"A life without hope is not a life at all."—Nyx
Chapter Five
Nyx dropped her pack on the grass but kept an eye on the lively drow and irritated assassin before her. The group had located a suitable forest clearing in time for dinner, which was fortunate, but her two dangerous companions looked like they were preparing for an argument. Tai, who stood just behind her shoulder, sat his pack on the ground and then peered around her to watch the festivities.
"You did not!" Jarlaxle exclaimed, his eyes wide with mock horror.
Nyx relaxed slightly, realizing that the drow, at least, wasn't overly serious.
"It is not as though it matters," the assassin snapped, crossing his arms.
The monk exhaled in relief—Entreri was too animated for a genuine argument. Genuine argument for Entreri meant frosty death glares, little or no words, and rather quick death.
"The horror of it!" Jarlaxle flung both hands into the air.
Entreri scoffed. "You just want an excuse to act melodramatic."
"But it was a gift!"
The assassin seemed unmoved. "It is not as though you crafted it."
Nyx simply stared at the two males before her. Some men bonded by beating up each other; some bonded by getting drunk together. But Entreri and Jarlaxle bonded by trying to verbally flay or outwit each other.
Jarlaxle had his hand pressed to his chest in a theatrical gesture. All of nature seemed to attend to his performance, as though the forest clearing were his stage: the canopy of leaves parted, allowing a thin crimson sunray to light the elf's face, and a breeze blew through the trees, ruffling the monstrous plume in his hat. "Perhaps I did not fashion the bolero with my own two hands, but I had it created especially for you! And now you've lost it!"
Entreri seemed unmoved. "It was a hat."
Tai snorted and turned away, no doubt feeling a bit too tired to stomach the mercenaries' idiosyncrasies; Nyx wanted to snort as well but didn't. She wasn't surprised, really, that Entreri had lost the hat—since it was unnecessary in the cover of the forest and more uncomfortable than anything given the heat and humidity of the midday, Entreri had taken off the hat the day before and somehow attached it to his pack. No doubt he'd lost it during the fight with the dire wolves that had occurred only a few hours later.
Jarlaxle had continued speaking. "A special, magical hat," he corrected Entreri.
"It can be replaced," the assassin insisted. "The loss of anything so easily replaceable should not warrant a second thought."
The drow feigned horror. "So callous of you!"
Nyx shook her head at the two mercenaries' antics and then turned to speak to Tai. Her head jerked back in surprise as she found herself preparing to speak to a tree. Tai had slipped away.
"Blast," she muttered. "He's going to get himself killed!" She supposed she couldn't blame him for wanting privacy while relieving himself—if that was what he was doing—but Mordecai or the other drow might attack again at any time. Resolute in her intention to find the priest, and quickly, she set about searching.
Fortunately, it only took a few minutes to find him. Tai was resting on a large, exposed tree root about fifteen feet away from the clearing and was busy sharpening one of his daggers with a whetting stone. He didn't look up as Nyx approached, and the scene struck the monk profoundly: the priest's hair hung about his lowered head like a curtain, and the branches of the tree he sat under seemed to bend downwards around him, almost as though the tree were trying to embrace and protect him. Nyx watched the leaves' silver undersides flip in the wind and decided that if she were imaging human intentions from a tree, she needed sleep. Badly.
Still, the trees did create a wall on all sides of them, granting the illusion of privacy, and the scent of jasmine and the hooting of owls provided an almost tranquil atmosphere. Tai, however, seemed ill-at-ease, almost tortured.
Nyx stared at the young man before her and frowned. He needed help; of that, she had little doubt. "I have something I need to say," she said, preparing herself for the irritation or resistance she assumed she'd meet.
Tai finally paused and looked at her. "What?"
Nyx steeled herself. "It's about a concern that I think must be bothering you." One of many, she thought, but we might as well start with this conversation, since it's likely the most pressing one, my dear priest.
At this proclamation, Tai returned his attention to sharpening his dagger, doubling the force of his effort and filling the air with harsh scraping noises.
Undeterred, Nyx sat beside him. "Over the last tenday or so, I've listened to you—and Entreri, for that matter—say several things about Hoar or gods in general," she began, "so I want to remind you of a conversation we once had about the assumptions people have about their gods."
Tai didn't respond, but he eased off the sharpening of his dagger so that scraping wasn't so loud.
"Remember about five months ago, we talked about how many people believe that if their god is good or just, their lives will be basically smooth, free of any serious hardships or problems."
"Sure. A perfect life," Tai said sarcastically, still training his stare upon his task.
Nyx smirked. "Yes, we all know it's not true. But we both know many people believe that their problems mean their god has abandoned them. Whether they realize it or not, they assume that the gods exist to make their lives easy and happy, and they treat their gods like magical charms. However, it doesn't work that way. The goodly or just gods are concerned for their followers, but they don't exist to grant our every whim."
Tai gave Nyx an irritated glance. "Yes, I know; I remember our conversation perfectly well. You know I never believed such a thing of Hoar. It's just that . . ." He looked away as his words trailed off, and he set down the whetting stone and dagger.
"I know you don't," Nyx said gently. "You've grown too wise to err in such a manner. However, the difficulty you've had, at times, communing with Hoar suggests that you are feeling uncertain or off-balance—maybe even betrayed. But remember, my friend, that nature itself is a mirror for what life is. Nature is equal parts beauty and destruction, and our lives contain beauty and pain as well. There is no exception to this rule; even the gods themselves suffer pain, sadness, and occasionally death. Given that fact, we gain nothing from turning away from our god in anger or disbelief."
Tai exhaled heavily. "I'm not going to turn away from Hoar. I just . . . have questions."
Nyx nodded. "That's understandable and normal. But allow me to encourage you." She smiled at her young friend. "Hoar's attributes haven't changed because of what happened to you. Hoar is still Hoar, and the world is still the world—evil and unjust. Hoar hasn't changed, and Hoar's respect for you hasn't changed." Nyx cringed, not wanting to admit the next part. "Only your viewpoint has changed."
Tai glanced at her sharply. "Can you fault me for that?"
Nyx paused and bit her lip thoughtfully. "No. Just don't fall into despair," she said. "Remember, for every tragedy that befalls us, the goodly gods will gift us with the ability to both survive and prosper. This is true of Hoar as well." She smiled at him once more. "But as you well know, prosperity is a quality of the spirit and mind, not a bag of gold coins or a pain-free life, and you must accept the gift, work to embrace it."
"I know," Tai whispered, returning his gaze to the ground. "And I am not asking for a life without pain. I had only wondered if maybe Hoar was . . ." The priest paused, seeming uncomfortable. "I feared Hoar was . . . testing or punishing me."
Nyx was momentarily taken aback, but as she considered it, the fear made sense. "Never," she said resolutely. "Hoar is a just god, and you've followed his creed diligently. Don't worry yourself with such thoughts." The monk paused and slapped her hands against her thighs with an air of finality. "Now, do what you do best: focus on vengeance and commune nightly, and in the meantime, take what comfort and joy you can from the people and environment around you. It might be as simple as a beautiful sunrise or a smile from a friend."
Tai cringed, and Nyx knew she'd hit a sore spot. "Yes, I know I told you the story about my brother, too," he replied, "But—"
Too? Nyx thought. "But nothing. You already know everything you need to know: as you've told me, what you pursue in life is what you will find. Pursue vengeance and peace, and you will find them. But most of all, keep hope."
Tai nodded, but still his gaze remained on his feet. Nyx realized she was pushing him rather hard, but they would be facing Mordecai in battle again soon, and Tai would need to be at his best.
The monk stood and headed for their encampment. "Are you coming?" she asked.
"I'll be right there," Tai said.
Nyx walked slowly, not wanting too much distance between herself and Tai, given the danger they were all in. But her focus on the man behind her resulted in a moment's surprise when she nearly ran into the man who was suddenly in front of her.
Entreri looked unusually grave. "Camp is ready."
Nyx had to wonder how much of her speech the assassin had heard. At first, the thought that the assassin might have eavesdropped irritated her, but when she considered all she'd said, she found herself hoping that he had, in fact, overheard. "Ah, yes. Thank you for telling me."
Entreri turned and walked away without another word, and Nyx felt the pang again—the same impulse she'd felt when they'd discussed gods two days earlier. That man is carrying some deep scars, she thought. I can just sense it!
The pang made Nyx want to help the man. For all the gods, she couldn't seem to stop herself from reaching out to the wounded! While she'd focused an aspect of this tendency into her holy duty—had built a career out of helping the downtrodden—she still had to resist the urge to try to fix people.
Don't do it, she chided herself. That's dangerous territory. He's an assassin, and I doubt he wants anyone's help for anything.
Her natural instinct to help did not abate, however. "No," she whispered.
No. She knew all too well that she could not fix people. Her role in life was to avenge the broken, or—in the case of the few friends she'd allowed herself—to protect them from being broken. And, frankly, she didn't feel she'd been successful with the latter.
It was just as well that she knew better than to try fixing others, Nyx thought with a smirk. When it came to Entreri, probably all she could do without getting herself killed was simply befriend the man. Maybe. Even that seemed unlikely . . . especially when the man was trying to purposely irritate her. Still . . .
I care too much, she thought. I have always cared too much, and that has been part of my problem, even the source of my anger.
However, even though she believed there was a burden or danger to caring, she couldn't stop herself, and she couldn't condemn herself for the trait.
It did, after all, make her human.
Mordecai knelt on the rocks by the narrow river and watched the water rush over the smooth, grey stones. White caps formed as the river water broke over the larger rocks, and the crimson sunlight reflected off the water's surface to create a glare in the drow's eyes. The cleric accepted the pain, however, because this was part of the world that rightfully belonged to him and his kin.
In the calmer water at his feet, Mordecai could easily see the stone riverbed and darting fish, and all round him, massive trunks of towering trees crowded the shore. To the cleric, it was all beautiful—the clear water, the tiny fish, the red-barked tress, the chirping birds—and he wanted to know the name of everything he saw. What trees were these? What birds, what fish? To name was the first step to possession in Mordecai's eyes, and he wanted to own this world. He, his brothers and sisters deserved to have dominion over Faerun and anything—or anyone—in it.
The cleric closed his eyes, absorbing the roar of the rushing water, the caress of the cool breeze, the perfume of the wildflowers. He breathed the essence of the Night Above into his very soul, and it calmed him.
Given the elf's keen hearing, he easily noticed the approaching steps of one of his companions. Mordecai opened his eyes and turned to watch Vren as he joined him by the water.
The Secondboy knelt on the rocks beside Mordecai and sneered at him. "Why are you so fascinated by the surface? Why enjoy the painful light?"
"Why do you enjoy being your mother's favorite pet spider of the month?" the cleric replied snidely. Vren had his silver hair in a particularly elaborate coif today: a plaited knot on the back of his head with five braids running down his shoulders and back. The sight made Mordecai particularly disgusted—such a vain drow!—and the cleric considered telling Vren that if he spent as much time on his swordsmanship as his hair, he might excel as a fighter.
Vren had merely grinned at the insult. "Is that what you think of me?" His golden eyes glittered with mirth. "You're quite wrong. But I recognize your type: you are too fascinated by the surface for your own good. We are not meant to abide in anything other than the rich darkness of our cavern. Your desire—your obsession, I believe—with the surface will be your undoing. I shall enjoy watching you be sacrificed to Lolth for your impertinence."
The cleric snorted. "And do you believe that when you die the Spider Queen will welcome you, a mere male, into her arms? That your death, your afterlife, will be any better than mine?"
Vren shook his head. "Likely not, although I don't profess to understand the distinction. Why should Lolth despise my soul simply because my physical body was male in life? It is not as though my soul is male. The configuration of my body means nothing about the essence of my spirit."
Mordecai stared at Vren, stunned by what amounted to the wisest thing he'd ever heard the Secondboy say. The cleric couldn't agree more, but he was unwilling to say so. "Would your statement not qualify as blasphemy? Could you not be sacrificed for so questioning the order of our world?"
Vren merely laughed. "Not any quicker than your grasping for power will get you killed. I agreed to your plan to secure the Kagaor ki Tamal because I see no reason why any one sex deserves more power than the other. Why should we not use the mirror for our own benefit?"
"So our grasping for power gets us both sacrificed to Lolth?" he quipped, pointing out the error in Vren's logic.
"If I believed we would fail, I wouldn't have agreed," Vren answered easily. "Besides, it is in our best interests to make sure we don't become easily discarded."
Mordecai kept his smile to himself. Vren might be somewhat philosophical concerning the topic of gender, but he was not particularly intelligent, which was unfortunate. Given Vren's personal views of the world, he could have made a strong ally, but Mordecai believed Vren's so-called courage would quickly dissipate by the first real challenge they met. "Indeed," the cleric agreed. "Shall we resume our mission, then?" Mordecai stood and the Secondboy along with him.
"If your calculations are correct, we can't be more than a day away from the ruins," Vren noted.
"You mean more than a day away from our ascension in power," the cleric replied. And so much more, poor fool, he mused to himself.
Webs within webs. Plots within plots.
Entreri sighed. Of all the tasks he'd ever been assigned, his current one seemed the most ridiculous to him. And redundant. The assassin glanced over his shoulder to the reasonably large stream and saw that both Jarlaxle and Tai had climbed in to bathe—and that Tai had managed to put twelve feet of distance between the drow and himself.
"Guarding bathers," the assassin snorted, irritated and more than willing to internally aim the irritation at the person he deemed responsible for the situation—Mordecai.
His fellow guard, Nyx, chuckled. "Well, it would be a perfect time to attack us."
Entreri looked at the woman and shook his head. "There is some logic to that, but I can't say I'm enjoying guarding people while they bathe."
Nyx chuckled again, and the assassin wondered if she were thinking of the way Tai insisted that no one other than himself guard her—almost as though he were protecting her from Jarlaxle and Entreri's prying eyes. As if the assassin had any desire to peek!
"There are worse tasks," the monk commented.
Entreri considered the mindless chore of herding goblin slaves in the Underdark and was forced to agree.
The monk and the assassin stood together silently, both of them facing each other at an angle that afforded them a 360 degree view of the trees and the stream without having to look directly at the bathers. The dying sunlight barely pierced the growing shadows between the trees, but the area around the stream itself was well-lit and wide-open. Entreri would have to watch closely to make sure no drow—or monsters—sneaked up on them, especially since the chatter of wildlife in the forest was building. The lower the sun sank in the sky, the louder the chorus of insects and birds, which seemed to battle for dominance from their hidden spots in the trees or grass.
Minutes passed without any conversation, but then the monk, while not seeming to divert her attention from her duty, began to speak.
"I'm worried about Tai," she said in a soft voice, apparently having noted the way the priest stayed so far away from Jarlaxle. "But I believe he'll pull through."
"He has deep inner conviction, but he broods too much," Entreri replied, keeping his voice low, also.
"Tai is stronger than he likely realizes," Nyx said. "Not only does he demonstrate unusual wisdom, he has the strength of seeing the larger picture in life and working toward it. Granted, he does think too much sometimes, but it normally leads him to greater insights."
"He's just brooding."
Nyx shrugged. "Perhaps, if he's not careful. But overall it's a strength, and I admire him for it. Actually, there are many things I admire about him. His enthusiasm is one, and his ability to see the best qualities in others is another. He has the charming ability of encouraging everyone around him to reach their full potential; he never considers that they can't or wouldn't want to!" She smiled. "That makes him seem very naïve and puts him in danger at times. But I'd rather stay by his side and protect him during those moments than to see him change."
Entreri paused to think through Nyx's words, and her observations seemed accurate. The boy did seem to have a way of seeing the best qualities in a person and even encouraging those qualities—or, at least, he had. To Entreri, Nyx's desire to protect Tai from the unwanted change seemed a bit naïve on her part, although the type and extent of the boy's changes were yet to be seen. Still . . . "Why bother?"
Nyx snorted. "Why not? First of all, both physically and emotionally, Tai is perfectly capable of defending himself—except in this one area. Secondly, would the world not be a darker place without Tai in it? Would the world not be darker if Tai lost the charm that makes him himself?"
Entreri shrugged. Who cares if the world is darker? One person doesn't make a difference. "The world will not note his passing one way or another."
"I would," Nyx said quietly, and with a great deal more patience than the assassin expected of her. "My world would be darker. At the very least, should I not fight for my world?"
Entreri's first impulse was to say Why should anyone care that your world would be darker, but he didn't follow the impulse and remained quiet for several moments. "If you don't fight for it, no one else will."
"Exactly." The monk grinned.
Silence reigned for several minutes, and the assassin could hear splashing behind him. He glanced over his shoulder briefly to verify that all was in order and turned back around when he determined Jarlaxle was nearing the completion of his bath. By this point, the sun had dipped low enough that only a crimson glow remained in the sky, and the moon, which was doused pink by the dying sunset, had already risen high above the tree tops. Entreri considered telling Jarlaxle and Tai to hurry up but ultimately didn't waste the effort.
Nyx seemed to have grown somber. "Unfortunately," she said at length, "I failed to protect Tai when it mattered most." Distress leaked into her tone.
The assassin really didn't care if Nyx were feeling upset, so he only listened with half his attention.
"I should have found Tai sooner that night; if I had, he wouldn't have been raped." A pained expression crossed Nyx's face as she spoke, and she looked away. "What makes my failure even worse is the fact I've adopted Tai as my younger brother and committed myself to watching his back."
The monk looked at the assassin with suspicion. "I know you could care less," she quickly added, her eyes half-hooded. "And I hardly care whether you feel I am innocent or guilty of anything."
Entreri smirked, for he had indeed started to say something sarcastic.
Nyx sighed and continued. "But I'm telling you this because in the face of my failure, you have an opportunity: you can reach Tai when I can't. You're the only one he's really letting near him." She frowned at the man. "If you could just be the silent support at his side, that would mean a great deal. Tai is strong, but no one, regardless of their age, could suffer that level of violence and not need a moment to regroup."
Entreri watched the monk. His feelings about her words and request were conflicted. On one hand, he wanted to blow off her words and call her a fool. However, the assassin's empty life seemed to stare him in the face, right down into the darkest hole in his soul. He had yet to figure out what he truly wanted from life, but he did know he took no joy from his life as it was. At least one fact remained, though: loyalty and honor in the underworld were touch-and-go, just like truth; Entreri gave respect to few, and loyalty to fewer. But in a family . . .
"If you truly feel that Tai is your brother, then your feelings of loyalty are commendable," Entreri said begrudgingly. "As for helping Tai, to be frank there are very practical reasons for me to help him, and I have been."
"How fortunate," Nyx said, and surprisingly, she didn't seem offended.
Entreri scoffed.
But Nyx merely appeared oddly amused, which further surprised him. "Tai believes in you. I hope you believe in him."
Nyx turned away then, and Entreri frowned. The comment seemed completely random. What game was this? And what did she mean by "believing" in someone?
"You're a very intelligent and insightful man," the monk ventured, still not looking at him.
Entreri's frown deepened into a scowl as he quickly worked through their entire conversation, trying to determine her ploy. She was trying to get him to help Tai, of course, but—
She looked back at him with a small smile. "If the emptiness I see in your dark grey eyes doesn't swallow you, you'd make an excellent older brother to Tai."
The assassin sneered at her, but all the unpleasant introspection he'd allowed himself during his and Jarlaxle's pursuit of Socor hit him square in the chest: The only life worth saving is your own. An empty life.
"Besides," Nyx continued, "regardless of your motivation, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself."
Seeing her ploy, the assassin narrowed his eyes at her, but he couldn't really argue her final point. Strangely, Entreri found her more logical than he had first assumed he would. Admitting that to himself, Entreri took a closer look at Nyx, bothering for the first time to really note her as a person. Her brown eyes seemed almost black in the growing darkness, but even from this angle, the assassin could still see a hint of mischief in them. Her entire posture radiated confidence and strength, something the assassin could respect. In fact, she was fairly striking.
The assassin blinked, startled at the angle his thoughts had taken. Entreri tended to think of people in oversimplified binaries—for example, threat/nonthreat—until such time that they entered directly into the complexity of a current game. But one binary he rarely invoked was male/female, for he found it unhelpful for at least two major reasons: firstly, he'd seen enough to know that not all humans neatly fit into that supposed binary, and secondly, in the underworld one's sex did not have any bearing in how easily one could kill. Therefore, Entreri maintained two more helpful binaries: fighter/nonfighter and threat/nonthreat. Nyx, as a Holy Javelin of a god of justice, fell into the category of "fighter," and as an ally, she tentatively fell into the category of "nonthreat." But now, as Entreri took a good look at her, he registered the fact that she was female. Or at least she appeared to be, considering she had feminine features.
Nyx glanced back at Entreri, and she arched her eyebrow, apparently finding an odd expression on his face.
The assassin smirked before she could say anything sarcastic and mentally slapped away the unusual and unwelcome thoughts.
Nyx snorted but refrained from comment, and then the two fell into a companionable silence as they continued to stand guard. Entreri had to admit that Nyx's presence was much more tolerable than he would have predicted when he first met her. Nyx didn't annoy him, Tai didn't annoy him . . . and Jarlaxle tried to annoy him on purpose, but his attempts were both entertaining and rarely genuinely successful.
How odd, the assassin thought. I'm actually surrounded by people who don't annoy me for a change.
And such was the passing thought in the mind of Artemis Entreri the evening before everything changed.
A doe paused amongst the trees and perked her ears. Growing utterly still, she seemed to stare at the intruder who sat, legs crossed, on a small boulder. Jarlaxle, perfectly adapted to seeing in darkness much more complete than that of the forest at night, easily spotted the deer and studied her in return. After a moment's staring contest, the doe sprinted away.
Deprived of his observation of the local wildlife, the drow watched the moonlight reflect off his silver walking cane and then turned one corner of his mind away from his upcoming meeting and began, once again, to formulate plans for permanent residence on the surface. Many scenarios had been cycling through his mind, and many decisions remained to be made: what kind of market, what kind of organization, what kind of empire . . . and how? Would there truly be no connection to Bregan D'aerthe and Menzoberranzan? Or . . .
For a moment, a vision of the future consumed Jarlaxle's mind—a surface organization that spanned at least half of Faerun. A sprawling empire—secret, hidden, and indispensable. In a sense, it was a vision of the expansion he'd once attempted for Bregan D'aerthe. But this vision had more cities and potentially no drow, for the members of his mercenary band had been unable to either stomach or comprehend permanent or even extended residence on the surface. After all, it couldn't be denied that he was already building a new band of sorts among his human companions.
A blue screen appeared just to Jarlaxle's right, piercing the darkness. A sudden flapping of wings accompanied the intruding brightness as birds exited the surrounding trees, but the forest quickly grew still once again. A handsome, well-dressed drow stepped through the dimensional door into the night.
Kimmuriel Oblodra bowed to Jarlaxle. "Greetings," he said in drow.
"Well met, abbil," Jarlaxle replied from his seat on the boulder. "Now let us be quick; I do not wish to further increase my cohorts' suspicions by being away too long."
Kimmuriel raised one finely-sculpted white eyebrow at this, and Jarlaxle knew the psionicist would never understand his tolerance, much less his even appreciation, of his human companions or their world.
"As you wish," Kimmuriel said. "As you suspected, Mordecai is indeed still in alliance with his former house, Tuin'Tarl. Apparently Matron Prid'eesoth learned of the Kagaor ki Tamal and its approximate location through one of the House's trading connections. Crafty as she is, she's been plotting this for some time."
"But of course," Jarlaxle murmured.
"Her objective will come as no surprise." A wry smile graced Kimmuriel's lips at this pronouncement.
Jarlaxle sighed. "How truly tedious! Being the ninth house, they wish to increase their rank, thereby winning a seat on the council."
Kimmuriel gave a short bow in acknowledgement of Jarlaxle's logic. "Precisely."
Jarlaxle could not even begin to count the ways he was bored with and tired of the endless, predictable plotting and slaughtering of Menzoberranzan. "So why this particular magical artifact?"
Kimmuriel shrugged. "We are still gathering facts. There seems to be mixed information on the mirror's properties, with some sources indicating the mirror is divine, others that it is enchanted, and still others that it is psionic." The drow looked quite intrigued by the final possibility. "The only consensus we have so far is that all the sources have indicated that the artifact makes its wielder obscenely powerful. If Matron Prid'eesoth gains possession of the Kagaor ki Tamal, we can be certain major upheaval will follow."
Jarlaxle and Kimmuriel shared a smile, then, for upheaval generally meant profit for Bregan D'aerthe. Secretly, though, Jarlaxle was more concerned about what this meant for him and his companions.
"And what further knowledge have you gained about Mordecai?" Jarlaxle asked, for he had requested all available knowledge about the ex-weapons' master they had acquired from House Tuin'Tarl—a weapons' master that Tuin'Tarl themselves had stolen from among the commoners, Jarlaxle was aware.
"Very little," Kimmuriel admitted. "He came from a common family of merchants. His only distinction seems to be his slightly above average fighting skills. His entire life prior to his acquisition by House Tuin'Tarl seems to have been consumed with studies and training. As for Mordecai's current circumstances, recent information suggests he is now accompanied by four Tuin'Tarl soliders in his quest to find the Kagaor ki Tamal for his Matron Mother; one of those four soldiers is apparently the Secondboy, Vren."
Jarlaxle nodded, unsurprised. "And is Mordecai one of that rare species—a priest of Lolth?"
The handsome drow shook his head. "There is no indication that he was even considered for such a vocation."
Jarlaxle narrowed his eyes briefly, then smiled. "Well! This should prove quite fascinating." He considered the psionicist for several moments. "Have any further attempts been made on your life since we last spoke?"
"None." Kimmuriel's grin was wry. "It would seem that House Tuin'Tarl has, at this point, given up on placing one of their operatives on the throne of Bregan D'aerthe."
Jarlaxle snorted. "Mordecai could have never held our organization together." But you are apparently doing even better than I imagined, the elf mused. Another interesting factor for me to add to my calculations concerning permanent residence on the surface. The elf stood from his seat on the boulder and gave his cane an experimental twirl. "Very good. And other news of interest?"
Kimmuriel shook his head once again. "Nothing beyond what I reported last time."
Jarlaxle feigned a weary sigh. "All the centuries pass much the same. When will any true excitement visit our dark hole?" He flung one hand out in a dramatic gesture.
Kimmuriel smiled at Jarlaxle's antics, both of them innocent of the knowledge of Lolth's impending "disappearance" not too terribly far in the future.
And both of them equally unaware of a much more imminent chaos.
A/N: I am aware that during the War of the Spider Queen series, there was some shifting of houses and ranks, but just keep in mind that my story is set prior to the events in WotSQ. However, the reference to Lolth's impending disappearance is a reference to those events. ;) Not that it much matters, I guess, considering I did make this series technically AU. Oh, well. I'm trying to stick as close to canon as I can, given the circumstances.
Sorry for the long delay between updates. I've been insanely busy. This will likely be the hardest and busiest semester of my life, so I apologize in advance for the fact that updates will come very slowly. I also apologize to my fellow fanfic writers because I'll be slow in reviewing, too. I'll make it, though! I promise!
Thank you to all who read and review:D