Imryne, of House Melrae: With Wings That Range Not

[aithne]

(The Hierophant of Fanaedar Dramatis Personae)

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

Chapter Five: With Wings That Range Not

 

     As a vesture shalt thou change them, said the prophet,
       And the raiment that was flesh is turned to dust;
     Dust and flesh and dust again the likeness of it,
       And the fine gold woven and worn of youth is rust.
     Hours that wax and wane salute the shade and scoff it,
       That it knows not aught it doth nor aught it must:
     Day by day the speeding soul makes haste to doff it,
       Night by night the pride of life resigns its trust.

     Sleep, whose silent notes of song loud life's derange not,
       Takes the trust in hand awhile as angels may:
     Joy with wings that rest not, grief with wings that range not,
       Guard the gates of sleep and waking, gold or grey.
     Joys that joys estrange, and griefs that griefs estrange not,
       Day that yearns for night, and night that yearns for day,
     As a vesture shalt thou change them, and they change not,
       Seeing that change may never change or pass away.

--Swinburne, Epicede

 

(Imryne, in House Melrae)

"And you say Yvonnel just...touched the crystal to the staff, and it sank into the wood?"

"So Urlryn said, and I have no reason to doubt her," Jevan told her.

Imryne was sitting in her office, Jevan across from her.  She'd been going through the messages and notes Challay had taken in the thread she had been out, and not making much headway.  It was two days after she had been returned to life; she was stalling Imrae's requests for a meeting with the matron mother of Melrae as best she could.  She was wrapped in three layers of robes, was drinking a cup of hot tea, and still the tips of her finger were numb with cold.  Jevan had come in to see her, ostensibly to report on the several guards who had taken serious wounds in the fighting a few ilit before.

She did not begrudge him a bit of obsessive checking on her.  She was shaken enough by what had happened, and by the situation she had woken to, that she was glad that there was someone with her almost every waking moment.  The memory of waking to find Ryld dead and what seemed like half of her soul missing, and making the decision in that moment that it would be far better to die than to continue a moment longer that way, haunted her.  She did not know if she would ever be free of it.

Now, though, she was looking at her staff, with the yellow crystal embedded in the head.   She laid a hand on it, brushing her fingers against her name carved into the wood.  "And the thing I did...Goddess, I had no idea I could do anything like that.  I had this...thing in my mind.  I think it might have been part of the goddess."

"My mother said that she wasn't surprised.  You'd had four ilit worth of having your plight called to the attention of Ellistraee," he said. 

She took a breath.  "I wish we could get her home.  I'm so sorry she's been trapped down here.  I know she's not happy.  Maybe when I meet with Imrae..."

"We will find a way," Jevan said, and smiled at her.  "Do you think you're going to be up to a little exploration soon?  We could go take a tour of House Xalyth."

Imryne smiled.  "After the evening meal.  Tar says that a little activity will help me recover, and I don't think going through Xalyth will be that strenuous."  She closed her eyes, feeling fatigue press down on her.  The staff under her hands seemed to thrum a little bit, and she closed her hand around the wood.  A little illusion, she thought to herself.  She was in a nostalgic mood, thinking about the night she met Jevan at ritual.  She remembered the meadow, the smell of warm air and damp grass, the stars burning bright above.

The world disappeared.

Imryne was unceremoniously dropped on her rump as the chair vanished from beneath her.  She squawked, her eyes flying open, hearing Jevan's surprised grunt as he, too, fell.  The scene was brilliantly lit, silver starlight limning the edges of the fully-leafed trees that surrounded the meadow.  The grass beneath her was damp with dew, and a full, fat moon was rising.

It took her a moment to recover her wits, and another to sit up.  "Um, Jevan? I think I accidentally transported us."

Jevan was climbing to his feet, and he held out a hand to her.  "I was beginning to wonder.  Otherwise, that's a damn good illusion."

"I was only meaning it to be an illusion, just thinking of somewhere I'd rather be right now."  Her voice shook; the fatigue was back, and it was blade-edged.

Jevan put an arm around her, drawing her close.  "I think it took you literally." 

She looked up, staring at the stars.  They were so bright, seemingly close enough to touch.  She could almost take one in her hand, let it burn there in her palm like the most brilliant of jewels.  "I promised Ryld I would bring him up here some day, so he could see the stars for himself. I thought I would have so much more time..." 

The sobs rose in her throat, and she let the tears come.  Jevan held her, kept her upright, and she put her head down on his shoulder and sobbed.  It hurt, all the time she would not have with her son, that she had lost him just a few short cycles after they had brought him home.  It hurt that she would never see him married to Ulitree, hold the children she would have had by him. 

But it was a grief she could comprehend, that she knew would lessen eventually.  They had brought him home; he had known a few cycles of less pain, had known love.  The years she would never have with him would always hurt, and he would always be an absence in her heart, taking his place beside Ilfryn and Triel and everyone else she had lost.  But she would also know that she had done everything in her power to make his life better.

The crying fit passed eventually, and she stood with her arms around Jevan, her cheek on the shirt she had wet with her tears.  "Thank you, Jevan," she said in a quiet voice.

Jevan pressed a kiss to the top of her head.  "You are my love. I will always be here for you."

"Have I ever mentioned how glad I am that you came down here and found me?  I don't think I could do this without you."  Imryne took a long breath, and let it out in a sigh.  "I almost wish I didn't have to go back down there."

"We don't. You have the staff, and it evidently ignores Imrae's seal; we can just transport the family and be gone."

She thought about it for a moment.  Take the family and go; they could relocate to Abburth, or somewhere on the surface.  Faces flashed through her mind; servants, guards, children of cadet lines, her allied houses.  All those she would have to leave behind.   "I can't abandon this. As much as it hurts, I can't leave my city to Imrae.  I sometimes envy Zyn, though."

"He escaped."

"With someone he loves. But we have to go back to it, and try to outthink Imrae.  At least I can get your mother home, now."  She straightened, and wiped her running nose on the sleeve of her robe.  "I suppose we should go back before we're missed and Challay panics and thinks I've left her in charge."

Jevan brushed her cheek with his fingertips.  "I suppose we should, my love. It's nice up here, though."

"Do you miss being up here?" she asked.

"Sometimes," he admitted.  "I would, and did, miss you more."

She smiled a little.  "Well, with the staff, maybe we can come up here more often.  If nothing else, it's been cycles and cycles since I celebrated ritual on the surface.  The last time...goddess. The last time was just me and Ilfryn, right after you came into Melrae."  She closed her eyes, remembering.  I will love you as long as I live, she had told him, that night.  It was still true.

"We can celebrate ritual any time now, with all of us."  He cupped her chin with his hand and gently kissed her lips.  For the first time in what seemed like an age, she felt the first, fleeting stirrings of desire.   She kissed him back, and as she did so she thought of her familiar office with the desk that bore the wear of four generations of Melrae matron mothers, held the memories of countless tense conferences with family.

She opened her eyes to find them back in her office, and just in time.  There was a light tap on the door, and Tar entered.  "Message," she said, holding out a scroll to Imryne.  "Delivered by a Vandree runner, who is waiting at the gates for your answer."

"What does Imrae want now?" Imryne asked as she took the scroll and broke the heavy seal.  On the page, brushed in a formal hand, was a message.

Matron Mother Imryne,

Come to House Vandree after last meal tonight.

You and I have much to discuss.

Matron Mother Vandree Imrae

Imryne pressed her lips together.  "At a guess, I would say that Imrae is not happy with Melrae at the moment.  I had better go.  If I put her off, she may hurt Alystin or the children to make me do what she wants."

"I hate you having to bow to her whim," Tar said.  She came forward and caught Imryne's free hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. 

"That's why she has hostages."  Imryne pulled her wife into an embrace.  She was so tired, and Tar's small, rounded body was warm against her cold bones.  "I should lie down for a bit if I'm going to have to beard Imrae in her lair tonight.  We should make a production out of me going.  A litter, a troop of guards, some mages."

"Why?" Jevan asked.

She smiled, just a little.  "All eyes are on us.  I would like Fanaedar to believe that I am still on death's door.  We've picked off four of the carrion-eaters; we might get a few more yet."  She kissed Tar and released her.  "Come with me, love.  I have things to tell you about."

So they whiled away a few hours, curled on the chaise together.  Jevan went away and brought Urlryn back with him, and they spoke for a while about the possibilities of the staff, what else it might be able to do.  Eventually, Imryne drifted off into sleep.

They woke, ate the evening meal, and Imryne combed out her hair.  She left off all adornment other than her house symbol.  She hardly ever traveled anywhere in a formal procession—usually, Jevan was all the guard she cared for—but appearances would be everything tonight.  She had Jevan ride in the litter with her, enduring the jerky ride to the doorstep of Vandree.  At the gates, Jevan helped her out of the litter, and she leaned heavily on him as four of her guard detached from the rest to surround her.

Though she had almost brought Quave with her, she'd decided against provoking Imrae on her own ground.  The chances were low that she would recognize Imryne's lean older brother as one of the drider who had served in her house, but this conversation was likely to be difficult.  No need to make it more so.

She kept hold of Jevan's arm as she and her guards were escorted inside.  The Melrae guards, except for Jevan, were told to wait in the courtyard just on the other side of the gates.  Imryne and Jevan were shown into the outer house; there was a reception room that Imrae used when she had matron mothers dancing attendance on her, and it was there that they were taken now.

The door of the reception room was heavy, metal-bound wood, and within it Imrae was ensconced in the only comfortable chair in the place.  The room was designed to feel smaller than it was, the walls and ceiling meeting at uneasy angles.  Even the architecture of this House was meant to keep opponents off-balance.  Imrae herself was as she had been described—younger by many cycles than she had looked last time Imryne had seen her, her eyes filled a lightless black that recalled the deepest places beneath the earth.  She watched them as they came in, expressionless.  Her dress was high-necked and long-sleeved, so elaborate that if she had not been a matron mother Imryne would have wondered if she had to be carried from place to place.

Imryne gingerly took a seat on the other side of a low, bare table from Imrae.  She nodded at Jevan, to let him know he was free to go to his habitual place outside the room, and he turned to go.

"Jevan," Imrae said.  Her voice was quiet, but it held the whip-crack of authority.  "Come sit down."

Confused, Jevan looked at Imryne, then came to sit next to her.  Imryne could feel the tension that his body gave off.  He had never even pretended to like Imrae. 

"What's wrong, Imrae?" Imryne asked.

"Three houses dead, is what is wrong.  Tuin'tarl, Auvryndar, and Barrison Del'Armigo.  Symrivvin's matron mother and her three eldest daughters are dead, and they have declared that they are not seeking vengeance."  This much Imryne knew;  House Symrivvin had, in a series of frantic messages, managed to convince Imryne that they were a house divided and that if certain Lloth elements could be purged, they would publically ally with Melrae.    "How tired are we of this, Imryne?"

Imryne gave Imrae a long, level gaze.  The longer she was in here, the easier it was to stand the gaze of her pit-black eyes.  "Evidently not tired enough to make it stop."

"I am," Imrae said.  "I am tired of the game we play.  Let's put it out there. I know you are Ellistraee worshipers.  I am fine with that.  I am fine with your elven husband.  I want peace.  What will it take to get it from you?"

She sat up straight, narrowing her eyes.  "Peace?  Your version of peace has turned this city into a crumbling hole in the ground."

"Obviously, that isn't working."  Imrae's voice was dry.  She folded her hands.  "Fanaedar was a beautiful city, once. Feared.  Now, we are a wreck.  We are twenty cycles from killing ourselves off with this silent war, if one of the other cities or other races doesn't do it first."

"I know."  The admission hurt, as much as it hurt every time she looked out over Fanaedar and saw it more ragged around the edges.  "But this city used to belong to another goddess, and now it belongs to Lloth. I don't think either side will ever back down."

"Purging your side didn't work," Imrae pointed out.  "Purging our side won't work for you, either.  You can't sweep us all away."

Imryne inclined her head.  "It's a very old disagreement between two goddesses that their followers play out over and over again."

"It is. I can only think that we can make some peace here. I would like to stop the houses dying, both sides."  She was looking at Imryne steadily.  "Is that possible?"

The trouble with Imrae was that she was so damned reasonable, so good at making it sound like they were on the same side after all, working towards the same goals.  "It really depends on the terms of the peace," she said, cautiously.

"I have every reason to believe that you had no part in the battle that caused the four minor houses to band together against Melrae, and cost Jenn'Yxir Olorae her life," Imrae said.  "The magic that ended that battle was not your style, and the Melrae house symbol found in the wreckage too obvious.  I do believe that it was one of your allies.  Name the house, and it will be purged.   From that point on, any attack on a house will have to have very good reasons to attack another.  We can't stop them all from fighting, but we can make them think very hard about it first."

"In other words, we would judge any house that attacked another, and purge that house if we judged that they did not have excellent provocation."  Imryne shook her head.  "It seems reasonable.  But how can you be so sure that it was one of our allied houses that provoked the attack?"

"Melrae house symbols are difficult to come by," Imrae said.  She motioned at the door.  It slammed open as if pushed by an invisible hand, and a pair of guards came in, Alystin held between them.  "Name the house or I kill her. Then in one hour, the next one.  Then the next one."

Imryne spared only a single glance for Alystin.  She looked calm enough, but her eyes were frightened, and she was looking at the Imryne and Jevan as if they were water in a parched cave.  Jevan was tense as a bowstring, and Imryne laid a gentle hand on his knee.   "Seems a terrible way to start a peace, Imrae, with threats against those I love," she said in a low voice.

"It is, and I tried to be reasonable."  Imrae did not so much smile as bare her teeth.  "Name the house."

Imryne tried to think about what she had been told about the battle.  The construct had ended it, that much she knew.  Great magic, worked incomprehensibly quickly.

House Nurbonnis was dead, and only one mage house still standing had that power.  And only one house could stand the full wrath of Vandree brought down upon it.

"Oblodra," she blurted.  "The house was Oblodra."

Imrae's body relaxed slightly.  "Pellanistra. I should have guessed.  That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Betraying one's allies is always difficult.  Or it should be."  Imryne felt her tone sharpen.

"Guards, take Maya back to her room."  The guards dragged Alystin back out, shutting the door loudly behind them.  "Are we agreed to no attacking without cause and council permission?"

Imryne inclined her head.  "Yes, we are."

Imrae gestured again, and a guard came into the room to receive a few words into his ear from Imrae.  The burly female left.  "She will be back shortly," Imrae said.  "I trust you are recovering from your illness?"

"My healers say I will not be fit to take up the matron's duties for some time yet," Imryne replied.  "Challay will continue to represent us in public."

"Bitter news.  Challay is competent, but she is...shall we say...not quite finished yet."  Imrae's smile was cold.  "And what have you done to your hair?  Dying one's hair is a vulgar affectation of the young."

Imryne's own smile was bladed, and she looked into Imrae's eyes without flinching.  "I have walked hand in hand with death for many days," she said, and her voice was quiet and sure.  "That gives one a certain perspective on life.  I have decided to do a few things I have always wanted to do before I go to the caverns for the last time.  Besides," she added, offhanded, "I like it.  Goddess knows that a little color is pleasant, in stone."

Imrae sat back, but they were all spared her response by the guard returning.  She dropped several large sacks on the table between Imrae and Imryne.  "Jewels," Imrae said.  "Yours to fix the city as you see fit, or build yourself an Ellistraee temple.  I will handle reactions of the Lloth houses; you deal with your own.  Oblodra will be purged today. I will keep Maya and her children for the time being.  Good day, House Melrae."  The matron mother of Vandree rose swiftly to her feet and swept out of the room on the arm of her guard.

Imryne rose to her feet, and collected the bags.  "Let's go," she muttered. 

On the way back to Melrae, sitting in the litter with a lapful of jewels, Imryne inspected each of the bags for nasty surprises.  She found none.  "She can be angered," Jevan said in a low voice.

"She can be. And when she's angry, she likes to tie people into knots."  The bags of jewels were just what they appeared to be, fortunately.  "I need to message Pellanistra.  I'm afraid this will break our alliance with them."

"Very likely, unless you can take them out of there."

Imryne thought about how much the transit earlier in the ilit had cost her, and how she still fought to keep her body from trembling.  "We've used the staff together and seen it increase in power," she said, thinking.  "Together, I think we can get a good number of them out and away, even through Imrae's seal.  The rest, with warning, can hide themselves.  It might exhaust us both, but we can do it."

They were just at the gates of Melrae, and when they were within, Imryne sought the privacy of one of the small reception rooms.  She cast the message spell and cast out her message to Pellanistra: House Vandree believes you are responsible for the attack on Melrae that left four lower houses dead, and the altercation on the border that resulted in the death of Jenn'Yxir Olorae.  They will be very quickly moving to purge your house. I can move most of your household, if you allow me and Jevan to transport in and if you have somewhere to go.

She felt the message spell go out, giving off the reassuring feeling that it had reached its target.  She felt the pressure of a return spell, and opened herself to it.  "Why do they believe us responsible?  Yes, we can be moved to the lake where we run our experiments."

Imryne swallowed painfully.  "Because I told them you were, as the only house that I thought might be able to withstand Vandree's wrath.  And I understand if our alliance ends after this."

A pause, as if Pellanistra were considering.  "If this serves a greater purpose to destroy House Vandree, our alliance will stand. Allow the attack to start. We will have several surprises to spring and can probably weaken if not destroy the attacking house, unless Vandree attacks directly."

"I believe they will use the Jenn," Imryne replied.  "Qilue is understandably unhappy.  Message me when you want to leave, and have everyone you want transported gathered in one place."

She felt acknowledgement from Pellanistra and the spell dissipated. Imryne stood and headed to the inner house, Jevan falling in at her shoulder.  "The apartments," she said to him.  "Tar can set up a seeing spell.  We are going to want to watch this."

Tar and Urlryn were already in the apartments, waiting for Imryne and Jevan to return.  Yvonnel, when she saw Imryne, ran over to her and threw her arms around her knees.  She was babbling as Imryne sat down and lifted her youngest daughter into her lap.  Even Sabal had not been this affectionate as a toddler; Yvonnel was all enthusiasm and wet, sticky baby kisses, especially when Imryne was nearby.  Imryne wondered sometimes what her smallest heir was going to be when she grew up.

There was no sense in borrowing trouble.  Tar went and got a scrying bowl and set it up to relay visual information from around House Oblodra.  Within the hour, Jenn'Yxir forces had surrounded Oblodra.  Among the dark uniforms were a number of brighter robes; mages and priestesses from Claddeth had come with the Jenn.    The assault started with beams of energy spewed from the hands of the mages and priests.  Imryne had seen this used before; it was a favorite Claddeth tactic.  The beams worked to weaken the stone; if the magical attack went on long enough, no amount of wards would suffice to keep the stone together, and it would crumble.

Instead of beginning to wear down, the stone of the walls began to glow.  Brighter and brighter it glowed, and Imryne saw a few of the mages falter, worried looks on their faces.  The walls flashed, and light leaped from the walls in hundreds of needle-thin lances.  Each lance sought the heart of one of the attackers; where it touched, drow died.

Fully a quarter of the Jenn forces, and almost all of the mages and priests, perished in seconds.

It was a heavy blow, but the Jenn had never been known for their penchant for turning from a battle once joined.  The Jenn changed tactics, preferring to assault the walls and gate by force.  They took heavy losses from the mages stationed on the walls.  Unfortunately, the wards on the walls had been exhausted; a battering ram breached the gates easily enough.    The Jenn poured through the gates into house Oblodra.  Reinforcements had arrived, replacing those fallen and swelling their ranks by several hundred more.  Watching, Imryne wondered what Pellanistra's true game was.  She knew the Oblodra matron mother as well as anyone who was not one of Indran's faithful might.  Everything that had just happened was deliberate, she would stake her life on it. 

Come to the inner sanctum.

Pellanistra's voice startled Imryne; Yvonnel hiccupped with surprise as her mother stood abruptly.  "Jevan.  It's time."  She swiftly kissed her wives and Yvonnel, then she and Jevan were gone.

The heart of House Oblodra was an enormous Indran shrine.  The chamber was circular, sloping downward with ledges for the faithful to kneel and pray, all lines in the place leading the eye first around and then down to the altar, above which floated a golden twist of light, Indran's chosen symbol.  Imryne and Jevan arrived by the altar.   Pellanistra was almost within arm's reach, and her husband and first son were next to her.  Around them, the close family of Oblodra crowded onto the ledges.  Imryne saw several familiar faces, the T'sarran males who had been married into Oblodra as part of the alliance pact.  There were perhaps a hundred of them, all told.  Imryne had not realized that the inner family of Oblodra was so large.

"How many can you take?" Pellanistra asked.   "And can you do it twice?"

The transit had been significantly easier with Jevan helping.  "I can take all of these. Twice, I'm not sure, but I can try."

Pellanistra nodded, satisfied.  "Good.  Inner courtyard of House Jenn'Yxir first."

Imryne closed her eyes.  She felt Jevan's hand over hers on the staff.  She had never been inside of House Jenn'Yxir, but she hoped that the staff would know what she was asking of it.  She visualized taking all the people present, imagining all of them arriving safely.

There was a heartbeat of hesitation, and then the world changed around them. 

She opened her eyes to see an expansive courtyard, tiled with light stone and with strange statues scattered around.  Imryne heard Pellanistra chuckle, just once.  She had never heard Pellanistra laugh before.  The sound chilled her to her bones.

Then the hundred people she had transported began to spread out, and to kill.

Imryne was swept along in the center of the battle as they moved into the inner house.  House Jenn'Yxir had committed all of their forces to the assault on Oblodra.  Those who were left were the young, the old, and the noble bloodline of Jenn'Yxir.  All of them were slaughtered.  Pellanistra took Qilue herself. 

Oblodra lost about fifteen people.  House Jenn'Yxir was destroyed.

"The rest will be killed by the traps inside Oblodra," Pellanistra said.  "Our living and bodies to the lake, Imryne."

Fatigue was burning in Imryne; she had not even cast a spell during the battle.  "Jevan," she murmured.  He was cleaning his swords on a fallen Jenn's shirt; he came to her, sheathing his steel, and wrapped his hands around hers on the staff.  I don't know if I can do this, she thought.

Not trying was not an option.  She closed her eyes.  The cavern with the lake in it had been pleasant, she remembered.  It was quiet.  She had rediscovered Quave there. 

The world shivered around her, and Imryne tumbled headfirst into darkness.

 

*****

 

There was a warm hand on her head, moving over her face.  It was pleasant, to be touched like that.  It almost made up for the stone she was lying on.

Wait.  Wasn't I—

Imryne opened her eyes.  Above her, Jevan was looking down at her, a concerned look on his face.  "Are you all right?"

Was she?  She wiggled her toes, flexed her hands, and sat up.  Immediately, she regretted doing so.  "My head hurts and I'm a bit dizzy. But I think I'll mend."  She rubbed her temples, wincing.  "Did everyone make it out?"  They were alone by the lake, she could see now.

"They did," he said.  "Pellanistra was here when I woke, but just her.  She said you can message her, but she would prefer you not know their exact location.  She said she would help if you ever attack Vandree, and then she disappeared."

It was as much thanks as she would ever get from Pellanistra.  "I'll miss them. But any other house would have been obliterated.  And that they took down the Jenn before they left..."  She shook her head.  "Took down the house that attacked them.  They'll be a legend in Fanaedar for ages."

"That they will.  Helped us in the long run."

"Yes, it did. We're House 4, now.  As much good as it will do us."  So close, yet the goal seems farther away than ever.

"That we are."  Jevan took her hands, absently interlacing his fingers with hers.  "I don't really know what to do next."

She thought about it, but nothing came to her other than an overwhelming sense of fatigue.  "I don't know, either. We can't take down any more houses right now.  We may just have to take some time, establish some new houses, try to rebuild the city.  We may be able to get the houses above us to war with each other, but..."  She squeezed his hands.  "We have to work on Imrae.  Once she is gone, the rest of the Lloth houses will either fall or leave.  Imrae holds hostages against us for just that reason."

"She doesn't know about the staff," Jevan said.  "It's our advantage. Maybe we can call in a favor?"

"Several," Imryne said, and smiled a little.  "House Argith is out there.  So are the illithids.  The former outcasts, the refugees from Abburth."

"We could try to find other cities that are Ellistraee.  What about dwarves? Old enemies, and all?  My people?"

She almost laughed.  "Dwarves, no.  The only good drow is a dead one, according to them.  Lloth, Ellistraee, Indran, doesn't matter.  We have injured them grievously over the years.  Your people, perhaps, with your mother's help.  Imrae is right, though. We can't eliminate the worship of Lloth in our city."

Jevan looked thoughtful.  "But if we take the city, we can offer them the chance to leave peacefully to Abburth."

"Or we can figure out a way to spread the truth about Lloth and Ellistraee and Corellian," she said.  "Conversion from the worship of Lloth isn't even the ultimate goal. If the two religions could somehow coexist, I think the city would be stronger for it."  She freed one hand to gently rub her eyes.  "Listen to me. The eternal optimist."

"Yes, you are," he said gently.  "It's why I love you.  It's been a long day.  Are you up for the transit home?"

She nodded, climbing to her feet.  The staff had fallen nearby, and she leaned down to pick it up.  "Home," she murmured as she felt Jevan's arms go around her, his hand  closing on the wood of the staff.  "Home."

And they were there, with the walls of Melrae around them.

 

*****

 

Imryne took a deep breath, and spoke the final word of the message spell.

After the first meal this morning, Jevan had made the observation that thought Imryne had known that the staff could transport though wards, she had only found out by accident.  House Jenn'Yxir had certainly had anti-transport wards on their walls; no high house, even one that possessed no magic of its own, would be without them.  Lower houses might skimp on wards if they could not afford mages good enough to set them up, but the Jenn had been the city's enforcers and de facto standing army since the triad of Xalyth, Vandree, and Kilsek had come to power.  They'd had money, and to spare.

Pellanistra was not a worshiper of Ellistraee.  So how had she known that Imryne could do what she had done?

She could only ask.  "If you have a moment, I have a few questions you might be able to answer," she said.

The message spell tightened in Imryne's mind.  "Go ahead," Pellanistra replied.

"You knew, when I showed up with the staff, what it was capable of. How did you know?" she asked.  "I'd only just found out that it could transport me at all."

"One of my mother's studies," Pellanistra replied.  "Know your enemy.  I read books on Ellistraee, mostly on the magic associated with her.  I knew what it theoretically could do, and what it could do with the crystal installed."

Her eyebrows shot up.  "What more can it do with the crystal? We've been learning its limits by experimentation."

"You have found the transportation function. It has the ability to see people and talk to them through it. It can purge all things Lloth in an area, powered by the person or persons wielding it.  It is really set for three people."  Pellanistra's voice had taken on the tone it often had when she was discussing theory.  "It should segment, and three different people old the segments, you should be able to use it as a cage function to trap a Lloth priestess.  Providing you form a triangle around the person.  The last bit is probably conjecture, but supposedly it can be destroyed by command. The implication is that it will somehow purge Lloth's presence from an area or it may somehow convert them. It's unclear and obviously untested."

"Still, good to know. Thank you," Imryne said.  "Are there any other magical items out there that we should know about?"

"Two others that I know of," Pellanistra replied.  "There is a cup somewhere out there that allows those who drink to change their race.  Supposedly created by one of the last great Ellistraee priestesses right before Fanaedar fell to the spiders, it was supposed to be a way to let elves and drow have children without involving the curse."  Imryne remembered that one; it was currently held by House Maerett. "Imrae very likely has something like your crystal; from the rumors of her appearance, I'd have to say that her power is the sort that's only survivable when you have an item to absorb the worst of the side effects.  It is probably embedded in her flesh, somewhere; the setting for it is a flexible netting that grows into the skin of the bearer.  There should be a third set for Corellian, as well.  Jewelry they exchanged when they were married."

Imryne glanced at her staff, her eyes wide.  She carried with her a goddess's marriage gift?  "That would be useful to find.  I'll put out some inquiries and see if we can come up with something."

"That's about all I know," Pellanistra said.  "The more power you put in, the more power you will get out. Three people is best to access the power without harm to you.  You can kill yourself with that staff.  It will draw your life out if you are not careful."

"Yes, I know," Imryne replied dryly.  She'd had to be carried to bed after she and Jevan had arrived home last night.  "I think that was all I needed. Thank you very much, Pellanistra. All honor to your House."

"And to yours. Good luck."  The message spell wavered and broke.

Imryne dropped her head into her hands and rubbed her temples.  There was a light tap at the door.  "Come in," she called.

The office door swung open to reveal Ulitree on the other side of it.  Imryne blinked.  She'd barely seen Ulitree since she had woken a few days ago; the girl had been present for meals, but silent, and she had always slipped away after the meal.  "Matron mother?  Do you have a moment?"

"Of course," she said, smiling.  "Come in, Ulitree, sit down."

Ulitree edged into the room.  She carried a sheaf of paper in one hand, and the other hand was clutching at her skirt, the fabric twisted in her hand.    "I wanted to show these to you," she said after she sat down on the edge of the chair across from Imryne's desk.  "Ryld and I made them.  I've been studying drawing with Thymerline, and after I started to be able to really draw things I saw, Ryld asked if I would draw some pictures for him.  He would put the pictures in my mind, and I would draw them.  We had a lot of fun doing it.  Ryld wanted so much to be able to paint or draw, but he never had the control of his hands he needed.  Anyway...here."  She shoved the papers across the table and sat back in the chair, hugging herself.  She was trembling.

Imryne picked up the first drawing without comment.  Ulitree was good; her hand was sure, and the drawing was quite detailed.  It looked like she used a combination of ink and charcoal.  Imryne recognized the main market square, and the stalls that surrounded it.  A shaft of light was piercing the darkness of Fanaedar, coming from above, and drow were standing around pointing upwards, their indistinct faces filled with wonder.

The next was on a much larger sheet of paper.  It described a house, much larger than any Imryne had ever seen, at least twice the size of Xalyth.  It was a series of interconnected, swirling spirals, with six towers that rose gracefully at the edges and a very tall one in the center.  It was beautiful, massive, made all of white and light gray stone.  To one side, Imryne could see the edges of House Vandree; the shape of the wall was unmistakable.  This house was built where House Xalyth now stood. 

The next was on a smaller piece of paper.  It showed three stones, stacked one atop the other, the divisions between them indistinct, as if they had melted together.  The stone on top had a distinctive rounded top.  Imryne blinked, and looked to the side, where her staff leaned against the wall.

The crystal in her staff had the same rounded top.

"He didn't imagine these," she said, frowning.

Ulitree shook her head.  "I think he...saw them.  Just...keep going."

The next drawing was of an Ellistraee ritual, in a place that was recognizable as somewhere in stone.  The place looked familiar, but Imryne could not say where exactly it was.  The celebrants were dancing, their nude bodies making gestures of joy, and cups on the ground collected rain.  The faces of the celebrants were blank, as if Ryld had not been able to see who they were...or as if they could be anyone.  It was the Star Dance ritual, being performed somewhere underground.

In another drawing, a woman was sitting at a table, her head bent forward, reading books.  Her eyes were not visible—her hair obscured them—but her mouth was set in a thoughtful line.  She wore the symbol of House DeVir on her chest.  A chill went through Imryne as she recognized the cover of the book the drow was holding up.  It was the book of Lloth that they had brought back from Chaulssin.  Beside her were books with Ellistraee and Corellian symbols visible on the open pages.

Imryne set that one aside and picked up the next.  She frowned and sifted through the pile.  Yes, this was the same crystal from the center of the melted crystals, with subtle veins running through it.  In the drawing, it was embedded into the thin arm of a drow woman.  Who it was, Imryne could guess, though her face was turned away.

The next drawing made her eyebrows go up a bit.  There was a drow man and woman making love, the man on top and the woman's legs wrapped around his waist.  The drawing was from an angle that Imryne could see that the male looked a lot like Quave, but the woman's face was hidden.  She had a symbol painted on her arm, like warriors did when they went into the deep.  She was young, pretty, and from House Despana.

Imryne went cold.  Was it even possible that this was a true vision?  Was Quave betraying them?  He had only just arrived back; she had seen her elder brother all of once since she had awakened.  He had been on patrol in the deep when he was taken; patrols were often of mixed houses.  Perhaps, if this was true, it had been back then.  Quave had been affable and handsome when he was young; Sabal reminded her of him sometimes.  She could easily see him falling into bed with someone of an enemy house, even somewhat accidentally.

She took a breath, and put that one aside.

The next drawing made her feels as though she had just been hit in chest with something very heavy.  She stared at it, her mouth working, tears blurring her eyes.  Across from her, Ulitree had gone very, very still.

It was Ryld's wheeled chair, sitting empty in the center of the main room of the matron's apartments, covered in a fine layer of dust.

The moment lengthened as Imryne stared at the drawing, at the mute evidence that her son had known exactly what his fate was going to be.  She remembered his hand tightening on her arm, a glance, a small smile when he spoke of the future.  He had known. 

He had known, and had kept it hidden in the deepest reaches of his heart,

Across from her, there were tears running down Ulitree's face.  "I thought it meant he wasn't going to need it anymore, and it got dusty.  I thought...I thought everything would be all right, some day.  I'm sorry, Matron Mother.  I'm so sorry."

Tears were blurring Imryne's vision, and she scrubbed her hand over her eyes.  Ulitree was curled in on herself, head bowed as if she expected to be hit, or worse.  Such a strange girl, sometimes.   "I am too, Ulitree.  Thank you for bringing these to me."

"I hope they are of help," Ulitree said.  She was beginning to raise her head.  "I would like to help more, if I can.  Please don't hesitate to ask if there is something I can do.  You have given me a home for a long time. I would like to repay you someday for taking care of me."

Imryne shook her head.  "You are a member of the family, Ulitree.  You have been since you came into this house.  You loved Ryld, and he loved you.  It's a comfort to know that he had that before he—"  She swallowed.  "Before he died."

"Taken too soon, and nothing and no one to take vengeance on."  Ulitree, drew a breath in, and let it out, shaking.  Her face, with its angular features that spoke so loudly of the blood of her birth house, was set in lines of pain.  "I have no one to be angry at.  Just this sadness.  It is..."

She looked at the girl—not much of a girl any more, a young woman who had already known love and was tasting the bitter dregs of its sweet wine—and realized that she recognized the expression on her face, how she held her body.  She had seen it in the mirror a number of times in the past.  "It is eating your heart," she said quietly.

Ulitree's head jerked up, and she looked at Imryne with astonishment on her face.  "Exactly!  It feels like it is chewing and chewing on me and it won't stop till it's swallowed all of me."

"I have a suggestion," Imryne said.  Ulitree nodded.  "If you are comfortable with the idea, I would like to send you to see the illithid.  Not for a memory block, but to help keep the grief at bay until you are ready to deal with it."

Ulitree's mouth pursed, then she nodded again.  "I like the illithid," she said, her voice soft.  "I've never really talked to him, because of the rule against it.  I'll go see him if I have your permission to."

"Tell him I asked him to tend to you," Imryne said.  "Thank you for bringing me these, Ulitree."  There was a clear dismissal in her tone.

Ulitree heard it, and was quickly on her feet.  She inclined her head and scurried out the door, nearly tripping over her skirt in her haste to be gone.

Imryne's gaze rested once more on the drawing of the dust-covered chair.  She bowed her head and let the tears fall.

Why couldn't you have said anything, Ryld?  Were you so eager to leave us?  You loved, and were loved.  Did you hate what you were so much that it was worth leaving life behind in hopes that you would find peace in death?

The questions hurt, and accompanying them was an onslaught of self-doubt.  Had she done all she could have to make sure Ryld was as comfortable as it was possible to make him?  Had she failed him so badly without meaning to?  The guilt hurt, burning in her throat.  Her body stiffened.  She knew what came next.  The black wave rising, cresting over her, the descent into the deep...

Only it did not. 

She raised her head, a little puzzled.  There was grief in her, right enough, along with pain and guilt and sadness.  Her body was tired, worn to the bone with first the effects of Ryld's death and then overusing the staff while she was still weak.  Her heartbeat was occasionally unsteady; Tar thought she might have damaged it a bit.  When Imryne looked at herself in the mirror, she could see that what little flesh she'd had on her was nearly gone. 

It should have been enough to push her into an episode.  But though the pain was great, it was staying simply pain.  It was not taking her to the place where one could fall screaming forever and never hit bottom.  Experimentally, she prodded at her memories of Ryld.  Then Triel.  Then Ilfryn.  Then everyone else she had lost.  The darkness did not swallow her.  She could feel something that was shaped vaguely like the darkness in her mind, but it did not move forward to take over. 

Imryne felt oddly forsaken.  The darkness had been her companion for so many cycles that it was odd to have it behaving differently.  The other very odd thing was that there were no longer two Imrynes in her mind.  She'd had that split for so long—the private Imryne and the public—that she had become used to it.  The line had been blurring over the cycles, but the split remained.

It was gone now, as if it had never been.  She was Imryne, and Imryne alone.  Not the daughter of Triel who had been thrust into matron motherhood too young and unprepared, not Melrae Zyn's gawky and awkward younger sister who had adored him utterly.  Not the cruel female who had traveled into the lower city to lose herself in empty pleasure with strangers.  Not even a mother of ten extraordinary children, or wife to three people who she loved more than her own life. 

She was Matron Mother Melrae Imryne, beloved of Ellistraee, and everything that encompassed.

She took a breath and rose, to go find her loves and discuss plans with them.