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aithne(War Child Dramatis Personae)
Imryne, of House Melrae
Book One: War Child
Chapter One: One Falls, One Rises
Warrior, what of the night? -
Whether it be not or be
Night, is as one thing to me.
I for one, at the least,
Ask not of dews if they blight,
Ask not of flames if they slay,
Ask not of prince or of priest
How long ere we put them away.
--Swinburne, A Watch In The Night
(Imryne, in House Melrae)
"My mother gave me a suggestion today," Imryne said, pulling out the pins that kept her hair up and letting them clatter to the dressing-table. "One of those suggestions that's more like an order. She's been hinting for a while, but this was the first time she's come out and said it. I think she thought I was ignoring her." The chamber was as brightly lit as it ever got, faintly silvered with starlight from the lamps scattered around the room. Imryne pulled her fingers through her hair, grimacing.
Across the room, two more drow were curled up on the bed. One was a small woman with skin that was a perfect night-black, her shaved head showing a smooth curve of scalp. She was sitting with her legs across the other drow's lap, a tall, thin male who had a book propped on her legs. Tarithra said, "You probably were. What was the suggestion?"
Imryne turned towards the other two. "She thinks I need to find another male to have my next child by. I told her I'd think about it."
Tar beckoned Imryne over, sliding her legs out from under the book and scooting over to make room between her and the male. "You'd best do more than think about it, honey," she said as Imryne seated herself with a sigh of silk dress. Tar snuggled close, sliding an arm around her lover's waist. "Besides, maybe you can find someone who appeals to all three of us. Mmmm, a warrior-type, I think."
On the other side of Imryne, the lanky male closed his book with a thump and set it on the table next to the bed. "Good luck on that," he said mildly.
Imryne chuckled and snagged his hand, pulling him close. She kissed the top of his ear where it showed through his hair, an almost unconscious gesture of intimacy. "I have some time," she said. "What, you don't fancy the warriors, Ilfryn? Shame."
Ilfryn chuckled, his voice warm. "I was in the army for twenty years. If I ever liked males with muscles bigger than their brains, that beat it out of me. Find someone who appeals to you and Tar. I'll be happy if it's someone whose presence I can tolerate."
"Pfft," Tar said. "Ilfryn, you're no fun. Imryne, you should find a warrior with a brain on him. Like Zyn. Only cuter than Zyn. A lot cuter than Zyn."
"Zyn's not that bad! He's just seen a lot of combat, is all," Imryne protested. Zyn was her only living older brother, the house's weaponsmaster. "So you two are in favor, as long as I can find someone who Tar fancies too and who Ilfryn doesn't mind horribly?"
Both of her lovers nodded. "Just choose well," Tar said. "You choose an ass, we're probably all stuck with him for the rest of our lives."
"This is why I have you two," she told her, smiling. She set her head against Tar's. "You keep me out of trouble."
"And here I thought we were here to get you into trouble." Tar turned her head and captured Imryne's lips, kissing her. "Speaking of trouble..."
"You have an interesting definition of trouble, love," Imryne said. "Come over here and tell me about what kind of warrior you'd like me to find for us."
"Gladly--"
There was a rap on the door, which opened without waiting for a response. It was a slight girl, holding the hand of a young boy who was rubbing his eyes. "Lesrak had a nightmare," Faeryl explained.
"Another one," Imryne sighed. She disentangled herself from Tar and Ilfryn and opened her arms, and Lesrak came over to her. She enfolded her small son in her arms, breathing in the baby scent that still clung to his hair, strongest when he was damp with sleep. "The same one, Lesrak?"
Lesrak nodded. He was never able to tell what exactly about his dreams scared him so, just saying that there were monsters. Faeryl took the rare opportunity of being in her parents' bedroom to come over to the bed herself, climbing up between Imryne and Tar. She was seventeen years old, born about ten years after Tar had taken refuge in House Melrae after the destruction of her house. Imryne had introduced Tar and Ilfryn, hoping that at least they might get along. She'd been delighted when they had become close and then begun to love one another.
Together they had weathered the aftermath of the birth of Imryne's oldest daughter Challay, the time afterwards when Imryne, in the fog of pain afterward, had seriously considered taking both her own life and Challay's. It had taken the concerted efforts of both of them combined to keep her in the world, and to bring her back afterwards. They had held her, made love to her as she was able and would let them, talked her through the shadows and nightmares that had spilled into her waking mind, and fed her a quantity of euphorics that would have killed her had she not held a darkness inside of her that took the drugs inside of itself and destroyed them.
It was madness, a thick black wave of despair that came back every few cycles, and most strongly after the birth of a child. She would trade neither Challay nor Lesrak for anything, but they had cost her much in the months after their birth. In her arms, Lesrak relaxed, and Imryne shifted so she was leaning against Ilfryn. Faeryl was snuggled now between her mother and Imryne.
"I can take him back and settle him in," Ilfryn said quietly.
"Let them stay," Tar said, before Imryne could answer. "For a little bit, at least."
It was an hour or so later when Ilfryn took Faeryl back to her bed, and Imryne carried her son back to his. She tucked him into the nest he always made of his bed and pillows, feeling oddly melancholy. It was the feeling of standing on the surface world and seeing dawn coming, knowing that night was slipping away. A feeling of an ending.
"Sleep, baby boy," she murmured to him, and brushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed the smooth skin underneath. Then she went back to her bed, curled up with Ilfryn and Tar, and slipped down into dream herself.
(someone, somewhere)
I am alone.
I can cry out, but nobody would hear me. Do you? Do you hear? Are my messages getting through? Your mind is closed to me, and the young one is getting too old, my chance there is slipping away. I could hate the one who put that wall there, who deafened you to me.
There is a little gap in your wall. It is old. It is beginning to crumble. Enough to let me get a thread in.
Enough to warn you of what is coming--
(Imryne, in House Melrae)
Imryne turned, and muttered in her sleep.
Blood ran in the gutters of the city, and House Nurbonnis was dying. Fire. The house burning. Screaming. Females, males, children, spitted on uncaring steel. House Freth. That was their symbol, the three parallel lines slashed across a triangle, worn openly on the sleeve of the attackers. Explosions rippled through the house, stone fell, treasures beyond price burned. One was different. One did not die. A male, wearing the white throat-band of a mage, bound, gagged, blindfolded, and delivered to a woman wearing the robes of House Xalyth.
There was a flash, and House Nurbonnis gave up its last with a last groaning protest of stone and metal.
Dream. I am dreaming.
There was another image, now. A young male, very light-skinned, eyes red-rimmed, staring into nothingness. He was seated in a contraption, a wheeled chair, and there was a blanket over his legs. He moved his arms, but jerkily, like he had no control over them. On the wall behind him was the symbol of House Xalyth.
Then that image was swallowed by darkness, and there was another face. Not drow, but elven. Light-skinned, handsome in the way elves sometimes were. He was holding out his hand to her. "Trust me or let them kill you, those are your choices," he said, and she felt a paralyzing wave of terror wash over her.
She woke sweating, the blanket twisted around her legs. Tar was always complaining that Imryne stole all the covers, and on this night she was correct. Imryne untangled herself, draped the blanket back over her still-sleeping lovers. She squinted against the light, seeing both of them, Ilfryn smiling a little in his sleep, Tar with her arm thrown over her head.
Imryne blinked. Why was she squinting? The room was bright, she realized belatedly. Brighter than it ever was, and the light was coming through the window. She got up and walked to the window, rubbing her eyes. Her bare feet padded on stone, and her muscles protested, stiff with sleep. "But why would I be dreaming about Nurbonnis?" she muttered under her breath, leaning on the sill, looking out over the city of Fanaedar.
The sight she saw out the window made her gasp sharply, and release that breath in a moan. "Tar, Ilfryn, wake up!" she said loudly. "You have to see this!"
Her lovers woke, and the brightness of the room was enough to give away that something was very wrong. They joined her at the window, and looked on the same scene she was seeing.
There was a fire in the city. From where it was--about five streets over and two up--it was House Nurbonnis. Nurbonnis was a household of Ellistraee worshipers, the only one on the council, and Melrae's most powerful ally. And there had been people there, males and females both, that Imryne had known. The air coming in through the window smelled like smoke and stone dust, the smell of grief.
Tar was beside her, a hand on the stone sill. "Goddess, is that Nurbonnis?"
"I think it is," Imryne said, and her voice was shocked, stricken. "And I was dreaming about it burning before I woke and saw it."
"You were?" Tar asked. "What did you see?"
Ilfryn was at the window now, and Imryne put a hand on his hip and pulled him close. Tar, too, leaned in. The comfort of skin on skin was desperately needed just now. "I saw it burning, soldiers from House Freth killing the family. A mage being delivered to someone of Xalyth. A crippled male, something was very wrong with him, in Xalyth house. And then there was the thing that didn't fit...an elf. Talking to me." Imryne shook her head. "I thought it was just a dream."
"Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. Zyn can probably confirm some of it, though," Tar said. She leaned her head against Imryne's shoulder, the stubble on her scalp a little scratchy. It was a familiar and beloved sensation. "At least he will know who was attacked and who did the attacking."
"I'll go find him," Imryne said. She turned from the window, turned back, watched as orange light illuminated the lines and curves of Fanaedar's buildings. Then she made herself turn away and find a robe up pull on. Zyn would be far more forthcoming if she went by herself, as much as she wanted to have her lovers with her. There were things that were only spoken of among blood family, and Zyn always used his words like he was afraid of running out anyway.
She did not bother to put on shoes, letting her feet see the path as she wound through the twilight halls of the inner sanctum of House Melrae. Anywhere there was a window that faced Nurbonnis, the silver light was overwhelmed by orange and yellow. She passed through puddles of flame-light, hurried through the four pairs of doors that separated the inner house from the outer compound, and followed her ears.
Her brother Zyn was issuing orders in a voice that was just below a full shout. Evidently, he was fortifying the walls. He turned and caught sight of Imryne, in her red silk robes, and held up a finger to her. Then he gave a few more hurried orders and sent his lieutenants off. "In here," he said, stepping into an alcove.
Zyn was a little taller than Imryne, but outweighed her by a good amount, all of it muscle. A long, puckered scar ran across his face, twisting the corner of one eye and one side of his mouth. He hadn't been handsome before the wound that had nearly taken his life a century ago, and the scar did nothing to help matters. But having a pretty face wouldn't have helped him in his role in the household, and might have made matters worse. "Zyn, what's happening?" Imryne asked. "Who's attacking Nurbonnis?"
Her brother shook his head gravely. "It's Freth, sister. Nurbonnis is gone. Rumor states that only Nurbonnis Chakos survived and was escorted to another house."
Imryne took a sharp breath. "Xalyth." Chakos had been House Nurbonnis's main source of income, a mage unmatched for his skill at imbuing weapons with special properties. He always had a waiting list, and all on that list were more than willing to pay any price he asked. It was known that House Xalyth had tried to purchase him and had been refused.
"That's a good guess, but we don't know for sure," Zyn said.
She doubted he would believe her if she said she had dreamed it. "Better than likely, I think."
"I think you are right, but nobody saw a thing that we can determine."
There was a shakiness taking hold of Imryne, as if the stone beneath her feet were shifting. "I know," she said, nodding curtly. She turned, pushing the curtain over the alcove's entrance aside.
"Sister?" Imryne looked over her shoulder at Zyn. He was looking at her with an expression she was hesitant to name. "I am sorry."
Her hand went to the wall, steadying her. "Sorry for what?"
"For us becoming twelfth house. Jaelryn is first daughter. Mother will never send her. Rauva is not to be trusted. This means you will sit on the council." Zyn shook his head. "For that, I am sorry."
The world dropped out from under Imryne. For a moment, it was all she could do to just stare at her brother and remain upright. She hadn't even considered what becoming twelfth house would mean to her life. When she found her voice, it was very small. "Of course. And I do as Mother bids. Thank you, brother."
"Try to sleep, though I doubt you will," he said, and his voice was gruff but not unkind.
This was as close as Zyn would ever come to telling her that he loved her. "I will," she said, and shock made her voice cold. She turned and fled, back through the compound and unto the inner house, no longer paying attention to the orange light coming from the burning of House Nurbonnis. Representative to the council.
It could be counted an honor, if one did not know what it entailed. Representatives were the most powerful females in their houses with the exception of the mother. They were the public face of their house to the council, empowered to make quite a variety of decisions, given preference in most things even over the first daughter. They also died at a remarkable rate. They were convenient scapegoats if things went wrong, able to be blamed for their decisions or lack thereof, and in the council every hand held concealed blades both physical and metaphorical.
She made it back to her rooms, and as soon as the door closed behind her, the tears began. She stumbled into the bedroom and into the arms of her lovers, who wrapped themselves around her, holding her and letting her cry. Finally, Imryne's tears ceased, and she wiped her eyes. Ilfryn asked, carefully, "It's true?"
Imryne nodded. "It is. Nurbonnis is gone, Freth was the weapon. We are now twelfth house."
He let out a breath. "Your mother has dreaded this. Walking that fine line that Nurbonnis failed to. It's a lot of pressure on the representative."
"Who will be me." Fear was stealing Imryne's breath.
Ilfryn stared at her, shocked. Tar made a strangled gasp. "Dear goddess, why?" Ilfryn asked.
"Mother would never send Jaelryn, she values her too much." She shook her head. Jaelryn was intelligent, and she was very fertile--both things that made her valuable as the heir to the house. "Rauva--you know Rauva, she might well sell us all. So then it comes to me."
"No, that can't be true." Ilfryn sounded as if he would really like to disbelieve what he was hearing.
"Third daughter, old enough to know what I'm doing, and expendable if it comes to that." Imryne shook her head, knowing it to be true.
Ilfryn sat down hard on the bed, staring into space. Tar, looking stricken, began to sniffle, holding Imryne's shoulders. "Can we leave, escape to the surface?" she asked.
"Tar, I can't. As much as I want to, I can't. If Mother asks me to serve, I will. Besides, surviving up there's different than down here. Different dangers, and Mother has contacts there. She would find us." She took Tar's hands, sat down next to Ilfryn, pulled Tar down next to her. "Zyn said he was sorry. That's as much as saying that I have a death sentence on me."
Both of them leaned into her, pressing close, their warmth comforting. The orange light from the disaster made the shadows in the room strange. "We will protect you," Tar said, her voice trembling with unshed tears. "We will go with you every ilit, if you wish us to be there."
"I may take you up on that. Though we're going to need to change how you look, Tar. You have your mother's eyes, and there are those on the council with long memories."
Tar looked up at her. She did have her mother's eyes, a deep garnet red that was unusual and very beautiful. "There are those on the council that killed my family," she said, the trembling fading from her voice. "We will need a warrior we can trust, now more than ever."
Imryne kissed Tar's head, and tucked her feet up on the bed. "Mother will never let me have Zyn. I'll have to find someone else, and quickly." She frowned, remembering her dream. "Speaking of trust. That dream I had--at least part of it is true. I wonder about the rest."
"A crippled drow? In this house they might survive; in House Xalyth, never."
"You're probably right. There was probably dream mixed in with the truth, though it felt like there was someone sending me images. And that elf I dreamed about. He told me to trust him." She could not recall ever seeing his face before; but how many elven faces had she seen in her lifetime? Not many; though she had been to ritual with a number of them, they always wore masks. And the elf had been down here. She had been on a building, and above them had been the familiar dark of stone.
"We have trusted elves before in the rituals above, but only for a nights passion, and always behind masks," Tar said. When she mentioned ritual, Tar's voice went soft, anticipatory. They did not attend ritual much, but when they did it was always memorable, celebrating the passion of Ellistraee in couplings that paid no attention to social convention. They held ritual here regularly, but being beneath the starlight was a special treat. "But down here?"
"I think it was down here," she said. "But why would an elf be down here in the first place? Much less telling me that my choices were to trust him or let someone kill me."
"They would have to be exceptional to be down here for very long. Any Lloth worshippers would find him a great threat if he were free. As a slave, maybe," her lover mused. "If he is here, he would have to be a slave."
"Maybe. I'll probably recognize him when I see him, if he's real."
"And the crippled drow?" Tar asked.
Imryne shook her head. "I'll know him if I see him, too. I don't think he's real, you're right, it's too unlikely. Xalyth would never tolerate imperfection like that in a male, unless he was somehow too valuable to kill."
"Just a dream, then. You need sleep, love. Maybe we can tire you out so you can sleep before morning." Tar twisted around a bit, and gave Imryne a wicked smile, the look that always brought Imryne to her knees.
She freed a hand and slid it under Tar's chin, cupping the sharp point of it in her palm. "There's an idea." She leaned over and kissed Tar, lingering. "Help me not think of this, both of you, please?"
"Yes," the other two said, almost in unison. There were hands then, pulling off her robe, and soon after that Imryne was laid on the bed, shivering a bit under the hands of her lovers. She abandoned herself to pleasure, to the feeling of Tar's tongue tracing a path along her inner thigh, to the thud of Ilfryn's heart against her as he bent to fondle and nibble on her breasts.
Forget.
She reached for oblivion and found it, once and twice and three times, then finding a different sort of forgetfulness as she returned the favor. It worked, it was enough. She passed from wakefulness into sleep with barely a fear following her.
The next morning, Imryne stayed in bed longer than she usually did, unwilling to leave the cozy pile of her lovers. She was sandwiched between Tar and Ilfryn, a rare occurrence as she was usually the first one up in the morning and so slept on one of the outsides. She heard the children stirring, the familiar sound of Challay rushing around to get ready for school, Lesrak complaining that he couldn't find one of his shoes. She closed her eyes and willed sleep to claim her again.
Imryne, darling, join us for first meal.
That was her mother's voice, carried on an errant stirring of air. Imryne sat up, dread sneaking into her body. She shaped a small spell, said, "I'll be there, Mother," and felt the spell enclose her words and take them away. Then, sighing, she got up, carefully clambering over Ilfryn who snuggled into the warm spot she'd left behind. The timepiece on the dressing-table was glowing indigo, telling her that she needed to hurry or she'd be late for the meal.
Ilfryn and Tar stirred and made sleepy noises as Imryne dug in the wardrobe, bringing out a flowing dress of the kind she favored for inside the house, where she didn't have to impress anyone. She washed quickly and pulled on the dress, combing out her hair. She didn't bother to pin it up. "I'll be back later," she said to her lovers.
"Good luck," Ilfryn said. He was sitting up by now, rubbing his eyes. He beckoned Imryne over for a kiss, and she gave him and then Tar one and then left for the meal, hurrying through the halls.
The family dining room was large, furnished with heavy furniture and with woodland scenes painted on the walls, shimmering with faery fire in different colors. It was one of Imryne's favorite rooms in the house; she had so many memories of meals eaten here when she was younger. She still joined the family for last meal once or twice a thread, but it wasn't quite the same.
All of her sisters were here, from her laconic oldest sister Jaelryn to her youngest, the eighth daughter Nendra, who was Lesrak's age. Of her brothers, only Zyn was there; Veldrin was away serving his time in the army, and the younger ones hadn't yet earned the privilege of being at family meals. This ilit, there was much speculation. Nurbonnis had fallen, Melrae was twelfth house, what was it all going to mean? They spoke like family between eating the excellent food, and the younger sisters poked and teased each other.
Imryne's mother Triel supervised the proceedings, watching her daughters, separating Mizzrym and Laele when the two of them got into their teasing a little too seriously. She was beautiful in a quiet way, most of her beauty being in how she moved, how she held her mouth. Her spidersilk hair was piled on top of her head, secured with pins made of topaz of different shades. She let the discussion and speculation go on until everyone was almost finished eating. When she quietly cleared her throat, silence fell in the room, even little Nendra leaving off playing with two stuffed monsters she'd brought to the table.
Triel's voice was quiet and clear. "Imryne, you are my chosen representative. You will need to report today and then every thread to the council. Today is just formal introductions and meetings."
Rauva straightened, her dark eyes fastened on Triel. "But Mother--"
"This is not a discussion, Rauva." Triel's voice held only the hint of an edge, but Rauva subsided into silence. Triel focused her gaze on Imryne, who felt very much as if she'd like to slide under the table the way Nendra had just done. "Imryne, can you do this?"
There were a world of questions contained in that one. She bowed her head slightly. "You have asked me to, so I must."
"I know you will, Imryne, but can you?" Her mother's voice was gentle now. "It will be hard, it will tax your emotions, and you will have to think quickly sometimes and be ready for anything. You will have to outthink them all to not expose our secret."
Imryne swallowed. There were crumbs on her lips, and she raised a hand to brush them away. Can I do this? It was no insignificant question. Imryne, all her life, had been plagued by bouts of madness, a slightly milder version of the despair that that come after the birth of both of her children. Her public face and persona were hard, merciless, and if she accepted this, she would have to take on that persona much more than she was used to.
But there was her mother, looking at her with such gravity. Imryne lowered her hand. "I can, yes." I will have to.
Triel nodded. "Then Zyn, your best two guards besides yourself as her personal escort, for today." Imryne was surprised, but did not complain. Zyn was easily their best warrior. "Zyn, look for the best guard from any house. Spare no expense but get them on our payroll. And quickly."
"I was wondering about that," Imryne said. "Zyn is far more valuable guarding the house here than watching over me."
"Yes, he is, but as good a Zyn is, I know other houses may have just a great a talent. I want them guarding you."
Imryne folded her hands, consciously shuttering all emotion. For some reason, it felt just now like Triel did not consider her expendable even if she had just made her representative, and if Imryne thought about that too much she would start crying at the table. "Thank you, mother." To Zyn, she said, "I'd like to speak to whoever you choose before you bring them on, if I can."
Zyn nodded, and she could not tell what he was thinking. "Certainly."
"Be careful, daughter," Triel said. "I don't want to lose you or any of my children to this, but we are in a dangerous position now and more exposed than before."
She inclined her head. "I will be. It's dangerous, but there are now possibilities that there were not before."
"There are, but remember we have no allies on the council now that Nurbonnis is dead. You will have to feel them out to see if there any that are closer to us than to spider worshipping. It's a deadly dance you will have to play, daughter, but I am sure of your skills and abilities to accomplish this." Triel sounded so sure of her, and inside herself Imryne was quailing. "If you need something, you have but to ask. Don't hesitate to do so. It could be all our lives if you hesitate."
"I will ask, if I need, and I will probably need," she said.
"Let's give thanks to Ellistraee, and pray for Imryne in whose hands we all must rest," her mother said, and all of them around the table joined hands, Mizzrym fishing Nendra out from under the table where she had been hiding. All of them closed their eyes and prayed, and Imryne sent along with her mother's prayer a fervent please help me not get my family killed, my goddess. The prayer was comforting, and Triel's calm voice leading it made Imryne feel as though hope might be possible.
The meal ended with the prayer, and when Imryne stood so did Zyn. "Meet you at the front gate, sister. Time to put on our public faces. I will bring along our best warriors, and you can choose which ones you want."
"I'll meet you there in a few minutes," she said, giving him a faint smile.
Imryne walked back to her rooms afterwards, passing house staff hurrying on errands of their own, roving guards in house uniform. The house was quiet, as it always was at this time, the children old enough to walk and young enough not to have duties of their own in school, everyone else going about their own business. On a normal ilit, Ilfryn would be leaving about now to go teach his classes in the nearby mage school, and Tar would be joining the other priests in the household for morning prayers.
Instead, both of them were waiting when she got back. She shucked her dress and chose one more appropriate for outside the house from the wardrobe, a deep blue fabric that plunged deeply in front and was slit high, allowing for free movement. There were House Melrae symbols worked in on the hems in thread that was slightly brighter than the fabric. As she dressed and put up her hair with pins made of bone and alabaster, she told Tar and Ilfryn about what had gone on at breakfast, especially that Rauva had expected to be chosen.
They, too, had thought that she might have been, and were sorry that it was to be Imryne. "Me, too," Imryne sighed, looking down at herself and smoothing the fabric of the dress down her front. "Zyn is going with me today, and he'll be bringing in a guard from another house soon."
Ilfryn raised an eyebrow. "Someone better than Zyn? Going to hard to find."
"As good as Zyn. Better, I think, would be very difficult." She smiled briefly; her scarred older brother was one of her favorite siblings. "Zyn needs to be here. So Mother's having him bring in another guard for me."
"I feel better that Zyn is taking you today, at least."
She nodded and patted her hair, willing any stray hairs to stay in place. "I, as well. Though I don't expect much trouble today. Next meeting, yes, but today the others will merely be sizing me up."
Ilfryn slid his hands under her arms, pulling her close and kissing her. "Good luck, my love," he said, setting his forehead against hers briefly.
Tar tugged on Imryne's arm, and Imryne pulled her into the embrace. Tar kissed her and wished her luck as well, and then Imryne was out the door and hurrying towards the outer compound. The guards on the inner doors knew her, and opened the doors for her without a word. Each set of doors thumped as they closed behind her, and Imryne felt more and more of herself slipping away.
The person who was Melrae Imryne emerged from the outermost of the inner doors, all traces of the person she was inside left behind. Melrae Imryne was a Lloth worshiper, not Ellistraee. She was a mage, mostly skilled in spells that would hamper foes on a battlefield, dangerous enough to be wary of, able to call on the power of her house at a moment's notice. She was also somewhat erratic, with a number of unsavory habits.
Imryne was never sure which Imryne was the real one: glittering, hard-edged Melrae Imryne or Imryne who was desperately in love with two people who meant the world to her, prone to despair. Neither. Both. Whichever one was the true Imryne, being Melrae Imryne made being representative seem suddenly less daunting.
Questions of identity were left behind when she saw her brother behind the front gate of the compound, four warriors next to him. He caught sight of her and stepped forward, bowing formally. "Mistress," he said, as those behind him bowed as well. "You wished to choose?" Imryne cocked an eyebrow at him, and Zyn lowered his voice. "Istolil and Nyloth," he said, barely audible. "Guldor and Durdyn usually guard Rauva when she goes out."
She nodded. "Istolil and Nyloth, then," she said. "Let's go."
Zyn nodded, and called for the gates to be opened. Istolil stationed himself one pace behind her on the right, Nyloth in the same position on the left. Zyn placed himself right behind Imryne, following her two paces behind. When the gate was opened enough, Imryne swept through, out into the streets of Fanaedar.
The fastest way to the council hall was through the market, and Imryne decided not to be late, today. Evidence of the spider goddess Lloth was everywhere, from carvings on the sides of buildings to painted marks on doorways. The streets were narrow and crowded, and got even more so as they went through the market. The crowd parted for Imryne and her guards, orc and human slaves abasing themselves as they were all trained to do, drow stepping back with fear in their eyes. Nobles walking through the streets often left pools of blood in their wake.
A gang of young drow scampered away, their hair dyed in luminescent patterns. Imryne occasionally wished that style would become fashionable among the nobles. There was no such luck so far, though. It was the same now among the nobles as it had been for centuries, this fashion for hair worn long on both males and females, left its natural spidersilk white. Imryne traveled through the tangle of people almost as if they didn't exist, not even glancing at the market stalls, not reacting to the scents that came from the shops that sold perfumes and incense, or the ones that sold various mushrooms, or the butchers.
The hall was a few streets beyond the market, and the guards on the door let her and her guards in without comment. The inside of the hall was a large room, empty except for a large table in a figure eight shape in the center, surrounded by high-backed, hard chairs. The walls were painted with murals dedicated to Lloth, but they could only be glimpsed through the spiders that crawled on them. The largest of the spiders was as wide as both Imryne's hands outstretched, and the smallest were not all that much smaller. They covered the walls and the ceilings, and skittered across the dark stone floor. The movement of thousands of arachnid feet was a background noise of quiet, constant scratching.
Imryne was one of the last to arrive. The other representatives were here, and Imryne recognized most of them. The few she did not know on sight she recognized from their house symbols, worn on their sleeves and around their necks. She worked her way around the room, introducing herself to the other representatives, ignoring the tension in the air, the slight side-sidles the other representatives made away from her. Bautha of Freth was the least friendly, only nodding curtly in response to an introduction. Imryne smiled pleasantly at her, figuring it would make her nervous.
Ereldra of Telenna held herself apart, Olorae of Jenn'Yxir was silent and still, Drada of Arabani stuck her nose in the air, but most of the rest seemed friendly enough. Soon enough, Greyanna of House Xalyth, representative of the first house and therefore the leader of the council, swept in.
All of them seated themselves according to precedence, leaving their guards to ring the walls of the room. Greyanna was the last to sit. The council meeting today was short, consisting of introduction of Melrae as the twelfth house, mention that Nurbonnis was dead and this was the last their name would be spoken. There was a reminder that the next regular council meeting was eight ilit from now, and the meeting was adjourned.
Bautha of Freth moved away quickly to speak with Greyanna after the meeting, and most of the other representatives cleared out quickly. Bautha exchanged only a few words with Greyanna and then left, three guards in tow. After she was gone, Imryne approached Greyanna.
Imryne bowed. "Xalyth Greyanna. House Melrae sends its regards."
Greyanna was tall, very plain, and had very long fingers for a female of her stature. Those fingers traveled through the air as if they had minds of their own, and right now they were cocked, curious. "Thank you, House Melrae. Imryne, if I may?"
She nodded. "You may, yes."
"I look forward to your opinions on matters of the city in the future and to a good working relationship between our houses." Greyanna stilled, pressing her lips together. "You were allies of Nurbonnis, yes?"
That much was public knowledge, at least. "We were. No longer, obviously."
Greyanna's fingers fluttered. "Ah well, we won't let that stand in the way of a friendship between our houses. I am looking to trade a few alliances, and would consider yours an asset. I have heard of one of your males, named Zyn. I would certainly partake of an alliance with House Melrae in exchange for a new consort."
Imryne very carefully did not glance behind her at her brother, though he was in earshot and had certainly heard. "He is one of our more valuable males," she said, keeping her voice neutral. "I will open the question with my mother. Your alliance would certainly be valuable to us."
"Please do so. He would give me many strong daughters, I am sure."
"I will let you know," Imryne said, carefully noncommittal. Of all the things she could imagine her brother doing, willingly having sex with a Lloth worshiper was not among them. Even if their mother ordered it. Perhaps especially if their mother ordered it.
Greyanna smiled. "Thank you, Imryne. I have many brothers myself that may interest you as well."
She was Melrae Imryne, and thus the horror of that statement drained down into the place where she kept her other self. "They very well might. I've been looking for a new consort. Thank you, Greyanna." She extricated herself and motioned to Zyn, who stood at the ready with the other two next to him.
They marched out into the street again, going back through the market, the crowd parting for them as effortlessly as it had before. At least, it parted until it stopped parting, until the melting crowd near their house revealed something altogether different. Rabble, Imryne thought. Drow, orcs, a few humans, all of them armed, none of them budging. There were abruptly so many of them that they blocked the street, and Imryne heard the sound of her guards pulling their swords.
A scarred drow with one earring in front was the one that Imryne picked out as the leader. Drawing herself upright, she pointed at him and said, "You. What is the meaning of this?"
She felt Zyn grab her arm and yank her to the side as crossbow bolts sliced through the air. She yelped, and next to her Istolil went down. Then they were running, Imryne on occasion pausing to cast a spell back at the rabble that was now following them. Zyn's hand was hard on her arm, though, and after the first few minutes there was no time for anything but running, dodging crossbow bolts, fleeing from the blades that followed.
At some point during the chase, Nyloth fell to the crowd. The men were everywhere, cutting off their escape routes, above and below and behind them. They were being herded, and Imryne to her dismay discovered exactly where they were being herded to.
It was a blind corner that dead-ended into an alley. "Up," she said, and summoned the will to exercise her ability to levitate.
Zyn was breathing hard, and he let go of her arm. "Go, sister, I will hold them off here as best I can to give you time to escape."
There was no time to argue, and Imryne fled upward. If she were quick enough getting away, maybe Zyn would not feel the need to get himself killed covering her escape. She was heading towards a rooftop about thirty feet above the street, watching the ground. When she looked up--
Her heart froze for a moment.
A white face looked down at her, a pale hand outstretched. "Trust me or let them kill you, those are your choices," said the elf.
The same elf as in my dream--
It took her a split second to make her decision. She reached out and grabbed the elf's hand, and he pulled her up onto the rooftop with him. "How important is the guard?" the elf asked urgently.
"Very. My brother," she told him.
"Damn," he said, and narrowed his eyes. And then he let go of Imryne's hand and jumped off the roof.
He landed with a thud between an extremely surprised Zyn and the approaching crowd. The rabble pulled up, looking a bit confused. "It would be easier if you surrender," the elf said, and in his hands appeared two swords, one long and one short. That got a laugh from the nearest. Then the elf twitched.
At least, it looked like a twitch. All Imryne could see was motion that was so quick she couldn't follow, and then ten of those closest to the elf fell over, blood gouting from necks and chests. "How about now?" he said, his voice maintaining a neutral tone.
The crowd stared, edged away muttering, and almost audibly their collective nerve broke. The crowd ran. The elf jumped again, landing next to Imryne. He was wearing a long coat of dark material, and around his neck was a thin golden collar stamped with the seal of Shobalar, a minor house that was allied with Melrae. A slave, then.
What was this male? "Who are you?" she asked him, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Jevan, mistress." His tone was respectful, but it was also clear that it was respectful because he chose to be, not because he'd had respect beaten into him.
"What are you doing here?"
He shrugged slightly. "Waiting for you."
That earned him narrowed eyes from Imryne. "And you knew I was going to be here how?"
"A dream." He was just looking at her now, calmly.
Imryne couldn't help the flash of consternation that traveled across her face briefly, or the catch in her breath. "You dreamed that I would be here. And you decided to come meet me."
"I decided to come save you." Still that steady look.
Imryne was saved from having to reply by Zyn's arrival on the rooftop, as he floated slowly up and set down next to Imryne. "I will be sure to thank House Shobalar for your service," she said.
"No problem, mistress, anytime." The elf bowed, and Imryne caught a whiff of his scent, the cologne he wore, she thought. It seemed familiar, somehow, as if she'd smelled whatever it was before.
Maybe we've met in ritual. Wouldn't that be strange? She nodded to Zyn. "Home."
Jevan cleared his throat. "No offense to your guard, mistress, but can I escort you as well? They are still out there."
She nodded, barely. "To the front door."
Imryne and Zyn floated down, and Jevan jumped once more. Then the elf took on position to her right, Zyn keeping his place at her back. They were not too far from Melrae, and thankfully the crowd melted away for them once more. They arrived at the gates within a few minutes. Once they were there, Jevan bowed. "Mistress."
"Give your mistress this, with my thanks," she said, and fished out one of the little house tokens she always carried with her. It was a small copper coin, stamped with the Melrae symbol on one side and with her name-mark carved into the other. If this one were a slave in truth, the token would keep him out of trouble, and let his mistress know that Melrae owed her a favor.
Jevan took it from her, saying, "Thank you mistress. Do be careful." He turned and walked away them in the direction of House Shobalar. Imryne watched him go, looking at the strange coat and the swords he wore on his back. He had a long shock of pale hair that was tied at the back of his head. She shook her head and stepped through the opening gates, listening to the clank of stone and metal as they closed behind her and Zyn. She headed towards the inner house, and now Zyn was at her left, even with her.
"Have you heard of that one?" she asked him.
"No, but I don't think it will be long before we would have," he said thoughtfully. "I think we have found you an escort. If you can take being guarded by an elf."
Imryne made a face. "Not my first choice. But he is good."
Zyn chuckled dryly. "That roof was thirty feet or more. I would have broken both legs coming down. He did it twice, and he jumped back up again. He killed ten before I could have one. He wore a slave collar but he was alone. I think that is for show. Shobalar will want a large price indeed."
"Do you want to find out what they want for him, or shall I?" she asked.
He nodded. "I will to start, but they will need you to finalize the deal."
"Let me know, then." Zyn nodded and left, gathering up more warriors around him and walking out the gates in the direction of Shobalar. He would probably be gone an hour, long enough for her to go in and see Tar. Ilfryn would be gone by now to his classes.
Tar was in their rooms, sprawled in one of the chairs, reading. When Imryne arrived, she jumped up, letting the scroll she was reading fall to the floor with a thump. "What happened?" she asked. "Your hair is a wreck, you look like you've been running."
How to even begin to explain? "I met him. That elf that was in my dream."
Her lover's eyes went round. "Really?"
Imryne nodded. "And he said the same thing that he did in my dream."
"No longer can that be coincidence. That was a sending or you have been given a vision by the goddess," Tar said, her voice definite.
"It felt like a sending of some sort, like there was a mind on the other end of the sending. I don't know, though. The elf saved Zyn and I. Zyn's gone to find out what House Shobalar wants for him."
"Seriously?" Tar asked, disbelieving. "Are you going to bring him in to protect you? And who is doing the sendings?"
"That was the thought," she said. "As for the sendings, I don't know, but--the elf said it was a dream that sent him coming to save my life."
"Even stranger. Both of you." Tar was musing now, the tip of her tongue sneaking out of her mouth like it always did when she was thinking. "So far, it's been the truth. Could you have died out there without him?"
"Zyn would have. I might well have," Imryne said, shaking her head. "Someone hired mercenaries to try to kill me, it looks like."
Tar wrinkled her nose. "Nothing to trace them back to another house, then."
Imryne spread her hands. "We've been twelfth house only hours, and it's only going to get worse from here."
"It is, my love." Tar captured Imryne's hands, weaving their fingers together. "If he is good and can protect you, then any price is worth it."
She freed one of her hands to rub her eyes. "I almost forgot. Greyanna offered alliance to Xalyth in return for us giving her Zyn. I told her I'd ask Mother. "
"That's bad. Refuse and shun the first house. Give in and we lose our best warrior." Tar shook her head, then gave Imryne an impish look. "Was he cute?"
Imryne blinked. "Who? The elf?"
"Yes, the elf! Zyn isn't, I already know that, silly." She was rolling her eyes, and Imryne laughed, then gave the question some thought.
"I suppose he was all right, as far as elves go," she said. "He smelled familiar, which is strange."
Tar lifted an eyebrow. "Probably from ritual. Smell has the longest memory."
"Seems likely," she said, trying to remember the smell once more. It was an oddly elusive memory, and right now all she could remember was how familiar it had been. "I'll only know for sure if I see him naked, I suppose. Or ask him. Then again, we're all masked, so he wouldn't even know if I'd been in ritual with him."
"You never have peeked?"
She gave her lover a faintly scandalized look. "Of course I haven't. You have, Tar?"
"All the time," Tar said, almost defiantly. "I thought everyone did."
"Maybe I'm the only one who doesn't," Imryne said, pulling Tar close, claiming her lips momentarily. "We'll see, Tar."
"Mmmm." Tar kissed her back, and one of her hands went sliding up Imryne's thigh, the other beginning to pick at the laces of her dress. Sadly enough, they were interrupted by a knock on the door.
Zyn was on the other side, and he cast a knowing glance between his sister and her wife. "Sorry to interrupt. Shobalar Umrae has a high price, that is for sure. She wants a daughter."
"By who?" Imryne asked.
He shook his head. "Oh no, she is old, her womb has gone bare long ago. She wants one of our sisters as her daughter. Any one that we give her is fine, she said. With no other daughters, our sister will be a matron mother in a matter of decades likely."
Imryne took a breath, understanding. "I hate to do it, but Mother did say any price. I would give her Rauva, but that has its own price."
"Best to ask mother about it first," Zyn said, his voice dry once more. "Rauva as a matron mother is a scary thought."
"That was my thought. I'll go talk to Mother," she said, and her hands went to her hair once more. She started pulling out pins; the mass wouldn't go together again well any time soon, and she would rather be unadorned than look like she'd just had once of the more frightening hours of her life.
Zyn nodded. "Oh, and by the way, he isn't a slave. He is their unofficial weapons master. He showed up last week on their door and offered himself to them."
She stared, startled. "And they trusted him?"
"Only after he knocked down all their guards and handed his weapon to Umrae, to prove his loyalty."
Imryne was speechless for a moment. "Does anyone know why on earth he came to them?"
"Umrae said he doesn't talk much but when he is off duty, he prowls the city. Looking for something, she said."
"Very odd." Imryne breathed out, wondering just what, exactly, she was planning on bringing into the house. "Well, I should go face Mother."
Zyn grimaced briefly. "Good luck," he said, in a much better you than me voice. He nodded at her and Tar, and left. Imryne kissed Tar and did the same thing, heading for her mother's rooms.
Triel's rooms were in the heart of the inner house, as protected as walls and guards and magic could make them. She had no real windows; fresh air was brought in through windows created by magic to places in the world above, and the places changed at intervals. Her guards let Imryne in without question, evidently having been left orders to let her in whenever she chose to come. Triel herself was in one of the rooms, sitting in a comfortable chair in the room that doubled as library and study for the matron mother, being read to by one of her eleven husbands. Several of the others were nearby, either listening or reading themselves.
When Imryne arrived in the doorway, Triel waved her husbands away, telling them to close the doors of the study after them. They did so, and Imryne was alone with her mother. "Come sit, daughter, tell me of your day," she said, smiling.
Imryne lowered herself carefully into a chair. She had so many memories of this room, Triel teaching her to read and figure, testing her on what she was learning from her tutors. When she'd gotten older, there had been other lessons behind these doors, lessons in secrecy and housecraft. She assumed that the rest had been given these lessons in turn, though they never really talked about these things among the daughters. She shook her head to try to clear the memories. "I have good news, bad news, and even worse news. Which do you want first?" she asked, her voice soft.
Triel's violet eyes swept across her daughter, evaluating. "How about in the order that you learned of them," she suggested.
"That would be the even worse news," Imryne said. "Xalyth Greyanna offered alliance with us."
"And her terms are?"
She took a breath. "She wants Zyn as a consort."
There was just a flicker of a smile playing on her mother's mouth. "Ah, our weapons master and son to weaken us. So offer her another, telling her that Zyn was captured in battle by elves and castrated. He escaped back to us. No chance for sex or children."
"I will," Imryne said. This is why she is the matron mother, and I merely the representative. "Do you have a preference for who to offer?"
Triel considered, then said, "Sorn has soft spot for Rauva. I suggest him, he is pretty enough and not intelligent. Make sure that when you tell her that she is not using some lie detection spells. Get her out of the council chambers, where she will have such spells in use. It would be best to break them up. Sorn is easily swayed by words."
It was quite the understatement. Sorn was sweet-natured, far more so than most of his brothers, and Rauva took advantage of that ruthlessly. "I will. Can we trust Sorn to keep his mouth closed?"
"I would think so. But it's a chance we are going to have to take. Refuse the alliance, and we will end up like Nurbonnis." Triel frowned, then shook her head. "He talks, and the result is the same. I will impress upon him the need for silence."
Imryne nodded, satisfied. "Good. I will offer him and see what she says. I may be required to take one of their males in exchange, but we'll see. I can always keep whoever it is in the outer portion of the house. I wouldn't trust a Xalyth, male or female, in the inner house."
"Nor would I," Triel said, her voice dry. "I will tell Sorn that it may be some time before we will come to get him, especially if Greyanna is displeased by his performances. If she is pleased, then we will get him sooner."
"It's still dangerous, but it's the best chance we have. So, next, the good news." She took a breath. "Zyn and I found a warrior to guard me. The bad news is what he is, and the price that's being asked for him."
Now Triel looked intrigued. "What is wrong with him, and what's the price?"
"He's an elf, currently with House Shobalar," Imryne said. "For him, Shobalar Umrae wants a daughter. She is old, and if we give her one of my sisters, she would be matron mother likely within decades."
"An elf? I personally have no trouble with employing him or faking his slave status. But you will have to endure the looks." Her mother sat back, still watching Imryne. "Is he worth the price of some humiliation and a daughter?"
"It's because of him that I am sitting here talking to you right now, and Zyn is still breathing. He's worth the humiliation," she said, fervently believing it. "The daughter--that is truly your decision, mother. He is better than Zyn, if you can believe it. And I suspect that he's one of the celebrants in the rituals above."
Triel raised an eyebrow, and Imryne saw that she was playing with one of the rings she wore, a band set with sapphires and emeralds. "Impressive. Any price for your safety, daughter. And a worshipper of Ellistraee. A gift from the goddess, then. Yes. It can work to our advantage anyway. We will cement Shobalar to us with a daughter from House Melrae." Imryne recognized Triel's smile now. She had seen it so many times, when Triel had set her a puzzle of housecraft. "Now, the daughter is the question. Who would you choose?"
She considered the question. "If Rauva were anyone other than who she is, I would choose her. She was passed over for representative, this would ease that ego of hers somewhat. But give Rauva over, and Umrae likely dies before the skein is out. I would say Gaussiara. She's quick-minded and doesn't chafe at being taught."
There was a nod from Triel, and Imryne felt the quiet glow of having passed yet another of the tests set her. "I would have to agree with you. But if Rauva gets passed over again, she will do something rash, I fear."
"She will know for certain that you don't intend to let her out of your sight, and that we don't consider her trustworthy," she said. "With her at the head of Shobalar--I am not sure we could count on Rauva not to do something foolish."
"But like the alliance with Xalyth, it buys us time," Triel said. "She will surely talk if she is passed over for this. And we can tell her that she was passed over as representative because we thought she would make a better matron mother."
Knowing her sister as she did, Imryne thought that she would be completely insufferable for the time she was left at home before going to Shobalar. "She might be mollified by that, at least for the moment. And Umrae is old and crafty."
"She is. And Rauva would be insane to kill her too quick. It will look too suspicious if Umrae dies this cycle."
Privately, Imryne rather thought that Rauva perhaps didn't mind looking suspicious, as long as it got her what she wanted. "It buys us time. And we can watch Rauva."
Triel folded her hands. "I will summon Rauva and Sorn and tell them, if you would broker the deals with Greyanna and Umrae. Take Zyn until you have your new elf. What's his name?"
His name? He had mentioned one. Imryne tried to remember. "His name is...Jevan, if I remember correctly."
"Good. Keep him close, daughter." There was that evaluating look once again. "A room in your set is best. Bed him as you wish, if it excites you, but be careful of mixed-blood children. Some are remarkable, some are born wrong."
This was something Imryne had never heard her mother discuss. "I can't imagine. I don't think I've ever seen a half-drow."
"I have, the one I saw was not right and the other, well, she was quite amazing." There was a softness to Triel's voice, and her hand had gone back to that ring that she always wore.
Cautiously, Imryne asked, "Amazing in what way?"
Triel made a little noise, a soft sigh. "She moved faster than anything I have ever seen."
"What did she look like? A mixture of the two races?"
Imryne tensed as she became aware that Triel's mood was turning. A daughter's fortune depended on being able to read the moods of her mother, and if she was not mistaken, she was on touchy ground indeed. Triel's motions were a little less graceful than they had been a moment before, and fine lines betrayed tension around her eyes. "She looked drow, just a little lighter. She left for the surface world centuries ago."
"What about the one that was born wrong?" Imryne asked.
Triel's voice was flat. "He died." She shook her head. "Enough bad memories, daughter. Attend to your duties."
Imryne rose, trying not to do so too hastily. "I will. Thank you, mother."
"I love you, little one," Triel said.
She paused, surprised. It had been a long time since her mother had told her that; once she had brought Tar and Ilfryn into the house, it seemed like she was old enough to be beyond it. "I love you too, mother," she said, meaning it with her whole soul. Then she left, stepping through the door of the study and closing it behind her. Several of the husbands greeted her with smiles and waves, and she smiled back, too distracted for wit.
Triel had known two half-drow, and one had died. She wondered what had happened there, who the two had been. It was something to keep her mind busy as she went to find Zyn and tell him what their side of the deal would consist of. He nodded, seemingly unsurprised, and gathered some warriors for an escort for her.
Imryne stood still as warriors surrounded her, beckoning her brother over. "We will not offer you for Xalyth," she said to Zyn. He nodded, looking neither unhappy nor relieved. "Tell me, do you remember Mother ever speaking of a half-drow?"
Some emotion disturbed her older brother's scarred face, but it was fleeting. "No," he said. "She never has."
She nodded and let it drop, and Zyn turned away. Why don't I believe you, Zyn? she wondered.
And of all the things to lie to me about, why this?
Imryne, of House Melrae
Book One: War Child
Chapter One: One Falls, One Rises
Warrior, what of the night? -
Whether it be not or be
Night, is as one thing to me.
I for one, at the least,
Ask not of dews if they blight,
Ask not of flames if they slay,
Ask not of prince or of priest
How long ere we put them away.
--Swinburne, A Watch In The Night
(Imryne, in House Melrae)
"My mother gave me a suggestion today," Imryne said, pulling out the pins that kept her hair up and letting them clatter to the dressing-table. "One of those suggestions that's more like an order. She's been hinting for a while, but this was the first time she's come out and said it. I think she thought I was ignoring her." The chamber was as brightly lit as it ever got, faintly silvered with starlight from the lamps scattered around the room. Imryne pulled her fingers through her hair, grimacing.
Across the room, two more drow were curled up on the bed. One was a small woman with skin that was a perfect night-black, her shaved head showing a smooth curve of scalp. She was sitting with her legs across the other drow's lap, a tall, thin male who had a book propped on her legs. Tarithra said, "You probably were. What was the suggestion?"
Imryne turned towards the other two. "She thinks I need to find another male to have my next child by. I told her I'd think about it."
Tar beckoned Imryne over, sliding her legs out from under the book and scooting over to make room between her and the male. "You'd best do more than think about it, honey," she said as Imryne seated herself with a sigh of silk dress. Tar snuggled close, sliding an arm around her lover's waist. "Besides, maybe you can find someone who appeals to all three of us. Mmmm, a warrior-type, I think."
On the other side of Imryne, the lanky male closed his book with a thump and set it on the table next to the bed. "Good luck on that," he said mildly.
Imryne chuckled and snagged his hand, pulling him close. She kissed the top of his ear where it showed through his hair, an almost unconscious gesture of intimacy. "I have some time," she said. "What, you don't fancy the warriors, Ilfryn? Shame."
Ilfryn chuckled, his voice warm. "I was in the army for twenty years. If I ever liked males with muscles bigger than their brains, that beat it out of me. Find someone who appeals to you and Tar. I'll be happy if it's someone whose presence I can tolerate."
"Pfft," Tar said. "Ilfryn, you're no fun. Imryne, you should find a warrior with a brain on him. Like Zyn. Only cuter than Zyn. A lot cuter than Zyn."
"Zyn's not that bad! He's just seen a lot of combat, is all," Imryne protested. Zyn was her only living older brother, the house's weaponsmaster. "So you two are in favor, as long as I can find someone who Tar fancies too and who Ilfryn doesn't mind horribly?"
Both of her lovers nodded. "Just choose well," Tar said. "You choose an ass, we're probably all stuck with him for the rest of our lives."
"This is why I have you two," she told her, smiling. She set her head against Tar's. "You keep me out of trouble."
"And here I thought we were here to get you into trouble." Tar turned her head and captured Imryne's lips, kissing her. "Speaking of trouble..."
"You have an interesting definition of trouble, love," Imryne said. "Come over here and tell me about what kind of warrior you'd like me to find for us."
"Gladly--"
There was a rap on the door, which opened without waiting for a response. It was a slight girl, holding the hand of a young boy who was rubbing his eyes. "Lesrak had a nightmare," Faeryl explained.
"Another one," Imryne sighed. She disentangled herself from Tar and Ilfryn and opened her arms, and Lesrak came over to her. She enfolded her small son in her arms, breathing in the baby scent that still clung to his hair, strongest when he was damp with sleep. "The same one, Lesrak?"
Lesrak nodded. He was never able to tell what exactly about his dreams scared him so, just saying that there were monsters. Faeryl took the rare opportunity of being in her parents' bedroom to come over to the bed herself, climbing up between Imryne and Tar. She was seventeen years old, born about ten years after Tar had taken refuge in House Melrae after the destruction of her house. Imryne had introduced Tar and Ilfryn, hoping that at least they might get along. She'd been delighted when they had become close and then begun to love one another.
Together they had weathered the aftermath of the birth of Imryne's oldest daughter Challay, the time afterwards when Imryne, in the fog of pain afterward, had seriously considered taking both her own life and Challay's. It had taken the concerted efforts of both of them combined to keep her in the world, and to bring her back afterwards. They had held her, made love to her as she was able and would let them, talked her through the shadows and nightmares that had spilled into her waking mind, and fed her a quantity of euphorics that would have killed her had she not held a darkness inside of her that took the drugs inside of itself and destroyed them.
It was madness, a thick black wave of despair that came back every few cycles, and most strongly after the birth of a child. She would trade neither Challay nor Lesrak for anything, but they had cost her much in the months after their birth. In her arms, Lesrak relaxed, and Imryne shifted so she was leaning against Ilfryn. Faeryl was snuggled now between her mother and Imryne.
"I can take him back and settle him in," Ilfryn said quietly.
"Let them stay," Tar said, before Imryne could answer. "For a little bit, at least."
It was an hour or so later when Ilfryn took Faeryl back to her bed, and Imryne carried her son back to his. She tucked him into the nest he always made of his bed and pillows, feeling oddly melancholy. It was the feeling of standing on the surface world and seeing dawn coming, knowing that night was slipping away. A feeling of an ending.
"Sleep, baby boy," she murmured to him, and brushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed the smooth skin underneath. Then she went back to her bed, curled up with Ilfryn and Tar, and slipped down into dream herself.
(someone, somewhere)
I am alone.
I can cry out, but nobody would hear me. Do you? Do you hear? Are my messages getting through? Your mind is closed to me, and the young one is getting too old, my chance there is slipping away. I could hate the one who put that wall there, who deafened you to me.
There is a little gap in your wall. It is old. It is beginning to crumble. Enough to let me get a thread in.
Enough to warn you of what is coming--
(Imryne, in House Melrae)
Imryne turned, and muttered in her sleep.
Blood ran in the gutters of the city, and House Nurbonnis was dying. Fire. The house burning. Screaming. Females, males, children, spitted on uncaring steel. House Freth. That was their symbol, the three parallel lines slashed across a triangle, worn openly on the sleeve of the attackers. Explosions rippled through the house, stone fell, treasures beyond price burned. One was different. One did not die. A male, wearing the white throat-band of a mage, bound, gagged, blindfolded, and delivered to a woman wearing the robes of House Xalyth.
There was a flash, and House Nurbonnis gave up its last with a last groaning protest of stone and metal.
Dream. I am dreaming.
There was another image, now. A young male, very light-skinned, eyes red-rimmed, staring into nothingness. He was seated in a contraption, a wheeled chair, and there was a blanket over his legs. He moved his arms, but jerkily, like he had no control over them. On the wall behind him was the symbol of House Xalyth.
Then that image was swallowed by darkness, and there was another face. Not drow, but elven. Light-skinned, handsome in the way elves sometimes were. He was holding out his hand to her. "Trust me or let them kill you, those are your choices," he said, and she felt a paralyzing wave of terror wash over her.
She woke sweating, the blanket twisted around her legs. Tar was always complaining that Imryne stole all the covers, and on this night she was correct. Imryne untangled herself, draped the blanket back over her still-sleeping lovers. She squinted against the light, seeing both of them, Ilfryn smiling a little in his sleep, Tar with her arm thrown over her head.
Imryne blinked. Why was she squinting? The room was bright, she realized belatedly. Brighter than it ever was, and the light was coming through the window. She got up and walked to the window, rubbing her eyes. Her bare feet padded on stone, and her muscles protested, stiff with sleep. "But why would I be dreaming about Nurbonnis?" she muttered under her breath, leaning on the sill, looking out over the city of Fanaedar.
The sight she saw out the window made her gasp sharply, and release that breath in a moan. "Tar, Ilfryn, wake up!" she said loudly. "You have to see this!"
Her lovers woke, and the brightness of the room was enough to give away that something was very wrong. They joined her at the window, and looked on the same scene she was seeing.
There was a fire in the city. From where it was--about five streets over and two up--it was House Nurbonnis. Nurbonnis was a household of Ellistraee worshipers, the only one on the council, and Melrae's most powerful ally. And there had been people there, males and females both, that Imryne had known. The air coming in through the window smelled like smoke and stone dust, the smell of grief.
Tar was beside her, a hand on the stone sill. "Goddess, is that Nurbonnis?"
"I think it is," Imryne said, and her voice was shocked, stricken. "And I was dreaming about it burning before I woke and saw it."
"You were?" Tar asked. "What did you see?"
Ilfryn was at the window now, and Imryne put a hand on his hip and pulled him close. Tar, too, leaned in. The comfort of skin on skin was desperately needed just now. "I saw it burning, soldiers from House Freth killing the family. A mage being delivered to someone of Xalyth. A crippled male, something was very wrong with him, in Xalyth house. And then there was the thing that didn't fit...an elf. Talking to me." Imryne shook her head. "I thought it was just a dream."
"Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. Zyn can probably confirm some of it, though," Tar said. She leaned her head against Imryne's shoulder, the stubble on her scalp a little scratchy. It was a familiar and beloved sensation. "At least he will know who was attacked and who did the attacking."
"I'll go find him," Imryne said. She turned from the window, turned back, watched as orange light illuminated the lines and curves of Fanaedar's buildings. Then she made herself turn away and find a robe up pull on. Zyn would be far more forthcoming if she went by herself, as much as she wanted to have her lovers with her. There were things that were only spoken of among blood family, and Zyn always used his words like he was afraid of running out anyway.
She did not bother to put on shoes, letting her feet see the path as she wound through the twilight halls of the inner sanctum of House Melrae. Anywhere there was a window that faced Nurbonnis, the silver light was overwhelmed by orange and yellow. She passed through puddles of flame-light, hurried through the four pairs of doors that separated the inner house from the outer compound, and followed her ears.
Her brother Zyn was issuing orders in a voice that was just below a full shout. Evidently, he was fortifying the walls. He turned and caught sight of Imryne, in her red silk robes, and held up a finger to her. Then he gave a few more hurried orders and sent his lieutenants off. "In here," he said, stepping into an alcove.
Zyn was a little taller than Imryne, but outweighed her by a good amount, all of it muscle. A long, puckered scar ran across his face, twisting the corner of one eye and one side of his mouth. He hadn't been handsome before the wound that had nearly taken his life a century ago, and the scar did nothing to help matters. But having a pretty face wouldn't have helped him in his role in the household, and might have made matters worse. "Zyn, what's happening?" Imryne asked. "Who's attacking Nurbonnis?"
Her brother shook his head gravely. "It's Freth, sister. Nurbonnis is gone. Rumor states that only Nurbonnis Chakos survived and was escorted to another house."
Imryne took a sharp breath. "Xalyth." Chakos had been House Nurbonnis's main source of income, a mage unmatched for his skill at imbuing weapons with special properties. He always had a waiting list, and all on that list were more than willing to pay any price he asked. It was known that House Xalyth had tried to purchase him and had been refused.
"That's a good guess, but we don't know for sure," Zyn said.
She doubted he would believe her if she said she had dreamed it. "Better than likely, I think."
"I think you are right, but nobody saw a thing that we can determine."
There was a shakiness taking hold of Imryne, as if the stone beneath her feet were shifting. "I know," she said, nodding curtly. She turned, pushing the curtain over the alcove's entrance aside.
"Sister?" Imryne looked over her shoulder at Zyn. He was looking at her with an expression she was hesitant to name. "I am sorry."
Her hand went to the wall, steadying her. "Sorry for what?"
"For us becoming twelfth house. Jaelryn is first daughter. Mother will never send her. Rauva is not to be trusted. This means you will sit on the council." Zyn shook his head. "For that, I am sorry."
The world dropped out from under Imryne. For a moment, it was all she could do to just stare at her brother and remain upright. She hadn't even considered what becoming twelfth house would mean to her life. When she found her voice, it was very small. "Of course. And I do as Mother bids. Thank you, brother."
"Try to sleep, though I doubt you will," he said, and his voice was gruff but not unkind.
This was as close as Zyn would ever come to telling her that he loved her. "I will," she said, and shock made her voice cold. She turned and fled, back through the compound and unto the inner house, no longer paying attention to the orange light coming from the burning of House Nurbonnis. Representative to the council.
It could be counted an honor, if one did not know what it entailed. Representatives were the most powerful females in their houses with the exception of the mother. They were the public face of their house to the council, empowered to make quite a variety of decisions, given preference in most things even over the first daughter. They also died at a remarkable rate. They were convenient scapegoats if things went wrong, able to be blamed for their decisions or lack thereof, and in the council every hand held concealed blades both physical and metaphorical.
She made it back to her rooms, and as soon as the door closed behind her, the tears began. She stumbled into the bedroom and into the arms of her lovers, who wrapped themselves around her, holding her and letting her cry. Finally, Imryne's tears ceased, and she wiped her eyes. Ilfryn asked, carefully, "It's true?"
Imryne nodded. "It is. Nurbonnis is gone, Freth was the weapon. We are now twelfth house."
He let out a breath. "Your mother has dreaded this. Walking that fine line that Nurbonnis failed to. It's a lot of pressure on the representative."
"Who will be me." Fear was stealing Imryne's breath.
Ilfryn stared at her, shocked. Tar made a strangled gasp. "Dear goddess, why?" Ilfryn asked.
"Mother would never send Jaelryn, she values her too much." She shook her head. Jaelryn was intelligent, and she was very fertile--both things that made her valuable as the heir to the house. "Rauva--you know Rauva, she might well sell us all. So then it comes to me."
"No, that can't be true." Ilfryn sounded as if he would really like to disbelieve what he was hearing.
"Third daughter, old enough to know what I'm doing, and expendable if it comes to that." Imryne shook her head, knowing it to be true.
Ilfryn sat down hard on the bed, staring into space. Tar, looking stricken, began to sniffle, holding Imryne's shoulders. "Can we leave, escape to the surface?" she asked.
"Tar, I can't. As much as I want to, I can't. If Mother asks me to serve, I will. Besides, surviving up there's different than down here. Different dangers, and Mother has contacts there. She would find us." She took Tar's hands, sat down next to Ilfryn, pulled Tar down next to her. "Zyn said he was sorry. That's as much as saying that I have a death sentence on me."
Both of them leaned into her, pressing close, their warmth comforting. The orange light from the disaster made the shadows in the room strange. "We will protect you," Tar said, her voice trembling with unshed tears. "We will go with you every ilit, if you wish us to be there."
"I may take you up on that. Though we're going to need to change how you look, Tar. You have your mother's eyes, and there are those on the council with long memories."
Tar looked up at her. She did have her mother's eyes, a deep garnet red that was unusual and very beautiful. "There are those on the council that killed my family," she said, the trembling fading from her voice. "We will need a warrior we can trust, now more than ever."
Imryne kissed Tar's head, and tucked her feet up on the bed. "Mother will never let me have Zyn. I'll have to find someone else, and quickly." She frowned, remembering her dream. "Speaking of trust. That dream I had--at least part of it is true. I wonder about the rest."
"A crippled drow? In this house they might survive; in House Xalyth, never."
"You're probably right. There was probably dream mixed in with the truth, though it felt like there was someone sending me images. And that elf I dreamed about. He told me to trust him." She could not recall ever seeing his face before; but how many elven faces had she seen in her lifetime? Not many; though she had been to ritual with a number of them, they always wore masks. And the elf had been down here. She had been on a building, and above them had been the familiar dark of stone.
"We have trusted elves before in the rituals above, but only for a nights passion, and always behind masks," Tar said. When she mentioned ritual, Tar's voice went soft, anticipatory. They did not attend ritual much, but when they did it was always memorable, celebrating the passion of Ellistraee in couplings that paid no attention to social convention. They held ritual here regularly, but being beneath the starlight was a special treat. "But down here?"
"I think it was down here," she said. "But why would an elf be down here in the first place? Much less telling me that my choices were to trust him or let someone kill me."
"They would have to be exceptional to be down here for very long. Any Lloth worshippers would find him a great threat if he were free. As a slave, maybe," her lover mused. "If he is here, he would have to be a slave."
"Maybe. I'll probably recognize him when I see him, if he's real."
"And the crippled drow?" Tar asked.
Imryne shook her head. "I'll know him if I see him, too. I don't think he's real, you're right, it's too unlikely. Xalyth would never tolerate imperfection like that in a male, unless he was somehow too valuable to kill."
"Just a dream, then. You need sleep, love. Maybe we can tire you out so you can sleep before morning." Tar twisted around a bit, and gave Imryne a wicked smile, the look that always brought Imryne to her knees.
She freed a hand and slid it under Tar's chin, cupping the sharp point of it in her palm. "There's an idea." She leaned over and kissed Tar, lingering. "Help me not think of this, both of you, please?"
"Yes," the other two said, almost in unison. There were hands then, pulling off her robe, and soon after that Imryne was laid on the bed, shivering a bit under the hands of her lovers. She abandoned herself to pleasure, to the feeling of Tar's tongue tracing a path along her inner thigh, to the thud of Ilfryn's heart against her as he bent to fondle and nibble on her breasts.
Forget.
She reached for oblivion and found it, once and twice and three times, then finding a different sort of forgetfulness as she returned the favor. It worked, it was enough. She passed from wakefulness into sleep with barely a fear following her.
The next morning, Imryne stayed in bed longer than she usually did, unwilling to leave the cozy pile of her lovers. She was sandwiched between Tar and Ilfryn, a rare occurrence as she was usually the first one up in the morning and so slept on one of the outsides. She heard the children stirring, the familiar sound of Challay rushing around to get ready for school, Lesrak complaining that he couldn't find one of his shoes. She closed her eyes and willed sleep to claim her again.
Imryne, darling, join us for first meal.
That was her mother's voice, carried on an errant stirring of air. Imryne sat up, dread sneaking into her body. She shaped a small spell, said, "I'll be there, Mother," and felt the spell enclose her words and take them away. Then, sighing, she got up, carefully clambering over Ilfryn who snuggled into the warm spot she'd left behind. The timepiece on the dressing-table was glowing indigo, telling her that she needed to hurry or she'd be late for the meal.
Ilfryn and Tar stirred and made sleepy noises as Imryne dug in the wardrobe, bringing out a flowing dress of the kind she favored for inside the house, where she didn't have to impress anyone. She washed quickly and pulled on the dress, combing out her hair. She didn't bother to pin it up. "I'll be back later," she said to her lovers.
"Good luck," Ilfryn said. He was sitting up by now, rubbing his eyes. He beckoned Imryne over for a kiss, and she gave him and then Tar one and then left for the meal, hurrying through the halls.
The family dining room was large, furnished with heavy furniture and with woodland scenes painted on the walls, shimmering with faery fire in different colors. It was one of Imryne's favorite rooms in the house; she had so many memories of meals eaten here when she was younger. She still joined the family for last meal once or twice a thread, but it wasn't quite the same.
All of her sisters were here, from her laconic oldest sister Jaelryn to her youngest, the eighth daughter Nendra, who was Lesrak's age. Of her brothers, only Zyn was there; Veldrin was away serving his time in the army, and the younger ones hadn't yet earned the privilege of being at family meals. This ilit, there was much speculation. Nurbonnis had fallen, Melrae was twelfth house, what was it all going to mean? They spoke like family between eating the excellent food, and the younger sisters poked and teased each other.
Imryne's mother Triel supervised the proceedings, watching her daughters, separating Mizzrym and Laele when the two of them got into their teasing a little too seriously. She was beautiful in a quiet way, most of her beauty being in how she moved, how she held her mouth. Her spidersilk hair was piled on top of her head, secured with pins made of topaz of different shades. She let the discussion and speculation go on until everyone was almost finished eating. When she quietly cleared her throat, silence fell in the room, even little Nendra leaving off playing with two stuffed monsters she'd brought to the table.
Triel's voice was quiet and clear. "Imryne, you are my chosen representative. You will need to report today and then every thread to the council. Today is just formal introductions and meetings."
Rauva straightened, her dark eyes fastened on Triel. "But Mother--"
"This is not a discussion, Rauva." Triel's voice held only the hint of an edge, but Rauva subsided into silence. Triel focused her gaze on Imryne, who felt very much as if she'd like to slide under the table the way Nendra had just done. "Imryne, can you do this?"
There were a world of questions contained in that one. She bowed her head slightly. "You have asked me to, so I must."
"I know you will, Imryne, but can you?" Her mother's voice was gentle now. "It will be hard, it will tax your emotions, and you will have to think quickly sometimes and be ready for anything. You will have to outthink them all to not expose our secret."
Imryne swallowed. There were crumbs on her lips, and she raised a hand to brush them away. Can I do this? It was no insignificant question. Imryne, all her life, had been plagued by bouts of madness, a slightly milder version of the despair that that come after the birth of both of her children. Her public face and persona were hard, merciless, and if she accepted this, she would have to take on that persona much more than she was used to.
But there was her mother, looking at her with such gravity. Imryne lowered her hand. "I can, yes." I will have to.
Triel nodded. "Then Zyn, your best two guards besides yourself as her personal escort, for today." Imryne was surprised, but did not complain. Zyn was easily their best warrior. "Zyn, look for the best guard from any house. Spare no expense but get them on our payroll. And quickly."
"I was wondering about that," Imryne said. "Zyn is far more valuable guarding the house here than watching over me."
"Yes, he is, but as good a Zyn is, I know other houses may have just a great a talent. I want them guarding you."
Imryne folded her hands, consciously shuttering all emotion. For some reason, it felt just now like Triel did not consider her expendable even if she had just made her representative, and if Imryne thought about that too much she would start crying at the table. "Thank you, mother." To Zyn, she said, "I'd like to speak to whoever you choose before you bring them on, if I can."
Zyn nodded, and she could not tell what he was thinking. "Certainly."
"Be careful, daughter," Triel said. "I don't want to lose you or any of my children to this, but we are in a dangerous position now and more exposed than before."
She inclined her head. "I will be. It's dangerous, but there are now possibilities that there were not before."
"There are, but remember we have no allies on the council now that Nurbonnis is dead. You will have to feel them out to see if there any that are closer to us than to spider worshipping. It's a deadly dance you will have to play, daughter, but I am sure of your skills and abilities to accomplish this." Triel sounded so sure of her, and inside herself Imryne was quailing. "If you need something, you have but to ask. Don't hesitate to do so. It could be all our lives if you hesitate."
"I will ask, if I need, and I will probably need," she said.
"Let's give thanks to Ellistraee, and pray for Imryne in whose hands we all must rest," her mother said, and all of them around the table joined hands, Mizzrym fishing Nendra out from under the table where she had been hiding. All of them closed their eyes and prayed, and Imryne sent along with her mother's prayer a fervent please help me not get my family killed, my goddess. The prayer was comforting, and Triel's calm voice leading it made Imryne feel as though hope might be possible.
The meal ended with the prayer, and when Imryne stood so did Zyn. "Meet you at the front gate, sister. Time to put on our public faces. I will bring along our best warriors, and you can choose which ones you want."
"I'll meet you there in a few minutes," she said, giving him a faint smile.
Imryne walked back to her rooms afterwards, passing house staff hurrying on errands of their own, roving guards in house uniform. The house was quiet, as it always was at this time, the children old enough to walk and young enough not to have duties of their own in school, everyone else going about their own business. On a normal ilit, Ilfryn would be leaving about now to go teach his classes in the nearby mage school, and Tar would be joining the other priests in the household for morning prayers.
Instead, both of them were waiting when she got back. She shucked her dress and chose one more appropriate for outside the house from the wardrobe, a deep blue fabric that plunged deeply in front and was slit high, allowing for free movement. There were House Melrae symbols worked in on the hems in thread that was slightly brighter than the fabric. As she dressed and put up her hair with pins made of bone and alabaster, she told Tar and Ilfryn about what had gone on at breakfast, especially that Rauva had expected to be chosen.
They, too, had thought that she might have been, and were sorry that it was to be Imryne. "Me, too," Imryne sighed, looking down at herself and smoothing the fabric of the dress down her front. "Zyn is going with me today, and he'll be bringing in a guard from another house soon."
Ilfryn raised an eyebrow. "Someone better than Zyn? Going to hard to find."
"As good as Zyn. Better, I think, would be very difficult." She smiled briefly; her scarred older brother was one of her favorite siblings. "Zyn needs to be here. So Mother's having him bring in another guard for me."
"I feel better that Zyn is taking you today, at least."
She nodded and patted her hair, willing any stray hairs to stay in place. "I, as well. Though I don't expect much trouble today. Next meeting, yes, but today the others will merely be sizing me up."
Ilfryn slid his hands under her arms, pulling her close and kissing her. "Good luck, my love," he said, setting his forehead against hers briefly.
Tar tugged on Imryne's arm, and Imryne pulled her into the embrace. Tar kissed her and wished her luck as well, and then Imryne was out the door and hurrying towards the outer compound. The guards on the inner doors knew her, and opened the doors for her without a word. Each set of doors thumped as they closed behind her, and Imryne felt more and more of herself slipping away.
The person who was Melrae Imryne emerged from the outermost of the inner doors, all traces of the person she was inside left behind. Melrae Imryne was a Lloth worshiper, not Ellistraee. She was a mage, mostly skilled in spells that would hamper foes on a battlefield, dangerous enough to be wary of, able to call on the power of her house at a moment's notice. She was also somewhat erratic, with a number of unsavory habits.
Imryne was never sure which Imryne was the real one: glittering, hard-edged Melrae Imryne or Imryne who was desperately in love with two people who meant the world to her, prone to despair. Neither. Both. Whichever one was the true Imryne, being Melrae Imryne made being representative seem suddenly less daunting.
Questions of identity were left behind when she saw her brother behind the front gate of the compound, four warriors next to him. He caught sight of her and stepped forward, bowing formally. "Mistress," he said, as those behind him bowed as well. "You wished to choose?" Imryne cocked an eyebrow at him, and Zyn lowered his voice. "Istolil and Nyloth," he said, barely audible. "Guldor and Durdyn usually guard Rauva when she goes out."
She nodded. "Istolil and Nyloth, then," she said. "Let's go."
Zyn nodded, and called for the gates to be opened. Istolil stationed himself one pace behind her on the right, Nyloth in the same position on the left. Zyn placed himself right behind Imryne, following her two paces behind. When the gate was opened enough, Imryne swept through, out into the streets of Fanaedar.
The fastest way to the council hall was through the market, and Imryne decided not to be late, today. Evidence of the spider goddess Lloth was everywhere, from carvings on the sides of buildings to painted marks on doorways. The streets were narrow and crowded, and got even more so as they went through the market. The crowd parted for Imryne and her guards, orc and human slaves abasing themselves as they were all trained to do, drow stepping back with fear in their eyes. Nobles walking through the streets often left pools of blood in their wake.
A gang of young drow scampered away, their hair dyed in luminescent patterns. Imryne occasionally wished that style would become fashionable among the nobles. There was no such luck so far, though. It was the same now among the nobles as it had been for centuries, this fashion for hair worn long on both males and females, left its natural spidersilk white. Imryne traveled through the tangle of people almost as if they didn't exist, not even glancing at the market stalls, not reacting to the scents that came from the shops that sold perfumes and incense, or the ones that sold various mushrooms, or the butchers.
The hall was a few streets beyond the market, and the guards on the door let her and her guards in without comment. The inside of the hall was a large room, empty except for a large table in a figure eight shape in the center, surrounded by high-backed, hard chairs. The walls were painted with murals dedicated to Lloth, but they could only be glimpsed through the spiders that crawled on them. The largest of the spiders was as wide as both Imryne's hands outstretched, and the smallest were not all that much smaller. They covered the walls and the ceilings, and skittered across the dark stone floor. The movement of thousands of arachnid feet was a background noise of quiet, constant scratching.
Imryne was one of the last to arrive. The other representatives were here, and Imryne recognized most of them. The few she did not know on sight she recognized from their house symbols, worn on their sleeves and around their necks. She worked her way around the room, introducing herself to the other representatives, ignoring the tension in the air, the slight side-sidles the other representatives made away from her. Bautha of Freth was the least friendly, only nodding curtly in response to an introduction. Imryne smiled pleasantly at her, figuring it would make her nervous.
Ereldra of Telenna held herself apart, Olorae of Jenn'Yxir was silent and still, Drada of Arabani stuck her nose in the air, but most of the rest seemed friendly enough. Soon enough, Greyanna of House Xalyth, representative of the first house and therefore the leader of the council, swept in.
All of them seated themselves according to precedence, leaving their guards to ring the walls of the room. Greyanna was the last to sit. The council meeting today was short, consisting of introduction of Melrae as the twelfth house, mention that Nurbonnis was dead and this was the last their name would be spoken. There was a reminder that the next regular council meeting was eight ilit from now, and the meeting was adjourned.
Bautha of Freth moved away quickly to speak with Greyanna after the meeting, and most of the other representatives cleared out quickly. Bautha exchanged only a few words with Greyanna and then left, three guards in tow. After she was gone, Imryne approached Greyanna.
Imryne bowed. "Xalyth Greyanna. House Melrae sends its regards."
Greyanna was tall, very plain, and had very long fingers for a female of her stature. Those fingers traveled through the air as if they had minds of their own, and right now they were cocked, curious. "Thank you, House Melrae. Imryne, if I may?"
She nodded. "You may, yes."
"I look forward to your opinions on matters of the city in the future and to a good working relationship between our houses." Greyanna stilled, pressing her lips together. "You were allies of Nurbonnis, yes?"
That much was public knowledge, at least. "We were. No longer, obviously."
Greyanna's fingers fluttered. "Ah well, we won't let that stand in the way of a friendship between our houses. I am looking to trade a few alliances, and would consider yours an asset. I have heard of one of your males, named Zyn. I would certainly partake of an alliance with House Melrae in exchange for a new consort."
Imryne very carefully did not glance behind her at her brother, though he was in earshot and had certainly heard. "He is one of our more valuable males," she said, keeping her voice neutral. "I will open the question with my mother. Your alliance would certainly be valuable to us."
"Please do so. He would give me many strong daughters, I am sure."
"I will let you know," Imryne said, carefully noncommittal. Of all the things she could imagine her brother doing, willingly having sex with a Lloth worshiper was not among them. Even if their mother ordered it. Perhaps especially if their mother ordered it.
Greyanna smiled. "Thank you, Imryne. I have many brothers myself that may interest you as well."
She was Melrae Imryne, and thus the horror of that statement drained down into the place where she kept her other self. "They very well might. I've been looking for a new consort. Thank you, Greyanna." She extricated herself and motioned to Zyn, who stood at the ready with the other two next to him.
They marched out into the street again, going back through the market, the crowd parting for them as effortlessly as it had before. At least, it parted until it stopped parting, until the melting crowd near their house revealed something altogether different. Rabble, Imryne thought. Drow, orcs, a few humans, all of them armed, none of them budging. There were abruptly so many of them that they blocked the street, and Imryne heard the sound of her guards pulling their swords.
A scarred drow with one earring in front was the one that Imryne picked out as the leader. Drawing herself upright, she pointed at him and said, "You. What is the meaning of this?"
She felt Zyn grab her arm and yank her to the side as crossbow bolts sliced through the air. She yelped, and next to her Istolil went down. Then they were running, Imryne on occasion pausing to cast a spell back at the rabble that was now following them. Zyn's hand was hard on her arm, though, and after the first few minutes there was no time for anything but running, dodging crossbow bolts, fleeing from the blades that followed.
At some point during the chase, Nyloth fell to the crowd. The men were everywhere, cutting off their escape routes, above and below and behind them. They were being herded, and Imryne to her dismay discovered exactly where they were being herded to.
It was a blind corner that dead-ended into an alley. "Up," she said, and summoned the will to exercise her ability to levitate.
Zyn was breathing hard, and he let go of her arm. "Go, sister, I will hold them off here as best I can to give you time to escape."
There was no time to argue, and Imryne fled upward. If she were quick enough getting away, maybe Zyn would not feel the need to get himself killed covering her escape. She was heading towards a rooftop about thirty feet above the street, watching the ground. When she looked up--
Her heart froze for a moment.
A white face looked down at her, a pale hand outstretched. "Trust me or let them kill you, those are your choices," said the elf.
The same elf as in my dream--
It took her a split second to make her decision. She reached out and grabbed the elf's hand, and he pulled her up onto the rooftop with him. "How important is the guard?" the elf asked urgently.
"Very. My brother," she told him.
"Damn," he said, and narrowed his eyes. And then he let go of Imryne's hand and jumped off the roof.
He landed with a thud between an extremely surprised Zyn and the approaching crowd. The rabble pulled up, looking a bit confused. "It would be easier if you surrender," the elf said, and in his hands appeared two swords, one long and one short. That got a laugh from the nearest. Then the elf twitched.
At least, it looked like a twitch. All Imryne could see was motion that was so quick she couldn't follow, and then ten of those closest to the elf fell over, blood gouting from necks and chests. "How about now?" he said, his voice maintaining a neutral tone.
The crowd stared, edged away muttering, and almost audibly their collective nerve broke. The crowd ran. The elf jumped again, landing next to Imryne. He was wearing a long coat of dark material, and around his neck was a thin golden collar stamped with the seal of Shobalar, a minor house that was allied with Melrae. A slave, then.
What was this male? "Who are you?" she asked him, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Jevan, mistress." His tone was respectful, but it was also clear that it was respectful because he chose to be, not because he'd had respect beaten into him.
"What are you doing here?"
He shrugged slightly. "Waiting for you."
That earned him narrowed eyes from Imryne. "And you knew I was going to be here how?"
"A dream." He was just looking at her now, calmly.
Imryne couldn't help the flash of consternation that traveled across her face briefly, or the catch in her breath. "You dreamed that I would be here. And you decided to come meet me."
"I decided to come save you." Still that steady look.
Imryne was saved from having to reply by Zyn's arrival on the rooftop, as he floated slowly up and set down next to Imryne. "I will be sure to thank House Shobalar for your service," she said.
"No problem, mistress, anytime." The elf bowed, and Imryne caught a whiff of his scent, the cologne he wore, she thought. It seemed familiar, somehow, as if she'd smelled whatever it was before.
Maybe we've met in ritual. Wouldn't that be strange? She nodded to Zyn. "Home."
Jevan cleared his throat. "No offense to your guard, mistress, but can I escort you as well? They are still out there."
She nodded, barely. "To the front door."
Imryne and Zyn floated down, and Jevan jumped once more. Then the elf took on position to her right, Zyn keeping his place at her back. They were not too far from Melrae, and thankfully the crowd melted away for them once more. They arrived at the gates within a few minutes. Once they were there, Jevan bowed. "Mistress."
"Give your mistress this, with my thanks," she said, and fished out one of the little house tokens she always carried with her. It was a small copper coin, stamped with the Melrae symbol on one side and with her name-mark carved into the other. If this one were a slave in truth, the token would keep him out of trouble, and let his mistress know that Melrae owed her a favor.
Jevan took it from her, saying, "Thank you mistress. Do be careful." He turned and walked away them in the direction of House Shobalar. Imryne watched him go, looking at the strange coat and the swords he wore on his back. He had a long shock of pale hair that was tied at the back of his head. She shook her head and stepped through the opening gates, listening to the clank of stone and metal as they closed behind her and Zyn. She headed towards the inner house, and now Zyn was at her left, even with her.
"Have you heard of that one?" she asked him.
"No, but I don't think it will be long before we would have," he said thoughtfully. "I think we have found you an escort. If you can take being guarded by an elf."
Imryne made a face. "Not my first choice. But he is good."
Zyn chuckled dryly. "That roof was thirty feet or more. I would have broken both legs coming down. He did it twice, and he jumped back up again. He killed ten before I could have one. He wore a slave collar but he was alone. I think that is for show. Shobalar will want a large price indeed."
"Do you want to find out what they want for him, or shall I?" she asked.
He nodded. "I will to start, but they will need you to finalize the deal."
"Let me know, then." Zyn nodded and left, gathering up more warriors around him and walking out the gates in the direction of Shobalar. He would probably be gone an hour, long enough for her to go in and see Tar. Ilfryn would be gone by now to his classes.
Tar was in their rooms, sprawled in one of the chairs, reading. When Imryne arrived, she jumped up, letting the scroll she was reading fall to the floor with a thump. "What happened?" she asked. "Your hair is a wreck, you look like you've been running."
How to even begin to explain? "I met him. That elf that was in my dream."
Her lover's eyes went round. "Really?"
Imryne nodded. "And he said the same thing that he did in my dream."
"No longer can that be coincidence. That was a sending or you have been given a vision by the goddess," Tar said, her voice definite.
"It felt like a sending of some sort, like there was a mind on the other end of the sending. I don't know, though. The elf saved Zyn and I. Zyn's gone to find out what House Shobalar wants for him."
"Seriously?" Tar asked, disbelieving. "Are you going to bring him in to protect you? And who is doing the sendings?"
"That was the thought," she said. "As for the sendings, I don't know, but--the elf said it was a dream that sent him coming to save my life."
"Even stranger. Both of you." Tar was musing now, the tip of her tongue sneaking out of her mouth like it always did when she was thinking. "So far, it's been the truth. Could you have died out there without him?"
"Zyn would have. I might well have," Imryne said, shaking her head. "Someone hired mercenaries to try to kill me, it looks like."
Tar wrinkled her nose. "Nothing to trace them back to another house, then."
Imryne spread her hands. "We've been twelfth house only hours, and it's only going to get worse from here."
"It is, my love." Tar captured Imryne's hands, weaving their fingers together. "If he is good and can protect you, then any price is worth it."
She freed one of her hands to rub her eyes. "I almost forgot. Greyanna offered alliance to Xalyth in return for us giving her Zyn. I told her I'd ask Mother. "
"That's bad. Refuse and shun the first house. Give in and we lose our best warrior." Tar shook her head, then gave Imryne an impish look. "Was he cute?"
Imryne blinked. "Who? The elf?"
"Yes, the elf! Zyn isn't, I already know that, silly." She was rolling her eyes, and Imryne laughed, then gave the question some thought.
"I suppose he was all right, as far as elves go," she said. "He smelled familiar, which is strange."
Tar lifted an eyebrow. "Probably from ritual. Smell has the longest memory."
"Seems likely," she said, trying to remember the smell once more. It was an oddly elusive memory, and right now all she could remember was how familiar it had been. "I'll only know for sure if I see him naked, I suppose. Or ask him. Then again, we're all masked, so he wouldn't even know if I'd been in ritual with him."
"You never have peeked?"
She gave her lover a faintly scandalized look. "Of course I haven't. You have, Tar?"
"All the time," Tar said, almost defiantly. "I thought everyone did."
"Maybe I'm the only one who doesn't," Imryne said, pulling Tar close, claiming her lips momentarily. "We'll see, Tar."
"Mmmm." Tar kissed her back, and one of her hands went sliding up Imryne's thigh, the other beginning to pick at the laces of her dress. Sadly enough, they were interrupted by a knock on the door.
Zyn was on the other side, and he cast a knowing glance between his sister and her wife. "Sorry to interrupt. Shobalar Umrae has a high price, that is for sure. She wants a daughter."
"By who?" Imryne asked.
He shook his head. "Oh no, she is old, her womb has gone bare long ago. She wants one of our sisters as her daughter. Any one that we give her is fine, she said. With no other daughters, our sister will be a matron mother in a matter of decades likely."
Imryne took a breath, understanding. "I hate to do it, but Mother did say any price. I would give her Rauva, but that has its own price."
"Best to ask mother about it first," Zyn said, his voice dry once more. "Rauva as a matron mother is a scary thought."
"That was my thought. I'll go talk to Mother," she said, and her hands went to her hair once more. She started pulling out pins; the mass wouldn't go together again well any time soon, and she would rather be unadorned than look like she'd just had once of the more frightening hours of her life.
Zyn nodded. "Oh, and by the way, he isn't a slave. He is their unofficial weapons master. He showed up last week on their door and offered himself to them."
She stared, startled. "And they trusted him?"
"Only after he knocked down all their guards and handed his weapon to Umrae, to prove his loyalty."
Imryne was speechless for a moment. "Does anyone know why on earth he came to them?"
"Umrae said he doesn't talk much but when he is off duty, he prowls the city. Looking for something, she said."
"Very odd." Imryne breathed out, wondering just what, exactly, she was planning on bringing into the house. "Well, I should go face Mother."
Zyn grimaced briefly. "Good luck," he said, in a much better you than me voice. He nodded at her and Tar, and left. Imryne kissed Tar and did the same thing, heading for her mother's rooms.
Triel's rooms were in the heart of the inner house, as protected as walls and guards and magic could make them. She had no real windows; fresh air was brought in through windows created by magic to places in the world above, and the places changed at intervals. Her guards let Imryne in without question, evidently having been left orders to let her in whenever she chose to come. Triel herself was in one of the rooms, sitting in a comfortable chair in the room that doubled as library and study for the matron mother, being read to by one of her eleven husbands. Several of the others were nearby, either listening or reading themselves.
When Imryne arrived in the doorway, Triel waved her husbands away, telling them to close the doors of the study after them. They did so, and Imryne was alone with her mother. "Come sit, daughter, tell me of your day," she said, smiling.
Imryne lowered herself carefully into a chair. She had so many memories of this room, Triel teaching her to read and figure, testing her on what she was learning from her tutors. When she'd gotten older, there had been other lessons behind these doors, lessons in secrecy and housecraft. She assumed that the rest had been given these lessons in turn, though they never really talked about these things among the daughters. She shook her head to try to clear the memories. "I have good news, bad news, and even worse news. Which do you want first?" she asked, her voice soft.
Triel's violet eyes swept across her daughter, evaluating. "How about in the order that you learned of them," she suggested.
"That would be the even worse news," Imryne said. "Xalyth Greyanna offered alliance with us."
"And her terms are?"
She took a breath. "She wants Zyn as a consort."
There was just a flicker of a smile playing on her mother's mouth. "Ah, our weapons master and son to weaken us. So offer her another, telling her that Zyn was captured in battle by elves and castrated. He escaped back to us. No chance for sex or children."
"I will," Imryne said. This is why she is the matron mother, and I merely the representative. "Do you have a preference for who to offer?"
Triel considered, then said, "Sorn has soft spot for Rauva. I suggest him, he is pretty enough and not intelligent. Make sure that when you tell her that she is not using some lie detection spells. Get her out of the council chambers, where she will have such spells in use. It would be best to break them up. Sorn is easily swayed by words."
It was quite the understatement. Sorn was sweet-natured, far more so than most of his brothers, and Rauva took advantage of that ruthlessly. "I will. Can we trust Sorn to keep his mouth closed?"
"I would think so. But it's a chance we are going to have to take. Refuse the alliance, and we will end up like Nurbonnis." Triel frowned, then shook her head. "He talks, and the result is the same. I will impress upon him the need for silence."
Imryne nodded, satisfied. "Good. I will offer him and see what she says. I may be required to take one of their males in exchange, but we'll see. I can always keep whoever it is in the outer portion of the house. I wouldn't trust a Xalyth, male or female, in the inner house."
"Nor would I," Triel said, her voice dry. "I will tell Sorn that it may be some time before we will come to get him, especially if Greyanna is displeased by his performances. If she is pleased, then we will get him sooner."
"It's still dangerous, but it's the best chance we have. So, next, the good news." She took a breath. "Zyn and I found a warrior to guard me. The bad news is what he is, and the price that's being asked for him."
Now Triel looked intrigued. "What is wrong with him, and what's the price?"
"He's an elf, currently with House Shobalar," Imryne said. "For him, Shobalar Umrae wants a daughter. She is old, and if we give her one of my sisters, she would be matron mother likely within decades."
"An elf? I personally have no trouble with employing him or faking his slave status. But you will have to endure the looks." Her mother sat back, still watching Imryne. "Is he worth the price of some humiliation and a daughter?"
"It's because of him that I am sitting here talking to you right now, and Zyn is still breathing. He's worth the humiliation," she said, fervently believing it. "The daughter--that is truly your decision, mother. He is better than Zyn, if you can believe it. And I suspect that he's one of the celebrants in the rituals above."
Triel raised an eyebrow, and Imryne saw that she was playing with one of the rings she wore, a band set with sapphires and emeralds. "Impressive. Any price for your safety, daughter. And a worshipper of Ellistraee. A gift from the goddess, then. Yes. It can work to our advantage anyway. We will cement Shobalar to us with a daughter from House Melrae." Imryne recognized Triel's smile now. She had seen it so many times, when Triel had set her a puzzle of housecraft. "Now, the daughter is the question. Who would you choose?"
She considered the question. "If Rauva were anyone other than who she is, I would choose her. She was passed over for representative, this would ease that ego of hers somewhat. But give Rauva over, and Umrae likely dies before the skein is out. I would say Gaussiara. She's quick-minded and doesn't chafe at being taught."
There was a nod from Triel, and Imryne felt the quiet glow of having passed yet another of the tests set her. "I would have to agree with you. But if Rauva gets passed over again, she will do something rash, I fear."
"She will know for certain that you don't intend to let her out of your sight, and that we don't consider her trustworthy," she said. "With her at the head of Shobalar--I am not sure we could count on Rauva not to do something foolish."
"But like the alliance with Xalyth, it buys us time," Triel said. "She will surely talk if she is passed over for this. And we can tell her that she was passed over as representative because we thought she would make a better matron mother."
Knowing her sister as she did, Imryne thought that she would be completely insufferable for the time she was left at home before going to Shobalar. "She might be mollified by that, at least for the moment. And Umrae is old and crafty."
"She is. And Rauva would be insane to kill her too quick. It will look too suspicious if Umrae dies this cycle."
Privately, Imryne rather thought that Rauva perhaps didn't mind looking suspicious, as long as it got her what she wanted. "It buys us time. And we can watch Rauva."
Triel folded her hands. "I will summon Rauva and Sorn and tell them, if you would broker the deals with Greyanna and Umrae. Take Zyn until you have your new elf. What's his name?"
His name? He had mentioned one. Imryne tried to remember. "His name is...Jevan, if I remember correctly."
"Good. Keep him close, daughter." There was that evaluating look once again. "A room in your set is best. Bed him as you wish, if it excites you, but be careful of mixed-blood children. Some are remarkable, some are born wrong."
This was something Imryne had never heard her mother discuss. "I can't imagine. I don't think I've ever seen a half-drow."
"I have, the one I saw was not right and the other, well, she was quite amazing." There was a softness to Triel's voice, and her hand had gone back to that ring that she always wore.
Cautiously, Imryne asked, "Amazing in what way?"
Triel made a little noise, a soft sigh. "She moved faster than anything I have ever seen."
"What did she look like? A mixture of the two races?"
Imryne tensed as she became aware that Triel's mood was turning. A daughter's fortune depended on being able to read the moods of her mother, and if she was not mistaken, she was on touchy ground indeed. Triel's motions were a little less graceful than they had been a moment before, and fine lines betrayed tension around her eyes. "She looked drow, just a little lighter. She left for the surface world centuries ago."
"What about the one that was born wrong?" Imryne asked.
Triel's voice was flat. "He died." She shook her head. "Enough bad memories, daughter. Attend to your duties."
Imryne rose, trying not to do so too hastily. "I will. Thank you, mother."
"I love you, little one," Triel said.
She paused, surprised. It had been a long time since her mother had told her that; once she had brought Tar and Ilfryn into the house, it seemed like she was old enough to be beyond it. "I love you too, mother," she said, meaning it with her whole soul. Then she left, stepping through the door of the study and closing it behind her. Several of the husbands greeted her with smiles and waves, and she smiled back, too distracted for wit.
Triel had known two half-drow, and one had died. She wondered what had happened there, who the two had been. It was something to keep her mind busy as she went to find Zyn and tell him what their side of the deal would consist of. He nodded, seemingly unsurprised, and gathered some warriors for an escort for her.
Imryne stood still as warriors surrounded her, beckoning her brother over. "We will not offer you for Xalyth," she said to Zyn. He nodded, looking neither unhappy nor relieved. "Tell me, do you remember Mother ever speaking of a half-drow?"
Some emotion disturbed her older brother's scarred face, but it was fleeting. "No," he said. "She never has."
She nodded and let it drop, and Zyn turned away. Why don't I believe you, Zyn? she wondered.
And of all the things to lie to me about, why this?
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Date: 2007-10-24 06:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-24 04:49 pm (UTC)This is an epic. There's a reason that we're starting with Book One here. :)
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Date: 2007-10-26 11:19 am (UTC)(Also, I'll be in Seattle at most points between 12/17 and 12/25, if you will be local and might have any time free then.)
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Date: 2007-10-26 04:40 pm (UTC)(Squee!)
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Date: 2007-10-26 04:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-24 07:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-24 04:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-24 08:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-25 12:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-25 04:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-25 10:26 pm (UTC)