Imryne, of House Melrae: If Truth Be Spoken, Part One

[aithne]

(The Hierophant of Fanaedar Dramatis Personae)

Imryne, of House Melrae
Book Four: The Hierophant of Fanaedar

Chapter Two: If Truth Be Spoken

Only the soul in my sense that receives the soul
    Whence now my spirit is kindled with breathless bliss
Knows well if the light that wounds it with love makes whole,
    If hopes that carol be louder than fears that hiss,
    If truth be spoken of flowers and of waves that kiss,
Of clouds and stars that contend for a sunbright goal.
    And yet may I dream that I dream not indeed of this?

--Swinburne, A Nympholet

Mother, may I speak with you?

Ryld's voice startled Imryne out of her reverie.  Yvonnel, on her lap, had taken advantage of her mother's moment of inattention to grab for and start gnawing the house symbol that hung around Imryne's neck, covering the gold emblem with saliva and bits of gnawed cracker.

Imryne removed the emblem from her daughter's mouth and used the napkin to clean it off.  Of course, she thought at her son.  Where are you?

The small library by Challay's quarters.

She straightened in her chair.  "I need to go," she told Jevan, who was sitting on her left.  "Ryld wants to talk to me."  She transferred Yvonnel to his lap, and shoved her chair back.  "Tar, Maya, be ready to go to Shobalar in three hours.  Jevan, you too."

"What do you think your sister wants?" Tar asked.

Imryne stood.  "Who knows?  I don't think she means any harm, though."  At the end of the table, she saw Maya's expression change, a tightening of her mouth and an uneasy movement of her shoulders.  Imryne cocked an eyebrow at her, but Maya turned away slightly.  If she knew something was wrong, she would tell Tar, Imryne thought. 

"Do you want me to come with you?" Jevan asked.

"No, you eat.  You need to keep up your strength."  She gave him a teasing smile, and then kissed him.  Imryne leaned over to kiss Tar, giving an affectionate wave to the rest of the family crowded around the table.  She left the dining room with its paintings of woodland scenes behind, and headed out of the matron's apartments.

Challay's rooms—the quarters that had once been Imryne's, back when she had been merely third daughter instead of the matron mother—were up two flights of stairs and towards the back of the inner house.  As she climbed, Imryne wondered why Ryld had sought out that library in particular.  Stairs were still difficult for him, and he tended to stay near the matron's quarters and the Ellistraee cathedral.  As far as she knew, he never left the inner house.

That small library, when Challay was not there, was one of the few places in the inner house where the chance of being overheard or interrupted was relatively low.  The door was open, and Imryne came in after rapping once on the doorframe.

Ryld was standing by the window, looking out.  He leaned heavily on his cane. Though he had filled out a bit in the cycles since he had arrived home, he was still painfully thin.  He turned to face her, and the pulse flashed strongly in his bare throat.

"You wanted to talk to me?" she asked.

"Motherr."  The last syllable was slurred.  "You and I havve a discussion t-to—" His mouth twisted, and he broke off.  Imryne stepped to her son, alarmed.  He only had such trouble with his speech when he was upset.

She reached her hand out to him, and he took it.  Her son's blue eyes were dark, and his mouth was held tightly.  Mother, there is a discussion we need to have.  You forget sometimes that I can hear everything that goes on in this house.  Despite myself, I hear everything.

"I know," Imryne said gently.  "What is it, Ryld?"

Alystin.

Imryne felt herself tense and lift her chin slightly.  "Yes?"

You altered her, and now you take her into your bed?

Now she did take a sharp breath, though she did not move to pull her hand away from her son's.  "I do what I have to for the safety of my house.  I did nothing more than what was done to me, what your grandmother did to herself.  I allowed her the freedom to change her mind and her beliefs, and I gentled her memories of what was done to her in the deep."

Ryld narrowed his eyes.  The illithid suppressed her belief in Lloth—and most of her memories of her children.  You had memories of only one child removed.  She had four, Mother.  Two girls and two boys.  The oldest girl is Challay's age, and Alystin only remembers her as a vague shadow.

"I don't expect you to understand."  Her mouth was dry, and her lips bitter.  "I couldn't take the chance that she would make the wrong choice."

Why?  You could always kill her.  Isn't that how you deal with problems?  Make them disappear?

Imryne breathed out.  "No.  I couldn't kill her."

Father.  Ryld's voice was flat.  I know.

She just looked at her son for a moment.  "Are there no secrets in this household?"

Not from me, Mother.  His voice gentled.  He tried so hard for so long not to notice her, not to spend any time with her.  He hesitated, as if trying to think how to say something.  You need to talk to her, Mother.  There are things she needs to tell you.

"Probably."  Imryne let out a sigh.  "Ryld...your father is a good person.  He loves deeply, especially when the person he loves needs him.  Alystin needs him.  He needed someone like Alystin."

He chuckled, just a little.  And she is butting in on your territory.

"That's for me to take care of, and for your to mind your own business about," she said, arching an eyebrow.  "Ryld, what's really bothering you?  My private life isn't usually anything you worry about."

She saw an expression cross his face, one she couldn't read, and his head dipped forward slightly.  You hid what you did.  I thought—

"You thought I was a better person than that," Imryne said quietly. 

I did. He looked up at her, and she saw pain in his eyes.  Is this the sort of thing the moral center of an Ellistraee house does?  It seems more...

"More Lloth," she finished quietly.  "More like Greyanna and Imrae than Triel."  Imryne took a deep breath.  "Ryld.  I am the beating heart of his House, and I bear sole responsibility for over five hundred lives.  I would die for this House, and I probably will.  Triel chose me as her heir because she knew what I was capable of.  She told me, just before she died, that I had more ability to lead than she did.  It took me some time to believe her.  Part of that is the ability and willingness to do what is necessary.  No, I'm not the paragon of Ellistraee worship that my mother was.  We all have our parts to play in the Goddess's plan."

And yours is to win.

"To preserve the faith, the House, and our lives," she said.  "Ryld, I'm sorry if I'm not the mother you wanted.  You have two other mothers and a father who love you very much, and Ulitree, who adores you."  She choked, unexpected tears rising.    "I am only the person I am."

He stared at her for a moment.  Oh, Mother.  He moved abruptly, using the hand that was still in hers to pull her towards him, leaning into her.  Mother, I loved you first, and best. 

She put her arms around her son, feeling him shake with emotion and the effort of standing for so long.  After a moment, she asked, "Are you all right?"

Ryld put his head down on her shoulder.  She could feel how tired he was; her eldest son, despite everything they could do for him, still battled his physical weaknesses every moment of his life.  I am.  I wonder, though.  Have you ever thought about what happens if the blocks on Alystin's memory break?  We both know it's possible.

"I have," Imryne said.  "It will break my heart if it happens, but I know what I will do."  She opened her mind a little, let him see an image of the dagger in its wooden box, cold mist curling up from the ice that made the blade.  "She will die without pain.  It is the least I can do for her."

Amalica had given Imryne that dagger, an assassin's weapon of the highest order forged out of poison, enchanted to melt when it cut flesh and close the wound in made without a trace.  Imryne had been saving it for all these cycles.  She did not want to use it on Alystin.

You do so many things that you don't want to do.

Ryld's thought had mirrored her own.  "I do," she said, and hugged him.  "Have you eaten?  We're just finishing the evening meal."

I ate with Challay.  I did come up here to read, but...  He shrugged, a little awkward.  Left alone with my thoughts, and I couldn’t help but call you.

"Is your mind easier now?"

Mind, no.  Ryld smiled at her, belying his words.  Heart, yes.

"It's a start."  She kissed his cheek and released him.  "I'll leave you to your reading."

And you to your duties, he said.  She nodded and bid him farewell, slipping out the door and down the hallway.  She stopped halfway down the stairwell, putting her shoulder and the side of her head against the cool stone.

It was not the first argument she'd had with Ryld, but it was easily the most serious.  When he had arrived back at Melrae, in Imryne's mind he was still the baby he had been when he had left.  Then his infirmity had made it easy for her—and all the adults around Ryld—to make the mistake of thinking that his mind was somehow limited in the same way his body was.

Imryne had been forced to learn, over and over, that her son was an adult and possessed of a mind and a will of his own.  He would never be acknowledged as a full adult, since his physical limitations kept him from the privileges and responsibilities of adulthood.  He was still a vital advisor to her, and he had a place in her intimate counsel along with her spouses and a few others of House Melrae.

No matter how much she loved her son, he was not always comfortable company.  He questioned her decisions, and he was familiar with the most intimate workings of the household, from the scullery servants to Imryne herself.  He and the illithid had discovered a number of spies trying to get into the House in the last few cycles, as well as identifying members of the House whose loyalties were thin enough to be tempted by the scandalously large amounts of money that were being offered for information from within Melrae.

She took it as a compliment that the sums were that large, and quietly eliminated most of those who were weak enough to consider the offer.  Today's conversation with Ryld was a reminder that there was a downside to the ability to keep spies out of her House.

Now, though, she returned to the matron's apartments, to gather those she was taking with her to a meeting with her sister, Shobalar Jaelryn. 

She, Tar, Jevan, and Maya were walking to Shobalar a little over an hour later, and they were escorted in as soon as they arrived and Maya uncloaked them.  They were met in a reception room by Jaelryn and her second husband and weaponsmaster, Elamshin.  Imryne's taciturn sister was dressed in a robe slightly more ornate than the occasion called for.  Imryne recognized it as a reference to their arguments past; Jaelryn still felt slighted that two of her younger sisters now held higher houses.

Jaelryn was all smiles tonight, however.  "It's good to see you, Imryne, Tar, Jevan.  Maya, you get prettier every day."  Elamshin took his place by Jaelryn's shoulder, nodding to Jevan.

"She does," Imryne said, returning her sister's smile.  "What did you need to see me about?"

Imryne's sister took a deep breath, and for a moment her mask slipped; she was nervous about something.  "Long before she died, Mother told me to find a way to change the city, just like you. You were going to change the houses by keeping us alive and moving up. She wanted me to change it from the bottom, in case you didn't succeed."  Jaelryn's long fingers touched her house symbol.  "I think now is the time to show you my progress."

"What do you have to show me?"

"Tonight, it's being held in the basements of Arabani.  So we should be off."  She waved off all of Imryne's questions, and led them out a secret door at the back of House Shobalar and along little-populated streets, taking the indirect path to the remains of House Arabani.

"We are going to pass through an area of silence, don't be alarmed," Jaelryn said quietly as they started down a staircase.  She was correct; soon Imryne felt the silence wrap her head, no sound in her ears other than her heartbeat and the movement of blood. 

The staircase wound downward, and soon it came to a shallow landing with a pair of burly young drow guarding it.  They whipped out their swords, and Imryne laid her hand on Jevan's arm.

Jaelryn pulled back her hood, and the guards' swords went snaking back into their sheaths.  "Many apologies, my lady," the one on the left said.  They looked askance at Imryne and her companions, but opened the door anyway.

Beyond was a scene that Imryne had only imagined before. 

This chamber had once likely been used to pen slaves between sales.  It was large and high-ceilinged, and at the front was a makeshift altar formed, as far as Imryne could tell, out of old crates draped with purple cloth.  Over the altar hung a pair of banners, one with the image of Ellistraee as the Dark Maiden on it, the other with Corellian in a shaft of sunlight, his arms spread.

Before the altar were young drow.  Hundreds of them.  All of them bowing their heads and reciting the first stanzas of the Ellistraee prayers that Imryne had spoken almost every day of their life.  The recitation was a little loose, and Imryne heard some creative interpretation among the younglings right in front of her, but it was definitely an Ellistraee prayer.

The prayer concluded raggedly, and then the music began.  The drow pulled off their cloaks, piling them against the walls, and musicians that Imryne could see perched on a platform across the room began to play.  The music was lively, with rapidly thumping drums that invited every body in the room into motion. 

Jaelryn leaned in close to make herself heard over the music.  "Change the youth, and you can change the world."

Imryne was still watching, astonished.  "You certainly can, at that.  This looks like more fun than we were ever allowed to have when we were young."

"Oh, it is. As the night wears on, the pairings will start.  Couples come here to meet.  But my main reason to bring you tonight was to inform you that over half of the family of House Eilservs is here, including Ilivarra.  Half of Brorna's children are here, and almost all of her grandchildren."

"Considering that their house is currently overrun with drider, this is an interesting development."  Imryne finally turned her attention fully to her sister, seeing a certain smug satisfaction on her face.  And well she might be smug, Imryne thought.  I had not even the breath of a rumor of this.

"I thought you might like to talk to Ilivarra. She has some interesting bits she can tell you."

"I was about to say that I should find a way to speak with her."  Imryne peered out onto the dance floor, trying to remember what Eilservs Ilivarra, who she had met briefly once over a cycle ago, looked like.  It has hard to pick out just one person in the mass of dark skin and hair both spidersilk white and brightly dyed out there dancing.

"Not a problem," Jaelryn said.  She motioned to one of the young men who were serving as guards, watching the proceedings.  He moved off into the crowd and came back with Ilivarra.

The Eilservs heir was pretty, and younger than Imryne remembered.  She was perhaps sixty cycles old, and her skin had the deep darkness that was a mark of one of the bloodlines that predated the founding of Fanaedar.  "Ilivarra. It's very good to see you here."

Ilivarra bowed, every motion deliberate.  "Matron mothers Imryne and Jaelryn. The night passes well, that both of you are here."

"I admit I'm surprised to see you, considering what appears to be going on with your house," Imryne said.  Her latest intelligence was that Eilservs was overrun with drider, Eilservs Brorna having asked for more and more to occupy her house.

"It's hard to get out, but not impossible," Ilivarra said. "A lot of the house are staying with their lovers in other houses.  It's why the drider are inside the main house.  Mother thinks we are being killed or kidnapped."  The girl shook her head, almost regretfully.  "She doesn't suspect that we are running away."

"I take it that being at home is more or less unbearable for you these days?"

Ilivarra nodded.  " Unbearable is the word for it. We would have done something by now if not for the drider." She saw Imryne's questioning look and continued.  "Mother, though a faithful Lloth worshiper, took a husband that wasn't.  She was very enamored of him. We are probably the only house where all the children in the inheritance line have two parents in common.  Father believed in Ellistraee, and he secretly taught us the worship and the ritual.  We all loved him."  A shadow crossed her eyes, genuine pain in them.  "On making 12th house, Mother couldn't take the chance of her lover being discovered. She did the Lloth thing and killed him.  She ended up with all her children hating her.  We started to protest, and protest turned to sabotage.  She couldn't control us, so in came the drider."

"So you all decided to leave, seeing no other way," Imryne said.

"Can't fight the drider," Ilivarra said with a shrug.  "So we leave.  I'm going to be the last one to go.  Mother being Mother, she thinks it's some plot by another house, killing off her children.  It didn't occur to her that we are just running away."  The female's face was deeply troubled now, though her mouth did not tremble.  "It's a cycle.  She gets more drider, we leave, the worse conditions get for the others.  Then they leave, and then more drider, and soon she is going to be sitting in an empty house with lot of drider and no one else."

"You'd think she'd catch on," Imryne said dryly.

The Eilservs heir made a sharp sound in the back of her throat.  "She will sooner or later, but by then she will have no house left.  The real problem is the drider.  If they were gone, Eilservs can serve a real goddess.  Our mother will see the inside of cell for the rest of her life.  A plush cell, but still a cell."

Imryne took stock of Ilivarra, and approved of what she saw.  There was genuine potential in her, and it spoke well that she planned to get her siblings out before she left.  "Good. I think things may change a bit, soon."

"Change is needed in our house, and out there."  Ilivarra glanced at the party, then back at Imryne.  "I will be happy to follow your lead and Jaelryn's in city matters. I know I am young for a matron mother, but I can learn quickly."

"Very quickly, I hope. Imrae will eat you alive, otherwise."  Imryne put a warning in her voice.

That warning was well-taken, she saw, and the girl's eyes were steadfast.  "I know she can. No one sane wants to be a matron mother, but we must serve."

"I certainly didn't. But when duty calls, we step forward to lead and protect our houses."  Imryne smiled, just a little.  "When things change, you and I can talk alliances, if it's prudent."

"I would like that. If the drider leave, we will have a new Matron mother soon.  Sooner than later, I hope.  Druu'giir has been eyeing us. I fear an attack.  Fear of the drider has stopped them, for the moment.  But if there is a change of matron mother, they will fall on us."

Imryne thought swiftly, counting her resources.  "We may be able to arrange for some discouragement for Druu'giir.  If we have warning of the change about to take place, will that give you enough time, with our help, to get back in and defend the house?"

"Yes. If the drider are gone, we can take the place easily.  More than half the staff are on our side. The others will lie down quickly.  Defense against Druu'giir will be the hard part, but if we have House Melrae defending, we will be fine."  Ilivarra took a shallow breath, her mouth tightening a little.  "I have a personal request, if I may?"

What personal request could this girl possibly have of Imryne?  "What's that?"

"If the house survives, I would like to take Lesrak as my first husband. We met down here and have established a relationship."  She chewed her lip just a little.  "I know I am a lot older but..."

It took all of Imryne's willpower not to look at Maya at the moment.  The Melrae daughter had been sneaking Lesrak—and Goddess knew how many other members of House Melrae—to these...worship services?  Then it hit her again.  Ilivarra was asking for Lesrak.  He would be the first of Imryne's children to go into another House.

She fought for and maintained her balance.  "If both you and he are in agreement on it, I'd be honored to transfer him into your household. I'd been hoping he'd end up making a match sometime soon."  She was not lying—not entirely, at least.  Challay was going to have to look for a new weaponsmaster.

"I think he will agree."  Ilivarra pressed the fingertips of her hands together in a formal gesture of gratitude.  "Thank you Houses Melrae and Shobalar."

"Thank you, House Eilservs," Imryne replied, equally formally.  Ilivarra gestured with her left hand, and Imryne offered her right hand.  The heir of Eilservs lifted Imryne's hand to her mouth and touched her lips to Imryne's fingertips, an Ellistraee gesture of farewell.  Then she turned and melted back into the crowd, disappearing among the throng.

Imryne watched her go, and felt Jevan take her hand.  Tar, too, pressed gently against Imryne's back, letting Imryne know that she was there.  "Well. Any number of surprises," Imryne said to her sister.

Jaelryn smiled again.  "Quite a few.  What do you think of my creation?"

"I approve, very much. Very good idea, and one that I'd never have come up with."

"Thank our mother."  Jaelryn paused as the music got abruptly louder, and some sort of complicated call and response game began from one side of the room to the other.  "It was her idea. I just launched it."

"Maybe once the city is ours, we can make a version of these public."

"That is a hope for the youth of the city. Someplace they can be free to dance and meet others like themselves."  Elamshin touched Jaelryn's shoulder gently.  In that touch, how he moved, was a universe of information.  Elamshin was many things, but he was no good at hiding his feelings.  The music and the dancing were evidently putting him in a mood to celebrate.  "I must go, sister, but feel free to stay and dance.  The guards will show you to the private rooms I have, if dancing leads to other things."

"Thank you, Jaelryn," Imryne said.  "I think we'll stay, if I can convince Tar and Jevan to dance."

Tar was now firmly pressed into Imryne's back, one arm snaked around Imryne's waist.  "We can skip the dancing for all I care and go right to the private rooms," she said, her voice full of sweet, warm promises.

"Might be wise," Jevan said. "I am afraid people will recognize us, or at least me.  How many elves would be dancing?"

"I don't fear spies down here, we have many safeguards," Jaelryn replied.  "But some of the celebrants could have loose lips, having seen Imryne, Jevan and Tar.  You are almost legendary down here."

Imryne blinked.  "We are?"

Jaelryn gave her a sidelong glance.  "Think about it, sister.  You have the only publically acknowledged elven husband. They aspire to be you and Jevan.  Elf and drow, at peace and happy.  You are their embodiment of Ellistraee and Corellian."

She felt heat rising to her face, and thanked the dim light down here for hopefully hiding the extent of her blush.  "Well.  In that case, yes, we should go to the private rooms.  Maya, I assume you'll be all right?"

The girl had been edging away from them, towards the dancers, and now turned towards Imryne.  "I've been to these before," she said.  "Yes, I'll be fine."

The guards showed them to the private rooms; what these had been used for once, Imryne couldn't guess.  They were small enough to be offices, or isolation cells. The music and dancing had put Tar into a very hot and bothered mood, and within what seemed like an eyeblink she was out of her clothes and helping to pull Jevan and Imryne's off.  They made love with the pounding of drums driving them forward, and Imryne forgot everything that was not in this small room, these people, some of those she loved best in the world.  Forgot worry, forgot fear. 

Forgot the burdens on her shoulders, and sank into the cleansing joy of lovemaking, of worshiping her Goddess.

In the small hours of the morning, they collected Maya and walked back to Melrae.  Maya was silent, her arms crossed, walking next to Tar but stealing occasional glances at Imryne.

As they came down the wide avenue that led towards Melrae and from there to Xalyth and Vandree, Imryne finally beckoned Maya to walk next to her.  Maya gingerly left her mother's side.  "I'm not angry with you," Imryne said in a low voice.  "Well.  Not very angry."

A patrol of drider passed by without so much as glancing at them, the scratching thumps of their spider legs echoing off of the hulking houses to the left and right.  "I know I should have told you, or Mama, or Father.  We were just afraid..."

"Afraid that I would ruin what very little fun all of you have in your lives," Imryne said.  "I probably ought to.  It's dangerous having you running around outside the House."  She took a long breath.  "There comes a time when even a matron mother has to let go of her children, and I think that time's come.  Just let someone know where you're going."

Maya gave Imryne a long look, and Imryne wondered what she was thinking, behind those eyes that were so like Jevan's.  "I will.  Besides, Lesrak will probably be going into Eilservs soon, and Sabal and I are going to go into Vandree."

Imryne had almost managed to forget for an evening that she was planning to send some of Melrae's into Vandree.  The reminder shook her a little.  "I know."

They fell into silence for the remainder of the walk.  Maya parted from them almost as soon as the gates closed behind them, and the rest of them made their way to the matron's apartments, and crawled into bed with Urlryn.  Jevan curled up behind Imryne, as usual, but he did not fall immediately into sleep as he often did.

Tar and Urlryn were fast asleep, and Imryne turned in Jevan's arms.  "Are you all right?" she asked quietly.

He shifted so that his forehead was touching hers.  She kept her eyes closed, feeling the solid weight of him, smelling the musk of the evening's exertions.  "I—think so.  I don't know.  I feel strange."

"Strange, how?"

"I can't really describe it.  It's nothing, Imryne."  She felt him press a kiss on the bridge of her nose.  "Go to sleep.  I promise I'll let you know if I figure it out."

She didn't think she would be able to, but soon enough she felt sleep rise to claim her.  She did not know when—or if—Jevan fell asleep.

The next day, Imryne collared Lesrak and told him that she knew about his relationship with Eilservs Ilivarra, and she was intending to marry him into Eilservs if Ilivarra became matron mother. 

Her son flushed, the whites of his eyes going dark.  "Who told you?"

"Ilivarra," Imryne said.  "She asked for you.  Only if you're willing, Lesrak.  It's a good alliance, but..."  She made an equivocal motion with her fingers.  "The potential alliance is worth less than your happiness."

Unexpectedly, Lesrak's eyes filled with tears, his pupils shimmering.  His mouth tightened.  "I'm willing.  Very willing.  Thank you, Mother."

"Thank Ilivarra," she told him.  "She's the one who asked."

Lesrak shook his head, and his fingers came up to touch his throat-band.  "No, Mother.  Thank you for asking me if I was willing.  For caring enough to consider what I thought about it."

There was a long, awkward moment between them, as Imryne regarded her second son uneasily.  "I love you, Lesrak," she said, finally.  She held her arms open, and he stepped forward, hugging her tightly.

"I love you, Mother," he said, and released her.  "When do you think I'll be going into Eilservs?"

"A matter of threads," she said.  "Best get Challay set up with a new weaponsmaster."

He wrinkled his nose slightly.  "I don't know if we have anyone good enough for her, except Jevan, and he's taken."

She almost chuckled.  "We have some time to consider it.  Go tell your sister you're being married out."  That last was said with a smile, and Lesrak brightened when he saw it.

He gave her a smile and went.  Imryne sat down heavily into a nearby chair, folding her long legs under her.  The library was silent around her; the only sounds her breathing, the gentle tinkling of her earrings, the distant noises of the house.

She breathed out.  It will be well.  It must be.

It will be well.

 

(Imryne, in House Melrae)

Imryne stalked into her apartments, fairly vibrating with anger. 

Fortunately, the apartments were empty at the moment, and there was nobody to witness her almost running into the bedroom and slamming the door behind her.  She threw herself face first onto the bed, pounding the blanket with a fist.

She forced herself to lie still and just breathe for a moment.  I am a matron mother, not a child.  This is no way to act, even in private.  Imryne forced herself to sit up, gritting her teeth.  She dropped her head into her hands, trying to think.

Imryne had waited on Imrae for hours today.  The Vandree matron mother had obviously been feeling unwell, no matter how much she tried to hide it, and she had been in a nasty temper because of it.  She had pressed Imryne on the subject of an heir for Vandree to the point of nearly unveiling her threats. 

Imrae had finally let Imryne go, and it had taken all of Imryne' strength to hold herself together for the flight home.  She had been looking forward to some alone time with Jevan, but Alystin had intercepted them as soon as they had landed, asking for Jevan's help with something—what, she had not been specific about.

What Imryne had wanted was for him to tell Alystin that Imryne needed her more right then.  What he had done was to look to Imryne and ask her if it was all right if he went with Alystin.  Imryne, caught off-guard, had said yes.

My own fault, she thought.  Right.

She had let the situation go on longer than it should have, out of affection for Alystin, knowledge that Jevan was desperately infatuated with the most recent addition to their household, and hope that the situation would right itself and come into balance.  But if Imryne was acting like a virgin scorned by a suitor, there was something wrong that was not going to correct itself.

She went to the basin and called warm water into it, washing her face and hands.  She looked in the mirror and tried to compose herself, only partially succeeding.  Then she went to the door of the apartments.

"Call a runner," she said to the guards on the door.  "Tell them to find Alystin and bring her here.  Alone, if you would."

One of the guards told her it would be done, and went to find a runner.  Alystin arrived a quarter of an hour later, looking flushed and a bit nervous.  "You wanted to see me?" she asked, edging in the door.

"Come sit down," Imryne said.  Alystin did, perching on the edge of the couch opposite Imryne's chair. 

"Have I done something wrong?" the other female asked. 

"Yes and no."  Imryne took a deep breath.  "Alystin, we need to talk about Jevan.  I know you and he are more tightly attached than you and the rest of us.  I also know that you used to be the head of your own family, back in the house of your birth.  This is no longer the case."

Alystin dropped her gaze to the floor briefly.  When she raised her eyes to meet Imryne's, her face was troubled.  "I know I've been..."

"Monopolizing him," Imryne suggested.

She was silent for a moment, studying Imryne.  "I thought it was all right," Alystin said at last.  "You didn't say anything before."

"I was hoping I would not have to," Imryne said.  "I am matron mother of House Melrae.  I am the head of this family.  I care about you very much, but Jevan is my only husband and my weaponsmaster.  I can't afford to have him so distracted that he doesn't realize when I need him."

"So what do we do about it?" Alystin asked.

Imryne noted the we, and was irrationally pleased by it.  "I've spoken to you before about going into Vandree.  It may be a few cycles by the time we're ready to bring you out.  Once we do—if all of us survive Vandree's fall—we will begin again, and see if all of us still feel the same.  I think I'd like to bring in another male, for balance."

"In other words, Imryne, we all take a step back."  Alystin folded her hands.  "Do you think I and Maya and Sabal will be going into Vandree soon?"

"Within days," Imryne said.  "I don't think I can stall Imrae any longer."

Alystin gave Imryne a long look.  "Then that is what we will do.  Only—can I enjoy these last few ilit with you, as part of the family?"  There was fear in her eyes, and more than a bit of bittersweet longing.  "I will try not to ask too much of Jevan, but the thought of cycles away when what I have here is so new..."

Imryne stood, and held her hands out to Alystin.   "Come here?" she asked quietly.

The other female crossed the room to her, and tentatively placed her warm hands in Imryne's cold ones.  "Alystin, you have a home here for the rest of your life," Imryne said.  "What you will be doing for Melrae is of incalculable value.  Be with us, here, for as long as you can before you have to go."

Tears welled in Alystin's eyes, and Imryne pulled her into an embrace.  Alystin's body curved to fit Imryne's sharp angles, and she put her face against Imryne's bare neck.  Imryne realized that she had never been alone with Alystin before.  Jevan, Tar, and Urlryn all had had time alone with Alystin, but Imryne had not.

We are none of us perfect, she thought as she held Alystin, as their bodies slowly relaxed against each other and the tension between them dissolved.  But while our hearts still beat, still we can try.

There was the sensation within Imryne of something coming into delicate balance.  One of her hands came up under Alystin's heavy hair, stroked the back of her neck.  The knife would go in there, if need be; slip right between the bones of her vertebrae, dissolve as it reached the large veins.  She would die without a murmur.

Alystin lifted her head.  "What?" she asked in a soft voice. 

In response, Imryne kissed her.  Alystin melted, relaxing, trusting.  What is real? Imryne thought to herself.  I have not denied her any choices.

I have only given her the chance to become whatever she might be.

They stayed standing, kissing each other, for several minutes.  "Stay with me for a bit?" Imryne asked quietly, after they broke that long kiss.

Alystin's eyes met Imryne's.  "I wait upon your pleasure, matron mother."

Matron mother, in Alystin's mouth, was an intimate honorific, a promise of pleasure that made a shiver go up Imryne's spine.  Alystin was looking at her with an expectation that Imryne found that she was more than happy to fulfill.  "Come with me," she said, and intertwined her fingers with Alystin's.

There were two altars to Ellistraee in the matron's apartments.  The first was the family altar, where members of the family would go to pray and leave trinkets to thank the goddess for good fortune, or ask her for her favor. 

The other was the matron's altar, and it was to that altar that Imryne led Alystin now.

The steel-bound door opened to her touch.  Alystin's eyes widened.  "This is—"

"The mother's altar.  Yes."

Alystin hesitated on the threshold.  "I'm not sure...do you really want me to come in?"  Her voice was raw, and there was old pain in it.  Her eyes met Imryne's, and they were full of uncertainty.

What are we, if not creatures made to love, made to serve our Goddess?    Imryne let her waver for a moment.  Then she tightened her hand on Alystin's.  "Yes," she said, and her voice was soft but strong.  "Be welcome into this place, Alystin."

Alystin took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold.

Alystin's hands reached out, and Imryne put her hands in the other female's, letting the door swing closed.   "You know what this place is."  She kept her voice low, though this was the most private room in House Melrae.  Not even Ryld could glimpse clearly what went on in this room.  There were centuries of protective magic woven in the stone of the wall.  "This is the true heart of this house, Alystin.  My true heart."

There was an expression on Alystin's face that mixed wonder with trepidation.  "Why did you bring me here?"

Imryne breathed in, and there was a feeling of pressure on her head and in her heart.  Because you had never been wanted in your life, until you stepped foot inside this house.  Because you belong to Me, little one.  The words were not coming from Imryne, but she could hear them clearly, and from the look on Alystin's face, she was hearing them as well.  It was a voice that Imryne had heard only a few times in her life.  Because the way is twisted, and My daughters must be able to trust one another. 

"I trust Imryne," Alystin protested quietly.

Then yield to her, little one.  Yield to her, and be shriven.

The feeling of pressure grew, and now Alystin was beginning to look frightened.  "But—"

It is time, My daughter.

Alystin's hands in Imryne's clenched convulsively.  "I'm afraid."

The silent voice gentled, but the feeling of pressure redoubled, and Imryne felt almost as if she would crumple under the weight of the Goddess's presence.  Fear not, daughter.  All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of thing will be well.

There was a soft sigh from Alystin, and she closed her eyes.  "I—I yield."

Now it was Imryne's turn to clench her hands on Alystin's.  There was something strange happening to her vision; lights were dancing around her.  She felt a tremendous pressure, wrapped up in an enormous hand—

Then, she was somewhere else.

Not somewhere.  Somewhen.

 

(Arabani Alystin, outside Fanaedar)

"Mistress, we found this.  I thought you might want to look at it before we kill it."

Alystin turned, rolling her eyes.  "I told you, I don't want to look at anything you find unless—"  She stopped, looking at the thing that dangled limply between two guards , held fast under its armpits.  Its hair was an unnameable color, twisted around itself into greasy locks.  Its skin was pale and grimy, and its ears—

Pointed.

"Elf," she said, making it a question of the guard who had just spoken, Bhintel. 

"Yes."  Bhintel reached down and grabbed the elf's hair and lifted its head.  It was an unconscious male, its skin clinging tightly to bone.  It was starving, she thought.  "We found it crawling down a side tunnel.  Normally we would have just killed it, but we thought you might want to see."

  "What is a surface dweller doing down here?" she mused.  "And so near the transfer point."  Alystin was not allowed to see the surface.  Slave raids were for her other, more favored sisters.  She had the job of meeting the caravans halfway with fresh guards and supplies, hauling the slaves down into Fanaedar.  It was an important job, just an extremely dull one.  Finding the elf was more excitement than she and her guards had seen in cycles.

Its clothes were ripped and frayed, as filthy as the elf itself.  It stirred weakly as Bhintel dropped its head again, wiping his hand on his trousers.  It lifted its head, to stare at her.  Alystin saw that its eyes were blue, and they widened as it focused on her.

Its lips moved, and it said a word she didn't quite catch, but sounded drow.  Alystin bent forward, frowning.  "Love?" the elf said, so quietly that Alystin didn't know if anyone else heard.  "Love, have you found me?"

It spoke drow, and it thought she was someone it knew.  She straightened.  "Throw it into the cart with the rest of the fodder," she said to the guard.  They nodded and dragged it away to the cart where those slaves who could not walk with the rest were kept.  That cart was destined for the meat auction.  There were some among those that House Arabani supplied that had a taste for such things.  They paid well for slaves that would have otherwise been left behind on the surface.

Alystin walked over to the slavemaster, Chenzira.  "Get the slaves up and moving, we leave in a quarter hour."  She paused, then dropped her voice.  Chenzira was one of her own, bought and paid for with privileges that non-noble drow females rarely got to experience.  "Separate out the elf, and have it washed and given clothes that don't stink.  Put it in one of the isolation cells and feed it.  I want to see what it looks like clean and fed before we sell it.  Elves fetch good coin."

Chenzira nodded, and on her face Alystin could see recognition of what Alystin was not saying.  She smiled tightly.  "It will be as you say, mistress."

"Good."  She walked away, tapping her scourge gently against her thigh.  That look on the elf's face.  She wanted to see where it came from, and why it knew how to speak drow.

All things in time.

She smiled, and went to tell her guards they were leaving for Fanaedar.

*****

"All is as you said.  Do you wish me to call a guard to be in the cell with you?  It seems to be stronger than it looks."  Chenzira was holding out a twisted key to Alystin.  They were in the bowels of House Arabani, in Chenzira's office.

"I think I can handle one starving elf."  Her hand went to her scourge.  The elf would obey, or she would make it obey.  She had handled elves before.  She knew where their weak places were, physically and mentally.  "Which cell?"

"The very end," Chenzira said, folding her hands.

"Good.  Your reward awaits outside."  Alystin smiled.  "Do try not to mark him as badly as you did last time.  I realize he makes it difficult to resist, but I don't want to have to explain it to the others again."

Chenzira's smile was bladed.  "I have things in mind that do not mar," she said.  "Thank you, my mistress."  The slavemaster's steps towards the door had more than a little eagerness to them.

When she opened the door of the office, Alystin's husband Gwylyss was revealed.  His shoulders straightened, and she saw a look of dread on his face.  Chenzira stepped out and took his unresisting hand.  She led him away to her quarters, just down the hall.

She would be busy with him for at least two hours.  Enough time to see what this elf was truly made of.  Alystin made her way down the hall, to the end where a cell door made of steel-bound wood stood, locked.  She unlocked it, and let herself in.

The elf was crouched in the corner.  It was dressed in a pair of drow-style pants, shirtless, and it stared at her.  Washed, its skin was pale and its hair almost the color of a gethmil, only more yellow.  "You," it said.  There was a strange look in its eyes.  From the stare, she rather thought it was not quite sane.  "You.  I thought—no, it's not—I thought—why?    Why can't she hear me call?"  Its drow was accented, but perfectly understandable.

"Give me your name," she said, her voice edged.

It stared, still.  "Jevan," it said finally.  "My name is Jevan."

"What were you doing in the tunnels above Fanaedar?"

It turned its face away.  "Looking for her."

"Who?"

Its voice was low, nearly a moan.  "Her.  My love.  She said she would return.  She would have, if she had been able.  You—you look like her.  I think.  I never saw her unmasked...let me go.  Please.  I must find her."

Alystin raised an eyebrow.  "Maybe I'll let you go.  Maybe I'll put you on the block and let her buy you, if she recognizes you."  She swung her scourge gently, feeling its reassuring weight.  "Where did you meet this drow woman?"

"Surface.” His voice stuttered and started. “Masked...oh, my goddess.  Help me."

His goddess.

Elves had a god, not a goddess.  If this one followed a goddess, and he'd had a chance to meet a drow female...there were things spoken of only in whispers in Lloth households.  The ancient enemy.  The evil that had been defeated when the triad of Xalyth, Kilsek, and Vandree had risen to power.

Ellistraee.

"You worship the Dark Maiden," she said, leaning forward.

The elf's eyes opened wide.  "You will kill me," it said.

Alystin smiled, then.  "Perhaps.  But one must always know one's enemy.  And I will know you, Jevan."  I will know you.  And I will find out which house your female is from, and destroy it.

She took a step forward, and lifted the scourge.  The elf—Jevan, yes, such a strange name—clenched its fists and bowed its head.  "You can beat me until I am bloody.  I will give you nothing.  You might as well kill me."

She paused, considered for a moment.  It was right, the followers of the Dark Maiden rarely responded well to the scourge and the lash.  But there are other ways to make you talk. She lowered the scourge.

It had been cycles since she'd had a project.  This one was proving intriguing.  "I will not beat you," she said softly.  "Not unless you try to harm me.   But I also cannot let anyone else speak to you."  She turned to the door, paused, looked over her shoulder.  "Do I truly look like the one you seek?"

The elf frowned, apparently confused.  "You...yes, you do.  Your mouth, and jaw.  She is tall, like you."  It paused.  "She is more lightly built, and your hair is straight where hers is curled.  But there is a resemblance."

"Good," she said softly, and unlocked the door.  Good, she thought as she passed through and closed it behind her, locking it again.  My work is half done already.  It might take me a few cycles, but I will use your Goddess's weakness against you, Jevan.

She smiled as she went to amuse herself for a while in the slave pens, while Chenzira played with Gwylyss.  It was good to have something to plan for again, something that might even bring her, if briefly, into her mother's favor.

I will never be heir.  But some day, Mother will smile at me as she does my sisters.

Just once.

(To Part Two)