"Nede said that Yvonnel's pet tiefling knew something," Alystin said, helping Sabal undo the clasps and buckles holding her armor on. Even accidentally brushing her fingers across that red sash made chills run down her spine-a reminder of the sword still hanging over her head. As much as she felt for Sabal, it didn't change the fact that the inquisitors were not her friends and if they found her out, she would unquestionably die.

But the sash was part of Sabal too, more than just a mark of rank or service. She treated it with so much reverence as she unknotted it and unwound it from her armor, then returning it to its proper place across her hips when she was just in plain clothes. Wrapped up in it were her good memories of Xullae, all the days where her training began with her mentor winding the same fabric around her waist. It had been one of the things which belonged to her mentor that she'd claimed-really her mother, since Xullae had raised her when her own flesh and blood threw her away. "I can feel the air again. It's a nice change," the inquisitor said with one of her barely-there smiles, sitting down on the edge of Alystin's bed. "Cessair? I've met her a few times. Yvonnel has her doing reconnaissance most of the time. Highly intelligent, but very secretive. I can see why she fits in with drow so well."

"And she's just a scoundrel from the surface?" Alystin asked. "It seems strange that any servant of the Spider Queen would want to keep her around."

"She casts divine spells too, though I don't know what god she follows," Sabal said, relaxing slightly now that she was back in Aly's company. If felt strange, as if they were simply picking up right where they'd left off as if it had been maybe a day. Not thirty years. "Something dark and aligned with the Demon Queen, otherwise she wouldn't be allowed to live."

"Perhaps our Lady of Sacrifice. If so, that would certainly make her the woman to talk to," the mage said softly as she sat down next to Sabal. "I keep thinking about that statue. And a lot of things, actually. Do you still...?" She was certain that the wilder was adept enough to divine her meaning without a finished sentence, which was fortunate. She was back to having trouble speaking on the subject.

"Aly," Sabal said almost chidingly, picking up one of the wizard's hands and unfolding it with her own. She bowed a head, brushing her lips over that familiar palm. Trust me, I still care. All I want is for you to be content and alive. It was safer to not speak, a luxury afforded by her talents that other drow would have killed to be able to use for even a few minutes.

"You don't know how happy that makes me," Alystin said, a weight lifting from her shoulders.

"We should talk more later, when Yvonnel isn't practically breathing down my neck." I'm sorry. Her amber eyes looked as contrite as the thought felt. "I could summon Cessair here. She is in the city."

"No, I have a better idea," Alystin said thoughtfully. "Let me approach her. If she is involved with a demonic cult, I might be able to ask her if I can join it. She knows you're tied to Lloth, but she doesn't know anything about me. And if this demon is aligned with Lloth...well, then I have nothing to fear from Yvonnel."

Sabal shifted uncomfortably. "It would put you in danger if Cessair or some other member of their faithful discovers that you're not a genuine convert. I'm not fond of this plan," she said warily. "Besides, what if Abyssal politics change?" You are at more than enough risk because of Eilistraee. Is it truly wise to add to that?

"Trust me, Sabal. I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't think I could handle it." She thought she saw something approaching exasperation in those eyes. "What?"

"I know you think you can handle it," Sabal said, softening the reproach with a hint of teasing in her tone. Her expression looked as serious as always, making it hard to read her expression. "I will trust you, but the moment you say you can't handle it, I come get you."

"Thank you," Aly said with a smile. She squeezed the hands still holding hers. She was eager to find a potential solution to the problem of Sabal's vows. Even as the mage spoke, Sabal stood up and put on her armor again, rewinding the sash around the outside. "It means a lot that you're willing to trust me. Shall we go find Yvonnel's imp?"

You know just how to sweet-talk a girl, Sabal thought wryly, even as she let the mage lead her out the door. They gained a respectable distance between them again as they stepped out. Aly, have you thought about how we are going to handle...this in public?

"I've been too worried about if there was still a 'this'," Aly admitted. "Hiding is obviously necessary. Anything else would be dangerous."

Of course there's still this. And rivalry would be the best path, I think, Sabal commented, stone faced. The streets outside in Narbondellyn were bustling with city life as they moved towards the barracks of the Yath'Abban. Around them, the various races of the Underdark flowed like blood along the veins of city streets, pumped by the massive stone heart of Menzoberranzan that was the Fane of Lloth. It has been thirty years and no one knows what happened in the temple besides Nede, Yvonnel, and us. We've clashed before. Would it be so surprising if we did so again? Particularly since I did help purge your House.

"Who I had no love for," Aly muttered, contemplating the torment she had suffered at the hands of her sisters and mother. No, she was not sorry that House Kenafin was gone, not really. In House Druu'giir she was finding more of a home than her family by blood had ever been. "I do not enjoy the idea of being cruel to you."

Sometimes we have to do things we do not enjoy for the sake of the things we do, Sabal said. Her thumb rubbed across the pommel of the dagger with the strangely disjointed blade that she wore tucked through her belt under her sash. She could feel the raised silver spider under her calloused hand. Necessity was something she knew all too well. If it would be easier, I can always play the villain's part for you.

Alystin caught the emotion with that thought, pained reluctance mingled with a desire to do anything to keep her safe. "You really would," she said softly, turning to Sabal. "Even though you hate it."

Someone once did much the same for me, all for my sake, the wilder said, thinking of Xullae's last moments. They were painful to revisit, but sometimes her thoughts wound there seemingly on their own. She opened the door to an empty training room and pulled Alystin in.

"I thought we were going to see the tiefling," Aly said, puzzled.

We will. First, I missed you and I want some time alone with you.

"You look flustered, Honored Alystin," Cessair said with a grin when the noble came in, glancing up from the long, slender knife she was sharpening. It wasn't hard to guess what she'd been doing with that mussed hair and vaguely embarrassed smile creeping across recently kissed lips. "Looking for Revered Yvonnel?"

The elvish-looking tiefling was sitting at the base of the magically transported statue of the demon lord with her back braced against the pedestal. She seemed perfectly comfortable there, as if it was normal to do something like that. All of her gear was laid out in front of her for maintenance, from worn leather armor stained to a dark color to a variety of knives of varying length and style to a set of thieves' tools. Aly felt that same strange pull to the statue that she had before. "Actually, I was hoping to talk to you. This isn't exactly House business, so I'd appreciate it if the subject of our discussion didn't reach Matron Nedelyne."

"That bad? And you want to see me about it? Perhaps I ought to refuse on principle," Cessair said with a smile, her blue eyes bright even in the darkness. The ring she always wore on her right hand glimmered in the darkness. "What can I do for you?"

"Who is that statue of?" Alystin asked. "It keeps pulling at me. Like I'm being called or compelled somehow. That's not a magic I've ever encountered before, not from just a statue."

"Demon lords can be gods unto themselves, if they accumulate worshipers," the tiefling explained, twisting to look behind herself at the statue. "And gods can certainly call to people. Not everyone sets out meaning to find their patron. Sometimes their patron finds them."

Alystin nodded, remembering a similar pull when she'd first found a shrine of Eilistraee out in the wilds. It had been desecrated by the others with her in the patrol, but it had been the push she needed to seek out followers of the Dark Maiden. Strange now, that she should feel the same thing. Was her Lady no longer with her? "You didn't tell me who the statue is of, though. Do you not know?"

"I can read the inscription," Cessair said, running her fingers over one of the graven Abyssal letters. She looked even more impish in her amusement, displaying sharp canines in a flash when she grinned. "The Lady of Sacrifice. Do they not teach mages Abyssal here?"

"I didn't take you for a jester," Aly said easily. Thirty years around Nede was more than enough to teach someone not to take anything too seriously. And the little jibe was worth tolerating for the little spark of approval in those blue eyes. It meant she was a step closer to what she wanted.

"I play one less often these days, though Yvonnel does have a magnificent sense of humor around Matron Siniira," Cessair said in a way that made it hard to determine whether that was sarcasm or not. "So if it's not House business, what does bring you here?"

"Scholarly curiosity. I'd be a terrible mage if I didn't try and figure out what the feeling was and why it came to me."

Cess shrugged. "Perhaps you understand loss. A House taken by the Church, a heart's desire taken by the Eyes of Lloth, a future expected taken by arcane talent," the tiefling said, far more accurate in her supposed guesses than the drow wizard was really comfortable with. But perhaps she had learned all that working for Yvonnel. The thief seemed to read her unease perfectly. "I know they're things supposed to be secret, Honored Alystin. But nothing is secret completely in Menzoberranzan."

"And here people treat you as if you're a halfwit. Your mind is like a razor blade," Alystin said softly.

"The wisest and most clever are always hiding it. I find it's better to keep my enemy underestimating me. But you know a little bit about that, don't you? Pretending to be someone you're not, I mean," Cess said with that same slightly unsettling toothy grin. "I had a friend once who was very good at hiding. Spent around nine or ten years on the surface doing it."

A chill settled into the mage's blood. She knows. She has to know. "Did you tell Yvonnel about me?"

"Of course not. It would be rather hypocritical of me, considering my own affiliations. But you came here for a reason," Cessair said, standing up. "Let me show you a little trick." The tiefling picked up a long, slender knife and used just the tip to prick her finger. She smeared the blood across the pedestal base of the statue that she had been leaning against and whispered a soft invocation in Abyssal. "A demonbinder taught this to me."

Alystin felt something shift ever so slightly in this portion of the Material Plane and fixed her eyes on the statue. "What did you do?"

"I opened a limited connection to Vallashan. It won't last very long, but if you want to know about the Queen of Sorrows, perhaps you should go to something closer to the source. Hello, Sehaneth. I can feel your presence. Doing well?"

The demon, newly converted from a lesser angel from the forces of light who had set out so recently to destroy the newly ascended demon responsible for the change in the Abyss, was an incorporeal presence confined to the stone statue. Why have you opened the gateway? The Lady has taken to the battlefield with her other generals to plan the next battle. Sehaneth's tone was adoring when she spoke of her mistress, a sort of loyalty rare to see in chaotic and evil creatures like demons. Perhaps it was a remnant of her angelic nature not yet destroyed by the darkness.

"I have someone you should speak to."

Ah, one who felt the calling. I had hoped the statue would be taken to Menzoberranzan, though it means we will have to abandon Niar'hannenlyn. You are a mage with a House, I see. Strange. Normally it is those who have been cast aside or exiled who seek comfort in the Lady's arms, as I was abandoned. Not one who has already found a patroness.

"Does everyone know about that?" Aly snapped.

I smell it on you. Who do you think told Cessair? the demon said with silvery laughter that seemed to hang in the air. We knew you the moment you spoke the Lady's names aloud.

"Not many demons are willing to learn a mortal's name and remember it. You seem awfully friendly with our resident tiefling," Alystin said, crossing her arms a little bit defensively. She wasn't certain how she felt about demons knowing her.

Cessair is an exception to the rule, the demon said by way of explanation. The stony face was impossible to read, unchanging and unmoving. But we are here to discuss you. You want something. Not revenge, not power, not wealth. Something more important.

"Freedom," the mage said. She took a deep breath. "And not for me."