe, though I have avoided direct contact. There appears to be a large building in the center, though we do not know its function."

Yasha frowned. "What led you to believe, then, that this is the source of the undead?"

Nathyrra's raised her eyebrows. "The groups of drow leading lines of large, skeletal creatures away from the area."

"Ah. Well, I suppose that is a good lead," Yasha replied.

Given that information, Yasha could think of nothing else to ask. They entered the Underdark quietly, which was probably for the best. When the going got rough and Nathyrra pulled a bit ahead to scout, the paladin made no attempt to close the distance again.

---

Yasha huffed with exhaustion as she curled up into her bedroll. Nathyrra had led them into the true heart of the Underdark, and Yasha found the constant tense peering into the shadows almost as exhausting as battling the nasty creatures that frequently attacked from the enveloping darkness. They had finally found a nook that Nathyrra had declared relatively safe, and set up a cold and fireless camp to grab what rest they could before continuing on their way to the slave village, Drearings Deep. The bedroll gave little cushioning between her bones and the hard stone below her, but Yasha couldn't imagine anything that could keep her tired eyes open for another minute.

"Nathyrra, I wonder if I might ask you a... personal question," Valen said from somewhere to her left.

Yasha's eyes popped back open. Except maybe for that.

Nathyrra regarded Valen with a bemused grin. "What's this? All these months I have been with the Seer and you have never once deigned to speak to me. Why now?"

"I am no longer in command of the drow forces, nor are we fleeing for our lives." He gestured about at the area. "And we are, more or less, alone."

Yasha turned over to look at him, her mouth open in mock protest, and tried to decide if she should truly feel slighted or not. Nathyrra gave her an amused glance before replying to him.

"Well, so long as Yasha doesn't mind, go ahead and ask whatever you'd like."

Valen looked briefly at Yasha and shrugged. "I... doubt she will." Yasha rolled her eyes and shook her head at him as he stayed focused on Nathyrra and continued. "I'd like to know, however... what was it about the Seer that convinced you to leave the drow and join her?"

Nathyrra seemed mildly taken aback. "That's not an insignificant question. How about you tell me, first."

"Why I went with her?" He looked away into the distance, obviously thinking back. "I suppose... I knew I needed help. And I knew that she would help me."

"And that she would do it for no other reason than because I needed it," Nathyrra finished, her tone solemn.

Valen's eyes locked with Nathyrra's for a long moment and then he looked away, embarrassed. "I am sorry. My suspicions are foolish."

Yasha closed her eyes and covered them with her left arm, trying not to feel smug. It was, however, a definite relief to have Valen's suspicions directed elsewhere for a change.

"No, they're not," she heard Nathyrra reply. "You've been protective of the Seer ever since I arrived. And you should be. I want you to be. I'm glad she has you at her side."

"Only I'm not at her side now, am I?" he replied.

Yasha gritted her teeth at the tension in the silence that followed. It was a long time before she could force herself to release the death grip her right hand suddenly had on the rough fabric of her bedroll. It was an even longer time before she could calm herself enough to forget the unpleasant feeling that twisted her stomach and kept her mind dancing with unworthy thoughts. She was shamed that it was a very long time indeed.