"Sabal, there you are," Nedelyne breathed with relief, catching the scarred drowess as she emerged from Alystin's room. "Talked her down?"
"Sort of," Sabal said with a shrug. "Let's take a walk in the city. I'd like to enjoy this break while it lasts, and you seem to be free of other entanglements."
The novice priestess nodded her agreement, eager to be out among the hustle and bustle of market stalls again. She had an allowance from the Matron, so why not spend it on something when she had the chance? The two wove their way out of the grim and towering heights of the Academy in favor of the crooked streets made all the more narrow by heavy traffic. Slaves and citizens flowed like water in and out of alleys, conducting business in the open air. The chatter of voices and the clink of coins changing hands were overwhelmed by the sound of carts, of harsh rebukes from slave drivers, the boasts of gladiators, and the rattling of swords in their sheathes as male drow puffed and preened to impress onlooking females. The smells were just as numberless, the delicate fragrances of perfume lingering despite powerful odors of so many inhabitants and their different assorted foods crammed into such a close and confined space. Above stretched the great caverns and webs of walkways they had always known.
It was a comfortable place for Sabal, just as it was for Nede. While safety was an illusion no drow dared buy into, the wilder was willing to admit a certain feeling of comfort. Menzoberranzan, with all its darkness, its scheming, its conniving, was home.
"I didn't think she would be so angry," Nedelyne admitted as they cut through another alleyway on their way to the grand, web-like expanse of the markets. "But then again, I suppose it was a risk worth taking."
"Matter of perspective," Sabal said with a shrug. She looked sidelong at the priestess-in-training, lips pursed thoughtfully. "I have a question, in that general vein."
"Oh? Finally found yourself some fun?" her friend said with an immediate grin, worries quickly pushed aside. "Ask away."
"What could a drow of low status do to prove their worth to a paramour of high status?" the amber-eyed drowess said, each word spoken very carefully.
"No specifics?" Nede said sulkily as they broke out from the long shadows of the alley to the vast expanse of stalls and storefronts lit by Narbondel's rising light. Seeing no indication that Sabal was going to change her mind, the cleric sighed. "Oh, fine. Theoretically it is. The short answer is success and power. Lesser drow have to distinguish themselves for any long-term interest from higher classes. If they can claim enough power to make important people stop and take note of them, that'll usually be enough to pique the interest of their desired lover. But it's a double-edged sword."
She had been around the wilder enough to hear the small noise of frustrated confusion for what it was, even without seeing brows knit together in displeasure. It was a sign to continue if Nedelyne had ever heard one.
"Not everyone is like you, Sabal. In fact, most aren't. I mean, you'll take off someone's head at the drop of a coin. Hell, you and I are in the same boat on this one as much as it pains me to say it," she said wryly.
"What do you mean?" Sabal asked, amber eyes quiet and reflective as though she was thinking ahead of her words, along and even with Nede.
"Remember those faeries? You and I have things we won't do. We'll kill, yes. We'll even enjoy it sometimes. But there are lines that don't get crossed. Then compare that to Ilivarra. You know she would have let the males do whatever they wanted. It wasn't about the Goddess. It was about enjoying suffering. Or Trelgath. You think he wouldn't force himself on a faerie if it meant he could take everything away and watch the light inside die? Aly's sister, the oldest—not Sinjss, she's a push-over—is the same way."
The muscles in Sabal's jaw tightened slightly. "I know."
"That doesn't switch off," Nedelyne said, pulling her friend in the direction of magical reagents and artifacts. "I guess what I'm trying to say is...you'd better be ready to hurt someone a lot, Sabal. You're going to want to do it to them before have a chance to do it to you. And if you're lucky, it'll never come to that. You can be like me and just have a good time between the sheets."
She almost tripped over her own feet when the wilder suddenly froze, offering the same resistance as a statue. A hand like iron closed around her wrist. "I have to go," Sabal said harshly, her eyes focused on something in the distance that only she could see.
"Or you can just run off..." the young cleric muttered to herself, watching the wilder melt into the crowd like a wraith. Sabal paid absolutely no heed to her friend behind her, honing in on a mind that was familiar and yet completely alien at the same time.
She was right. There, sitting on an outcropping of rock with an expression that was almost heartbreakingly forlorn and lost was the cold and impersonal form of her mentor. But the mind was all wrong. The frozen armor seemed fractured, only half-hearted. As if she was daring an assault.
"Xullae?" The timidness returned to her voice just slightly when she approached, as if fearing a rebuke still.
No reply. No sign that she had been heard.
Xullae?
The red eyes flickered behind white hair that had fallen forward loose, but there was no movement other than that. I had not thought to see you, Sabal. I have heard good things about you at the Academy.
Sabal was still afraid of this discordant image of her mentor, but spoke as though everything were fine. You know I hate it when you have people watch me. She paused for a moment, not seeing the familiar hint of a dry humor in the flat, unexpressive line of lips. Xullae, what's wrong?
"Nothing," Xullae said with a hint of a rasp to her voice, as though it had been raised recently. But that was unthinkable. "Nothing." She finally turned her face towards her pupil.
The amber-eyed drowess was almost overwhelmed by the sudden surge of...something. The emotion was more raw and powerful than anything she had felt from Xullae before, a haunting pain that spoke of something impossibly close being torn away. There was no room for hope or light or laughter, all of those things lost in a terrible void. Every moment was propelled by a mechanical sort of life, continuing to function without a sense of purpose beyond the shell of duty.
Grief, Sabal finally realized. Things began to fit together in her mind, little glimpses of the Xullae she had taken for granted. "Xullae," she said quietly, her amber eyes falling to her mentor's hand. Delicate fingers were worrying away at a ring, a little personal thing she had worn for as long as the wilder could remember. "I...I'm sorry. If I could undo this, I would."
"I know." The silvery voice was tarnished and rough as the inquisitor rose from her seat and brushed by her. A hand caught Sabal's arm and gave it the slightest squeeze of reassurance in farewell. The terrible feeling of longing and love shattered lingered long after Xullae was gone in silvery clouds of webbing around the wilder's thoughts.
"Sabal!" Nedelyne said, breaking free of the flow of traffic. The goblins that had been in her way scattered like upset pins, croaking and screeching their displeasure with the cruel but very effective application of a snake whip.
"I'm here," she said quietly, looking in the direction Xullae had gone. She could see the familiar brooding structure that was the Yath'Abban barracks. "What?"
"So I got pulled in by a few gossips. Sounds like Triel Baenre just chose a new Patron."
Sabal turned around, the center of her chest heavy like a stone. Xullae... "What happened to Patron Dhauntyrr?"
"Dead, of course. You know how Matrons are," Nedelyne said. She paused, looking at the impassive expression on her friend's face. "You alright?"
"Don't worry about me," Sabal said brusquely. "Let's just get whatever it was you wanted."
But the only thing she was able to think about for the rest of the evening was the solitary figure of Xullae and the haunted, empty feeling that lingered around her. Every minute that passed by, she cursed herself for not being alongside her mentor. She told herself that there had to be something she could do to make it easier, even though she knew it wasn't true and never would be.
