Chapter Fifteen
Trouble with Trantzvlos
"Ilninuk!" Vlosorbb turned to look at his niece. "We need to leave."
The Consort nodded, looking a bit puzzled at her vehemence. He gathered his charges around him. His eyes widened, and he glanced at Tylia when he realized that Saeras was missing. The Orondralas shrugged.
"Where to, dalninil's dalharil?"
"Home. We need to go home," Tylia replied. Vlosorbb understood at once that she did not mean the place that she considered to be her home-Hogwarts-but rather the Zauval Manor, on the outskirts of Market District.
"Come, my guests," Vlosorbb commanded, and they followed swiftly in his wake. The guards fell in around them. In short order, they stood before a vast complex near the rear wall of the city-cavern. "Welcome, guests, to Zauval Manor."
"Zil! You are most welcome here!" called one of the guards. Then the guard noticed Vlosorbb's entourage. "As, of course, is any priestess of Lolth. And Drathirdalharil. But who are these others?"
"My guests," Tylia snarled, growing impatient. She was worried about her cousin, and this idiot was wasting her time. "Let us pass."
"As you say, Drathirdalharil," replied the head guard. "But if Ilharess Zauval takes offense to the likes of them being in her halls-as I am certain she will-be sure that she takes it out of your hide, not mine."
"I will. Now move."
With a shake of his head, he opened the doors and stepped aside. A flurry of activity greeted them. Slaves and servants and retainers of House Zauval scurried here and there. The level of noise was astonishing.
"Silence!" Everyone in the hall froze at the thunderous command. A tall, thin Pasaer stood at the top of a grand staircase. She was dressed in black leather and a scarlet-eyed pa'das stood at her feet. "Vlosorbb! What do you mean by bringing such filth into our House? Humans! And a darthirii!"
"The darthirii is a slave, Ilharess," Vlosorbb replied quickly, easily. His voice slid over his listeners like oil. "The rest are the Lady's guests."
Matron Zauval relaxed considerably, and swept down the staircase as normal activity resumed in the hall. She eyed the group speculatively.
"Then they are my guests as well," she replied at last. "Your mother said that you were bringing some unusual friends, Drathirdalharil. Now I see that she meant it."
"Ilharess, there is another guest about," Tylia replied quickly, quietly. "A relative on my father's side. Please, I ask that you help me find her."
"And why should I help to find one such as your father?" Ilharess Zauval inquired in an equally quiet voice.
"Because you of all Sekevlos know that the Tonaikvlos are not as the religious would have you believe. Because you, Ilharess of the second most powerful House in Baltana'stramtor, refused to have my mother exiled or killed when she married a Tonaikvlos. Because you refuse to have me killed, although I am an abomination in the eyes of the religious."
There is no need to banter words with her, cousin of my Bond. Lerien's voice was welcome. But you must come quickly.
"Go!" Vlosorbb urged when Tylia looked to him. "Take my men. They will follow you. I will take care of your friends!"
Tylia was gone, rushing after Lerien as her Uncle's guards streamed behind her. The pa'das led them on a twisting course further still from the center of Baltana'stramtor. Suddenly, Tylia could hear the hissing of darts and the clatter of blades. With a roar, Lerien leapt around a corner to join the fray. Vlosorbb's men were just behind.
The shink of a drawn blade made her turn as she quickly readied her bow. She blessed her grandfather three times for making it a recurve; she didn't have to waste time stringing it. Theodore and Vol'axle ran past her, each with a Pasaelael blade in hand. Vol'axle's was straight, but Theodore's bore a slight curve.
Tylia rounded the corner and loosed her arrow, which caught an unfamiliar Pasaer in the throat. Three others were already down, each with the marks of a pa'das' claws. As she loosed her second arrow, Lerien and Denask appeared out of the heavy shadows and killed two more. A Dwarfin slave fell to Vol'axle's sword and a human to Theodore's. Saeras killed two, one just after the other and both Pasaelaer.
After that, for what was surely an age of the world, Tylia shot mechanically. She killed six more, bringing her total to eight, before she could find no more targets.
Thirty lay dead: twenty-five Pasaelaer, a Dwarfin slave and four human slaves.
Saeras leaned against the tunnel wall, a weary, sickened look on her face. Vol'axle crossed to her and spoke quietly as he cleaned his blade. When she made no move to do so, he cleaned hers as well. He handled the Jhondraelael sword with reverence. Denask sat at her feet, his purr the same familiar rumble as Petrius', if a little deeper.
"Tylia, what are you doing?" Theodore asked, cleaning his sword quickly. He looked as though he was about to throw up.
"Looking," she replied quietly. As she rummaged through the bodies, she pulled her arrows from them, salvaging those that she could. She also pulled other things, pieces of cloth or jewelry, though she left the most prominent pieces alone. "Where did you get that sword?"
"Your uncle gave it to me last night," the human replied, sheathing the cleaned weapon. "Said that I might find a use for it. I'm just glad I took fencing lessons when I was younger. What are you looking for?"
"For signs of the Trantzvlos," Vol'axle replied in her stead. "Am I right, Kaoveh?"
Tylia nodded, placing six necklaces, a dagger and three pieces of cloth in a pile. Each bore the same rune.
"The others bear tattoos or scars," the halfbreed sighed, and ran a hand through her hair. "This is good."
"Tylia." The Orondralas looked up at her cousin, and then followed her gaze down the tunnel.
Twenty-five pa'das sat there, silently watching her with scarlet eyes as she ruffled the dead bodies of their Bonds.
"Would you speak with me, felines?" Tylia inquired politely, standing slowly.
To all of you, replied one of the females, raking her eyes over each of the two-leggers. Her voice sounded like the whistle of a wind trapped in a tunnel. The others gathered around Tylia, who had moved toward the pa'das, away from the bodies.
Know this, began a male, catching each two-legger's eyes in turn. He looked also to Denask and Lerien. His voice sounded like dripping water.
We would not take part in this fight, continued another female, whose voice sounded like the hiss of water on hot steel. We did not believe that she deserved to die. Also, for so many to attack only two is…dishonorable.
We angered our Bonds because we refused. That was the first female again.
But we are not as entrenched into their culture as they expect us to be, added the male.
While we try to agree with our Bonds as much as possible, continued the second female, we pa'das have voices and thoughts and minds of our own.
They rose as one and bowed to the group before them.
Forgive our bonds for doing as they believed, implored the male.
But never assume that we join with our Bonds in a fight simply because they bid us to do it, continued the first female.
And know that you have our thanks for our freedom. finished the second female. Please, tell someone where their bodies may be found. They deserve to be laid to rest in the fashion of their people.
"You-You are welcome," replied Tylia and her friends. Vlosorbb's guards said nothing, but looked rather unnerved. "And we will."
The pa'das vanished into the shadows of the corridor.
"Let's get out of here," Vol'axle suggested, stepping gingerly over the bodies. He picked up the pile of trinkets that Tylia had collected and placed them in a bag.
They all followed him willingly back to Zauval Manor, where Ilharess Zauval and Vlosorbb waited for them in the entrance hall. Tylia had to backhand the head of the guards before he would allow Saeras through.
"She is a guest of L'Jallil?" the Matron demanded coolly, her scarlet eyes on Saeras.
"Usstan tlun, Ilharess1" Saeras replied just as coolly, meeting the Matron's eyes squarely.
Ilharess Zauval grinned at the young Jhondraer
"Where did you learn our language?" she asked curiously, then held up a hand. "No, don't tell me. Drathirdalharil taught you."
"Actually, my uncle did, Ilharess," Saeras returned honestly.
"And who would your uncle be?"
"Myrdaeraes Sholel," Saeras informed her, the slightest hint of pride creeping into her voice. The Matron glanced at Tylia, who smiled.
"My grandfather, Ilharess." The Matron nodded thoughtfully.
"The rest of your friends have been settled," Vlosorbb began, addressing Tylia, "Though I have told the Matron that we have rooms at the palace for you."
"So we do," Tylia agreed. "However, I think we will stay here, for now. Where we may have a modicum of peace."
"Very well. I set a room to be readied for Saeras already. You may rest here until the or'shanse."
"Thank you, Ilharess," Saeras sighed. "I should like to rest a bit."
"As would I," Vlosorbb, Vol'axle, Tylia and Theodore replied at the same time. They grinned wearily at each other.
"Would you show them their rooms, Vlosorbb?"
"Of course, Ilharess," Vlosorbb replied with a bow, and lead them up the stairs.
They came to Saeras' room first. The Aer smiled at Vlosorbb and Vol'axle and went inside without a word. Theodore's room was next, but he hesitated before going inside. Tylia watched him expectantly, but after a moment, he, too, went in without saying anything.
"Wake me when it's time for me to go, Ilninuk," Tylia implored. "And remember that I have to be there early."
"I will. To both. Get some rest, my dear," Vlosorbb replied. "You have done well this day, but you have a long night ahead of you."
Tylia nodded and went in. She stretched out on the plush pillow-bed that took up one whole corner of her room. Two hours of fitful sleep later, she was yanked out of a drifting dream by a quiet knock at her door. She groaned, rose and opened it.
Theodore stood there, looking sheepish.
"Can-May I come in, Tylia?"
"I was trying to sleep," Tylia complained, crossing her arms over her chest in annoyance.
"I'm sorry." He looked horrified. "I didn't mean to disturb you. I'll go."
Tylia grabbed him roughly by the arm as he turned away, and he stopped.
"Come on. Now that you've woken me up, you might as well come in."
Theodore followed her into her room silently, and closed the door behind him. Tylia sat on her bed, and he settled cross-legged against the door. For a moment they stared at each other, and then Theodore looked away.
"You've never killed before, have you?" Tylia asked quietly, tracing the design on a pillow with her fingers. She let her gaze fall there, though she could still see Theodore.
His eyes shot back to her, startled.
"No."
"It never gets easier, you know." The halfbreed sighed. "I kill every time I come to the Underdark. Always in self-defense, not that that matters. A death on my hands from self-defense is the same blood as a death from murder. It never gets easier. And in your dreams-"
"You hear their screams," Theodore whispered. He stared in her direction, but he wasn't seeing her. He looked straight through her as she brought her gaze up again. "Even if they didn't scream when you killed them. And their eyes float in the blackness of your mind."
"Yes."
Theodore took a shuddering breath, then met her eyes again.
"Three." Tylia raised an eyebrow. "Of the thirty that were killed, I killed three. One was human. The other were Pasaelaer. But it doesn't matter that one was 'my kind' and two weren't, does it? All that matters is that I killed three people."
"That's right. I will not bother you with the number of people that I have killed in my short life. Or helped to kill. Or will help to kill. Or will kill in future. It gets too grisly." Tylia sighed, and this time it was she who looked away. "It never gets easier. But sometimes it's necessary. Sometimes it would be worse if you didn't. But remember something for me, won't you? Something that I didn't learn until my last visit to the Underdark, two years ago."
"Sure," Theodore replied, a puzzled note to his voice.
"Always remember that the screams and their eyes and the dreams are not the reason you shouldn't kill," Tylia instructed her human friend, meeting his eyes as the tears started. Her voice roughened, but did not break. "Always remember that the reason you shouldn't kill is the family of the one that will die. The mourning that you go through as the killer is nothing compared to the mourning of the families of the victims. Send no more to Maendaloli Tylyrn2 than you must, for Balai Kolador3 grieves every death, and keeps a tab on every killer."
"Maendaloli Tylyrn? Balai Kolador?" Theodore inquired quietly, but Tylia could tell that he had taken every word to heart.
"After Jhyr's treachery, Maendaloli became Tysaelyl's consort," Tylia replied smoothly. "She is the Jhondraelael goddess of death, among other things. Death and dreams, and the beauty that comes after nightfall. Also a goddess of the moon. She is called 'the Lady of Dreams.' As for Balai, she is one of Tysaelyl's daughters by his original consort, Jhyr. She is the Jhondraelael goddess of unpreventable war, of strategy and tactics, of justice…and of grief. She is called 'Steelheart.'"
"'Steelheart?'" Theodore repeated. Tylia nodded. "Isn't that the title that you told Priestess Micarffyn that she could call the goddess you worshipped?"
"Yes, it is."
"You worship the goddess of war?" Theodore asked, a hint of incredulity in his voice. "That doesn't sound like you."
"I worship the goddess of justice, vigilance and guardians," the Orondralas replied evenly. "And of grief. I worship her because I know that the deaths that I cause are unpreventable. And I worship her because I know that, even if no other on this earth keeps a count of my doings, Balai knows exactly how many souls I have sent to her stepmother's care, and she will exact the cost of those souls from me when it is finally my time to go to Maendaloli's side."
"Oh." That odd, sad look was back in Theodore's eyes, but this time Tylia wasn't sure whether he was directing it at her…or himself. He struggled to his feet and opened the door. He looked back at her, and this time she knew that the look was for her. "Tylia…Thanks."
"For what would you thank me, Theodore?" Tylia asked quietly, her soft green eyes not quite meeting his grey-brown.
"For letting me come in. For talking to me. For telling me things that-I think-you wouldn't tell someone else."
"In that case, you are welcome."
"And Tylia?"
"Yes?"
"Please call me Teddy."
He swept out before she could reply again, leaving her to think of how eerily accurate his most innocuous comments could be. Knowing that she wouldn't get back to sleep after that conversation, Tylia rose, stretched, and followed Theodore out. He was not in the hallway, and she assumed that he had already returned his room.
She wandered the halls of Zauval Manor, running her hands over the carvings and sculptures in the hallways. The Manor was the only place in the entire city that she felt safe. No one had ever attacked her here, everyone was polite, though she knew that it was only because Ilharess Zauval would kill anyone that was rude to her.
House Zauval, the sprawling complex on the other side of the city that was the 'official' seat of the Zauval family in Jhyr's city, was not nearly as pleasant a place to be. More than once, high-ranking members of her family-priestesses, mostly-had attacked her there, as well as others. The Trantzvlos had attacked her at least twelve times in her twenty-one years. The Matron's favor could go only so far. Even the Lady's favor could not protect her completely.
"Drathirdalharil, come here." The rough old voice startled Tylia out of her thoughts, and she looked around. The eldest living member of House Zauval stood in a doorway, beckoning to her. "Come here. There is something that you must know."
Tylia eyed the old Pasaer with caution. Elvancyrl was known for her many eccentricities. She was also known to dream true events, though the events did not always come true as she dreamed them.
"Come here, Drathirdalharil!" Her voice sounded ancient-was ancient. Elvancyrl had been living in Zauval Manor for as long as anyone could remember.
"Yes, micamer," Tylia replied quietly, and followed Elvancyrl into her room.
"You know of my…talents, do you not, Drathirdalharil?"
"Of course, old one," Tylia replied, closing the door to Elvancyrl's room behind her. "Everyone does."
"Then take to heart the words I say to you now," Elvancyrl commanded. Tylia bowed politely, her face carefully blank. "Are you listening?"
"I am, old one."
"Good:
'The strangest dream ever dreamt
Was dreamed by me tonight
It was of three men unknown to me
Strangers fair but cruel
Eyes of blood, of silver hair
With ebony in their skin
Their voices proud were rough but clear
In a language I have never known
But I knew what they meant
They looked at me so hatefully
Then one came forth not like the men
A lady high and cold and fair
Emerald eyes and hair of silver
Skin of ashy grey that gleamed
In the light of the torch she bore aloft
No fire was there in that flame
Magic bore her light from her heart into her sight
She cared not for the look of men
But my own sight she soon caught
And in my own tongue she spoke to me
Her voice was silky sweet and calm
But her words I could not hear
Drowned as they were by the growls
Of the men she left so callously behind
Swords were drawn by all around
But I, of course, had none
Three facing me and she by my side
Her gaze was fierce and her stance was wide
One by one they fell to her
This lady whose name I did not know
Who defended me so gracefully
When all were gone she turned back to me
She said again what she had said before
I could not hear again this time
Because waking dawn had found me
And robbed me of her words.'
"Have you heard my words, Drathirdalharil?"
"I have, old one." Tylia's head was reeling from the impact of what had just been said. "Can you explain any of it to me?"
"Only that I was not myself in my dream," Elvancyrl replied, her eyes half closed. "I was a human man, not unlike those that you brought with you from L'Taur."
"A human? A male?" Tylia demanded quickly.
"Yes, just so."
"Thank you, old one," Tylia replied, and hugged her quickly. "You were right; I needed to know."
Tylia bounded out of the room and back into her own. She rummaged through the bag that-gods bless him-Vlosorbb had had brought from the palace. Something had flashed through her mind as Elvancyrl spoke, something that had nothing to do with dreams or visions. Something that might be able to save both her people…
Tylia removed the softball-sized crystal from her bag and set it on her lap. She concentrated for a moment, whispering something that her uncle had mentioned to her once, that she had heard again from her grandfather recently.
Vel'drav uss Darthirii xal venduin jalbyr 'sohna 'zil d'elezz nind zhahen uss lodias, ussta szeoussen zhal tlu belbaunin. Vel'drav rivvin z'hin vel'klar l'phraktos h'uena szuk, ril reibe zhal tlu t'larryo. Vel'drav l'h'sievss doer seke lu'biu Darthirii telanth mina dal natha k'lar naut reiyal l'phalar, gre'as'anto zhal zhaunyl flohlu. Shael oli Aer tae kaer eilyraes eindral eir syl si shaesi oli vaedi, tia maelaer mar shi kolael. Shael cestal shar shaesi si kyr oli saer oli saer, aelaesia shar mar shi shyjael. Shael si vydaelor tysti sia eil eil Aer mael saes thys ei vaili byr ceri si kali, vaeli mar mesaelia thylyrn.4
As Tylia stared into the crystal, a small image formed there. An image of six Pasaelaer dressed in black, stalking through a forest on a moonless night…
1 I am, Matron
2 Jhondraelael goddess of death and dreams
3 Jhondraelael goddess of strategic war, justice and grieving
4 When one Elf may greet another again as though they were one people, my secrets shall be given. When humans walk where the gods once tread, every wall shall be broken. When the prophecies come true and an Elf speaks them from a place not quite the grave, peace shall surely follow. (Said once in Undercommon and once in the Jhondraelael tongue)