Author's Note: And here's the third chapter. I'm not sure how long this story is going to end up being, but I've ideas for a few more chapters, at least. Please keep reviewing and let me know what you think, it's great encouragment to keep writing and I enjoy constructive criticism. Once again, I apologize for any OOC-ness.

Disclaimer: Nadina Namieh is mine, everything else is R.A. Salvatore's.

Chapter 3

Understandings

Centuries of disciplined life had ensured that Kimmuriel had developed an incredibly accurate internal clock. At precisely the same brightness of Narbondel as always, the psionicist woke from his usual dreamless sleep, instantly fully aware and coherent. He sat up slowly, the bedclothes gathering around his waist. His hand brushed something that was not his sheets or pillows, and the drow looked down, remembering.

His human guest still slept beside him, curled on her right side, soft lips barely parted as she breathed. Kimmuriel watched her for a moment, then turned away and stood up, busying himself with dressing. As one of Jarlaxle's lieutenants, he had a list of several tasks to handle, everything from their supply inventories to job requests to dissuading Jarlaxle from expanding to the surface for as long as possible.

Was that why he was so keen on bringing this human into the darkness with them?

XXXXX

Nadina woke from an ageless sleep to dexterous fingers against her brow, and she was momentarily disoriented, wondering if she was still pressed up against the table, waiting for him to send her unconscious. Her eyes flashed open, showing her a pillow and part of the room from a horizontal position, and she realized she had already been asleep.

The warmth left her forehead, and Nadina rolled onto her back to watch the drow—already fully clothed—cross the room to retrieve something from the desk, then he went to the door, opened it, and was gone.

Nadina's heart sank. Though she instantly spotted a plate of food awaiting her on the table, she was not looking forward to spending endless hours doing nothing in this hole in the ground, which was gradually feeling more and more like a prison. That gave her pause. Did she want to spend the entire day in his presence? No, she assured herself, she merely wanted a distraction from the endless boredom.

She ate her breakfast slowly, enjoying it, but trying her best to delay the inevitable. Eventually, however, the plate was clean, and her hands were empty. Sitting at the table, she looked around the room, considering her options. There simply were none. Bitterly, she thought of all the tasks she had left undone on the surface, having had no time for them then.

She spent the next two hours further exploring the room before taking to pacing, deep in thought. It was this activity she was engaged in when her drow subjugator returned, and she jumped upon hearing the lock turning.

"If you leave me alone in this room like that every day, it will not be long before I go mad," she informed him irritably, marching across the room towards him, though careful to keep a good distance away.

Kimmuriel turned to face her. "Being outside of this room is not a safe place for you," he said simply.

"Danger is not foreign to me," Nadina replied, unconsciously lifting her chin. "I'm used to being active, not sitting around counting cracks in the wall."

Without responding, Kimmuriel walked past her and back over to his desk. Infuriated that he ignored her, Nadina whirled to follow him. She didn't get further than a step, however, her foot catching on a chair leg and tripping her to the ground.

The drow turned around at the commotion as the woman rose with a grunt, her hand traveling to her chin, finding warm, sticky wetness there. Muttering curses, she sat back, glaring at Kimmuriel when he knelt in front of her.

"Don't touch me," she growled, using the table to pull herself to her feet. He rose with her.

"You are bleeding. This will heal and clean the wound." He lifted a small container in his hand.

"I don't need your help," she declared stubbornly, venting her frustrated-and frightened-emotions. "It doesn't hurt."

"Don't lie. The contents of your mind are as readable to me as your face."

Nadina's mouth dropped open in horror as she realized what he was saying. "You…you can read my mind?"

"I can read the minds of all those who are not protected by an equally powerful psionicist, or with a powerful magical item," he informed her, as if chatting about the weather. "So I know that you are disturbed by the thought, and I know that your chin and knuckle do indeed hurt."

Nadina simply stared at him. "Is this a...byproduct of Jarlaxle's spell?"

"No. Psiconic powers are usually passed on genetically, though sometimes a magical item will grant one the power, or protection. I have always had the ability, as did all children of my mother, before House Oblodra was destroyed."

Nadina sat down in a chair, and this time she didn't protest as he stepped closer to her and spread the paste across the cut on the underside of her chin. She stared at the container as he worked, then at her right hand when he took it in his left.

"I didn't even notice that," she said quietly.

He didn't respond, simply treating the scrape across her knuckles with the same procedure. She watched the healing mixture work with curiosity, but when he went to release her hand, she stopped him. Curious, Kimmuriel surrendered control of his hand to her, watching as she studied the white lines around his finger. She traced them delicately with one fingertip, then seemed to realize whose hand she was holding and immediately dropped it.

"Can you put thoughts into minds as well? Communicate across long distances?" She rose and took a few steps away as she spoke, turning her back to him. He recognized it as an attempt to change the subject and distract them both from what had just occurred without reading the contents of her thoughts. Humans were pathetically predictable, as easy to read as an open book, even without psionic powers.

Yes, he replied with his mind, demonstrating his abilities for her. She jumped, and he saw her back stiffen, a shiver running down her spine. My abilities are valuable to Bregan D'aerthe's success.

"Is that how you broke into the High Palace?" she asked, slightly resentfully.

That was due to meticulous planning. Turning away from her, he put the paste away.

"What, exactly, is your role in Bregan D'aerthe?" She stumbled over the foreign words, but she had a remarkably correct accent for a surface dweller.

"I am one of Jarlaxle's lieutenants," he replied aloud. "An advisor and strategist."

She was quiet for a few minutes. He turned around to watch her. She looked very drow, standing as straight and rigid as she was, but she was nothing like a malevolent drow female. That was the main reason it had been so long since Kimmuriel had last enjoyed any privacy with a woman. The females of his own kind were strong willed and imperious, not easily subdued, and even those who were not nobles would be vengefully avenged by those who were. Being attacked by multiple snake heads was not a heartening thought. In a matriarchal society, a man took what he was offered, and was grateful for it. And no one asked for the services of a man of a deceased house. Kimmuriel had wisely kept his distance. Jarlaxle had as well, he knew, but he had sought female companionship elsewhere—namely, the surface. And the psionicist knew Jerlaxle had found quite a bit of enjoyable fulfillment there, but until now, Kimmuriel had never considered the possibility. The idea of mating with ibilith had repulsed him.

So what was changing his mind now?

Was it simply that, for all intents and purposes, what appeared to be a drow female stood before him? That, for all their faults and flaws, the simple change in coloration was allowing him to see that humans and drow physically were not terribly different? Or was it his long unsatisfied need that kept drawing him into these thoughts? Or perhaps a combination of these thoughts? Or something to do with the spell that had left white lines around both of their fingers?

Her voice abruptly interrupted his thoughts. "Why did Jarlaxle bring me down here?"

"He has not shared his reasons," Kimmuriel replied. "But such things are hardly out of character for Jarlaxle. He is prone to acting on…spontaneous ideas."

The room was silent once more, each thinking their own thoughts. She broke the quiet first again. "Why did you say this room is the safest place for me?"

"It has been a long time since some of the men here spent any time with a woman. If the other drow warriors came across a female in the hallway…" He shrugged, though she couldn't see the gesture. "And there are those who would strike down those we call ibilith with neither thought nor reason." He chose not to mention or acknowledge that he had once been among their number.

She turned to face him. "But if I went out with you…they would not dare try something against a lieutenant?"

Kimmuriel studied her, her thoughts betraying her hopes. "My work requires too much of my attention to leave any to watch you."

Her shoulders dropped slightly, but she looked at him firmly. "I may be quite a bit younger than you, but we humans age faster. I am fully mature. I don't need a babysitter."

"The situation in the throne room should have demonstrated to you that no human can hold their own against a drow," Kimmuriel answered realistically and firmly. "Even drow act desperately from time to time, especially younger ones. You should remember that you are now in my domain, and it would be wise for you to heed my instructions. Stay here."

XXXXX

Little changed during Nadina's first tenday in the Underdark. Kimmuriel woke her in the morning and brought her food, then he vacated his quarters for the majority of the day, leaving her locked up alone. He stopped in to hand her a second meal in the middle of the day, but other than that, she saw no one until he returned at what she guessed was late evening, and he made sure she was asleep before going to bed. This time was often the most interesting time of her day, as, while she had generally begun doing as he asked, she simply refused to cooperate when he reached for her forehead. She took to subtly avoiding him until he ordered or threatened her to act otherwise. On a few of the days, they had a casual conversation where Nadina would ask him questions, and Kimmuriel replied to the best of his knowledge.

The days alone were, to her pleasant surprise, not nearly as long or boring as she had first feared, mostly for two reasons. One was her discovery, completely by accident, as the thought to ask Kimmuriel had never crossed her mind, of how to switch her vision between the new infrared spectrum and her old light sensitive one. This filled several hours of each day, as she spent time practicing the change until she could do almost without thinking, and then she took the opportunity to light a candle and explore the room once more, this time with her light-seeing eyes.

The second reason was that with her new discovery, she was able to page through several of the books on the shelves by candlelight, and, by studying those with diagrams, able to begin studying the written language of the dark elves. By the end of that first tenday, she was able to recognize individual characters, if not know what sounds they stood for, and she had figured out which ones were numbers. She was not sure whether or not Kimmuriel would approve of the activity, but she didn't ask, fearing to lose the opportunity to pass her waking hours.

She had been very careful to remember which day it was and how many had passed—trapped inside the same four walls, it would be incredibly easy for her to lose all track of time, and in the unending darkness, time was her only anchor.

Thankfully, however, that routine changed at the end of the tenday.

Kimmuriel had always already been dressed and ready for the day when he woke her, and had usually already gone out and brought her food. He usually had simply woken Nadina and left with barely a word passing between them.

On her eleventh day underground, however, Nadina woke to find Kimmuriel still lying beside her. She was lying on her right side, her back to the edge of the bed, which, having never been meant for two bodies, was not overly wide. The drow was facing her, his right hand stretched across the distance between them to rest on her brow.

Even now, in such a casual setting, Nadina could not meet his eyes. She blinked, studying the lower features of his face, until he drew his hand back and sat up, the bedclothes sliding down to reveal that he had slept shirtless—and the clearly defined muscles of his chest and torso, rippling under smooth, velvet black skin made her stomach flip. Quickly, Nadina rolled onto her back, diverting her eyes, hoping he hadn't been reading her thoughts at that moment.

When she felt his weight move and then leave the bed, she sat up, curious as to the change in their routine.

"What's going on?" she asked, suddenly concerned.

"I agree with your assessment of a few days ago," he answered, back to her, pulling a shirt over his shoulders and buttoning the front. "That you would go mad if you remain alone in here every day." He turned around. "However, I will expect you to keep up with me, and not slow my progress down, and therefore, I suggest you dress quickly."

It took Nadina a moment to realize what he meant, then she quickly threw the bedcovers aside and swung her feet onto the floor. Nadina had acquired a bit of a different wardrobe over the last few days. Now, she wore black, loose but fitting trousers, a brown shirt and a black jerkin over it, made out of what passed for leather down here. Her soft, worn boots still covered her feet, almost soundless on the stone floor, and her cloak was clasped around her neck. Within a few minutes, they were both dressed.

Without another word or gesture, Kimmuriel moved to the door and opened it, stopping in the doorway and looking back at her, clearly holding the door open. Nadina hurried over to him, but his hand clamped onto her arm, stopping her when she was in front of him.

"Remember your city," he said, tone holding a warning edge. "And stay close to me." He let her pass, closing and locking the door behind them. Nadina followed at his elbow as the drow started off down the corridor. She had almost forgotten about the threat to harm her people. But an escape attempt had been the furthest thing on her mind. She was glad of the drow's long, fast strides. After so many days of inactivity, it felt good to move her body, to stretch her muscles and tendons, and she kept up eagerly, her energy also fed by her desire to discover what lay beyond the door she had stared at for so many days.

XXXXX

The decision to allow Nadina to accompany him was not one Kimmuriel was pleased with, but he had explored the logic of the situation and decided on the best course of action, for several reasons. It was not that he suddenly saw her as being capable of surviving in the drow's world—far from it. But he recognized that she would need exercise to remain healthy, and his business was not as important or time consuming today. And there loomed the very real possiblity of her words coming true—humans were fragile, after all—and Kimmuriel had no desire for a madwoman to be occupying his quarters.

So, having taken into account every perspective, the drow had grudgingly concluded that it was time to free the human from her prison. Besides, he was annoyed with Jarlaxle's persistent questions as to her whereabouts and health, and he had noticed in the last two days that nearly every soldier in Bregan D'aerthe knew that it had been Jarlaxle's choice to bring the human into the dark—and while some might push boundaries with Kimmuriel, no one dared to risk crossing Jarlaxle. Of course, with her altered skin and hair colors, the human did not stand out as obviously as she would have, and would not attract as much unwanted attention.

Ultimately, he trusted his logic and abilities. Kimmuriel was certain that guarding a human would be far from the hardest thing he had ever done.