An Error in the Ledgers

Gimme_a_Hand_Scaevola

Summary:
In the middle of the meeting, in the middle of a sentence, Kimmuriel turned in his seat to
look at her, the bespectacled little mathematician incongruous to their dark business.
Plucked out of a sunlit bakery by Jarlaxles knack for sussing out profitable partners, her
acumen catches Jarlaxles eye, but it is something else which has occupied his lieutenant.
Jarlaxle/OC Kimmuriel/OC

Chapter 1: Chapter 1
In a dimpled valley between green hills was tucked a pretty little town. The town was rather
well cared for as towns go. The streets were well paved with the large cream colored stones
found around the brook that had imparted the town with the accurate if not terribly
imaginative name, Brooksong. The houses were neatly thatched with goldenrod straw and
the buildings were, for the most part, promptly repaired when they became frayed.
The inhabitants of Brooksong were rather proud of their kept and cleaned town. They had
made their hedges straight and made sure to learn the names and habits of all of their
neighbors. It was far enough from any coast to keep vagabonds from accumulating and an
unyielding habit of cold shouldering establishments of ill repute kept the town free of too
frequent misadventure.
Inside this town lived a very old man, Rheffus Eleanor, although he hadnt been called
Rheffus since his wife had passed in the decade prior, though even she had not called him
that often, preferring the more descriptive, Fussy. He was only Eleanor to anybody else. This
old man, who stooped when he walked and could never quite shake the tremor from his
hands nor entirely stop coughing, owned a small store in what had once been on
Brooksongs main street.
It wasnt any longer, the town being tucked against a hill they had expanded only to the
south. The main thoroughfare had following, and the bustling of shoppers and people going
about regular business usually missed Eleanors little store. The store itself didnt have a
name. If Eleanor were to be asked, he would wonder patronizingly why the only store of its
kind in a little town would need a name.
Although Eleanor perhaps had quieter reasons than that to pull down the beautifully painted
sign from the front of his shop. Though to be more accurate, to pay good strong boys to pull
the sign down. He was far too old to do any sort of destruction of the physical kind. But he
was right about it being the only one of its kind. Eleanors unnamed little store sold books.
Now, books were generally expensive in this sort of town and Brooksong was not an
exception. And Eleanor did not stock the cheap serial sort of thing people might gamble
about on the street. He was quick to tell an inquirer that this sort of rag was trite, and not
worth the coppers it cost. More than that, Eleanor was a smart little man and knew if he
stocked those cheap and popular little serials people would be jostling in and out of his store
all the time. Perhaps even having their eye caught on a more solid and expensive books they
had no idea they were interested in. Perhaps even walking out with their pockets lighter and
their
arms
full
of
new
tomes.
Eleanor
could
imagine
nothing
worse.
The shelves of his store were his life work. He sold a copy occasionally when he had little
coin left for the meager rations he gnawed at with aging teeth and once a year he sold
something good to buy a particularly colorful bouquet of flowers. But mostly he glowered
until people left, when any came at all. He liked sitting in his book shop and looking at the
mostly full shelves. He liked drinking a strong cup of tea and smelling the pages. And he
thought that if it were just him and just in the evening of his life, he might just sit in his shop
and drink his tea and smell his books as he liked.
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Eleanor did, however, have a single someone whom he would count as a friend, being the
last one left after he had so foolishly outlived everyone of his own age. She, of course, had
not been a friend of his though his many years, she was a new social acquisition. She had
not grown up in town, as anyone with more than a bit of fluff between their ears might
guess, looking at her pointed ears and light step. But Eleanor liked her just the same.
He had not thought that he would, when she moved her few belongings into the small room
across the street from his shop. Most elves he had known were haughty and vain, or at least
that is what Eleanor saw in them. But she liked his books. He let her borrow them and she
read them and then, having brought him a cupcake or muffin or croissant, would drink tea
with him and tell him thoughts about his books that had never condensed for him in all his
readings of them.
The little elf, he didnt know if she was just small for humans or small for her kind as well,
worked as an assistant at a very cute bakery that was doing very well on the main street. He
had only been inside her bakery once. He didnt much mind that she was not the owner, he
would go right on calling it her bakery. It was called Cupcake, and was decorated in all
manner of pastel colors and floral arrangements.
She worked mostly in an undirtied apron of pretty colors bringing multicolored cupcakes to
the establishments patrons, rather than in the back making any sort of pastry. She wasnt
especially good at making pastries but she was quite good as serenely smiling at patrons
and remembering the names and preferences of regulars. Extraordinarily good, really. A
person needed only to go in once and she would remember any detail that person were to
drop. She would recall if they didnt much care for nuts, or had a particular fondness for
apple tarts, or perhaps if a person quite liked the seat by the door that got the most sun, or
the little table tucked in the corner that was never jostled.
Most days, when she finished her work, Eleanor would see her walking back up the street
toward her little room and hed put a mark in the book he was working on and put on a
kettle. Just as the kettle would start to sing, she would come through his door, the bell above
it tinkling as she entered. She usually brought him something to eat, although it could never
properly be called dinner.
She was not pretty enough and he was not young enough, for her visits to garner any
attention from the neighbors. This suited the both of them, who kept each other awake into
the small hours discussing whatever book he had allowed her to go home with a few days
before.
It was the prospect of this sort of evening that Eleanor was rather looking forward too,
although it was many hours away. Soon he would find something for lunch then busy himself
in a book to pass the time before evening.
Eleanor did not know, for how could he, that he would not be seeing the bookish little elf
that evening, nor any other evening again.
But just then, in the first hours of her shift, as unawares of the change in her future as poor
Eleanor, the small elf affixed a name plate saying Tega to her blouse and tied a pale pink
apron around her waist.
The patrons of Cupcake were quite fond of little Tega, despite their reluctance to really like
any elf. She was quite a bit more plain that the other elves that had come across the town.
She didnt possess the other worldliness of most elves, which was perhaps her lack of that
ethereal beauty common to her race. Few, especially among humans, would call her
unbecoming, but hers was an earthier prettiness that came hair the shade of oatmeal and
soft brown eyes. For one of her race, she was quite plain, but that mattered little to the
people of Brooksong.
She could not be called introverted, nor shy. But she had about her a steadiness and soft
spoken nature that endeared her to the inhabitants of the town. It was these qualities that
kept her employed.
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On this particularly sunny morning, around eleven oclock, Tega was quite ready to meet the
day. Her hair, which refused to decide if it was straight or wavy, was pinned behind her ears.
She kept her hair cut short, only long enough to pin her bangs out of her brown eyes. She
didnt like keeping her hair long, when it wasnt so short it got stuck on the hinges of her
little brass spectacles. The spectacles were round and well kept, though not new, and they
balanced precariously on her thin nose. It was through these spectacles that she saw just
how horribly her unfortunate morning was going to be.
It had started so well too. She had woken up early, and nearly made it through her newly
borrowed book on the little porch of her rented building before she tidied herself up to come
to work. She was even wearing her favorite skirt. It was yellow and pleated around her
knees. Yellow didnt really suit her, but she was very fond of it.
She would have liked to live in a world where if you were not quite through a book you really
liked and if you were wearing a skirt that you very much liked to twirl in, and if the sun were
coming so picturesquely through the large windows overlooking the bakerys spindly cafe
tables and chairs, that nothing too terrible could ever come upon you.
Of course, she knew that horrible things didnt care if you were right in the middle of a very
nice day, they were simply horrible.
She had seen the impending disaster when she turned back to heed the bell tinkling that
announced a new visitor. She had been leaning in the swinging door separating the bakerys
colorful front and industrious back and laughing quietly at the shouted commentary between
the baker and the bakers teenaged daughter. She she turned she hoped the patron would
be Mrs. Trundle, who was nearly six months pregnant and very fond of anything made with
peaches, of which there was a new cobbler. But it was not a pink cheeked, round bellied,
almost mother.
Tegas teeth clicked shut and each of the muscles in her stomach gripped her organs tightly.
She felt very cold. She wanted to compulsively take off her spectacles and clean them, but
she did not. Standing in the sun dappled bakery with a wide and glimmering smile was a
black skinned drow. Behind him lurked a second, though this one was not smiling, but
looking dour and harassed.
Tega was not well versed in the fashions of the Underdark, but she thought she could
assume safely that the smiling drow did not heed them. His head was shaved entirely and a
glittering eyepatch covered one of his eyes, his right. He was bedecked in all manner of
tinkling jewelry and covered only in tight fitting leather pants and a high cut vest with
nothing underneath. This particular choice revealed the entirety of his abdomen and nearly
all but a small portion of his chest. Tega tugged at the hem of her snugly fit, cream colored
sweater as she tried not to shiver.
The drow behind him did not share in his companions tastes. His long hair was carefully
brushed and gleamingly white. He wore long, dark robes that concealed nearly his entire
body. Tega flitted her eyes between details of their clothes and hair, looking anywhere but
their skin.
Tegas fingernails bit into her hand. She was inclined to scramble over the counter and flee,
but a particularly well cultivated virtue of hers was level headedness. If they were planning a
raid and had a hundred other drow waiting in the wings, there would be nothing for it and
escaping these two might only make her a target. If they were not, it was perhaps best to
keep them quite happy and hope they went away. She had no illusions about fighting passed
them. If there were only one drow and he were blind, unarmed, and had only the use of one
of his arms and neither of his legs, she probably couldnt fight passed him.
She returned the smile of the glittering drow only a little timidly. His smile broadened. If
there was something she was not going to do, it was quake and shiver in front of them, that
too, she thought might draw the attention of their violence.
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She focused for a moment and addressed him with an unquavering voice, Can I get you
anything? She even managed to maintain her smile.
He beamed grandly at her, Yes, he said emotively and pointed down at a cupcake with
decadent pink frosting, That.
With twinkling eyes, he looked back at his companion, Kimmuriel, velbol xun dos
ssinssrin? Tega didnt know the drow language but the unsmiling one didnt reply and
scowled deeply at his companion.
Moving with purposeful slowness, Tega fetched the cupcake he had selected and put it on a
yellow patterned plate alongside a fork. She straightened and reached across the counter,
proffering the plate to him, he took it and dropped and entire gold piece into her hand. Each
of his fingers was encrusted with a gem encrusted ring.
He turned with a flourish and settled himself into the most sun drenched of all the sun
drenched tables, his companion, Kimmuriel, Tega had thought she had heard him called, sat
across from him, back turned resolutely away from the sun.
Tega set her jaw, the gross overpayment irritated her. It could be argued that there were
more pressing concerns. It could also be argued that the most sensible thing would be to
take the payment and act very thankful for it. But if it had been just her to consider, she
would have given him his change and let him know that she knew what he was about. Tegas
hand even twitched on the lock of the money box as she deposited the coin. But Mrs.
Huddles, the proprietor, had a teenage daughter and a much younger son. Regardless of
pride, the gold was not Tegas to give back. She put it carefully in the money box and locked
it back up securely.
As she would for any patron, she readied two cups of tea and carried them on a little white
tray to the drows table, laying it down softly on the table.
The bald drow looked up at her, smiling, Thank you. he said happily.
It wasnt as though she was not frightened. But her fear manifested in still movements and a
straight spine, rather than shaking hands and trembling lips.
Her gaze spanned the table as she turned away, spread out before them was some sort of
ledger. She nearly flinched. It was inconsistent and messy, black ink marks in untidy rows
and sloppy columns.
She retreated behind the counter, nearly quailing under the press of the other drows dark
glower. The ledger, illogically, irritated her nearly as much as the drow daring to come into a
wholesome bakery like this at all. If one were to bother to keep a ledger, one ought to do it
neatly enough for it to be of any use at all.
Her impulse was to fix it. Though this was, perhaps, not the most pragmatic instinct.
She tucked herself behind the counter, after having warned the baker and her daughter to
stay put in the back, and hoped the drow would leave quickly. According to the well labeled
timesheet in the counters topmost drawer Tega was only to watch the counter until the
afternoon after which the aforementioned teenage daughter, Ariel, who had only just turned
fifteen, would take over. Tega was not able to be unmerciful enough to allow this. She
instructed Mrs. Huddles to keep her daughter in the back and that Tega would be happy to
stay until the dark skinned deviants left. Ariel regained a bit of her usual color after that.
The aforementioned dark skinned deviants stayed a long time. But they did not spend it
alone. While the bald drow worked his way through a number of cupcakes, they met with a
string of pretty girls in varying states of terror, all clutching the same, elegantly designed
advertisement.
The grouchy one didnt say a word except to his companion and in drow but the other asked
them a myriad questions, all while covertly watching the reactions of his companion with no
small amount of amusement. He was, it seemed, looking for some sort of assistant, although
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he was more interested in twitching his eyebrows at them suggestively and praising their
looks.
None of the pretty, unfailingly busty girls showed much promise as far as being of any use.
Tega didnt judge them too harshly though, heavily inclined toward organization and
academic excellence or not, it was hard to put ones best foot forward while sitting across
from a pair of dark elves. One of them might have been a world renowned mathematician
and simply quaked too much to let any of it come across. It may even have been possible for
the one to have put them at ease if his snarling companion had not been with him. Although
Tega suspected that it was the dour companions disdain that made this entertaining for the
other one.
It became increasingly anxiety inducing for Tega to watch the girls quake under the heavy
stares of the drow and squirm uncomfortably when they whispered to each other in drow.
Tega did wonder how much gold they had been promised to endure it, or if they were just
too afraid to leave. The smiling one had introduced himself to her but, though usually quite
good at names, she hadnt gotten it. It had started with a J she thought. To stave off the
squirming sensations of watching the drow interact with the unfortunate surface girls, she
tried idly to remember it.
Finally, after the ninth girl had fled from the door and the sun was beginning to set, the other
one, Kimmuriel she was sure by now, stood angrily and strode out the door, growling,
Nindol zhah natha wahven dussta draeval!
Laughing, the other followed him out, calling out cajolingly after him.
They left the ledger on the table.
Tega watched them get smaller and smaller down the street and wiped her hands on her
narrow hips. She crossed to their table and, picking up a used plate, glanced down at the
messy book.
She had always loved numbers. She loved how they didnt change and she loved how they
didnt have any secrets or ulterior motives. She loved that if you knew how to talk to them
you could make them do anything. She traced a skinny finger down the ledger, trying to
follow the unkempt lines.
She frowned and put down the plate she had been holding as pretense and took up the
ledger instead, giving it her full attention.
She looked carefully at the numbers, drow and elven shared an alphabet and even without
understanding their language she understood the bookkeeping. Or rather, the excuse for
bookkeeping. There was almost a pattern to the idiocy of the messy bookkeeping and she
could follow it quite well after only a few pages. She bit at her lip and her blood quickened
with excitement. There was something hidden. Something done not quite right. It was
hidden quite well, underneath the poor penmanship and inconsistent style that disguised it.
In her head she reorganized the little scrawled numbers and clicked them deftly into place in
straight little lines that could be easily deciphered. After that it was all very obvious.
Interesting reading?
She turned her head swiftly and lowered the book, starring over it at the colorful drow, who
had returned and was looking at her expectantly.
She glanced from the book to the drow and bit into her lip. She wasnt sure it was a good
idea to tell him, what if it was him that was doing it? She should just smile idly and hand it
back. She should go back behind the counter and let him leave. But she had become very
excited to have found it and her desire to set the book to rights was becoming quite
desperate.
Do you keep these?
He raised an elegant eyebrow, Do you mean do I write them? No. No, I dont.
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But.. she hesitated, But, it is your money they are keeping track of.
He preened and smiled lasciviously at her, Yes.
They are, she faltered only momentarily, stealing from you.
The preening stopped and the smile slid from his face, replaced with sudden malice,
What? The word was clipped and not in the musical, lilting tone of before.
This was what she had feared and she took a swift step backwards away from the drow.
Although she kept the book clutched against her chest.
But, damage done, she thought she might at least show him everything, Whoever is
keeping your books is stealing from you. Quite a lot.
How do you?
She let her enthusiasm overtake her trepidation and she spread the book on the table. in her
excitement to explain the puzzle solving she nearly forgot to be afraid that he was a drow.
She traced her fingers quickly down the pages, You see, these inconsistencies, they are the
same, can you see? she showed him the each piece, her words flitting out of her mouth
before she could stop herself, getting nearly jittery in her enthusiasm. More garbled
numbers than communicable words were spilling out of her as she tried to show him the
intricate puzzle work.
He had stopped trying to follower her fingers and was looking at her instead, his grin
lingering at the edges of his mouth, How long were you looking at this?
She shrugged her thin shoulders, A minute or so?
You discovered this in a minute or so?
Yes, she said shortly, And whomever it is youve allowed to manage this leger should feel
ashamed of both his penmanship and organization.
He leaned back on his heels and regarded her, Could you do better?
She pursed her lips then said in clipped words, Well, to be frank an orc with a concussion
could do better but of course I could.
He fixed her with a conniving grin, Would you like a job?
She bit her tongue, I have a job.
Yes, and while Im sure bringing people pastries is quite fulfilling for you, how would you like
to organize the records of complicated mercenary organization? He smirked at her and
tilted his eyebrows, Lots of intrigue, plenty of little puzzles to sort out.
He was not entirely wrong. She enjoyed working for Mrs. Huddles. She enjoyed remembering
what sort of bagel the early morning customers liked and she enjoyed keeping the front of
the store in pristine condition. But the occupation lacked enough depth to utilize her.
In the Underdark? she asked.
He shrugged his nearly bare shoulders, The city of Menzoberanzan specifically.
She frowned and looked at him with nearly improper intensity. A long moment passed,
awkwardly long, but her eyes were hard and she answered in a sure voice, Yes.
***
A long distance to the east from little Brooksong, stood a thick and imposing forest darkened
by ropey vines and wet earth. Inside its trees crept unimagined beasts with snarling fangs or
dripping venom. Outsiders to the forest, who werent equipped with the rations or hard
earned knowledge to survive its many perils, were often lost irrevocably, unable to even call
out for help from the forests indigenous inhabitants.

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Because the forest did not have indigenous inhabitants and had not for many years. But it
had once, many years before a peculiarly dressed drow struck an unexpected bargain with a
small and tidy elf in a sunlit bakery to the west. That long stretch of time before the forest
had played home to a tribe of elves.
These elves dressed themselves in little more than scraps of woven vines or animal skins.
They decorated their skin with dark ink that told of accomplishments and the passage of
time. They wound their hair in thick patterns and lived among the trees.
Among these elves had been one particularly tall and stiff jawed. His name was Khovus and
he was, and had been since he had come of age, the chief of the elves who followed him. His
well muscled arms and chest were covered in inky inscriptions of past deeds and felled foes
and about his wrist hung a golden band made to look like branches.
Khovus had once been married, but the lady to whom he had bound himself for perpetuity
was no longer among his people. The eldest of his children joined him in refusing the speak
of it and the other three had been far too young to remember her departure.
Meika was the name of his eldest, a son, and following smartly in his fathers footsteps. He
was an adult by the standards of his people, that is, he had completed his ritual, and
assisted his father in the leadership of the tribe. The youngest were twins, rare among elves
and supposedly a sign of good fortune. Both of them were also sons, Shikra and Drindok.
They were bright and inseparable boys who managed to win the affection of their father no
matter his reticence to give it out.
Khovus middle child, and his only daughter was something of an enigma to the charismatic
and outspoken leader. Tega, as her mother had named her, was more like her mother than
any of his other children in looks but her demeanor was like that of neither her father nor her
mother.
She was small, had always been small, and her body refused to grow the defined and quick
moving muscles of her people. Her skin remained a milky pale like her moon elf mother, but
her hair didnt mimic her mothers gleaming ebony be stayed a dull mousey brown.
Her looks he didnt so much mind, but she was not like his other children who were bursting
at the seams for adventure and excitement. Nor did she possess their innate physical ability.
He had not had to teach them to climb the vines into their lofty, tree borne home. But no
matter how many times he instructed her she could not pull herself up on her own.
It was always a fight to get Tega to come out hunting with him, although she desperately
needed the practice. She was much more content to sit reading and rereading one of the
eight or so books her mother had left behind in a trunk.
It wasnt that Khovus didnt love his daughter, he just found that it was difficult to connect
with her. His sons didnt require talking in order for him to feel close to them, they prowled
silently alongside each other or crafted weapons side by side but not the girl. She liked to sit
and to listen.
He worried about her. It was becoming more and more clear as she grew and failed to
become any sort of hunter or fighter that she had not been designed for this particular
home. It was dangerous and people who couldnt defend themselves didnt last very long.
For a number of years he had wondered just what he was to do with little Tega.
***
When the drow had introduced himself for a second time, she had remembered his name,
Jarlaxle. His office, when they arrived, was lush. It was covered with a thick and immensely
soft carpet and hung with all manner of fineries. His desk stood near the back, centered
between the two side walls. It was a grand thing, made of carved stone with many locked
drawers and a plush purple cushioned chair.

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Tucked behind the door, pushed nearly into the corner was another desk, this one smaller
with a little stool to sit on. There were few adornments on this one, but Tega ran her fingers
along the edge of it, her head tilted.
Jarlaxle tapped the desk smartly, So, youll work here, Ill have all of the old books brought
up to you and you can start your reorganizing.
She furrowed her brow and looked over at him, Why is it lit?
What?
Why do you keep your office lit? I thought drow prefer infravision.
He spun around and glimmered at her, his white teeth flashing in the lantern light, Oh, they
do! I like to put the Matrons off their guard! He said grandly, with the air of someone trying
to impress.
She worried at her lip and peered through her glasses at his lavish desk and the papers
scattered messily atop it. And Im sure you cant write without lighting. Im sure you write a
lot.
He deflated a bit and glanced down at his immaculate fingernails, Well yes.
She pulled the stool out quietly and sat down, smoothing her skirt beneath her. She looked
across the office at Jarlaxle, who was watching her, she straightened her spectacles.
Despite hiring her and escorting her from her sun warmed apartment into the dark cave of
the Bregen Daerthe headquarters, he didnt seem to know quite what to make of her. But it
did even things out that she had no idea what to make of him.
She imagined that the desk had been put in the corner of his office because he objective on
the surface seemed to have been ornamentation. Not that she was complaining. He wanted
her alive and she felt more comfortable under his direct protection.
A knock interrupted their sizing each other up.
Enter. Jarlaxle called, he flashed her another toothy smile, Your books.
A scowling and rather short drow male came in, carrying a large pile of leather bound
volumes of different sizes and thicknesses. Tega flinched.
He approached her desk, sneering at her threateningly. She held firm. From a distance above
he dropped the books so they thunked loudly on the rickety desk. She curled her fingers into
her skirt.
Relieved of the books the surly drow turned to go, but he was called back by Jarlaxles
cheery voice, Draerel!
The drow turned and took nearly hesitant steps back to Jarlaxles desk.
Jarlaxle had risen while Draerel was depositing the books and circled around his desk. He
was now leaning almost casually against it. A smile bright on his lips. Draerel stopped a few
feet from Jarlaxle, apprehension clear on his features.
His smile dissolving, Jarlaxle lunged elegantly forward, a sword that seemed to grow from his
hand piercing Draerels heart and skewering him in the middle of the office, Xun naut
olplynir dal unsaa. Jarlaxle said darkly, then he repeated himself in Common, Do not steal
from me.
The attack had startled Tega. Although she had suspected that whomever had been stealing
would not meet a nice ending, she wasnt entirely ready to watch someone be killed at her
feet. The body scraped off the blade and tumbled to the floor. She reasoned that this is what
she had gotten herself into but nonetheless stiffened, keeping herself very still. The drow
had already been dead when the Jarlaxle had repeated his threat in Common and Tega was
quite certain it had been meant for her.
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Jarlaxle was looking at her, she bit the inside of her lip for only a moment before calmly
saying, Im going to need blank consistent ledger volumes.
He tilted his head back and laughed with real mirth, Youre better than I would have given
you credit for.
Anxious to see if she lived up to his hopes, he got her her new ledger volumes within the
hour.]
The moment she got her fingers on them she began the arduous process of recopying old
records from their ungainly scrawling to neat little lines. She sat in perfect silence, the slim
metal pen scratching softly across the pages. It felt, to Tega, like a cleaning of her own brain.
The messy ledgers that she didnt fully understand yet had introduced an unwelcome clutter
that she was very much enjoying setting to rights. It, had the added challenge of sums
disappearing every so often. Beside the ledger she had a dark slate board she used for her
calculations.
Jarlaxle glanced up at her occasionally as she steadfastly worked, looking up briefly only
when his door opened to allow in the stream of visitors who had scheduled meetings with
him. Other than the rigidity of her shoulders, her demeanor didnt change, even with the
addition of the, often scowling, drow who came and went from the cozy chairs set before his
desk.
It was late when he dismissed the drow who guarded him from the extradimensional pockets
festooned throughout the office. This did startle her. Then, of course, who wouldnt be
startled by fifteen drow males slipped from seemingly nowhere armed to the teeth?
She watched as they stalked from the room, holding her pen very tightly, her thin nose
flared. Jarlaxle rose after them and thoroughly locked the door behind them. His
uninterrupted evenings were when he got through most of his tedious paperwork. Three long
and dry reports were waiting for him and a dozen missives that needed his consultation. He
settled back behind his desk and retrieved his own plumed quill.
Tega worked with him, late into the night.
When, at last, his eyes itched with tiredness and the final missive was tucked away to be
sent off by messenger first thing in the morning, he rose and stretched. Tega looked up at
him.
I will show you to your chambers, if youd like.
She cleaned off the tip of her pen, carefully erased the work on her slate and, marking her
pages, closed the ledgers, locking them in her desk. She rose, flexing her, surely sore,
hands. That would be lovely.
She paid careful attention as he led her town the twisting hallways, determined to learn the
route between her chambers and the office by heart. It seemed a dangerous place to get
lost.
He opened a door for her and allowed her to pass him, into the small room. He grinned at
her, The door is warded and locked from the inside and my mercenaries have been warned
against troubling you, but, he said, proffering a slim pendant, Do shout if they try
anything.
She took the pendant, Goodnight, Jarlaxle.
He beamed, Goodnight, Tega.
***
It went on very much like that for weeks. Tega very carefully fixing the bands records while
Jarlaxle met with scowling Elderboys and irate Matron Mothers and send letters and
commands throughout the drow inhabited underdark.
9 | Page

Six weeks into her employment, she finished recopying the logs and they now sat on a shelf
that had been installed behind her desk, organized and labelled chronologically.
Jarlaxle had barely noticed she had finished, she moved so efficiently from one task to the
next. Only because of her tidy system and a rather lax day for him did he spot something
had changed.
She had returned to the earliest log book, one copied from an original made long before the
thieving and now dead ex-accountant had been a member of the organization. It was easy to
tell what she was working with, a dark hole left in the spot on the shelf where the book
should be.
Her transparency intrigued Jarlaxle, nearly as much as her enthusiasm for what he might
consider one of the most boring tasks that couldnt be avoided.
But he said nothing, allowing her to continue with whatever project she had come up with.
He didnt have the time to coddle her into what work had to be done and he wanted to
discover what she came up with one her own.
It took her three months to finish this project. But this time she alerted him to its
completion. During the hours after Jarlaxles guard had been dismissed and when they
finally rested, she got up from her desk, crossed the room and deposited a slim stack of
papers, labeled, numbered, and clipped together onto the corner of his desk without a word.
He looked up at her, her bangs, as they were every day, were clipped out of her eyes and
her brass spectacles sat squarely on her nose. She had a pale blue blouse peaking out of a
white sweater and a skirt that brushed her knees.
What is this?
She wriggled her nose to push her glasses back and, when that was ineffective, took the
bow between her fingers and nudged them back instead, Its a fiscal report. She flipped
the cover page and revealed immaculately crafted graphs, It tracks your gains and losses
through the last century.
Finished with his questions or not, she turned and sat back down at the rickety stool behind
her desk.
Jarlaxle put down Kimmuriels report on the defenses of a doomed house. As necessary as it
was, Kimmuriel could write a report on a dashing young rogue making his way through all
the finest specimens in a particularly well kept brothel and it would still be intolerably dry.
He picked up Tegas report instead.
It was impressively lovely. Perhaps not brilliance in its own right but she had turned the last
centuries gapped and inexact record keeping into meticulous depiction of growth and decay.
He skipped to a portion labelled, House War Profitability Margins - Menzoberanzan and
scanned it. He grinned.
She had recorded and determined a ratio of of house defenses to average profit and then
simplified it to an estimated requisite cost of a house war dependent upon the houses rank.
He glanced over the report at her. She was back at work, ink staining the tips of her fingers,
with an adorable little smear of it across the tip of her nose. He watched her shift
uncomfortably on her stool, readjust, and return to writing.
He leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the desk, thoroughly perusing her
report. He dog eared pages and made notes at his leisure. After a few moments, and when
he as less entranced with her gift than he had been a minute ago, he blinked and called over
to her, You wrote the report in drow.
She looked up, Of course I did, this is a drow institution.
He chuckled, You should improve your grammar.
She flushed nearly crimson, I can rewrite it.
10 | P a g e

He laughed, Nonsense, its endearing he winked roguishly.

She blinked very quickly and adjusted her glasses, staring back down at the papers in front
of her.
He watched her bite at her bottom lip a few times then look purposefully back up at him,
Would I be able to get a straight edge with cork lining the bottom?
I dont know. He said sighing, That is a very tall request.
Minute lines appeared between her brows, Then enjoy the imprecise graphs. She said
cuttingly.
Jarlaxle really did laugh at that, Well, if the precision of your graphs is on the line I suppose
you shall have to have your straight edge.
***
The next day she came to her desk to discover a straight edge sitting atop a massive pile of
loose leaf papers. She paged through some of it, What is this?
Jarlaxle glanced up, All the records I could find, weapons and jewelry weve taken from
houses or been given as payment, casualties, where we picked up recruits; anything I
thought you could make use of.
Her eyes lit up and she pressed her lips together as she fixed him with a little smile. Ill get
right to work.
An hour later she barely acknowledged him when he said he was going to a meeting and
would be out the rest of the day. He dismissed the guard before he left and locked her into
the office. Although he had been particularly fierce in his renewed order that no harm was to
come to her, he didnt trust a fifteen very bored drow alone with her all day.
And now she had a new and exciting project. She had always had an affinity to numbers but
had had very few opportunities to put her knowledge to any practical use. She wondered if
this was a first time occurrence or system that would be established. When she completed
her next project would she be rewarded with new tools and interesting records?
She intended to find out.

11 | P a g e

Chapter 2: Chapter 2
As had already become custom in the time she was working for him, Jarlaxle found Tega in
his office, already working by the time he was just thinking of getting started. He was still
not entirely used to sharing his office, but he had taken to it rather well. He liked having
someone to make idle conversation with, even if she didnt often talk back.
Good morning, Tega. He said, turning his broad smile on her as he came in.
She looked up from her work. Already her fingers were stained with ink and papers were
stacked neatly around her, long strings of numbers carefully marked on straight lines.
She returned his smile, with a little less enthusiasm, Good morning, Jarlaxle.
When he had put the desk in the corner, he hadnt thought that he would actually fill it. He
hadnt needed and assistant. He kept his own schedule well enough. He had only been
having fun with Kimmuriel. He may have also been reminding the uppity psion that if Jarlaxle
wanted to waste his time he had every right, but that wasnt the point. He had not really
meant to fill the desk with an awkward little elf.
He settled himself in, working on the last few touches on a number of letters he had been
working on the night before then picking up reports he had yet to work through. He eyed the
one on top skeptically.
It was a report on the profits from a long running house war he had allowed his lieutenants
to manage. It had been a mediocre job but they had been able to squeeze enough gold from
the houses pockets to make it worthwhile.
The report was messy, with many scratchings out and revisions. The handwriting left much
to be desired and the cramped little letters smudged together on the page. That was the
problem with male drow. Unless they were wizards no one ever thought it was profitable to
teach them to write very well. Some took to it well enough but if there was no natural talent
they ended up writing like goblins. He flipped through it, counting ten pages of report. It was
too early for a headache.
He leaned back in his chair and peered at his accountant from under his hat. There was no
reason he had to spend his very valuable time going through a financial report. She could
clean it up and make pretty little graphs about it.
Just as he was deciding that it could be her barely legible problem, there was a light knock
on his door.
Yes, come in! He called, recognizing the knock.
A familiar young drow came in with his eyes lowered. He had been picked out of his house
when he was still quite young and virile, just a few days out of Melee Magthere. He was
more pretty than useful, something he had used to get through school mostly unscathed. He
bore with him what he always did at this time of day, breakfast.
He laid the tray on the desk, shyly glancing up at Jarlaxle as he did, Captain. he said in
hardly more than a whisper. Like a good, well trained, boy he dropped his gaze again to the
floor before retreating out of the room.
Jarlaxle plucked a few of the choicest treats off of the tray and deposited them onto a small
plate. He rose with his terrible report and crossed the office to Tegas little desk.
I have a gift for you! He announced in a cheery voice.
She looked up quietly, her glasses slipping down her nose.
He set down the breakfast and handed her the report with a flourish.

12 | P a g e

She took it, straightening her glasses and inspecting it. It seemed to take her a few
moments before she even understood what it was. Oh, she said with a small crease
wrinkling her brow, Thank you.
He laughed, Youre quite welcome, he said with a wink. He was halfway back to his desk
when she stopped him.
Is this urgent?
More out of curiosity how she would respond than really needing it this second, Jarlaxle
replied, Yes, finish it within the hour will you?
Color rose in her cheeks. Jarlaxle watched her bite down on her tongue and clench her
shoulders. She held that tense position for a few seconds before saying, Thank you for
breakfast.
He grinned and returned to his desk. There was no reason he needed it within the hour, but
he was still trying to get a handle on her abilities.
He barely got anything done in the next hour. He spent most of it covertly watching her from
under the brim of his hat.
She had set aside her other work and had a neat array of four materials. The open ledger
book where she recording each additional gain and cost, the report itself, a fresh paper, and
a black tome he didnt recognize. She was writing in a flurry, not pausing to notice that in
her speed flecks of ink were marring her pretty cream colored sweater.
Every once in awhile she would pause and write something slowly on her slate in chalk and
then rifle through the book. She fixed her glasses so often Jarlaxle was tempted to buy her
something better fitting himself.
Exactly one hour, to the minute, her writing went in an instant from furious to silent and she
stood to present him with a mercifully brief report. It was nicely labeled, neatly organized,
and finished off with a lovely little table of acquisitions. It was here where he started.
Wordlessly, though with a triumphant little swing in her step, she returned to whatever she
had been working on before.
He started in on the report. Her handwriting was beautiful and clear. He traced his finger
down the chart, looking at how they had come out. Plenty of gold, a good deal of weaponry,
an estimated worth of miscellany that had yet to be really gone through, and
He furrowed his brow and put the report closer to the light, and shifting his hat to see better.
Tega? he said in confusion.
She looked up her eyes almost challenging, Yes?
We lost 27 hooks?
Her thin nostrils flared, Is that what I wrote?
27 glin He said, using the drow as she had written it.
Her eyes dragged down to the black book she had been looking through. She turned a few
pages and traced her finger down it. Then she flushed crimson. In a very soft voice she said,
...soldiers. You lost 27 soldier.
Jarlaxle lost himself laughing. He tipped his chair back and his hat fell off the back of his
head. You were close! He said, gasping for breath, glenn, is soldiers.
She ducked her head back down, I can rewrite the report. She said, getting up.
He clutched it to his chest, You will not. he protested, Your time is much too valuable for
that.
She returned to her seat, still pink cheeked.
Is that a Drow dictionary? He asked.
13 | P a g e

No. She said shortly, Its a Drow lexicon.

He softened, I forgot you were still just learning Drow, youre so good at it already.
She took off her glasses, cleaning them on her sweater and not looking at him.
***
Khovus watched his daughter struggling to use the small spear with a frown on his face. She
was too small and too weak. Where her brothers, younger than her by half had already
mastered this and gone far beyond. She didnt even have a living target.
All she had to do was throw a short spear a few feet into a tree. He could not remember a
child who had been so poor at it. And his own flesh and blood. He watched as she tried to
throw it, tripped, slammed the tip into the ground and nearly flipped herself over.
He looked up into the trees and made eye contact with his eldest son, Meika, glancing down
at his little sister.
Meika nodded dutifully and swung in a graceful arc from their treetop home onto the ground
beside his baby sister.
Tega, he said, taking the spear from her and demonstrating how to hold it. He launched it
at the tree, striking dead on in the target. The spear didnt stick in, it had been dulled so she
could safely practice, but had it been sharp they would be hard pressed to get it back out
again.
Meikas body was lean and tautly muscled. He wore only thin coverings, leaving his chest
and arms bare and riddled with dark tattoos that melded against his burnished skin. Khovus
still burned with pride whenever he saw the three raised stripes scarified across his boys
shoulder, circumscribed with black tattooing. His solitary coming of age hunt had yielded a
dead tiger that had attacked him from the trees. While other children returned with capybara
and okapi, his son had dragged home a fearsome beast.
Meika had been born to lead. Fearsome and charismatic there were none in the tribe who did
not like him. And he had only just taken up with a female a few decades younger than he.
She was a respectable hunter and not taken to foolishness. Khovus readily approved.
His other children, the twins, still too young to have even attempted their hunts were playing
with the vines. They swung themselves up and down amongst the branches, swinging each
other across the ground camp. He could usually find them making long leaps through the air,
only to catch onto another vine. They knew just how to angle their acrobatics, flying through
the trees more than leaping.
But Tega. She could not move silently and she could not fight a half starved bird if her life
depended on it. She still used the swing to get up into their home that had been made for
children.
Khovus did not know what to do with her. Their world was too dangerous for a child who
could not take care of herself. He did not have it in him to send her on her hunt, although by
her age she should be going soon, should already have gone. She would be eaten alive.
He watched her try to hold the spear as Mieka showed her. She moved awkwardly. She
looked out of place, like they had stolen her from somewhere else. Even the young things
had tattoos. Shikra, the younger of the twins had made his first kill, earning a small circled
about his wrist. Drindok, the other twin, had a thin strip across his shoulders for completing
his first fire dance.
Tegas skin was unmarred. Her hands were uncalloused. Her skin too fair and eyes too soft.
Tega, frustrated, put the spear on the ground and sulked away from her brother. Being her
brother, he had less patience with her than Khovus did. With a heavy sigh, Khovus followed
his tender daughter.
Tega? He called out in his gutterally deep voice.
14 | P a g e

What? She said, turning around. Even upset as she was now she didnt lose her quiet
softness. He could see the tears sparkling in her eyes but her voice had no tremor.
He squatted down and looked up at her, Tega, he said softly, You must practice.
I dont know why, she said in a whisper, You know as well as I do that Im not going to be
any good.
He brushed her long hair out of her eyes, she furrowed her brow at him, her eyes squinting.
She was always squinting.
You know you have to complete your hunt soon. You know other children your age already
completed theirs and took their spots as adults. Tega, do you not understand what is
required of you?
She scrunched her little shoulders together and looked at him meekly, You should just leave
me in a town somewhere where I can do something worthwhile.
Khovus felt a small shudder in his heart. He had thought of this often as she had been
growing up. He would never have suggested it and if he followed through on it it would break
his heart to let her go. But would she not be better off? And if she wanted to go.
Is that what you want? He said too readily.
With the calm she had maintained and in his relief that she had suggested it, he forgot that
she was an upset and frightened little girl. He overlooked that she had not really suggested
it. That she had wanted to be reassured that there was place for her, that she was loved. But
he had not reassured her.
It would have been easier if she had thrown a fit. If she had cried and run away, clamboring
up to their home and refusing to talk to him. He knew how to deal with tantrums. Meika had
been a strong willed boy, he had thrown his fair share.
But she did not. The tears that had been sparkling in her eyes were blinked away and she
stood perfectly still. The changes were subtle but he was her father. He had raised her from
a mewling baby and not missed much of it. Her little shoulders stiffened and blushes of color
painted her cheeks. When she spoke it was in the smallest whisper of air that Khovus could
have heard, Is that what you want, papa?
***
The last few months had been some of the most productive in the Bregen Daerthes history.
Jarlaxle had very quickly acclimated to his immaculately organized and tirelessly
hardworking assistant. Well, accountant. Well, to be truthful he wasnt entirely sure what she
was. He had anticipated her being his accountant after her display at the bakery, but she
was far too accomplished for just that title.
The ledger keeping that had occupied his old drow accountants entire day took her mere
hours and in the interim she never failed to find projects.
She had really shown her benefit a month ago. They had been working in his office and he
had been in a truly foul mood. He had six appointments to attend and an intolerably high
stack of reports and missives to get through. He had thrown his hat across the room in
irritation after reading a three page report that had nothing of any Lolth damned use in it.
Wordlessly, Tega stood up, straightened her pleated sky blue skirt and crossed the room. She
looked at the pile and said softly, May I?
He hesitated, there was senstive information in those papers.
Who would I possibly betray you to, Jarlaxle? she said quietly, And why?
He narrowed his eyes at her.
Would I like a promotion to a lieutenant under a new Captain so that I could lead a drow
army? She asked. There was no actual lilt of sarcasm in her voice, but the edges of
15 | P a g e

Jarlaxles lips turned up at the thought. He allowed himself to silently enjoy imagining her in
a cardigan, straightening her glasses and telling a drow army that what it really lacked was
proper labelling.
Jarlaxle had decided that this was his favorite part about her. She was entirely guileless. He
had to agree with her, there was nothing she could do with the information. So he handed
over his papers and turned to the directives he had to write out before leaving for the first
two of his meetings.
When he had returned to his office to find something to eat before the rest of the days
affairs, and for a few hours break, he found neat stacks on his desk. She had made three
piles for him, each labelled. The first and largest, were labelled, Does Not Need Attention
and had a single sheet summarizing the entire stack. The second Needs Attention was
much smaller stack. Next to it and the smallest piles was labelled, Urgent.
That first time he had gone through everything anyway, making sure her judgement was
sound. After that he had never bothered to read anything she marked, Does Not Need
Attention.
It had freed up very much of his time, although he wasnt sure where she got all of hers, not
that he ever saw her do anything but working. Perhaps he should tell her to take a break
sometime. He could show her the city.
***
The need to make sure she didnt wear herself out didnt become immediate until a night he
had not spent working alongside his little assistant. He had been out very late dealing with a
particularly distasteful Matron Mother. He had gone back and forth between houses for hours
until the very small hours of the night and while he preferred that to desk work, he was
relieved to be home.
Although he would have like to go straight to bed, he needed to make a pit stop in his office
to deposit some papers before retiring. He pushed his eyepatch tiredly up his forehead as he
slipped inside his office. He shut the door behind him and then startled.
There was still a light on in his office, a small flickering fairy fire lamp on Tegas rickety desk.
Caught in its illumination was his accountant, glasses askew and fast asleep with her head
on her desk. He thought she must have rubbed her face in her sleep because she had left a
streak of dark ink in a long smudge across her cheek.
He tilted his head and looked at her. He wondered if she had gotten caught up in her work or
felt unsafe walking back to her room alone. He had escorted her every night before this. He
had a brief thought of just covering her and letting her be, but the only thing at hand was his
cloak, which he wasnt willing to part with. Besides, sleeping on a desk cant have been
comfortable.
He walked around her desk and touched her hand gently, Tega?
Having spent the entire span of his very long life in Menzoberanzan, Jarlaxle was very well
accustomed to people who reacted with violence to being woken up suddenly. He probably
knew more people who would leap to their feet with drawn weapons upon being awoken
then would not. The few times he had woken his old associate Zaknafein had nearly resulted
in the loss of a few fingers.
So he could hardly contain himself when Tega awoke in with a jolt, flapping her hands and
tipping backward in her chair. He quickly put a hand out to steady her, face split into a grin.
Goodmorning, my industrious little worker! He laughed, Did you sleep well?
She was flushed pink, righting her glasses on her face, Im...oh Im sorry. I didnt mean to
fall asleep. I was I well. I was working and
He cut her off, Would you like an escort to your room?
16 | P a g e

She awkwardly shuffled her papers, Yes please.

He crossed the room to his own desk to deposit his own papers and, having relieved himself
of them, leaned against the desks edge and watched her put her papers in order. Her
cheeks were still pink and hair stuck up on one side.
You didnt want to walk back alone?
Her voice was soft in reply, I was working.
Yes, so hard that you fell asleep on your desk he replied with skepticism. He let her silently
fidget with her papers for awhile before he added, Im sure you could do something against
a drow in the hallway.
Her fingers stilled for a part of a moment on the papers before she looked up at him, eyes
surprisingly hard behind her glasses.
Are you asking me if I could beat you in a fight? she asked, her soft voice belaying the
sharpness of her gaze, No. I couldnt. As Im sure you arent slow enough to have missed.
He pushed himself off the desk and approached her again. I suppose I could find someone
to teach you, if you wanted. He mused. Tapping his finger against his chin.
The edges of her lips turned down and he could see stiffness set into her shoulders, when
she spoke, however, her voice retained its softness, You wouldnt find me a good student,
Im afraid.
He waved his hand dismissively at her, Come here.
She came toward him in small steps, her fingernails picking at the cuticles of her thumbs.
He took off his hat and laid it on the desk, he put his multi colored cloak down with it,
thinking that its magic wouldnt help.
Standing before him, face turned down and shoulders hunched, it was not hard to see that
she was upset. Jarlaxle wondered if she was readying herself for an attack.
Put your fists up. He wanted her to play along, thought that it would be fun. And it would
have been nice to have her entire attention, rather than torn between him and her work.
Sometimes he said the cleverest things and she never even seemed to hear.
With slow and deliberate motions she put her fists, exactly where they should be to defend
herself. He thought that maybe she did know how to fight. Perhaps he could cajole her into
sparing. Maybe they could spar every morning before the day started!
He envisioned how satisfying it would be if she could leap deftly into combat, her verve for
detail would make her an interesting opponent.
Do you know how to punch? He asked teasingly.
I- she started. Her voice had gone from quiet to weak, In theory.
Jarlaxle thought she could use a little taunting to spark her vigour, Ill let you have the first
shot. He laughed, You can hit me as hard as you can.
She frowned, I dont want to do this, Jarlaxle. She said desperately.
Come on! he cajoled, he was sure now that he saw her reticence that she knew just what
she was doing and thought it would be pragmatic to keep it under wraps. It was a good ploy.
But he liked to know the real ability of people who worked ten feet away from him.
I...you want me to hit you? She asked in a shaking voice.
As hard as you can!
As soon as she started to move he could tell he had been wrong. She tilted back her torso,
her feet rigidly planted next to each other and swung her fist at him. A good punch came
17 | P a g e

with weight thrown in behind it, she just bent her arm at the elbow and whacked him in the
chest. All while she had her eyes clenched tightly shut.
Immediately she pulled her hand back and cradled it against her chest. Scowling at him
openly. She looked very upset.
He was torn somewhere between pity and laughter, Did you hurt your hand?
No! she said, rubbing her wrist.
A very drow impulse rose through his blood. She would be so easy. Entirely defenseless. He
wouldnt even need protective magic or weapons. He forced the instinct away. She was a
much more useful as an intact and helpful accountant.
He softened his tone, more for his own benefit than for hers, he would not be a victim to his
heritage. Let me take you to your room.
She ducked her head and crossed her arms and allowed herself to be led back to her
quarters. Goodnight, Jarlaxle, she said in a whisper.
Goodnight Tega, He said back.
She shut the door and he allowed himself to scowl. He had envisioned that as fun, not
awkward and upsetting. Now he really did want to go to bed.
He turned to go to his quarters and swore, remembering that he needed to retrieve his cloak
and hat before bed. He woefully returned to his office.
He could no readily understand how that had gone so damn poorly. So she fought like a
drowning child, he could have taught her to hit. It should have been fun. Why had she gotten
so upset?
When he reached his office he was, for the second time that night, surprised to find it
occupied.
This time it was his young acquisition who brought him breakfast, KarDritch.
Its a bit late for breakfast, is it not? Jarlaxle asked, he was much too tired and irate for
whatever this boy needed. Well, he supposed it wasnt fair to call him a boy, he was a Melee
Magthere graduate after all.
The young and pretty thing turned, demurely looking down before glancing back up at him
through his eyelashes, I saw that you had returned late, I thought you might be hungry.
He had brought a tray laden with succulent fruits and delicacies.
Jarlaxle knew what KarDritch was doing. The boy had gotten through his time at Melee
Magthere this way, seeking protection from those stronger and more able than he. But what
sort of Captain would he be if he didnt protect his new recruits. Besides, he had worked
hard today, didnt he deserve it not to end in awkward discomfort?
He walked forward toward KarDritch, stopping when he was nearly pressed against him. He
reached around him to and picked up a juice laden piece of fruit. You have wonderful taste.
he said, eyes glittering at his young soldier.
Ive been told the fruit is to your liking. Kar'Dritch said gently.
Is it to yours?
The young drow moved his eyes slowly from Jarlaxles lips to his eyes, I have never tasted
it.
In a breathy voice Jarlaxle whispered, A tragedy.
He lifted his other hand and tilted Kar'Dritchs chin back, he obliged willingly, opening his
lips to allow Jarlaxle to feed him the fruit. Briefly he closed his lips around Jarlaxles fingers,
letting his tongue touch their tips.
18 | P a g e

Jarlaxle smiled at the boy. The unmistakable signs that Kar'Dritch was as excited about the
proceedings as he was the signal he needed.
He let his fingers trail softly down Kar'Dritchs throat. Gooseflesh rose in their path but the
small flinch when his fingers were at his throat made Jarlaxle still for a moment.
Dont be so afraid, Jarlaxle whispered in hot breath against his ear. He unbuttoned
Kar'Dritchs spider silk shirt and pushed it off of shoulders, What sort of Captain would I be
if I let any harm befall you?
He ran his fingers over Kar'Dritchs freshly exposed skin, not even using his nails. Kar'Dritch
trembled underneath him. Masters at Melee Magthere were famously unimaginative and
Jarlaxle liked it when all parties enjoyed an experience.
Ca-captain he said huskily.
Normally Jarlaxle would correct him, tell him to say his name in a voice like that. But calling
him Captain had its own sort of thrill. It had been a long time since anyone had done that.
He said nothing.
There was an element of charm in allowing this to be an equal experience for both of them
that Jarlaxle relished, especially with one so young and, Jarlaxle suspected, brutalized.
Dealing with Matrons as he had all day always made Jarlaxle particularly warm toward this
sort of engagement and for Lloths sake he didnt think he could handle another distraught
person tonight.
Say the word, Jarlaxle whispered to him, And I will stop and let you return to your
barracks.
For a moment the spell was broken and Kar'Dritch blinked at him, ...what?
Jarlaxle laid his lips against his neck, biting tenderly and sucking at the soft skin. He worked
his way up Kar'Dritchs jaw until his lips were against his ear, I do nothing you dont want.
You need only tell me.
Jarlaxle returned to nibbling at his throat, his fingers running softly down his abdomen.
As though testing it out, Kar'Dritch said, in a shuddering voice, St-stop.
Jarlaxle lifted his lips from his skin and let his hands drop to his sides with a shrug.
Kar'Dritch looked at Jarlaxle with lust clouded wonder. Captain, he breathed with a
measure of devotion. He reacted as Jarlaxle had hoped that he would and stepped forward,
putting his hands up to Jarlaxles chest, letting his fingers touch Jarlaxles wiry frame. He
began pushed away the vest and looked with hooded eyes at Jarlaxle, May I?
As you wish, Jarlaxle grinned.
He pushed the vest off, looking at Jarlaxle like a treasure to be admired. Jarlaxle thrilled.
Jarlaxle took the Kar'Dritchs slender chin between his fingers and pulled him to his lips,
exploring his mouth that still tasted of fruit. He melted into his captain, greedy to show his
appreciation. Jarlaxle could tell immediately how he had come out so well at the academy
when he had such mediocre martial abilities.
Jarlaxle took his time with his enthusiastic conquest. He might have been tired, but he was
not going to pass up an opportunity like this.
It was a long time before he bent him over the desk. Kar'Dritch, entirely stripped, clawed at
the desk, looking back at Jarlaxle, his pupils were dark with lust, his lips swollen. Jarlaxle had
made sure he was well prepared, and looked down at him, his own lust making it difficult to
draw this out.
Tell me, Kar'Dritch, Jarlaxle rasped, what is it that you want?

19 | P a g e

Captain, he gasped back, Captain, I beg you. Please. He pressed languidly against
Jarlaxle, moaning with the contact. There was a no more perfect combination of lust and
affection.
Jarlaxle took one single more moment to revel in the lithe body writhing so willingly beneath
him before he pressed into him. He moved gradually, kissing his back as he did. He began to
move rhythmically, angling himself until Kar'Dritch released a mewl with each stroke.
The new little rogue began a litany under his breath, interspersed with sobbing gasps,
Captain. My Captain. Oh. Captain.
Unable to restrain himself Jarlaxle was lost to abandon, his legs shaking as he jerked against
Kar'Dritchs pliant body. When Kar'Dritch screamed in rapture, his body tightening and
spasming, sensation erupted through Jarlaxles belly and he arched his back, his head
thrown back to the ceiling, calling out.
Returning to his senses, he lowered his head, chest heaving and glistening with sweat. His
eyes fell on the offices open door and he didnt know if he should curse or laugh. Eyes wide
and fluttering about the scene, freshly dressed and speechless, was Tega.

20 | P a g e

Chapter 3: Chapter 3
Tega stood in the doorway, unable to find words. Jarlaxle just grinned at her in a lopsided
sort of way, not even having the grace to look mortified.
I - Sorry, she said already turning away and going back the way she had come, Ill just
give you.... She didnt bother to finish her sentence, closing the door. She wasnt sure if she
should wait or go back to her rooms and work from there. But all of her things were in the
office and she didnt know how long they would be. Awkwardly, she waited outside the door,
hoping there would not be too many drow who walked passed.
She didnt even know if that should have been embarrassing for Jarlaxle. It seemed like it
wasnt. But was a regular drow embarrassed by such things? She hadnt seen his
companions face so she had no gauge on what he was feeling.
It cant have been very comfortable sprawled out on the desk. It was all very well for Jarlaxle
who just had to stand there, but the desk was rather hard to be laying over face first. And,
Tega suspected, thinking of the polished stone the desk was made out of, very cold. It would
have been nice for Jarlaxle to put down a blanket or something.
Had she thought about it a day ago she might have supposed that seeing Jarlaxle undressed
from the waist up would not be so different from how she saw him every day. She would
have been wrong. It was very different. She had wanted the day to be less awkward than the
night before had been. She had gotten up early to make sure she could be entirely settled by
the time he made it to his office.
And he was.he was Wasnt that KarDritch who brought breakfast? Jarlaxle had just
been It wasnt as though she was entirely naive about that sort of thing. She had grown up
in a glorified tree house which had not provided much privacy. But she had not expected for
it to be thrown in her face so early in the morning. It seemed much more a time for eating
pancakes than taking young mercenaries on desks.
She was finding it rather difficult to think about something other than Jarlaxle yelling out
with his head thrown back. She felt the tiniest of flutters in her belly and flushed even more
red than she had been. She tried instead to construct a list in her head of all the things she
wanted to get done that day in order of importance, but she found she wasnt quite able to.
In his office, Jarlaxle tossed KarDritch his pants and began retying his own. The pretty little
thing still looked dazed. His hair glittered in the lamplight and Jarlaxle noticed for the first
time that he had silver strands woven into it that caught the light prettily.
Jarlaxle didnt bother putting on the rest of his accoutrements, bundling them up and
dropping them into his extradimensional pocket. He would have to bathe and rest anyway.
Besides, he wanted to remain a little unkempt when Tega came back in.
KarDritch finished rebuttoning his shirt and Jarlaxle grinned at him wolfishly. KarDritch
demured, looking down at the floor. Jarlaxle tilted his chin up with his fingers and touched
the boys silver woven hair, letting his fingers run through it.
Beautiful, Jarlaxle said, making the corners of KarDritchs lips turn up.
Jarlaxle gave him another grin and waved him dismissively out the door. He looked over his
shoulder before he left, eyes still lust hazy and affection filled. Jarlaxle preened happily.
On his way out, KarDritch saw Tega waiting in the hall, cheeks still bright and pulling at her
sweater with discomfort. He shrugged at her, looking half embarrassed and half proud of
himself.
He was gone before Jarlaxle poked his head out the door to fetch Tega, You can come in
now, he laughed.
She didnt look at him, just slid passed into the office and took her seat at her desk.
21 | P a g e

Jarlaxle returned to his own desk and sat on top of it. It was still cleared off rather tellingly
and he was only in very tight pants and nothing else. She did not look up.
He raised his eyebrow in affected boredness, Are you going to spend the rest of the day not
looking at me?
Rather defiantly she did glance up at him, then finding him mostly unclothed, immediately
looked back at her papers, Is there any way that you could warn me if you are using your
office for personal affairs?
He very nearly retorted that she could take part in them and therefor never be taken by
surprise again, but he didnt think that would help the situation.
Tiredness was settling back over him, so he stretched and stifled a yawn. Ill be back later,
he said, shrugging at her even if she wasnt looking, Would you like me to have KarDritch
bring you some breakfast?
She hunched lower in her seat, No no, Im not hungry.
He left her in the office, going back to his quarters to finally get a little rest.
In the office, Tega worked undisturbed for nearly half the day. Left to her own devices it did
not take her long to recover. She would simply act as though it had never happened. That
would not be difficult. She could have guessed that Jarlaxle spent his free time in such a
manner, but it was a little disconcerting to see him with a direct underling. She thought it a
little unprofessional.
Irritated at herself for continuing to think about it, she threw herself into her work. With no
Jarlaxle to hand her new reports to deal with, she had all the time in the world to work on her
new big idea. It wasnt particularly elegant or innovative, but the paperwork had been so
long mismanaged that it took a very long time to make headway.
The Bregen Daerthes inventory was spread across myriad sheets of awkward notations and
meaningless scribbling. It was impossible to tell what they had and what they didnt.
Impossible to tell what belonged to them and what miscreant drow were making off with.
Jarlaxle might think that a negligible cost but she was quite certain that it would add up to
something significant. And it calmed her to take things from chaos into order.
She had been working on this for a few hours before she was interrupted. He knocked before
he came in, but didnt wait for a reply.
KarDritch slipped inside with a tray of lunch and a sheepish grin.
Tega forced herself not to fuss with her sweater, Jarlaxle isnt here, she said in her still
struggling drow.
Yes, he said, speaking slowly for her benefit, I thought you might be hungry.
She felt mollified, Well...yes. Is it really among your duties to bring food to me? I thought
my favors had run dry with the lexicon.
He laid the tray on her desk, Finding a tray of food doesnt take all that much doing, and
besides, Jarlaxle finds you profitable.
It took her a moment to work through his words, when she did she shrugged rather
awkwardly, It seems he find you profitable as well.
He laughed at grinned, she was happy his skin was so dark so she didnt have to see any
sort of evidence of his evening.
He plucked a morsel from her tray and ate it lazily, leaning on her desk, Does the book
help?
She nibbled at the food, ravenous and touched the lexicon he had brought for her one
morning before Jarlaxle had gotten in, This? Oh, yes, thank you.
22 | P a g e

He snagged more of her food, grinning at her, although something in his face looked like he
was thinking precautiously, Well people like us should stick together, yes? He said slowly,
as though feeling her out.
Consorts and accountants?
He took one of her reports and a spare pen, correcting her grammar. Im not yet a consort.
She saw what he was doing and tucked away the reports with anything other than innocuous
information into a desk drawer.
Is that your goal then? She asked, not looking up from her ledger book.
He shrugged, Sure, he said just crossing out an entire sentence, Cant hurt can it?
Hmm. was her only reply, not certain if she agreed or disagreed with him.
XXXXX
Khovus had not ever again brought up leaving Tega in a less dangerous home. But she had
not forgotten about it. It sprang up in her mind every time she hurt herself trying to do
something all of her peers found as easy as breathing. She remembered it every time
another elf her age came back from a successful coming of age hunt. She thought of it every
time she bathed with the others and saw all of their dark tattoos while her body was pale
and unadorned.
She was the oldest one in the tribe who had not completed her hunt and she was not foolish
enough to even try. She knew just which plants to eat and which to leave alone, she knew
exactly how many meals each kill would last. There were many things that she knew, but
how to survive on her own with only a spear was not one of them.
But what would happen if she never completed it? Would she remain a child in the eyes of
her people forever? Would she be forced to go and die in the attempt? She felt that there
was so much more to be seen and to be understood before she died. She certainly didnt
want to fall to a wayward animal.
Perhaps she should ask, really ask, to be left somewhere else. Wouldnt that be more fair to
her father. She knew he was growing desperate with her. How much easier would it be for
him if his only children were the surefooted twins and hunter extraordinaire Mieka?
Sometimes she thought of leaving all on her own, but she couldnt. First of all, she wouldnt
survive the trip, having no earthly idea where an established town was. Second, her father
wouldnt be able to stomach it. Hadnt her mother left? She had been too young when it had
happened to really remember any reason. But she knew her mother had yelled and her
father had cried. As much as she dreaded the life it might entail, she worried that it might be
her duty to stay right where she was.
But it was getting harder and harder. The twins were taller than her now, and lean and
strong. And they had finished their hunt the week before. That had been a blow for her,
outpaced by her younger brothers. But they were kind about it, they were unfailingly kind to
her, if a little patronizing.
They were slowly becoming nearly as well inked as Meika. She felt guilty for not being happy
for their accomplishments. They were her baby brothers, she was supposed to get more joy
from their successes than they did.
At that very moment, while she sulked under a tree, her twin brothers dropped down on
either side of her, seeming to materialize out of the air, T! Shikra beamed, Come on were
going-
-to swim in the river Drindok finished for him.
Their identicalness had only been exacerbated by their choices in tattoos. Although
sometimes earning them at different times, their achievements were similar and their
choices in how to demonstrate them on their skin the same. Their dark hair, a gift from their
23 | P a g e

mother, stuck up in the same sort of swirl, their freckles hit the same spots. One body in two
iterations.
No, thank you, she said softly, You two go on.
They grinned at each other and scampered off. She knew that they had only asked her
because they felt like they should. She was no fun to take to the river, she could hardly
swim. Besides, it was already getting dark, and she had somewhere she wanted to be when
it got dark.
She dusted herself off and glanced around, making sure Meika was not watching. Finding
that he was not, she slunk out of camp and a little ways into the forest. She had stolen one
of the swings used to get up into their home and gotten it up over the branches of a big
sturdy tree. She clambered into it and pulled herself up, carefully getting out and onto the
tree.
By the time she was secured in her tree it really was dark out. From her vantage point she
could actually see the stars, a sight that was blocked out by foliage from the ground. This
was why she had come up here, she wanted to watch the stars.
When she had first started coming up here she had brought discarded hides and strips of
bark with light undersides along with ink stolen from the person who did the tattoos. She
bided her time until it was well and truly dark waiting for it to get really dark. And then she
began.
She worked steadily, enjoying the silence of being on her own and methodically adding stars
to her chart. She wondered how best to draw the blurred smudge of each star. But it felt nice
to have something she felt like she wasnt so bad at.
Her brother had told her that they moved a little bit every night. She wanted to know by how
much and if they moved the same way and if there were any patterns and if they ever got
back to where they were one time.
Tega?
She twisted around, nearly falling out of her tree. Her father peered at her, brow furrowed.
What are you doing up here?
Two equally strong impulses warred at her. She both wanted to conceal her project and show
it to him eagerly in hopes of him telling her how good she was at it. In the end, it didnt
matter, he reached out of his own accord and took one of her charts.
What is this? He turned it this way and that and for a moment she felt a rush of childlike
superiority that nearly made her lightheaded.
The stars, she whispered, looking back up at them.
He didnt speak for a long time, but Tega watched his eyes move slowly over the chart then
up to the stars. Tega, he said slowly, Describe how the stars look.
She heard the trepidation in his voice but was determined to make him proud of her,
Theyre bright blurs! She said defensively, Like little bright speckles with a bunch of blurs
of light.
You only drew fewer than thirty.
She hunched her shoulders, Well I didnt know how to draw the big blurs, so I just did the
nice clear ones.
He reached out and brushed back her hair. His eyes were clouded with sadness, Oh, Tega.
His voice was so full of disappointment.
What! She said, for the first time, perhaps in her life, nearly shrieking, What! Whats
wrong!
There are so many stars, Tega, and nothing is blurred, it is only your eyes.
24 | P a g e

She had had just this. She had felt so sure she was doing so well and she hadnt been able to
do it again. Her body had let her down so thoroughly she thought she would come apart.
Khovus watched her rock for a moment before howling, the pained shriek of a dying animal.
He pulled her against his chest and she pounded her little fists ineffectually against him.
XXXXX
Tega peered through her spectacles the corrections and crossings out KarDritch had left on
her papers in looping handwriting.
Thank you, KarDritch, she said beginning to rewrite the papers with her grammar
improved.
Just Dritch, he said with shrug.
Of all things, the request to use this short and familiar name stoked a rush of empathy. She
looked up at him, Arent you tired?
He laughed, Exhausted, but Ill have to wait until tonight.
Why?
He rubbed a hand through his hair, The soldier in my barracks I have a deal with to make
sure I dont get a knife in my back doesnt have his shift to rest until tonight.
Is that a deal you have for a particular reason or just a general precaution?
Theres a soldier in my barracks whose old house got destroyed by mine, he lost an eye. I
think he wants me dead.
She looked at him with soft eyes, You can sleep in my room. She said, holding out the key
to her rooms.
He reached out then hesitated, eyeing her warily, Why?
She gave him an appraising look, Well, you have no idea how to do my work, so you cant
possibly be harboring dreams of replacing me, we have no personal qualms, Im not trying to
usurp you as Jarlaxles consort, so there is no reason Id be in danger from you. And we are
both short on allies.
By the end of her speech, he was grinning at her, So, are we allies then?
She tossed him the key. He had to stand up and reach all the way across the desk in order to
catch it, her aim was so poor. He deftly spun it in his fingers, Then Im going to go have a
nap. He turned back when he was at the door, Come get me if Jarlaxe gets up will you? I
have to bring him breakfast.
Sure thing.
He gave her a broad grin and disappeared.
Tega smiled to herself and settled back into work, methodically rewriting her corrected
reports. She hummed under her breath, picking occasionally at the food that KarDritch had
brought her. Dritch, she corrected herself with the tiniest tingling of contentedness at having
one person besides her employer who was, at least, not openly hostile.
She got three more hours to herself before Jarlaxle turned up. She would have never
admitted it, but near the end she had sort of missed his company. He did say funny things
sometimes, even if she forgot to let him know that she had heard him.
He swung into the office, fully dressed again, boots clicking. He crossed the office and
dropped into his plush office chair. He kicked his feet up onto his desk, grinning at Tega.
Youve been working hard I see!
Yes, I have reports for you. She said, shifting the tray Dritch that was sitting on top of
some of her completed papers.
25 | P a g e

He took them from her and smiled, I see you found something to eat without thieving half
of what I was brought.
Oh, yes, Dritch brought some for me. She thought she was getting nearly able to see how
Jarlaxle ticked and was happy to find an opportunity to test herself, especially since she
thought it might end well for her new ally. It helped that she was sure Jarlaxle wouldnt be
overjoyed about it and she was all for that at the moment.
He looked up from his reports, brow furrowed. He carefully took off his hat and put in on the
desk before addressing her, Dritch?
Yes, she responded continuing to work back at her desk, You know, KarDritch.
He gave her a sarcastic look, Yes, I am familiar with him. he deadpanned. He brought
breakfast...for you?
Mmm. Tega idly agreed, erasing the numbers from her slate and doing her math again to
check herself.
Did he mean-
No, she cut him off, guessing where he was going, He knew you were sleeping. He
brought it for me. He helped me with my grammar.
Why..what.
Tega shrugged, still not looking up from her work, We talk.
You...talk? Jarlaxle asked
Yes, she replied.
Since when?
She pretended to ponder for a moment, Since he gave me my lexicon.
Hes giving you breakfast and gifts?
I suppose that he is. She went back to writing for a moment then perked up again in in
mock surprise. Oh! She said, getting up, as though she had just remembered, I have to go
wake him up.
Jarlaxle looked doubly perplexed.
I promised Id get him up when you got into the office. she explained.
You shouldnt go into the barracks. Jarlaxle said, half rising from his chair.
Tega turned back from the doorway, Oh, he isnt in the barracks. And disappeared into the
hall.
Jarlaxle wasnt entirely sure how to classify the sour feeling in his stomach, but he did not
like the proceedings. The young and pretty drow boy brought his accountant lunch and fixed
up her grammar? He glowered at her thick, black lexicon. He wondered if they were no.
Regularly he wouldnt have had much of an issue with the private goings on of his
employees, although he would like to know every detail. But he wasnt happy with what he
thought was developing. She was too trusting, small and pretty though he was, he was still a
drow. And if last night had been an accurate display of her ability to defend herself he felt
confident a well armed toddler could assassinate her.
Besides, as the one who had discovered her, and brought her down into the underdark, he
thought it only right that if someone were going to discover if her entire pale body blushed
as easily as her cheeks did, it was going to be him. Not that he had had any immediate plans
of that nature, but it was the principle of the matter.
Down the hall, Tega slipped inside her room. KarDritch was sprawled across her bed,
sleeping soundly.
26 | P a g e

He opened a single eye when she closed the door and let out a disappointed groan.
Already? He moaned.
Comfortable?
He snuggled deeper into the plush comforter and mattress that Jarlaxle had provided her
with a grin. She kept a lamp lit in her room and his silver woven hair twinkled in the light. His
eyes, when they werent red with infravision, were a light blue grey that was almost silver of
themselves. He was indisputably beautiful. She shuffled, staring at her shoes.
Unwillingly, he pushed himself out of the bed and sat up, running his fingers through his hair
to straighten it.
Thank you, he said only a little stiffly, For letting me sleep here.
She shrugged and looked down again, away from his sleep mussed hair. She knew that he
was in her bed and she shouldnt feel like she was intruding. But wrapped up in the covers
he looked soft and intimate. She felt uncomfortable to be part of it.
He stretched so languidly that he belly showed under his shirt before he got up all the way,
Well you have work to do, he said, following her out.
She locked the door behind her and returned to the office without him.
Jarlaxle didnt look up at her when she came back and quietly took her seat at her desk,
resuming her work without comment. Jarlaxle, in fact, said nothing until, thirty two minutes
later (and she was counting) a timid knock came at the door.
Come in, He said, sparing a glance at Tega, who did not look up.
KarDritch came in, no longer looking sleepy and fuzzy, but being returned to rather shy and
nearly too beautiful. Jarlaxle met him in front of the desk.
I brought something for you to eat, Captain. He said, coaxing heat out of his final word.
Jarlaxle took the tray and put it unconcernedly on the desk behind him, Thank you,
KarDritch.
He smiled demurely and turned to go. Tega, looking up from her work, caught his eye and
gave him a small, encouraging smile.
It had been the keystone to Tegas itty bitty ploy and it worked just like she had wanted it to.
Jarlaxle, seeing the private look, pulled Dritch around by the arm, kissing the boy
proprietarily, gripping his jaw and burying his other hand in his silvery hair. He released him,
growling into his ear just loud enough for Tega to hear him, Come to my chambers when
Narbondel is dimmest.
Tega couldnt tell if it was acting or genuine yet, but Dritchs eyes burned with affection as
he nodded, a small smile at his lips.
When he left Jarlaxle sat himself back down and glowered at Tega momentarily, then he
softened by degrees, finally saying, I hope that didnt upset you.
Why would it have upset me? Tega asked.
Jarlaxle raised the eyebrow that was over his patched eye, creating an off effect. Well if you
would like me to be more discreet
She sighed, I suppose it is your office, Ill just knock before I come in.
He gave an unconcerned sort of shrug, If you have no qualms about sharing him, I certainly
dont and Im sure he wouldnt.
Tega sat straight up and blinked. Somehow, it had not crossed her mind that he would reach
this conclusion. For a moment she nearly laughed at the absurdity of Jarlaxles assumption.
But she realized with even more confused blinking, that he might not be entirely wrong.
27 | P a g e

While he may be a little ahead of himself, she wasnt really sure that Dritch would turn her
down if she proposed...that sort of arrangement. She might have laughed. She almost did.
She was in a situation where a handsome and powerful drow mercenary was asking her
opinion on sharing a beautiful drow between their beds.
I - um - really? It was all she could come up with to say.
He gave her a coquettish shrug, Well, do you mind?
Um...I suppose No?
She wasnt actually going to take him up on it, how could she possibly. The whole idea was
ridiculous. She was going pink just thinking about it. She ducked her head down, scribbling
at her work and refusing to look back at Jarlaxle so she didnt notice that, now back in his
chair, he was scowling rather deeply.

28 | P a g e

Chapter 4: Chapter 4
Tega had drastically underestimated Jarlaxles ability to maintain a foul mood. It had been
many days since their awkward conversation about KarDritch and he still was not himself.
He wasnt exactly unkind, but his regular cheeriness had an unpleasant edge. It was rubbing
Tegas nerves raw. It was considerably less satisfying to hand in reports when he didnt gush
over their exactness. She had had the inventory done for a few days now but was unwilling
to waste giving it to him while he was still upset.
Finally, after fifteen days of distress, she caved and decided she must set him right.
Weighing heavily on her decision as the thought that If it were hard for her to sit in the same
room as him and give him paperwork then it cant have been fun for Dritch to bed him. She
waited impatiently through his bad mood all day until, mercifully, he sent away the drow
guards and locked them in.
Jarlaxle? She said shyly now that they had some privacy.
Yes? He replied with a sharp look.
I just.I just wanted to tell you She looked anywhere but him sheepishly.
What is it Tega?
I just wanted to tell you that KarDritch and I are...are not we arent She wasnt exactly
sure how to say it. She rather hoped that he would step in and draw his own conclusions, but
he didnt seem inclined to help her out. What I mean to say, she continued, Is that
KarDritch and I are not intimate. We never have been. Were just...allies.
He looked at her for awhile then said, I thought he was sleeping in your quarters.
She blushed, Well...he was so tired and...and he said he couldnt sleep in the barracks
because someone there wants him dead and I just...he was so tired and
Of course, he said sarcastically, So he was sleepy and you let him rest in your bed out of
the kindness of your heart.
She pounded her small fist on her desk, Yes!
He considered his words for a moment then said, Why tell me then?
She pulled the sleeves of her sweater passed her hands, Well you just...you just seemed so
upset. She finished lamely.
His eyes softened toward her for the first time in more than a week, I think you are being
too trusting, Tega.
I will be fine. She murmured.
His expression darkened, Do you have any idea what drow are capable of? He
condescended.
Her awkwardness disappeared in lieu of something else. She looked up at him, her body stiff
and nearly shaking. Her eyes were shimmering suddenly behind her glasses, her hands were
clenched into fists, when she spoke her voice was tight, I- I she stammered. Then as
swiftly as she had stiffened, she swallowed and she exhaled, unclenching her fists and
relaxing her shoulders. In a suddenly soft voice she said, Perhaps you are right, Jarlaxle.
Perhaps I do not.
Be careful, Tega.
She tugged at her sleeves again, looking down at the desk, Im sorry I upset you, that
wasnt my intention. But...I have something...to make up for it.
Whats that?

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She shuffled over, the bound inventory clutched in her fingers. She was hoping Jarlaxle
would appreciate it for what it was, even if he hadnt seen it as important before.
He took the book and flipped it open, turning the pages slowly. She hovered behind him
moving from foot to foot.
What is thi-
An inventory! she nearly shouted before he even had all of his words out, I just...you gave
me all of those horrible records and they were just useless and I thought if everything was all
in one place. You would know all of your assets and and
So this is a book writing down a few swords and trinkets?
She rocked back on her heels and crossed her arms, looking down at them rather than at
Jarlaxle, Well...many swords and many trinkets.
He shrugged, unimpressed, Very orderly, he remarked dismissively.
She felt like there was a stone in her belly, If you would look through the whole thing you
would see that I appraised the worth of each trinket and each sword and did the totals and I
thought that maybe you would care to know how much your inventory was worth because
you know as it is your soldiers could really walk off with nearly anything and it isnt as
though it isnt worth any money and it is a little ridiculous of you to just put it away without
really looking at it.
She said all of this very fast and under her breath in elvish. If it had not been for his
translation spell, Jarlaxle would not have been able to keep up. As it was he could have
laughed at her absurd combination of submission and defiance. But he did flip to the back at
her estimations of the worth of his inventory, to humor her if nothing else. He took a
moment to blink at the figure.
Is this accurate, Tega? staring at her.
Y..yes? The intensity of his gaze making her blush and look away.
He got up and looked at her a hungry sort of grin on his lips, That is...more gold than I
expected.
Well imagine how much of it was going missing with you none the wiser?
Give me a guess. He said, approaching her. His hands were out but he didnt seem to know
what to do with them.
Well...I...I did make a guess...its in Appendix D...I just looked at the reports of them made at
different times and um...extrapolated. But I havent actually been to the armory or store
rooms so...so I dont know how accurate it is.
He was right in front of her, Whats your guess. I have a hunch it will be fairly accurate.
She nearly backed away from him, hunching down and tilting as far back as she could
without moving her feet. She wasnt sure how he would take this part. He could be angry
that so much had likely gone missing.
In a nearly unhearably soft voice she said, ..half?
Half? he asked mystified, You mean I could double that estimation in the back?
Umwell yes, theoretically.
He had a manic sort of smile inching up his face and Tega was stuck between catching on to
his enthusiasm and backing away.
You are brilliant, Tega, he said. His voice was not his typical high and cheery one. It was
low and rough.

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Tega clutched at her arms, smiling despite herself, Well...it wasnt much When she
looked up he was right in front of her, eyes bright and smile still a little manic. She tried her
best not to flinch away.
He hovered near her, slender hands almost touching her shoulders, Any sort of special
project you want to work on, just tell me what you need. His voice was nearly hungry.
She looked suddenly up into his eyes, and he was much closer to her than she had thought
he would be, she startled, Jarlaxle? She said too suddenly.
Yes? He asked in that same low tone. Eyes glimmering so close to her that she could smell
the spice of his cologne.
She hesitated for a moment, eyes moving in jolts between his hands and his mouth and his
eyes. Then her words tumbled over themselves in a rush, If I asked you to take me back to
the surface would you take me?
He rolled back on his heels, deflating, smile faltering, Do you want to leave? His voice
sounded hurt and disappointed.
She couldnt look at him, Just...just if I asked you- if I asked you to take me back to where
you had found me, would you take me back?
I thought that I told you that I would when I brought you down here.
But did you mean it? she whispered, Would you take me back right now?
Did something happen Tega? he asked, a sharp edge on his voice.
Just tell me! she didnt yell, but her soft voice sounded desperate.
He regarded her, grin gone entirely, Yes, Tega, I would keep my word. If you truly want to go
back, Ill take you. Do you...need any help getting your things in order?
He watched the tension sink out of her shoulders and her brow relax. He could barely stand
to watch, had she been so miserable?
No..No she stammered, her voice returned to its gentleness, That is to say, I dont want
to leave. I would like to keep working for you.
He was taken aback, Oh.
I just...I just wanted to know. She gave him a fleeting and shy smile then slid passed him
back to her desk.
XXXXX
Tega really was trying to be in a good mood. She had no right to be feeling so foul. It was her
brothers wedding celebrations. She should have been dancing with her family. But she had
never been much good at dancing.
He had made his commitments to a very pretty female nearly as well tattooed as he was
and nearly as good of a hunter. Tega had even seen her beat him in a spar once. He had
asked her to commit to him while he was still laid out on his back afterward. The whole camp
had thought it quite touching.
But she had had to spend the ceremony with the children. She was far older than all of them,
but she had not finished her hunt and thus couldnt stand with the adults. That had put her
into a mood that had yet to lift, so instead of celebrating with her family, she was pouting
near the edge of the camp.
She was happy for him, he was shining and radiant dancing with his lover, Trilifeil. They had
gotten the same tattoo, to mark their union, the only one of color. Bright blue strips that
went down their inner arms then looped around their wrists. Now they were still bloody, but
they would be beautiful when they healed.
Tega closed her eyes, trying to enjoy listening to the sounds of merriment.
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The singing was too loud, the thrum of the drums and the pounding of dancing feet too
overwhelming. She never heard them coming.
All she heard was the revelry in the camp, the hoots of laughter and merry catcalls at the
new couple. She smelled the roasting meat and felt the beating of the drums in her bones.
And then a hand wrapped around her mouth.
She tried to jerk away, her eyes shooting open, but was restrained too fully. She was pulled
back, out of the camp. She tried to scream but could not. Her hands were pulled behind her
and tied fiercely.The hand was replaced with a dirty gag. It was all done so quickly, just a few
seconds by hands very practiced at tying wrists and securing gags.
She was left where she was, deemed unthreatening. She could see them now. There were
many. Many more than the one who had grabbed her. Dressed dark and armed to the teeth.
They were all around her, moving more silently than she could believe. Their eyes shining
crimson and in the dim firelight pouring out of the camp, their black skin glimmered.
XXXXX
Tega was awoken by a savage knocking at her door. She sat up in bed, scrabbling for her
glasses. She got up, pulling a dressing robe on over her pajamas and approached the door
cautiously. Before she got to it she picked up the amulet Jarlaxle had give her and slipped it
over her neck.
The knocking came again, violent and pounding.
Um - Who...who is it? her voice was comically faint.
From the other side of the door issued a desperate voice, Its Dritch. Let me in! Please,
Tega. Hurry.
Halfway through opening the door she remembered what Jarlaxle had said about being too
trusting. But there was nothing for it. The door was already open and Dritch was coming
inside.
She stepped back and he stumbled through the doorway.
Close- close the door! He hissed.
She did as she was bade, Dritch? Dritch are you alright?
He tried to straighten up and cringed.
She lit a lamp and he flinched at the sudden light. He was bent almost double, clutching his
ribs. One of his eyes was swollen shut and blood trickled from the side of his mouth and
coursed from his nose.
KarDritch! she exclaimed, covering her mouth with her hands. She checked the locks on
her door, secure, then turned back to him. It took her a moment to get her thoughts
together enough to figure out what to do. One moment she had been sleeping soundly and
now there was a bleeding drow in her bedroom, dripping on the carpet.
She nodded to herself and set her jaw. In a soft command she said, Go to the bed, Dritch.
He seemed nervous to even be there, shaking, unswollen eye wide. He glanced between the
bed and the door. His eyes fell on the many locks and then the amulet around her neck. He
tried one more time to stand straight and gasped in pain. A small sneer fell upon his bloody
lips then resigned himself and sat on the bed. He looked so defeated.
Tega poured some water from a jug she had on her nightstand into a basin, taking out a
cloth and dampening it.
She approached him gently, he was trying to staunch the flow of blood from his nose. She
took his hand and led it away from his face and looked at her with such anger and hatred
that she took a step back.
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But then the fight went out of him and his eyes dropped to the floor. He let his hands fall
limply into his lap. In a horribly soft voice he said, What would you have me do?
Timidly, she tilted his head up. Inexplicably he seemed to be trying to keep his expression
pleasant, almost pleased. She lifted the cloth to his face and began dabbing off the blood,
careful not to jar his clearly broken nose.
She got most of the blood off his face and rinsed her rag out. Im really sorry, Dritch, this is
going to hurt, are you ready? He didnt seem ready, he seemed stunned. She didnt wait,
but took his nose in her fingers and shifted it back in place. She thought he would want it to
heal straight. He flinched mightily, but didnt call out.
Here, She said giving him a fresh rag sodden with chilled water, Hold this on your eye.
He took it with trembling fingers, his blue eyes now following her movements with
something like confusion.
Im going to unbutton your shirt, alright? She said, To look at your ribs.
Solemnly he nodded, allowing her to peel his shirt off of him. She clucked her tongue when
she saw his torso, riddled with bruises and bleeding. She touched his ribs softly and he
flinched.
I think theyre broken, Dritch, She said softly, But they dont seem displaced.
She cleaned those too in cool water, I dont think there is anything else to do for you except
to rest. You should lay down, Ill get you more cool rags to keep the swelling down.
Hesitantly he laid down in her bed, muscles still tense.
This is it then, Tega? He said, his normally melodious voice stripped of its regular
lilt.Youre going to patch me up and let me rest here?
You arent all that badly damaged, She said, laying cold cloths over his bruises A little rest
and you should be alright. I dont think there is anything else I can do to help you. I wish I
had some healing potions, but I dont.
I just...I thought you were going to - He cut himself off.
Why would you come here if you didnt think Id help?
He shrugged shallowly, I was pretty sure you would at least not kill me.
Were allies, she said softly, kindness seeping into her voice, What use are you to me if
you all banged up? She pushed the hair back from his face and he peered at her through
one eye, then closed it and exhaled deeply.
In hardly more than a whisper he asked, Can I stay here tomorrow night?
Of course.
He seemed to be waiting for her to continue, You would give me a healing potion if you had
one?
Of course I would, Dritch, she said, Youre wounded.
He didnt say anything else, but let himself fall asleep.
Tega made sure he was really sleeping and curled up very small on the other side of the bed,
making sure not to disturb him.
When she woke up in the morning he was already awake, lying motionless on the other side
of the bed.
She got up blearily, How do you feel?
Not so bad, he said, pushing himself up, Ive had worse. He still could barely stand
straight but she supposed there was nothing for it. There was no sort of brace that she knew
how to construct that would help him with broken ribs.
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She got up and started taking out clothes, stacking them neatly, Are you sure youre going
to be alright?
I think that Ill live, but I need to go, I have place that I am expected. He said and opened
the door to leave.
Be safe. Tega said in a rush.
He turned back and looked at her, tilting his head and smiling, You as well, Tega.
When he was gone she locked the door behind him and changed into real clothes, getting
herself ready then slipping down the hall to the office. She was a flurry of concern the entire
way there. She was unsure if she should tell Jarlaxle, what would he do about it? Would he
care? Was Dritchs abilities in...personal attentions enough to earn him Jarlaxles protection?
Whatever she did, she would have to wait until the drow guards were gone, she couldnt
expose him to his fellow mercenaries.
When she arrived in the office, she was momentarily distracted from thoughts of Dritch,
unable as she was to do anything for him right then. She began turning to her desk and she
discovered that her desk was no longer there. It had been replaced. No longer was there a
rickety and small desk that rocked back and forth nor an uncomfortable little stool. It had
been replaced with a spacious desk with curling legs and many drawers. Behind it was a
smaller imitation of Jarlaxles plush chair. In the same style but daintier and shorter with
light blue cushions where his were a deep purple.
She turned from staring at the new desk to Jarlaxle, who beamed at her from his.
Yours looked so small and dingy! It was destroying the ambiance of the room.
He sprung up from his chair and nearly bounded to the other desk. There were lights
hovering above it in place of the dim lamp she had had before. He grinned at her and took
one of them in his hand, moving it through the air. It stayed right where he put it. Clever
arent they!
She scurried to the desk next to him and tested out moving the lights. They were slightly
warm orbs that allowed themselves to be moved around wherever one might want them.
She could have squealed.
That isnt all, he said close to her ear. Do you see the slates on either side of the desk?
Indeed, across the top of the desk there were two slabs, one on either side of the blotter.
Lift them. He whispered excitedly.
She glanced at him, then reached out and lifted the slabs into the air. Like the orbs they
hung precisely where she left them. She looked at him with shining eyes.
He shrugged, You always have so many things out at once.
She really couldnt help herself. He had been wearing her thin with his bad mood for weeks
and Dritch being attacked had compounded her unease. So she just threw her arms around
him in a hug.
She released him almost immediately, before he even had a chance to reciprocate. It was
more disappointing than it should have been. She had underestimated the importance of
small physical affections while she had been on the surface. Ariel, the bakers daughter,
throwing her arms around her in excitement, the baker herself patting her hand in
appreciation. Strangers touching her shoulder delicately as they brushed passed her. She
very much would have liked a lingering hug. But as much as she might have wanted to let
him return her hug, she let him go, remembering the guards hiding in their extra
dimensional cupboards. She stepped away from him and sat down at her new desk. She
could have purred. The new seat was so cozy.
Thank you, Jarlaxle. She let her drow slip and said it in elvish so that her thank you would
come across sincere.
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He, looking a little startled at being so swiftly embraced and let go, only grinned at her.
XXXXX
The drow soldiers left her tied and thrown sideways against a tree outside of camp. She
couldnt make more than a soft rustle, nothing loud enough to warn her family. She wanted
to kick a tree or snap branches. But she thought theyd just kill her for that. If the chances of
saving her family had been greater she might have done it anyway. But she did not.
She could only watch the drow, silhouetted against the bonfire as they circled the camp. It
was not a sight one was likely to forget, the revelry of her people replete with the laughter of
children and giddy singing, overlaid by black skinned drow drawing weapons without a
sound.
She wanted to close her eyes. She didnt want to see it. But she couldnt look away. They
moved as one. Together they launched into motion, blots of darkness invading the light and
music of the dancing.
The music jarred in the middle of a melody and screams ripped through the laughter. Tegas
entire body yearned to push time back a few moments and let them sing and dance forever.
It didnt seem real. It could not possibly be happening.
Her people did not fall easy, but they were unarmed. The hands of mothers were cut to
pieces as they defended their children, the unprotected stomachs of fathers relieved of their
contents. The tang of blood filled Tega.
She could see her people swing into the trees, dropping spears to their companions on the
ground. Her father. She could see her father. He had no armor, none of them did. His chest,
well scarred and well tattooed glittered in the firelight, long spear swinging through the air.
They could not get near him.
Hope blossomed, timid and afraid, in Tegas heart. They could fight them off. The grief would
be terrible, but all would not be lost. No one could defeat her father.
Across the camp, a drow stood like a shadow, bored sneer on his features. He lifted his arm
toward her father. He held something small in his hand. The tiniest of bolts struck her father.
At first nothing happened. At first he continued his onslaught, felling drow and roaring. But
then he stumbled.
Tega flinched forward, toward him. He slipped limp to the ground and the drow fell upon him
reducing her father to bloody flesh.
Tega didnt see the rest of the battle. Her eyeline was limited by trees leaving her to only
stare at the heap that had been her father. His blood soaked into the ground.
Tega did not collapse and did not scream. The terror seeped from her bones and stillness
crept in in its place. If they could fell her father her people were lost. She didnt know if he
would approve of her thoughts, didnt know if he would have held her down and cut the
black lines of cowardice into her brow if he knew, but he was dead. If the unmatched
Chieftain Khovus, her everpresent father, could be slaughtered like a wounded capybara,
then fighting would help no one. If she fought she would die. So she would not fight. Because
dying would not do anyone any good.
XXXXX
It was impossible for Jarlaxle to have not noticed Dritchs swollen eye and ginger breathing
when he came in to deliver breakfast but he neither said nor did anything. Tega watched him
carefully for signs of concern but either he didnt have any or he kept well concealed.
When he left, having said nothing, there was nothing that Tega could do but return to her
work. She didnt dare even a questioning look, not knowing if he would be in danger if she
revealed his need for protection to the drow guards looking on.

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The rest of the day she had no opportunities to ask him about it. He spent all of his
remaining hours in meetings. He disappeared for a few hours to go to the House of a matron
mother and when he returned he called in Kimmuriel and his other lieutenant Rai-guy
Bondalek, an eerie wizard that Tega had never seen not glowering.
This presented Tega with an entirely new concern. She did her best to immerse herself in her
work. Drawing out a complicated chart for an idea that she had thought of. She was glad she
had a grand design to distract her during their meeting. They frightened her quite badly and
she didnt particularly want to advertise that. Kimmuriel especially, who Jarlaxle had called a
psion. He could see what she was thinking, or change what she was thinking. She wasnt
sure the exact parameters of his abilities but she didnt like that he had them. Although the
idea that the ability to overpower fighters with the power of your mind she was a little fond
of.
They seemed to be ignoring her, discussing something with Jarlaxle in a fast paced drow that
she could not passively follow. But she felt something tickling at her brain. She wasnt stupid
enough not to know what it was.
When Jarlaxle had first told her about Kimmuriel, she had pondered for a long time how she
might help herself against him. She had not come up with more than one rather feeble idea.
But a feeble defense was better than no defense, so defiantly, she took out clean papers and
pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. There were quite complicated mathematics
that she had been taught but never found a reason to use them. If their practical application
was mental warfare then so be it, this was at least the sort of battle she was equipped for.
She readied her pen and set it to paper, writing out the equations with neat precision. She
had not been able to practice this enough that she could do it with only part of her
concentration, which for this purpose was ideal. The ink filled the page, with only a few
crossings out. She had forgotten how much she liked this. It felt like it set her brain right,
made it click and whir. Each step was sensical and necessary, entirely indisputable.
With relish she resolved the first problem she had set herself. The numbers coming together
like music.
In the middle of the meeting, in the middle of a sentence, Kimmuriel turned in his seat to
look at her, face impassive but eyes blistering. She lifted her head and met his gaze, her
expression equally impassive. Both Jarlaxle and Rai-guy stopped talking, Rai-guy furrowing
his brow and looking at Kimmuriel with mild interest. Jarlaxle was flickering his gaze between
the two of them with entertained concern.
She gave an unconcerned little ruffle and continued with her calculations. With not a
glimmer of change on his face, he turned back to the meeting. Hesitatingly, they continued
and so did she.
More than an hour later, when Jarlaxle had finally ushered his lieutenants out of his office
hours later, he kicked his feet up on his desk and looked at Tega, who had gotten so
immersed in her math that she had almost forgotten they were in the office in the first place.
Jarlaxle cleared his throat so she looked up at him, jumping when she realized Kimmuriel and
Rai-guy were no longer there.
Yes? She asked.
What was that?
What was what?
He made a disbelieving face, Between you and my psion.
She lifted her chin loftily, He was trying to read my mind.
He waited for a moment then waved his fingers in a circle, imploring her to continue.

36 | P a g e

She straightened her glasses, trying to look supremely unconcerned, I let him, she said
with a touch of defiance, then softer almost as an aside she added, while I did calculations
too complicated for him to follow.
Jarlaxle threw his head back laughing, laughing so hard his hat fell off of his head, Tega! he
exclaimed when he had his breath back, You are truly a surprise and a delight.
XXXXX
The battle was over then. They had no weapons against those little crossbows. One of them
pulled Tega up from where she lay and tossed her into the camp with the others. From there
she could see drow, who smirked and talked amongst themselves openly now, though she
couldnt understand them. They were restraining unconscious elves, stripping them of
jewelry and weapons as well as looting their own dead companions.
The bizarre calm still sat inside her bones, like all of this was happening to another girl and
nothing more for her than something to watch.
The drow she thought might be their leader was crouching before her fathers body, fiddling
with something, when he stood he held Khovus bracelet. It was made of solid gold, crafted
to look like branches looping around a wrist. It was the mark of the Chieftain, supposed to go
to Meika. It had been Khovus mothers before him, her mothers before that. There were
thirty names that Tega knew of her peoples leaders. They stretched back an eon. The
bracelet did not belong in his hands. She thought it should hurt him, burn his ebony hand,
but he dropped it in a bag of other wealth with no concern.
Tega forced herself to look around. She had to know who was alive. She didnt know what
use it was, but she felt more than understood that knowing more would never hurt.
Meika lived, tethered and gagged by a tree, Trilifeil, his new wife, lived also though she was
bleeding rather badly. The twins were both alive. They were even awake, though very tightly
bound. There were thirteen children, twenty four female adults, twenty one male adults, and
her.
That meant that there were fifteen dead adults and no dead children. Tega could not see the
two infants who had been sleeping in little hammocks in the tree houses above, but it made
her heart sick.
It did not take long for her curiosity to be sated. A drow appeared at the edge of one of the
platforms, he held a child in each arm, being strangely gentle. For a moment she thought he
would bring them down. Their mothers lived. She could see them stretching at their bonds
toward their children. One of their fathers lived and he wriggled at his bonds, groaning into
his gag.
The drow yelled down at the commander who had taken the bracelet. The commander
looked up, shading his eyes to see what the soldier had found. He shrugged and yelled back
a response.
The soldier made a motion that it took Tegas brain a moment to understand. Then the
babies were falling. Time did not stretch out so that Tega could come to terms with the
slaughter of the infants. It did not lengthen to give time for their parents to send prayers of
farewell through their bonds. They fell like rocks and hit the ground with agonizing thumps.
Seventeen dead.
When they had all awoken from the sleep induced by the bolts, they were lined up. The
commander walked passed them all, looking on with a critical eye. He stopped in front of the
twins, looking back and forth between them. His eyes lit up and he grinned maliciously,
iiyola*, he grinned.
A soldier came forward, clipping dark clamps over each twins wrist. He chose a few more,
the most beautiful among them. He hardly glanced at Tega when he walked passed her.
37 | P a g e

The company of drow split into two, one half collecting the elves selected by their
commander and pulling them off into the dark forest. Tega could see Meika pulling at his
bonds, rageful shouts muffled by his gag. Trying to tear his way to Trilifeil who was being
taken by the embarking drow. But for once he was as ineffectual as Tega.
The other 49 of them were led off in the opposite direction, tied together like cattle.

Notes:
Notes: * Translation: Treasures

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Chapter 5: Chapter 5
Tega didnt want to admit it but her bout with Kimmuriel had worn her out. Her brain felt
sluggish and muted. She felt in no mood to angle a healing potion for Dritch out of Jarlaxle or
wheedle any sort of promises for Dritchs protection. What she wanted was to go to bed. She
was wrung out. She understood neither how nor why the drow let themselves live like this. If
she were on the surface and if Jarlaxle were an elf, she would just ask him to help her friend
and he would help her.
In an overwhelming moment she remembered that she had miles and miles of rock above
her head and darkness pinning her in all around. She remembered that every single person
in this city would cut her to pieces except for the person right in front of her and a half
beaten consort.
Tears pushed at her eyes and her throat ached. But she sat very still and did her careful
math in the ledgers. If the hours would only pass until the guards were gone, she could ask
Jarlaxle her favor and get some kind of rest. She would not, of course, turn Dritch away from
her room when he needed her, but she sorely wished she could have some time locked in
there to herself. She needed to wind down and let her guard down for awhile.
Finally, finally, Jarlaxle waved the guard out of his office.
Jarlaxle, she said immediately when the last of them was gone.
No, Tega.
She blinked, Wh-what?
He took off his hat and looked at her sternly, Im not helping the boy.
After all that agonized waiting, all the dread that had sat in her stomach all day, all the
planning she had done to try to get him a healing potion or some measure of protection,
Jarlaxle was just shooting her down.
Her shoulders shook, Why not? I thought-
He shrugged, Yes, hes pretty, but hes replaceable and he needs to be able to help himself.
I cant stop every revenge plot in a cave full of mercenary drow. If he doesnt want to be
attacked, he should kill his attacker.
Please!
Tega, he responded in a louder and harsher voice, hitting the palm of his hand against the
desk. His words careened out as though he could no longer keep them to himself, Do you
not see that he is using you? Do you not understand that while you might think that the two
of your are friends he feels nothing for you?
Tears were prickling at her eyes, How could you possibly know that?
He is a drow! A weak drow who relies on the favors and protection of others. He has
realized that you will help him without asking for anything in return. He has been using you
and will continue to use you.
You dont know him-
He laughed. It wasnt his regular loud and merry laugh that was filled with bells and made
her smile regardless of what he was laughing at. It was cold and brief and befitting his
complexion. I do know him, Tega. He is a drow and it doesnt matter what tender things
hes said to you or the sweet smiles the two of you share, he is using you.
She fought back desperately, How do you know that I didnt ask for something in return!
She shouted rather shrilly, standing up.
He stood up as well, sneering at her, Did you? Do you have someone lurking in the
Underdark that he will murder for you? Some item you needed stolen? Did you take him,
39 | P a g e

Tega? he asked ruthlessly, Because you should have. You took him into your room, you
protected him, you made yourself an enemy and you asked for nothing in return. You should
have forced him onto his knees or threw him to the spiders! His voice was rising with
emotion now.
She shuddered back, What do you mean I made an enemy? she asked, focusing on the
least terrible of his accusations.
He lifted his hands in disbelief, Someone was trying to kill him and you harbored him. Do
you think they would thank you for that? Do you understand what that means?
No! she shouted, No Jarlaxle I dont! It doesnt make any sense. Arent you people
supposed to be pragmatic doesnt your whole culture condemn emotion!
Yes, which is why-
No! she shouted over him. It made him blink and look startled at her fury. Angry tears
were coursing down her cheeks, Revenge is emotional, Jarlaxle. That drow doesnt have
anything to fear from KarDritch. Torture and sex and hate are all emotions! You arent
superior beings that are tougher or smarter than anyone else! You are whining black skinned
children! You act like youre so cold but youre just children asking for immediate rewards
and brazen power dynamics. Do you not understand that friendship-
Jarlaxle snarled, cutting her off, Friendship is weakness!
No it is not! she said, stamping her foot and crossing the office at him.
He circled his desk, even his unimpressive height towering over her, What can your
friendship do, Tega? How will your friendship protect him? He cannot live in your bedroom
and you cannot raise a blade in his defense.
Her entire body shook, If I got him a healing potion at least he wouldnt be such an easy
target!
Jarlaxle laughed at her again, his cold and terrible laugh. Where will you get that, Tega? Will
you go out into the streets of Menzoberranzan and hunt out an apothecary? He leaned
toward her, sneering, There is nothing you can do.
She lunged, scooping up a pretty desk weight that sat beside her on Jarlaxles desk.
Instinctually he leapt back, sword growing from nothing, raising it in defense. He nearly cut
her down and only just had time to stop himself before he did.
Because she didnt swing it at him as he had expected. She laid her hand on the desk and
brought the weight down, smashing the bones in her right hand.
The sword disappeared from Jarlaxles grip and the sneer fell from his lips.
She glowered at him, tears staining her cheeks, her now broken hand clutched against her
chest. Sobs escaping her in little gasps.
You wont be able to write. He said, the softness coming back into his voice, But you knew
that. He moved toward her, lifting his hand slowly.
He touched her jaw with his fingers, thumb wiping away her tears. She thought he would
have raged, but the anger he had had moments before had dissolved. His voice was soft
again, Ill have to heal your hand, but you know that too.
She didnt say anything, just looked up at him, cradling her hand.
Does it hurt? He asked, taking her shattered hand in his own.
Yes. She breathed.
He firmly uncurled her hand. This will hurt more, he said. He felt along each of the tiny
broken bones, snapping them back into place. There was no ruthless enjoyment in his eyes
as he realigned her bones. It made her almost regret what shed done.
40 | P a g e

She shook with the pain and fresh tears fell from her eyes.
When he was finished he drew a slim bottle from his pocket, Drink this.
She took it,struggling one handed with the cork for a moment and then drinking a small sip,
leaving most of the contents in the bottle. She felt it burn down her throat and through her
veins. She felt it touch the broken points of her bones and begin to knit them together, but
she had not drunk enough to heal her completely. Her hand ached still, but she didnt drink
any more.
He didnt stop her from pocketing the rest of the bottle.
Youd better go, Jarlaxle said, Im sure hes waiting for you.
XXXXX
The name of the drow commander was Dorrolik Montplair. Little Tega, tethered to the elf in
front of her and the elf behind her had listened until she was sure that was what he was
called. She had muttered it under her breath until, exotic though it was, she would not
forget.
That first day that they had been marched out she didnt cry as some of the others did. She
was tied up with the adults, although she didnt belong there, clearly too large for the drow
to consider her a child. They were walked for hours and hours, through the whole rest of the
night. The whole elves did their best to support the wounded, keeping them moving and
quiet. It was a long night.
Right before dawn the feet of the children all tied together had begun to drag and some of
them had begun to wail. They were too small to understand to stay quiet, taken down by all
of the horrors they had seen.
When the line of children stopped moving, unresponsive to their parents pleas to keep
going, the three drow driving them bared their swords and swung. Tega flinched, horror
sinking into her. Why would they bother to take them this far just to kill them?
But they did not, just bit them with the flats of their blades, driving them forward. They
laughed and leapt after the children, flashing their swords until the children were sprinting
as well as they could bound together as they were, tripping over roots and banging against
each other. Tears and shouts dragged from their little throats in equal measure.
Their distress spurned on the rest of the elves, terrified to see their children so abused. The
drow hooted with laughter as the bound elves tried to reach their children and offer them
some measure of protection. They shouted at the elves in drow in tones both angry and
amused until the entire caravan of captives fell to the ground. The drow didnt bother
hauling them all back up. It was there that they made camp. That first night there was no
food for the elves.
Tega watched the drow make camp. They set up a small fire as dawn crept up the skies,
roasting meat she wasnt familiar with and talking among themselves. She had eyes only for
the commander.
He prowled around the captives, checking the tightness of their restraints and barking at
drow to bandage the worst of the elves wounds.
A slim drow male crouched in front of Meika, ostensibly to bandage the puncture through his
bicep. Tega wanted to shake her head at Meika, tell him to accept the medical treatment,
but of course she could not.
As Tega knew he would, he jutted forward, smashing his forehead against the drow medics
and knocking him onto his back. Meika could not get on top of him with his bonds, but he
kicked over and over again. Tega could hear the crunching of the drows ribs as he tried to
scrambled back.

41 | P a g e

Immediately the commander was upon Meika. He raised a terrible whip with angry barbs
glittering on the ends, bringing it down on Meikas exposed back. Meika shouted into his
gag, wriggling back from the medic.
The commander did not stop. He drew the whip back so many times, ripping it into Meikas
back until it there was more torn flesh than whole.
If this did anything to Tega, she did not show it in her demeanor. She did not lash out to
defend her brother. But the elf next to her took her hand surreptitiously, squeezing it tightly
as Meika bore his lashings. Grateful, Tega squeezed back.
After Meika, the rest of them took their medical attention without complaint, letting the drow
apply salves and bandages as they wished.
They were not unbound to sleep but had to make do leaning against shoulders, wrists
rubbing raw. The drow, leaving a few awake to keep watch, bundled themselves up to rest
throughout the day.
I will not be sleeping with these dark elves circling about us, one of the elves whispered
within Tegas earshot.
She furrowed her brow. It seemed to her like the drow were going to do whatever they
wanted to them whether they were asleep or not. So Tega curled up as best she could,
deciding it was best to be rested and alert when they started moving again. Obligingly the
elf next to her allowed her to use him to rest against.
When she was leaning against him he whispered into her ear, Dont worry, little one, your
brother will be alright.
Tega opened her eyes and looked up at him, No he wont.
XXXXX
When Tega reached the door to her rooms, Dritch was waiting for her, arm clamped around
his ribs. She didnt say anything, just unlocked her door and let him in. She was glad that it
was not Dritch who was the psion. She didnt want him to hear how hard she was finding it
not to think about Jarlaxles snarled advise that she ought to force him to his knees.
Here, she said barely looking at him and thrusting out the healing potion.
Is this? He asked, Is this a healing potion?
Yes, She said briefly, Drink it.
He didnt hesitate, uncorking the phial and drinking it down. Tega watched his eye heal and
his body relax. He twisted experimentally, grinning.
How do you feel? Tega asked softly. Her hand still throbbed, but she had no intention of
sharing just how she got ahold of the potion. He was alright and that was enough.
Perfect! He said, touching his now mended nose, Where did you get that?
From Jarlaxle, Tega answered.
He looked almost proud of himself. Tega tried not to flinch.
I should thank him, he said with glittering eyes.
I think you should let it go, Tega told him seriously.
Whats wrong? He asked, trying to catch her eye.
She continued to look away, busying herself with her back to him, Nothing is wrong,
Dritch, she whispered. What are you going to do about your attacker?
He looked around and, seeing no other chairs, reclined on the bed, Well I should probably
kill him.
Yes, She said, shuddering, You probably should.
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Tega, you arent alright, He said bluntly, Whats wrong with your hand?
She realized she had been cradling it and dropped it at once, Nothing is wrong with my
hand. How will you kill him? You cant beat him in combat.
He got up and turned her around by the shoulder, she jumped, backing up into the wall and
pulling her hand defensively against her stomach, but she had no where to go. He took her
hand in his own and inspected it, Your hand is hurt, almost broken.
Yes, She said, taking it back.
Were you attacked? He asked, Was it Zarel? The one who attacked me, he would have
only one eye.
No, Tega said shortly, It was no one, let it go.
Dritch tilted his head to the side, brow furrowed, Jarlaxle?
She rounded on him, I asked you to let it go, KarDritch!
Is that why Jarlaxle gave you the healing potion? Why didnt you use it? Does he know who
attacked you? Will there be retribution?
I did, Dritch! she nearly shouted, I asked him for a healing potion for you and he wouldnt
give one to you so I broke my hand because I knew he would give one to me!
He reeled back, You broke your own hand? He asked in a soft voice, To get me a healing
potion? Tega didnt know if she was imagining it because of what Jarlaxle had said to her or
not, but he they way he looked at her was unsettling.
She pushed her hair back behind her ears, You called your attacker Zarel, is he going to
want me dead now too?
It is...a possibility, Dritch said still regarding her with an odd expression, But Jarlaxle has
made it pretty clear that youre off limits, I dont know if he would risk it.
Then you can pay be back for taking you in by killing him.
He smirked, That works for me.
She crossed her arms, Im very tired, Dritch. Are you still going to stay?
No, he said, Regardless of the means, I should show Jarlaxle my appreciation.
She didnt stop him. He gave her another grin that nearly made her flinch and flung the door
open, slipping out of it. But he didnt make it far, leaping back almost immediately having
nearly collided with Kimmuriel Oblodra.
It was unclear if Kimmuriel had been outside the door or merely happened to be walking
passed, but he was stopped now, long hair shiny in Tegas lamplight.
Dritch dropped his gaze, but Tega could see Kimmuriels burning into him, face entirely
impassive. Finally, after what seemed an impossibly long moment he said Be on your way
then.
His voice sent shuddered down Tegas spine. His words were both cold and exact, the natural
melody of his voice deadened with the precision of his tone.
Dritch fled. With no one between them Kimmuriel looked up briefly at Tega, still betraying no
emotions. Then, seemingly of its own volition, her door slammed.
XXXXX
It took the drow two weeks to march them out of the forest, a terrible two weeks.
Meika had barely eaten for the entire duration. He would not stop fighting them, kicking if
they got too close, biting when they tried to force food down his throat.

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On the fifth day, still deep in the forest, Dorrolik, the commander, had shaken his head at
the soldier who was attempting to make Meika eat. Relieved, the soldier had backed off.
Dorrolik crouching in front of Meika, smile playing on his dark lips.
He had spoken in elvish, loud enough for all the captives to hear, I will give you one
opportunity to behave. His voice was melodic, too beautiful for his words, If you defy me
again, your people will hate you for it.
He took the food and attempted to force Meika to eat again. Tega wanted to scream at him
just to eat, not to fight for once in his life. The commanders words had sent terrors through
her bones.
But Meika did not eat. He twisted, kicking out at the commander, baring his teeth and
snarling. Dorrolik leapt back out of Meikas reach, he smiled too gently down at him. As you
wish, he said. He half looked over his shoulder to one of his soldiers and said, Aldris?
A skinny drow, peppered in scars, with blades hanging from all available places turned his
attention to his commander.
Dorrolik continued, still speaking in elvish, slow and clear so that all of the captives could
hear him, You did well in the raid, Id like to reward you. He gave Meika a sharp toothed
smile, never once looking away from him Pick whichever one you want, try not to damage
them irrevocably.
The skinny drow, Aldris, smiled broadly, stalking toward the elves, hungry eyes devouring.
He reached out toward a pretty female.
No, Dorrolik said, eyes still on Meika, One of the young ones.
No! Meika yelled, Aldris shrugged and turned his attention to the line of elf children who
huddled together under his gaze.
The elves began shouting, pulling at their bonds, snarling to get free and protect their
young. But they could only watch as Aldris cut loose a crying little female, her hair a wild
dark tangle.
She writhed in his grasp but was no match.
STOP! Meika shouted, pleading, Please! No more! Please! I will eat.
The commander crouched in front of him, Yes, you will. But I would hate for this lesson not
to sink in. Now keep your eyes open, look away and Ill give him another.
Never before had Tega felt the sort of hatred as she did now for the commander. Her gut
churned with it, her blood poisoned, her bones burned. She felt it in every nerve and every
thought. She let it cut into her and bury itself.
XXXXX
Jarlaxle watched Tega come into the office the next morning. She wore a pale pink cardigan
and a flowered dress. She looked unperturbed, if a little stiff.
Good morning, She said softly, settling herself in her desk chair and taking out her work.
Good morning, he responded.
He watched her clench her teeth when she took up her pen. But she didnt say anything, just
set her shoulders and kept on with her work.
Does your hand hurt? he asked.
She let a long time pass as though she hadnt heard him, then finally responded, Yes.
Here, he said in a compassionate tone. He lifted a small phial of healing potion and lifted
his hand as though he was going to toss it to her.
Dont! She said hurriedly.
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He sighed with exasperation, For Lolths sake, Tega, just take the potion. I dont want your
work to slow down just because-
No, She assured him, I just...I just wouldnt have been able to catch it.
He swept up from his desk, crossed the room and set the bottle on her desk, Dritch is on an
assignment, I thought you would like to know.
Did you send him because... She said softly.
I sent him on assignment because he is a mercenary and Kimmuriel said that he needed
someone of his skillset.
She wasnt sure what to make of that. But there was nothing that she could do about it.
Thank you for the potion, She said instead and drank it, closing her eyes as her hand
stopped throbbing.
She did not want to make an enemy of Kimmuriel if she could help it and could only hope
that his reasoning for sending Dritch had not been personal. But she could not be too upset.
After all, Jarlaxle was right, Dritch was a mercenary and could only be expected to act like
one every once in awhile.
She moved her way through the daily reports, distracting herself from her personal
concerns. They were of great interest to her today. The reports this morning confirmed what
she had suspected from when both of Jarlaxles lieutenants had met with him for so long the
day before. A new house war was starting, a big one. This excited her a little. She had an
idea that she was anxious to try out.
She carefully organized the reports into two piles, day to day and everything to do with the
new war. All of the new war reports she went through carefully, keeping a log of the drow
involved, in an enormous grid that spanned many pages.
Each name was marked with a file number and a copy of each of the reports they sent it was
to be kept in their own place. Along with the reports she drew up grids for each soldier,
keeping track of what they spent and gained, how many soldiers they were in charge of and
time spent on each assignment. This was a gamble. It would take many hours over the
course of the entire war which, she was given to understand, could take anywhere from a
week to years. And she wouldnt know until the end if there was anything to be gained by it.
But she needed a project and here this was.
She was working so dedicatedly she jumped when Jarlaxle called her name at the end of the
day.
Tega! He called, rapping on her desk with his knuckles to get her attention. She startled
and looked up. He was standing in front of her tiredly. She hadnt noticed, but he had been in
and out of the office all day at different meetings, briefing groups of soldiers, and confirming
with his lieutenants. He wanted to rest.
Yes? She asked. Her pulse was racing a little from how complicated her organization
method had become. But once she had it it was going to be beautiful.
You are distracted today, he said, Is this about KarDritch?
No, She said rather guiltily, she had temporarily forgotten he had been sent off until then
she had been so immersed, No, I am...preparing for the big war youre starting.
He took the book from her hands and glanced through it, then he laughed, Perfect! This
looks perfect! But you know we have four other wars happening also.
She perked up, Do you? Ill do those too.
Ill get the records for you from Kimmuriel, he responded, Lolth knows hell be glad to be
rid of them. But not tonight. Come now, Ill walk you to your rooms.
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She rose from her desk, carefully putting away all of her papers. Looking at her desk she
said, Im sorry for losing my temper with you yesterday, Jarlaxle.
I suppose you arent the only one at fault, he said only a little begrudgingly.
She turned and faced him, I know you were trying to help me, but I am not entirely naive.
How does your hand feel? He asked, taking it and turning it over in his own. His hands
were very warm, or perhaps hers were just chilly.
Jarlaxle felt down the length of Tegas recently broken hand bones, I have never seen
someone do that for someone else before, He said quietly.
She allowed him to inspect her hand and didnt reply. By now she thought it must be more of
something to do with his fingers than looking for remaining damages.
Is he the only one worthy of such a sacrifice? He asked in a low tone.
She looked at him through her spectacles. He wasnt looking her in the face, just touching
her mended hand.
She had not had time to answer when his fingers stilled. Then, tentatively, circled her wrist.
They were faint, they had had a long time to heal. But if you traced your finger around them,
as Jarlaxle was doing now, they could still be felt. Faint scars that circled her entire wrists.
These were scars that Jarlaxle was familiar with, from struggling against being bound or
being pulled around by tethered wrists.
XXXXX
It was only two weeks. Fourteen days with the drow. But it was enough. The girl hadnt
spoken since she was used to control Meika. Sat still to be fed, allowed herself to be dragged
along, barely lifting her feet. Whenever Tega saw her new rage bubbled in her blood.
Tega spent hours staring at the commander, murmuring his name in her mind while they
were marched. She remembered the gentle misleading smile and the soft voice. She learned
the angle of his jaw and the set of his eyes. She knew the length of his stride and the size of
his footprint. She knew the depth of his reach and which hand he favored.
For fourteen days she watched him. And then they reached the western edge of the forest,
where lushness began to give way to arid desert.
The drow stopped while they were still in the shade of the trees, waiting. In the distance, she
could see a shadow approaching, the silhouette of a caravan.
The elves had been kept too poorly nourished, too badly beaten to resist.
The caravan came to the shadow of the trees. Twenty or so robed humans mounted on
colossal beasts with thick muzzles, heavy feet, and round humps. A heavy human male
approached them, two brawny males on either side of him, wide swords in their hands.
The commander argued with him for a few minutes, bartering back and forth. They were
speaking in neither elvish nor drow, but a lilting language Tega wasnt familiar with. Finally
the leading human let loose a loud and fruity laugh, his hands over his belly. The commander
grinned.
The fat human walked into the camp. He paid no heed to the drow soldiers but made his way
up and down the rows of elves, examining them with a shrewd eye. He stopped before some
of them, peeling their lips back to look at their teeth. Still frightened of the drow
punishments, they obeyed, even Meika.
Finally the human shook hands mightily with the commander and a great deal of gold
changed hands. Without fanfare, the drow disappeared from camp into the trees.
More humans came into the camp after the drow had vacated, listening to barked orders
from their leader.
46 | P a g e

Brawny humans smacked at the elves with the flats of their swords, herding them into the
hot sun. Although less blood chilling, the humans were much rougher. They sliced the bonds
from the elves one by one, tying them instead onto trailing ropes that led from the back of
the beasts of burden.
They wrenched Tega forward and tossed her into the sand. She began getting up, dragged to
her feet by the slavers. There was only one managing her, unlike the three attending to
Meika. He lashed rope around her wrists and tethered her to the animal.
They were strung up in long chains until every elf was well tied up. Then they started
moving, wrenched forward by their wrists into the blistering heat.
XXXXX
Tega let him touch the scars, her heart speeding beneath her cardigan.
He spent a long time with unfocused eyes, touching the scars on her wrists, then he said in a
faraway voice, Come with me.
She didnt ask where they were going but followed him out of the office and down the hall.
He led her through a myriad twists, occasionally looking back to make sure she was still
following him, before they reached a door that he stopped in front of. He took out a silver
key and opened the door, holding it open for her.
She went inside and found herself in a small sitting room bedecked in opulent carpeting and
outfitted with plush chairs and sofas. Through a gauze curtained doorway she could see a
magnificent bed draped in silks and piled high with pillows, through another there were
clothes of every shade hung with care. A colossal mirror reflecting them from the opposite
wall. She thought that this must be Jarlaxles private chambers.
Jarlaxle? She asked, What are we doing here?
He seemed to have come out of the daze he had been in and shrugged, nonchalantly,
tossing his cape over a chair arm and his hat on top of it.
Make yourself comfortable, Ill be right back.
She didnt sit down, relatively uncomfortable, having no idea what they were doing there.
He reemerged from the bedroom, a small tin in his hand. Without the hat and cape he looked
underdressed. She had the sudden inclination to take off his eyepatch, but resisted.
May I? he asked, taking her hand again.
She didnt know what he was doing, but she nodded. She was certain he wouldnt have
wasted two healing potions on her if he were just going to hurt her again.
He dipped his fingers into the tin, scooping a thick salve. She stood very still as he spread
the salve around her wrists.
It felt warm on her skin and getting warmer. She thought she knew what the salve must do
but forced her hopes to stay down, letting Jarlaxle work.
Tell me when it cools, he said.
She waited until the warm salve cooled on her skin then said, Ok its...its cool.
He set down the tin and drew out a cloth, wiping her wrists clean. Under the salve her wrists
were smooth, unscared.
Her breath was labored. She took back her hand almost roughly and felt them. The scars
were not there. She tried to breath only from her nose, becoming lightheaded.
She had nothing to say. The tumult of the last day had eroded her calm and this tossed her
over the edge. She threw herself into Jarlaxles arms, holding herself tightly to him. This
time, unwatched by guards, she didnt immediately recoil. He seemed surprised only for a
moment then put his arms around her and laid his head against her hair.
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48 | P a g e

Chapter 6: Chapter 6
The caravans dragged the captured elves forward through the sands. Their skin scorched in
the sun, blistering red and peeling. Their lips were dry and cracked, tongues swollen with
thirst. What this leg of their captivity lacked in terrifying overseers it made up for in cruel
and unfamiliar territory.
The captors themselves seemed harder to hate. After the horrors of the drow they seemed
almost kind by comparison. But the elves had been beaten down by the torments of the
drow. Not even Meika dared to fight back, but allowed himself to be dragged after his
creature, arms stretched out before him.
If there were a cure to Tegas fury that had burned bright inside her bones since the attack
on the little girl, it was Meikas defeat. His head perpetually hung, shoulders slumped. She
watched him placidly eat the food given to him and listlessly drink the water provided. He
neither snarled nor attacked. She expected his dark tattoos to peel right off of him with his
blistering skin. She had never seen his eyes look so blank and so dead. Her brother broke
her fever of hatred and she felt the stirrings of compassion once more.
Three nights in they were far enough from their forest that the slavers allowed them some
mobility, trusting that they wouldnt be stupid enough to run off into the desert. When she
was untied, legs still hobbled, Tega scooted her way, head down, next to her brother.
Although she sat pressed up against him, he did not look up at her.
Meika, she whispered, nudging him.
Slowly he turned his head to look at her. She was sure she looked hardly any better than he
did, her skin too was blistered, her lips bleeding. But his eyes betrayed nothing when he
looked at her.
She had nothing to say to him, no words of comfort that wouldnt be lies, but she laid her
head against his shoulder. It took many minutes but finally he lifted an arm and dropped it
around her, and began pulling the tangles gently from her hair with his long fingers.
Im sorry, Te, he whispered to her.
Dont be sorry, she said, Be strong.
How? he hissed, Even if we got free we would die in this wasteland.
One day we might not be in a wasteland.
And how many of us will be dead or defiled by then? He replied in a soft snarl.
She touched the dark tattoos that limned his wrist. Opposite to the blue marks of marriage
were black leaves, showing where he waited for the golden bracelet of leadership. For as
long as one of us breaths the air, until the last of us is lost, while any of us live, so do we all.
She said it holding tight to his wrist, her fingernails digging into his skin. It was a mantra for
funerals. It was to be whispered in unison while the body was covered in underbrush to be
taken back by the forest.
He laid his hand over hers. She could hear him breathe, crescendoing from long and soft to
harsh and sharp, she could see his shoulders give violent, rhythmic jerks. He was crying.
She let him have a few moments before she twisted his chin toward her, Dont cry, Meika.
You are already dehydrated enough.
His tears jerked to a stop and he stared at her from under his hair. His eyes were still
shimmering and he looked lost and frightened, Tega, it was my fault that that child was-
No! She hissed, nearly crushing his hand, It was the Dorrolik.
Who?
She looked up at him, The commander, that was his name.
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Who cares?
She bristled, He knows where our family was taken. Your wife, our brothers. He knows
where they are.
And? He asked bitterly, What will you do with his name, Te?
She wrinkled her nose, talking about the commander was making her vitriol spark back into
life. She let it burn her from her feet into her eyes, I will wait!
XXXXX
Tega slipped into the office the next morning, more quiet even than she usually was. She
wasnt entirely sure how Jarlaxle would treat her after the closeness of the previous evening.
She had twisted her fingers the entire way to the office only forcing herself to stop when she
was on the threshold.
But when she looked up from the doorway, she shivered and had to fight not to run back the
way that she had come. Jarlaxle didnt greet her with his customary sweeping grin. Jarlaxle
wasnt there at all. Looming before his desk, eyes cold and impassive, was Kimmuriel.
She sidestepped toward her desk awkwardly, trying to balance the competing desires to not
look at him and not to look away. She understood that she needed to put up some kind of
mental defense and that stumbling over her own feet was no way to show that it she was
competent but there was nothing for it.
Thankfully she did not have more than a few moments to suffer. At that moment, Jarlaxle
paraded into the room, successfully stealing Kimmuriels attention.
Kimmuriel! Jarlaxle beamed, Youre here already. He swung around Kimmuriel to take a
seat behind his desk, touching the psion lightly across the back as he did. Tega thought that
he was probably the only person who could have done that and lived to tell about it.
She hid behind her paperwork, rustling out the math she had used last time to ward him off
and starting in on it hastily.
In the middle of his conversation with Jarlaxle, not pausing in his sentence, a chilly voice
broke into Tegas mind. That did not work last time and it will not work now.
She flinched badly enough to slam her knees into the desk. She rather longed to be the sort
of person who could have handled that cooly. She tried to get her thoughts to catch up with
her nerves. If he hadnt been waylaid by her defenses, which seemed paltry in retrospect,
had he had free reign over her thoughts?
Yes.
If she had been any stronger the grip on her pen would have snapped it in half. She didnt
know what to do. She couldnt come up with a quick little plan to deal with someone who
could literally read her mind. Her quick little plan had failed. Her hands were sort of dancing
over the desk, unable to find something to do.
I know the dreams you are harboring.
She could feel him rifling through her memories, like tender touches against her brain. It
wasnt as terrible as she would have foreseen, someone digging through her most intimate
memories. For a moment she almost relaxed into it, thinking that it felt far more comforting
than invasive. But as soon as she had puts those words to it she scrambled to fight back,
recognizing the insidious trick for what it was.
Youre going to have to focus better than that.
He became less subtle, forcing things long pushed away into the forefront of her mind. Her
father swinging her in his arms, the drow commanders sweet smile, the twins pulled into
the trees. At the twins, the spectacle diverted from the accounts of memory. Simultaneously
50 | P a g e

she lived through the hundreds of different scenarios she had concocted about what had
happened to her brothers when she lost sight of them.
She clung to what she could. Bearing down on a single memory that she was used to
cleaving onto. She dug her nails into her leg and thought of only the commander. She
thought of all of the things she had clung to since she had been imprisoned. The shift of his
eyes from red to sea foam as the dawn rose and his infravision faded. Just how the firelight
had refracted in them. Where his skin wrinkled when he smiled. His arms that hung a
fraction too long for his torso. The slight overlap of his teeth in the front. His hair, too short
to be properly tied back, that fell prettily in front of his eyes.
She felt Kimmuriels explorations stop and he withdrew from her mind.
Better.
XXXXX
The desert left the elves bereft of spirit. They were not used to such arid temperatures and
were kept watered only enough to survive.
When they finally saw the city looming in the distance Tega felt, of all things, a crushing of
her heart. It might mean a reprieve from these conditions, but it might not. And she was
certain that they would not be kept together for long. Who could possibly make use of that
many elves? Their approach to the sprawling squalid metropolis was possibly the last
moment before her people would be scattered.
As they were pulled into civilization she looked only at Meika, memorizing what she could
see of him. The red glimmer that still stayed in his dark hair even as full of dirt and filth as it
was. The tattoos that cut across his sunburnt shoulders. But Meika was very far away from
her. They had been tied up differently that day, not pulled by the camels, but in three
straight lines: males, females, children.
As she had not since his death, she longed terribly for her father, she felt that no force would
have pulled them apart if he had survived. But he had not, and they were taken into the city.
It was cacophonous. Neither the forest nor the desert had been quiet, filled with wind and
leaves and animals. But this was a new sort of sound that pervaded the senses. It was
claustrophobic with noise and overpowering with smells. Many of the elves were cowering
and coughing, bunching closer together than they were bound.
Tega was overwhelmed. She could barely breath. Could not make any sense of the swirl of
activity around her. She wanted to cower under Meikas arm and cover her ears. Tega
desperately wanted to shut her eyes but she resisted, desperately trying to remember the
path they were taking through the city.
But it was too winding and there was too much to look at. She didnt know how her eyes
could see all of it at once and she couldnt make their progress fit itself into any sort of
recreatable map. They were pulled through the streets, whistled and snickered at. The
journey seemed, incongruously, to take hours and seconds, until they reached an imposing
stone building that towered above them.
Tega pushed herself against the elf next to her, whose arm went around her protectively. She
had never seen such a large structure. The wooden double doors were large enough that,
lain flat, they could have been their own platform in their forest home. They were bordered
by broad and well armored guards who looked to Tega like the same person twice over.
Inside the building was worse, it was hot and cloying, the walls claustrophobic. There was so
much mud and stone above her Tega thought she would not be able to breathe. They were
taken all the way down a long hall, driven by barked orders from the slavers behind them. At
the end of the hall was a twin staircase, one that circled up, the other that went down into
shadows.

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They were not taken together. The rows of females and children were herded upward while
the males taken down.
It was then, with Meika being taken from her and pulled into the dark that the calm Tega had
been pulling over herself broke. She had watched death overcome her father, calmly allowed
her twin baby brothers to be whispered away, but this last blow was too much. The brother
she had always imagined she would miss the least was disappearing into blackness and she
could not stand by it.
Before she understood what she was doing, a scream tore out of her throat. It echoed
through the near silent hall, cutting into the ears of the guard and the elves. She wrenched
herself sideways, thrashing. Her wrists, slimmer than those of her fellows pulled out of their
cuffs and she leapt wildly.
She was inelegant in her attempt, more of a lurch than a leap she careened off of the stairs
and into the air, down toward the males below her.
She reached out for him, her aim not true enough to land her next to him. Her fall was
softened by hands that reached out to catch her. The guards were shouting but against their
command she was passed into her brothers arms.
Meika! She shrieked, clinging to him, Dont leave! Meika not you! Her words were nearly
unintelligible with their pitch but he clung onto her more fiercely even than she to him.
For a single and final moment she was wrapped up in him and his arms were still strong and
his skin still smelled faintly of home. Tega, he whispered at her, Tega, youve been so
brave. Tega, I dont want to go.
The guards had caught up, bullied their way passed the elves and reached her and Meika.
They pulled her back but she clung to his arms, looking desperately into his face, Meika, I
cant do this! I cant do this!
Tega, it will not be forever! He urged back, clinging to her arms in return and resisting the
pull of the guards, Tega promise me! Promise me it will not be forever. We will see each
other again! Promise me! By the last pronouncement his voice, cracked from thirst, was no
longer a whisper but ringing through the halls.
She nodded, tears blurring her cheeks, I promise, Meika. It will not be forever.
Then she was wrenched from his arms and tossed back to the press of bodies forced,
unwilling, up the stairs. The hands she moved passed touched her gently on hair and
shoulder.
The fight had been taken out of her and she followed the lead of the guards without
argument. They were taken up the stairs passed two different levels. At the top level the
slavers were met by imposing female versions of the guards at the door. The elves were
handed off to these new captors and ordered through a narrow hall and into a room lit by the
sun. It was not the sort of room that Tega had expected to be taken. It was dappled in sun
that streamed through windows covered in hanging silks. The floors were covered in soft
pillows. Tile surrounded a cavernous bath in the corner and ledges held pitchers that
sweated from the cold water they contained. The stink of the city was not so bad here.
The guards filed them all through, unhooking them from their bonds one by one and locked
the doors behind them, giving them time to neither fight nor question.
They fell on the water, drinking it down to ease their cracked lips and swollen tongues, many
of them throwing themselves on the pillows. But their abandon only lasted for a few
minutes. After just the first tastes of refreshment they gathered themselves up. The elf
women looked around at each other. Their skin was raw and dirty. Blood covered much of
them, still unwashed from the battle many weeks ago. They didnt speak. There was nothing
to be said, but set to it.

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They took turns, using the water provided in the basin to wash the sand and dirt off of each
other, with soft cloths. They did the children first and laid them out on pillows, clean and
damp, brushing out their hair gently.
When the children were done the adults cleaned each other, picking tangles and matts from
their long hair. They didnt talk. The only thing that they might have said was that this
treatment would not last. They didnt say that this was the eye of a great storm or that this
had not been given to them for their benefit. They only washed each others hair.
When the sun began to go down the door opened and admitted the stoney faced female
guards. They said nothing but deposited baskets of gauze and salves and trays of food.
There was no discussion of not using these amenities either. Tega supposed that they could
have. They could have spent a long time debating whether perhaps it was a better idea to
refuse to clean themselves up. That perhaps there was more to be gained from starving. She
supposed they could have asked themselves if it might be kinder to wring the necks of the
children now, while they could. But they didnt ask any of that. Tega didnt know if it was
weakness or strength. Did they take what was offered because they had been so thoroughly
broken? Did they see that this was not the place to die and that they had no power to fight
so they might as well suffer as little as they could? She didnt know, but no one talked.
They waited, pressed against the wall, holding the little bodies of children against them until
the guards had left. As the baths before, they were orderly about distribution. With tender
fingers they spread salve on the damages marring the children, wrapping them with
bandage and doting on them with kisses.
Once the adults had been fixed up they divided the food. There was no need to ration, so
much had been given to them and they filled their bellies with sweet fruits, honeyed bread,
and tangy yoghurt.
Tega had not felt so whole in weeks. The dirt and blood that had caked her was washed away
and her hair felt lighter without the sand that had piled up in it. Her feet were wrapped in
bandages and her stomach was full of water and good food.
When night came they crawled onto the pillows, lacing themselves into a tangle of sweet
smelling children and long limbed females such that one could not be woken without waking
them all.
XXXXX
Tegas nerves were frayed by the time Kimmuriel stood from Jarlaxles desk and turned
toward the door. He crossed the room in smooth strides, head facing the door but eyes fixed
on Tega as he passed. Trying to be brave she glowered back. He arched an eyebrow.
Do you think you have the capacity to intimidate me?
She jolted again with the renewed intrusion into her mind and then shrunk. This was not the
sort of assault she had any experience with.
When Kimmuriel had disappeared through the door Jarlaxles gaze fell on her, stiff in her
seat. Is my psion bothering you?
Acutely aware of the drow guards she shouldered her discomfort and forced herself to look
poised and relaxed, I dont know what youre talking about.
She didnt think that he believed her but he didnt press any farther. She went back to her
work.
That night she triple checked the locks on her door before she pulled herself out of her
clothes and put on pajamas, climbing into bed. She had slept alone for a very long time, but
her bed felt large and cold. Kimmuriel had hollowed her out. She wanted very much a warm
chest to hide her face in and arms to wrap around her shoulders.

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She longed so much for warmth that it made her chest burn and hear head ache that Dritch
hadnt been sent away. She would have forced away her doubts and called him from the
barracks. She would have laid down against him and asked him to gather her up in his dark
arms. She wanted to smell the spice that he put on his skin and the scent of earth that clung
to all the dark elves. In her imagining, she could relax in his arms, his face buried in her hair.
She would be able to feel his breath on her scalp and hear the beating of his heart under her
ear.
As she slipped into sleep the arms she yearned for did not remain as she had envisioned. In
her dream they transformed. The blackness faded from the skin and freckles burst across
them. The muscle tone weakened. Even as she slept she shuddered and his musky smell
filled her nostrils, like old paper and dried ink. The smell clouded over her and made her
head hurt like it always had.
She woke up shivering and pulled the smell of the underdark into her nostrils. The blankets
were tangled around her in the dark. She pushed her fingers through her short hair and let
her forehead rest against the heels of her hands. She had not dreamed of him in a long time.
She ground her hands into her eyes until she saw stars. That was not what she needed. Not
now. She needed a level head. Needed to keep her cool.
She pulled herself out of her bed and poured herself a cup of water. It didnt matter. A dream
was a dream and it didnt matter. Dreams didnt have secret meetings. She could have
dreamed about turning into a kitten or taking Kimmuriel himself as a lover and it wouldnt
have made a difference. But she knew she wouldnt sleep again that night.
She got herself dressed and cleaned up, her hair was getting so long. She tucked it behind
her ear and faced the door. She might as well get some work done. She lingered in her room.
It was still the middle of the night and she was timid to walk all the way to the office without
an escort.
Even alone she flushed pink at the cheeks. She hadnt stopped to think about this properly
and she knew it. She walked to the office on her own every morning. Why should she be any
more frightened now? It was somewhat that Jarlaxle was always there to meet her or shortly
on his way in the morning. If something happened to her he would know almost right away.
This early, or returning to her bed at night, hours could go by with him none the wiser.
But also she recalled her first notion upon seeing Jarlaxle and Dritch, that that sort of thing
wasnt done in the morning. Had someone else said it she would have scoffed at them. She
was sure that the drow were equally willing to slit throats in morning as in the evening, the
morning just felt so much safer.
She tsked to herself and marched out of her door and down the hall into Jarlaxles office. She
met no one along the way.
She stepped into the office and softly shut the door behind her.
Good morning.
She jumped and turned, Jarlaxle was at his desk, playing with a heavy gold coin in his
fingers.
Oh! she exclaimed, Youre up early. I didnt expect you to be here.
He shrugged and, uncharacteristically, didnt say anything. He was underdressed, in only a
soft shirt and loose pants. Many of his rings and earrings remained in place, but his hat was
draped nonchalantly across his desk. They eyepatch was still there, though on his right eye
this time.
I couldnt sleep, he said finally and tipped back a heavy metal goblet, exposing his throat
as he drank the last of its contents.
She moved minutely closer to his desk, fiddling with her skirt as she did, I um- I wanted
to...to thank you, Jarlaxle.
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He grinned at her, without his regular ensemble his grin looked more boyish than it ever
had, For what?
The...for healing my wrists. She looked away, tugging at her sweater, I - just - I - Thank
you.
He tipped his head back and appraised her, the gave a partial shrug, Perhaps I didnt do it
for you.
Who else would you have done it for? She asked.
The scars made you look weak, capturable.
She blinked and looked down, I am capturable, she said a bit more harshly than she meant
to, Ive been captured.
He let his head drop back so she could only see his pointed chin and he heaved a belabored
sigh, Tega, can we not? I am very tired.
She withdrew a half of a step, Can we not what?
He sat up, leaning his weight on his forearms against his desk and glowered at her, You
just, why dont you ever do what you should!
She was too tired to fight with Jarlaxle, he wasnt exactly someone that it was easy to go up
against. She was too tired even for his accusation to upset her, she just rocked back on her
heels, Ok, sorry.
He waved his hand at her dismissively, looking up at the ceiling for a long while. She stood
awkwardly watching him, about ready to turn and go to her desk when he dropped his gaze
back to her. Why did you let me take you to my quarter, Tega? He asked pointedly, I could
have been up to all sorts of nonsense.
This made her laugh, First of all, what could I have done about it if you were?
He startled, Did you think-
This time it was she who cut him off, No, you wouldnt do that.
Tega, I am not some tender doe.
She rolled her eyes, That isnt what Im saying. You just- she looked him over slowly,
reaching for the words in drow, Youre smarter than they are.
This cheered him up considerably and he somewhat came back to himself. He preened and
patted his desk, Come here and keep telling me that about being smarter.
Had it not been so early, had she not been so tired, she might have resisted. But as it was
she followed his request, scooting herself onto his desk and facing him. He nodded at her to
continue, grinning.
She allowed herself to be won over, I wasnt just being upset when I said that most drow
are stupid, Jarlaxle. Revenge and overzealous cruelty is stupid and short sighted, the sort of
thing people do when theyre afraid...and makes me...sad for them.
He leaned back, putting his feet up on his desk so he could watch her while she was talking.
The tiredness that still sat over her made her want to scoot closer to them, to see if his legs
would be warm to lean on. But she did not.
In a much different voice he said, Drow make you sad?
She shrugged, Drow are smart, but they all run around slitting throats and posturing and
whipping each other and it makes them all seem scared all the time. But you dont.
I am not, he said, a grin crawling over his face, scared all the time.
I know, she said slowly, hoping she could make her difference clear and having to switch
back into elvish to do it, I know that you arent soft. I know you kill if you have to and I
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know that it doesnt bother you. But I cant imagine you torturing someone you didnt have
to.
His voice was light and he chose his words with care, following her into elvish, Are there
times when one has to torture?
Yes, she said, with surety that made him smirk and wiggle his eyebrows at her.
He put his arms behind his head, resting on his hands and smiling at her lazily, So all the
other drow and tripping over themselves in a frightened rage but Im here above it all? He
asked her this in a jovial, self aggrandizing tone.
She touched the edge of his purple hat that lay beside her on the desk. His eyes hawkishly
watched her fingers but he didnt stop her.
Isnt that why you cut off all of your hair?
His grin widened into a toothy smile, Well that was the idea.
She returned his smile with a softer one of her own. I ought to get to work, she said,
sliding off of his desk, Has Kimmuriel left those reports for me yet?
Oh, he said, redonning his hat, Yes, they are on your desk.
She turned to her desk and saw a large stack of papers waiting for her to organize.
Regardless of them being from Kimmuriel, she smiled, happy to have something that would
keep her busy.
You ought to be careful of Kimmuriel, he said pointedly, Hes dangerous. Much more
dangerous than KarDritch was.
She could have laughed, Yes, I had worked that much out.
She began sifting through the piles of papers, lying them in neat stacks.
Jarlaxle was still regarding her, These house wars you are getting yourself involved in, they
can go on for quite a long time. Years, decades.
Are you asking me if I plan on sticking around? she asked, not looking up at him.
Yes.
I had intended to.
Well I wasnt sure when the thrill of the underdark would wear off, he cackled.
She glanced over at him between her organization, Youre kidding, arent you?
He face her with a much more serious face than she had expected, Well why else would you
have come? For the challenge? The thrill? Following the exceptional good looks of your new
captain?
Oh it was the last one, she said casually, I took one look at you and had to follow
wherever you led for the merest chance of catching sight of you again.
He laughed, Then how charitable of me to have put your desk facing my own, its a wonder
you finish any work.
Perhaps I just grew tired of looking at you.
That, he said, going toward the door, is the most absurd thing youve ever said. Now, if
youll excuse me, I do need to get some rest.

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Chapter 7: Chapter 7
Tega knew quite well that people could get used to almost anything. They got used to pain
that never healed. They got used to scraping through starvation. They got used to ceaseless
war that killed everyone they had ever known. And she had gotten used to living alongside
the drow.
The key, for her, was to keep busy and to record everything. The house wars progressed in
the slow manner of the drow intrigue. Some of the houses had risen and fallen. Some had
changed only in the sizes of their armies. In her room she had charts hanging across the
walls with sprawling notes on each of these failures and successes.
She had decided on this project when she discovered that the drow did not keep histories.
They just let people die and houses fall and wrote nothing down.
Whats the point of remembering the dead? Jarlaxle had asked dismissively.
She hadnt laughed, but she had wanted to. It seemed obvious to her why they were all so
taken with chaos. If you shoved your face right up against something it never makes any
sense. If you want to understand you have to get a little further back.
So she kept histories for herself.
Seven months ago House Phrithlielen, once seventeenth house of Menzoberranzan had
fallen to House Khazadan. The survivors of Phrithleielen were stripped of their names. The
rest of Menzoberranzan pushing them out of existence. House Khazadan was the
seventeenth house of Menzoberranzan, they had always been. Phrithleielen ceased to exist.
Except for an entry that hung on Tegas wall, small questions and notes pinned all over it. It
had had an army of 2,000 underlings, kobalts and the like. 2,500 orcs. 600 drow. She had
recorded the names of their captains and what rank they had had at Melee Magthere. She
knew the names of their priestesses, there were two and another high priestess.
On their own, the numbers meant nothing. But they were not on their own. She had the
figures for the victorious house too, and the numbers for every house war she had seen. She
tracked them, marking their numbers at each rank the houses climbed, marking where they
fell. There was nothing she didnt write down.
This was the part of mathematics that made her heart swell. People had thought that the
swirling of seashells was chaotic once too, not beautiful ratios. They had thought that the
stars moved without tracks. Mathematics were the rules of chaos
But this was a side project.
Tega pinned back her freshly clipped hair and set off for the office.
Jarlaxle wasnt there yet. He had been busy the day before, three meetings and a bunch of
rushing around for a war that was culminating. She didnt think hed be down to his office
until mid morning at the earliest. That was alright. She enjoyed starting her mornings alone.
She sat on her little chair and ticked through her morning duties.
Exactly on time, when Narbondel passed its ninth mark, nine oclock on the surface,
Kimmuriel entered the office as he did every morning since she had taken over record
keeping. He was still the lieutenant, messengers still sent their reports to him and he still
needed to know what they said. But it was her job to keep track of them after that.
She wasnt fond of this particular side effect of Jarlaxle taking a late morning. She still did
not like to be alone with Kimmuriel. He never made any direct assault, but she didnt like
that someone could read her every thought.
It is more complicated than that and you know it.
She furrowed her brow and thought clearly, You could speak out loud, you know, there is no
one else here.
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She didnt get a response, just a gentle prodding through her most recent memories that she
still couldnt force him out of. She nearly just let him do it. People could get used to
anything.
You dream of the sun.
She looked up at him. He had deposited the reports and turned to leave, but now he lingered
at the door. Usually she didnt feel the need to look at him. Just did her best to think of
innocuous things and ignore him. But she could barely repress shuddering at him looking
through her dreams. It seemed so very intimate.
What of it? She thought back. The dream she had had filtered back through her brain. It
had been a simple one, not quite memory and not quite imagination. She had been lying on
her back in the heat of the sun. She had had her eyes closed and the bright light looked pink
through her eyelids. She had dreamed of feeling the warmth soak into her skin and heat up
her clothes.
Kimmuriel lingered for another moment then disappeared through the door.
Tega pushed her spectacles back up the bridge of her nose and began going through the
reports, neatly writing out summaries for Jarlaxle and marking down important figures.
She was three fourths of the way through, moving steadily and efficiently, when she flipped
to the next report and her hand stilled. The next report on her stack made the breath catch
in her throat. She dropped her pen and took up the paper with both hands.
It was written in pretty looping letters. The writing that had long ago, had it been that long, a
year, corrected her drow grammar. KarDritch. She hadnt heard from him since he had been
sent off. She hadnt known even if he was still alive. She found that she was shivering.
Following each line of the report with her finger.
She had not anticipated having this sort of reaction to seeing his handwriting. She had been
separated from him for longer than she had known him. But the underdark had starved her
for affection.
The report was not long and it was not specific.
Lieutenant,
My placement has been successful and appears to be at least semi-permanent. Information
will come as I receive it.
That was all there was. A scrap of paper. She could only imagine what his placement was or
why it was semi-permanent. She had no idea where he had been posted, what his job was.
Spying maybe, some kind of espionage.
Jarlaxle had come in while she had been reading and rereading his brief report. He had said
something but she didnt catch it.
I said, good morning, he said with a little pang of irritation.
She didnt look up, Whats that? Oh yes, sure.
He stalked over to her desk and gracefully pulled the report out from under her fingers.
Hey! She squeaked.
He flourished it and read it over, Oh, good for KarDritch.
She tried very hard to sound casual, not quite meeting Jarlaxles eyes, Where did you send
him? What does it mean by placement? I mean, is he safe? Or I mean is his um- mission
secured or?
Jarlaxle rolled his eyes then peered around theatrically, knowing very well that they were
alone. Then he bent forward leaning on her desk and whispering, House Baenre.

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He stepped back and laughed, I wish that I could tell them that I sent him. I deserve some
thanks for it in my estimation.
She was blushing and snarked, uncomfortably, Oh yes, Im sure theyd send you a muffin
basket for it.
He doubled over laughing, she wasnt sure she could see why it was quite so funny. Oh, well
I deserve it! he cackled, I know what Ive sent their way! He was clutching his ribs in his
laughing.
Do you think that hell be alright? She asked it quietly. She wasnt even sure Jarlaxle would
hear over his laughing. But he quieted and looked at her.
He paused, like he was actually considering her questions, Yes, I do. I think to have made it
this far shows that hes quite good at what he does. Hes a smart boy, knows how to keep
his head down.
Will you tell me if something happens to him?
Youre the one who gets the reports first, perhaps you should tell me!
She bit her lip, Well then if you find out something, can you just tell me?
He sighed, Yes, I suppose I could.
XXXXX
The elves were kept well fed and well tended in their sun drenched prison for one month. In
that time their skin healed from its exposure, their lips lost their scabs, they gained back
weight until their ribs no longer showed.
It was the hardest for the children. By the time they were healed out of being miserable, the
small room was much too confining. They had spent every day of their lives in the trees and
this tiny room with no entertainments was nearly too much. They were too young to be
subdued by the scent of dread that lingered in the sweet water and ripened food that was
brought for them daily.
They endured for one month. The elves were still sleeping when it happened. The doors
opened and guards came in, swift and brutal. The elves were awake in a moment.
The guard on the left, Tega still did not know her name, wrenched one of the smaller boys
out of the tangle of legs and hair. He fought, but he was out matched against her burly
muscles and stiff armor.
With a swift, nearly businesslike manner, she drew a short knife and held it to his throat.
Screams of protest arose among the elves, but she looked for the world as if she didnt
notice. Tega was not watching the guard. Tega was watching the other human who had come
in with her. A new human, one she had not seen before.
She would have recognized him had she ever seen him before. She had never seen any
person quite like him. He was like a warrior in double. She had thought, having seen her
people so tightly muscled that she knew the appearance of strength, but she did not. He
stood at least two heads taller than the already tall guard and his muscles where thick and
heavy. His arms perhaps wider than her waist.
They stood unmoving and unspeaking until the elves settled down. It didnt take much, just
enough pressure against the boys throat to let them know that the guard would do it and
then probably grab another child. The elves werent willing to attack, not with the boys life
so easily forfeit. Tega, close to them, could hear the boy sniffling, trying to rein in sobs, his
throat pressed too tightly against the guards knife to comfortably shake.
The man turned his head to look behind him and nodded, giving a brief command in the
language that they spoke. When he spoke he was able to make even his own lyrical
language sound rough and coarse. Tega could not make out a word of the language. The
Drow she had almost been able to figure out, some words at least. It had functioned very
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much like her native language and they had heard the drow say many things. But this new
language was lilting and foreign. She didnt know even how to pull the words apart from
each other, never mind guess at their meaning.
But no matter what he was saying, girls came in from behind him.The girls were meek,
skinny armed, nearly as skinny as Tega. They were not fighters, didnt move like fighters.
Their eyes were demure and downcast and their little arms were filled with silk clothing in
vibrant shades and pots of creams and paints.
The girls drew up to an elf, a fully grown female and began trying to strip her of her ratty
and dirt stained clothing. She stepped back, striking at the girl. The girl shrieked and leapt
away. The elf, Miliara, hadnt hit hard, not hard enough even to bruise, just enough to let her
know to stay away. The boy screamed.
In the guards grip, he could not struggle much, but she had cut a long red slit up his bicep,
blood trickling down his skin. The elves shifted nervously. They all remembered what it was
like to see a child damaged in front of them.
Even now, the little girl hurt by the drow had not spoken. They would not let it happen again,
regardless of their injustices. Tegas fingers shook, she wanted to do something other than
play along. Wouldnt it be worth the death of this boy to try to fight, to try to get away. She
had felt before that they should just work with their captors until a better opportunity arose.
But it seemed now as if every day they were there they were being pulled further and
further down and the longer they took the harder it would be. Wasnt it worth the life of one
boy?
She shuddered at herself, his name was Emeric, his mother was Delina, she had been a
hunting companion of her father. This wasnt some boy.
Unwillingly but with no means of revolt, the elves let themselves be stripped and coated in
sweet smelling oils. They let themselves be draped in pretty colors of silk. They let their hair
be brushed and streaked with oil until it shined and wound into intricate braids and knots.
When Tega had had her clothes pulled off of her the big man shouted something harshly. The
girls attending to Tega stopped and stepped away. Her people were not unaccustomed to
nakedness, but under his heavy gaze she felt more than exposed.
He leaned down and touched his heavy hand down her arms. She fought not to shut her
eyes and shake. He turned her around, eyes raking over her. He laughed. It reminded her of
the drow. She wanted to throw herself into the arms of the females around her and hide
behind them. But her body would not listen.
The big man called over a girl and rifled through her array of silks. He selected one and gave
it to the girls who had been working on Tega. It was the sheerest cream. Practically
transparent. Tega was wrapped in it. Even covered it revealed every inch of her skin. Her
hair they did not pin up, they laced it with ribbon and left it long, flowing over her back. She
was led first out of the room.
Tega imagined herself the brawny fighter that Meika had been. She envisioned kicking the
guard, smashing her face into the ground and breaking her hands. She imagined ripping the
silk from the skirt they had put one her and suffocating the big man with it. She would lead
her people home.
But she was not as strong as Meika and she could do nothing but allow herself to be led,
once more chained in a line.
Her murderous thoughts were interrupted at the bottom of the stairs, where the male elves
waited as fresh and clean as they were. The males had not been painted but they had
suffered the rest. They were wrapped in pretty clothes, more delicate than anything any of
them had ever worn, and their hair had been elegantly done.
Tega sought out Meikas eyes immediately. She nearly did not recognized him. She had
never seen him wear more than loose wrappings on his bottom half. Now he was pinned in
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fragile red silk. It brought out the reddish streaks in his dark hair. His hair too, was different.
She had never seen so silken. He had kept it in the style of the males of her people. Loosely
brushed and woven with thin braids and beads. It had always been knotted with tangles until
it all looked darker than it was. All of this had been removed and his hair shown clean and
soft. To Tega he looked like a tiger dressed as a kitten.
He saw her also and strained forward in his shackles. He called out a single word as he
pulled, Sister!
She leaned toward him, her heart bursting with his call. For the part of a moment the captors
allowed it she was his sister only. She wasnt a sweet perfumed thing that had been
packaged and chained. She was the girl he had taught to braid. He was the brother who had
told her not to be afraid of tigers in the night, because he would not let them get her.
They didnt have long to inspect each other. The guards that had brought the females and
children down were augmented by a half a dozen new male guards that surrounded them
holding spears or swords in their hefty hands.
The elves had no choice but to follow when they were led through the hallway again. Less
addled by thirst and pain, Tega could take in more this time through. The ceiling was tiled far
above them with metal plating, indented in pretty designs, the walls also were painted with
bright swirls of pattern. They headed toward a grand door right in the center. She had not
noticed it before, she had been so focused on the stairs, so overwhelmed by the city outside.
But this time it was all she could look at, except when the shifting of the elves allowed her a
glimpse of the back of Meikas head.
The males were led through first, so she heard the sounds from beyond the door before she
saw their source. Loud sounds, the dull roar of a hundred voices stuffed inside. It was a noise
she had not heard before. Out of doors and among the trees voiced did not echo like that,
did not fill so much space. She resisted on her chains, pulling away from the terrible clamor,
but she could not stop being dragged forward into its midst.
The room was large, more a cavern than anything. Tega tried not to be overwhelmed again.
People were thick between the walls and the mixing smells of them pushed into her nose.
She bit down on her tongue, she didn't have to endure this for. She would find five things to
notice then it would be over.
A woman with black painted around her eyes, a man surreptitiously picking his nose, jewels
clasped at the wrists of a girl, a man with hollow cheeks and black clothing, a dais in the
center of the room.
That is where they were taken to, the crowd parting to let them through, interested eyes
inspecting them. They were pulled up onto the raised dais. It had round brackets attached to
it. They were chained down. The hunger in the looks they were being given made Tega want
to be sick. They were not merely on display for very long.
They thought to begin with the children, one by one. A guard unhooked a timid girl, Reiliel, a
sweet thing that had sometimes woven flower crowns for her brother and her sister. She was
maneuvered to the front of the elves and secured down again, slightly elevated from the rest
of us, easy to see.
The quality of the rooms noise changed. It was not any quieter, just more directed. Every
face turned up at the girl or the big man, who now stood at a pedestal shouting
intermittently. And then it stopped all at once and people clapped politely.
Tega watched a thin youngish man approach and give a sizeable amount of gold to the big
man. Reiliel was unchanged and handed over. It was easy to see in the glinting eyes of the
man who had bought her, what he intended. It was in the way he scooped her from the dais
and in the way his hands travelled across her.
Meika roared. It was the Meika that Tega knew, snarling and fighting. Regardless of what
repercussions it might bring it made her heart sing. His eyes were fire upon human who held
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Reiliel. His arms stretched taut against his chains. He looked as though he would eat the
man whole.
Some people stepped back, but most did not. Most looked excited, whispering among
themselves. Two guards came for Meika, unhooking his chains and holding him between
them. Still he thrashed, nearly getting away. But he didnt have long enough. Soon the
chains were resecured and he was tied where they girl had been. The big man said
something else and the guard came for Tega.
She didnt bother fighting. Just allowed herself to be taken next to Meika and chained next to
him. Side by side he looked more terrible and she more demure.
She whispered to him, Dont fight, Meika. Cant you see that they are enjoying the show?
The fight dropped out of him and he looked down at her, Are you alright, Te?
Yes, She whispered, Are you?
Yes, he said.
Come here, he said, You can see through the silks they gave you.
I know, She whispered.
He unhooked some of his red silk and wrapped an arm around her, shielding her from their
hungry eyes.
Tega was nearly grounded with how desperately glad she was that her father was dead. That
the last image she would have of him was him fighting. She would not have to see him up
there. He would not have to see his prize son sold off. He wouldnt ever know the fate of his
little girl.
XXXXX
Be careful, wont you, Tega said from her desk.
If Jarlaxle heard he did not notice, he was adjusting the exact angle of his hat, switching his
cape to hang over first his right shoulder and then his left. He wore his best today. That is to
say, no shirt and only the high vest, the color shifting cape and the hat. They eyepatch, of
course as well. But Tega had never seen him without the eyepatch. She might have even
been fooled into thinking he needed it if it didnt shift occasionally from one eye to the other.
What was that? He said, striking a pose in front of the large mirror he had recently put in
the corner of the office.
I said, be careful, tonight I mean.
He twisted to look at her and grinned, Are you worried about how I will fare in the fight? I
dont know if I ought to be flattered or insulted.
She looked back down at her ledgers, If it were up to me, insulted.
He clicked his tongue with disappointment and continued preening. Which way does my hat
look better, Tega? This way, there was a pause, Or like this?
The first way, Tega said, not looking.
He muttered darkly, Well now I am insulted.
She did look up at him then, he was pouting, his back turned resolutely to her, flipping the
red plume on his hat to each side.
She sighed, Will you show me again?
He spun back around, grinning and showed her again, she pretended to ponder. There was
so little difference between the two she wasnt sure why he couldnt make up his mind. But
she did her best to seem like she was really thinking, The second way is much nicer.
He rolled his eyes, You have no eye for anything, Tega, and turned his hat the first way.
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Are you really going to a battle dressed like that? She asked. Her eyes took in his
uncovered arms and exposed belly, You look so...squishy.
He scoffed at her, Me? Squishy?
Just dont get yourself killed.
He smiled broadly, Because my death would tear your heart asunder?
She went back to her work, Because if you died Kimmuriel would be in charge.
You have been down here too long, he deadpanned, But I do try to do my best to keep
myself alive.
Will you stop at the office when you come back?
He looked over his shoulder at her, having turned back to the mirror, Alright.
The battle that they were preparing for was the last piece in a house war they had been
planning for years. The third house was going to take the second, and Jarlaxle was going to
help them. Unless, of course, as he had reminded her, the second house thought it was
worth the gold to persuade him to help them instead.
Jarlaxle did not, as a rule, join the general melee of fighting. But this was a special
circumstance, the two houses involved were both well stocked and bursting with gold. He
would be there to wring every coin he could out of them before the fight was over.
Tega watching him put the finishing touches on his ensemble and sweep out the door
without a word of farewell. It was going to be a long night. She, obviously, was not going to
take part in the fighting. She would be left here to work throughout the evening. She was
sure he would be alright. When was he not alright?
But she was very aware that he was the only thing standing between her and an underdark
full of drow. The stakes were quite high as far as she was concerned. She would not be able
to sleep until she knew that he had returned mostly whole.
So she settled in. The guards were not in the room, most of them having been sent out to
the battle so she was left alone to work. And she did work, she wasnt so distracted as to let
an entire evening pass by with nothing to show for it.
She worked late into the night, and there was much to be done. This war was going to be
over and she would need to make a nice summary of everything and bind it all up together
for the records. She was always proud of her little bound house war books. They had all the
reports that had ever been written about them, diagrams and charts of their spendings and
earnings. And neat little summaries in the first page. Sometimes these summaries were
written by her and they would be dry and factual accounts of the summation of the house
war. Sometimes Jarlaxle threw hers away and wrote his own and they sounded more like
they had been torn out of a trashy adventure novel.
She was just finishing with this one, as much as she could do at least until the final reports
came in the following day, when the door opened.
She turned, expecting Jarlaxle to come in, dancing triumphantly and grinning like a wolf. It
was Jarlaxle, but he did not look triumphant. He stood stiffly and poked his head in, Got
back, everythings tidied up, you can go to bed.
She got up from her seat and moved toward him, Are you okay, Jarlaxle?
What? Oh yes, what a silly question. Of course Im okay. He was already disappearing up
the hall. If he had been at his full capabilities she wouldnt have been able to keep up, but as
it was she met him at the door to his chambers.
A scrape ran down the side of his face all the way from his chin to the tip of his ear, like he
had been dragged across the ground. There were more scrapes, lining up with the first,
down his right shoulder and arm, across his belly. She suspected there were more on his
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legs. A long and frighteningly deep cut slashed across his unprotected torso that was
dripping blood onto the floor. And he favored a foot.
What? he asked harshly, What do you need?
Cant you- cant you just heal yourself? She asked meekly, her hands covering her mouth.
He laughed, a bark of a laugh, Spell to resist healing potions, it should wear off in a few
hours but until then - he shrugged, So if you could just let me go and lie down, Im sure Ill
be fine.
She almost left, he was never very pleasant when he was upset. But she remained. She
could at least, she decided, offer to stay. No one wanted to sit alone and brood on ones
injuries, least of all someone like Jarlaxle.
I could- she started, I could at least keep you company...If you wanted...I mean...I dont
want to intrude
He stood stock still for awhile, thumbing his bracer and looking between her and the door,
finally he swung it open, Alright.
She followed him in and closed the door behind her, he slouched immediately into a chair,
breathing hard.
She waited for a second to see if hed get up. When he did not she awkwardly came forward
reaching out a hand tentatively, Can I take- she cut herself off and chose a different tactic,
Youre getting blood on your hat.
He snatched it off of his head and threw it. It flopped pathetically on the ground and he
sulked angrily, Im getting blood on all of my nice clothes, Tega!
Well just put on something else then! she said, cloaking her waspish comment in a soft
tone.
He pouted, I dont know if I can. My ribs hurt.
She was reminded rather vividly of when Dritch had been hurt and how Jarlaxle wouldnt
help him. She had the tiniest inclination to let him suffer and see what it was like. But she
couldnt commit to it. He probably already knew what suffering was like. Instead she said,
Let me help you.
She picked up his hat and dusted it off, setting it on a couch, Stand up and Ill help you with
your vest, if it gets stained that fabric will never come clean.
Begrudgingly he stood. She touched an edge of the small vest and paused, May I?
He considered for a moment then gave a tiny nod. She pulled the vest off of him, being
tender around his injury. She took it off the left arm first so it would be easier on the right.
His shoulder was bruising and swelling, like it had been dislocated and jammed back into
place. She laid the vest near the hat.
She went back to him and took a good look at the cuts on his face, Doesnt your eyepatch
hurt? The string was going right across the worst of the scraping.
His shoulders slumped, Immensely.
Do you...do you want to take it off?
He tilted his head up and looked at her despairing, then lifted his hands and peeled off the
eyepatch. He lifted his hand to throw it but Tega caught his hand before he could. She took
the eyepatch gently from his fingers and added it to the growing pile.
His face looked softer without it and younger. He held her gaze for the first time with both
eyes. They looked so wide. He looked at her with shimmering eyes for many seconds then,
with a small shake of his shoulder, entirely lost it.

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He shouted without warning, clenching his eyes shut and ripping at his earrings. It doesnt
matter! Any of it! Its all stupid! Every last piece of it! He was nearly screaming tearing at
his decorations. His next shrieks may have been intelligible to a native drow speaker, but
she could make neither heads nor tails of them.
The only thing that saved him was his lack of direction. He had tried to rip away his earrings
and cast off his bracelets and rings and pull off his boots all at once. Tega leapt forward and
put a hand on his bicep. He stopped.
Ok, ok, she said soothingly, Ok, lets take off your jewelry. Its ok.
He fought her for only a second, then dropped his hands and let her remove his jewelry.One
by one she unclipped each earring and the three necklaces he had spindling down his torso.
She took the bracelets from his wrists and the rings from his fingers. One foot and then the
next she pulled off his tall leather boots.
Do you want looser pants? She asked softly.
Looking lost, he nodded.
She went to his massive closet and found loose soft pants. By the time she had returned he
had moved to his bed chambers, sitting on the edge of his bed and trying to peal off his tight
leather pants. He cringed, trying to bend that far over.
She had too much pity to feel uncomfortable, just slid his pants off of his legs. Under them
was more scraping and a nasty injury to his knee. It looked like it had been kicked. She
helped him pull on the loose pants.
He lay back, reclining on the many pillows. He looked blank without his many decorations.
Nothing glittered against his skin. He looked more like a drow this way, just black skin
encasing fierce muscles.
She caught me. He said softly, his head turned away from Tega. He turned onto his side,
his left side, so his damages were not touching the bed. His back was to Tega.
She didnt respond, didnt say anything. But she lifted her hand tentatively. If he had had
hair she might have stroked it, but she thought patting his bare head might be
uncomfortable for them both. So instead the touched her fingertips to his back, dragging
them lightly over the skin. He shivered but didnt comment.
I tried to switch sides and she caught me in her throne room, I barely got out.
She kept touching his back, You did get out.
I was fool hardy and too sure of myself.
She didnt comment on that. It was probably accurate, overconfidence was a flaw he
succumbed to not infrequently.
I was set upon by her giant of a daughter, I thought she was going to kill me or worse.
She didnt kill you.
He was shivering under her fingers, I could have lost everything.
You didnt.
He let out a big shuddering breath and said in a whisper she barely herad, Will you stay?
Okay.
She stayed the entire night, even when her eyes itched in tiredness and she had to fight
yawns. It was the longest she had ever seen him not talk. He just lay not facing her, every
once in awhile jumping and turning to look at her, then settling back down.
Finally, when it must have been nearly morning, he twisted, I can feel the spell wearing off,
can you get a healing potion for me?
Sure, she said getting up and stifling a yawn, Where are they?
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Little drawer on the blue dresser, on the right side.

She followed his instructions and found an array of identical little vials, she plucked one out
and gave one to him. Gratefully he drank it down and shut his eyes in relief.
She watched the cuts disappear and heard some clicking around by his knee. Now
undamaged he turned over, laying flat on his back. His eyes stared upward despondently.
She wanted to sleep, she wanted him to stop looking so upset. She sighed and tilted her
head back against the cushioned headboard, doing mental calculations.
Did you finish the war? She asked softly.
Yes, of course we did, He murmured.
So your agreements still stand?
He frowned, Well theyd better.
She didnt know what to do with her hands, so she put them in her lap. There was no
innocent part of Jarlaxle to touch when only his stomach was exposed to her. It wasnt like
she could fondle his abs.
Then you still acquired a third of their armory and half of their treasure stores. Im sure your
soldiers have already brought it back. You can spend all day tomorrow walking around in it
touching everything. Im sure youll find new earrings for yourself and something else more
garish than anything youve ever owned before.
This sort of talk perked him up, Do you think its all in our treasure stores already?
Yes, She said, I cant imagine anything else, Im sure Kimmuriel is still there, overseeing
the inventory and frightening everyone.
He sat up suddenly and smirked at her. She got up off the bed.
Without all the distracting glittering jewelry and sexually charged clothing and when he
wasnt sulking, he was quite far from unattractive. She rubbed her eyes uncomfortably.
He didnt look exhausted all of a sudden, he was like an entirely different person, life
flooding back into him.
Do you feel better? she asked shyly.
Yes! He exclaimed, You were right, I was ridiculous to be upset about nearly failing.
Because I succeeded. I escaped and Kimmuriel finished out the battle. I should have been
celebrating.
She smiled, Well celebrate now.
He wriggled his eyebrows at her, Is there something you had in mind?
Finally succumbing, she let out a momentous yawn, her shoulders shivering up, I thought
that I would sleep.
Oh, well Im sure youre exhausted, you should sleep. His short burst of energy seemed to
already be burning itself out, his eyes drooped, You could stay here, if you wanted, Im sure
its more comfortable.
She laughed, trying not to squirm, No um, no its quite alright, Jarlaxle, my own bed is just
fine.
He narrowed his eyes at her, Im not sure you felt these sheets, Tega, he said very
seriously.
Ill see you later, Jarlaxle, she said tiredly, Im glad youre okay.
Do you want me to walk you to your room?

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She waved him down dismissively, You wont walk out of this room without wearing your
weight in jewelry, so no, Ill be okay. Ive got that necklace you gave me.
Goodnight, Tega.
Goodnight, Jarlaxle.
She left him, reclining on the bed, grinning and stripped of all his accoutrements. She
slipped down the hall, going quickly toward her room, hoping she wouldnt run into any drow.
Now especially, with their blood up after a fight.
She knew had no reason to complain, she hadnt been in combat all evening, she hadnt
been dragged across a stone floor and had her knee kicked in. But she was very tired, her
stomach was starting to cramp like it always did when she went without sleep and her eyes
itched.
She passed the office and she thought the would just duck in quickly and put away the
things she had been working on. She had rushed after Jarlaxle so quickly she had not had
time. She went into the office, hoping to only spend a few minutes there, and stopped dead
in her tracks.
Kimmuriel stood by her desk, robe nearly wrinkled, shadows under his eyes.
Oh, she gasped aloud, I didnt think- There was a half a moment where she tried to hope
that he had been injured, or at least inconvenienced in the battle. But she was very tired and
it made her even softer than usual.
They had a momentary standoff, her between him and the door, and him between her and
the desk.
She tried to glower but almost immediately she broke, Are you alright, Kimmuriel? From the
battle?
The corners mouth turned down, I am fine. Not that it is any concern of yours.
Ok, she said through a yawn, Well, thats good, regardless.
He said nothing but brushed passed her, his robes swirling around him.
She tidied up her desk, tucking away all of the reports for later and returned to her room.
She locked the door behind her and changed into her pajamas. She laid down and fell asleep
nearly immediately. Again, she dreamed of the sun.

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Chapter 8: Chapter 8
Celebrate with me, Jarlaxle said, sweeping majestically into the office. He was not wearing
his regular outfit, but its replacement was no less lavish. A billowing red cape that swirled
around him when he turned. Underneath he wore sleek black leather pants and a spider silk
shirt so sheer the outlines of his muscles could be seen beneath it. Only the eyepatch and
plumed purple hat had remained.
Tega, just putting the finishing touches on the house war book, closed it carefully and looked
up, Celebrate? She wasnt sure she would enjoy what Jarlaxle considered celebration.
Oh, I know, youre soft and timid and would startle at the merest hint of anything exciting,
he said waving a hand dismissively at her, I was thinking something more suited to your
proclivities.
What did you have in mind? Tega asked warily.
He sauntered around to her side of her desk and leaned back against it, smirking down at
her, I thought dinner.
Pink crept up her cheeks, I dont want to go galavanting around Menzoberranzan, Jarlaxle.
He tapped her nose with his finger, How very sensible of you, I meant on the surface.
She let out a tiny gasp, Oh, oh yes, yes that would be lovely. What are we celebrating
exactly?
He scowled at her, Your captain being the cleverest and most beautiful drow in all of the
Underdark.
She tilted her head quizzically, Who are you handing the position over to?
He swatted her, Of all the unamusing things that you have ever said that is without contest
the least amusing.
Will you still take me to the surface?
Only because Kimmuriel would make sour dinner company.
She laughed and he beamed, Now, my tireless assistant, he said dramatically, You just let
me choose something for you to wear.
No, she said far too quickly. She could not have begun to find the words to describe how
desperately she did not want to wear an outfit selected by Jarlaxle.
He didnt say anything but pouted and swirled his cape back to his own desk.
Sheepishly she looked up, When would we be-
Tonight, Tega, he interrupted, Is there any further way you would like to wound me?
In a voice so soft it could barely be heard she said, I like this cape better than your other
one.
I will feed you to a drider.
XXXXX
Tega had never been so secluded in her life. She had gone a few yards from the elf camp
and it had seemed like she was on her own at the time, but she had been so close to home.
A frightened call away from half of the camp coming to her aid. In the slave house she had
been pressed close by people, too many for the space. But she and Meika were alone, locked
in a room with no company but each other.
They had been brought together from the auction, her still tucked under Meikas silks,
peering out with wide and frightened eyes. They had been purchased by an expensively
painted human female.
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She had tilted their faces, holding them painfully by the chin to look at their teeth. It
embarrassed Tega how meek she had been, letting the woman pull back her lips and inspect
her. Meika had bitten her.
But regardless, they had both ended up in the same elegant prison. They had been brought
into a smaller but much more beautiful building than the colossus where they had spent
their first month. It was a comfort to have Meika with her, but it was impossible not to
wonder at the fate of the rest of them. Had any of them remained together or were her
people well and truly scattered?
Alone with just her brother, she still did not want to raise her voice, Meika, she whispered.
She was pressed right up to him, his arm wrapped around her. Meika, I dont think we
should fight them. Her voice shook when she said it. She knew already how he would react.
But it was important that he understood.
Why not? What do we have to lose?
She scowled at him, looking up losing some of her timidity, What do we have to lose?
Meika, think for half a second. We have much to lose.
They dressed you in transparent silks, Te, do you have any idea what they plan to do to
you?
Yes! She hissed, Yes, Meika, I had figured it out. What we need to do is stay whole and
undamaged enough to take an opportunity when it comes. What we need to do is learn the
language and be easy to handle.
Why would I ever be easy to handle! He nearly roared.
She took hold of his wrist, The easier we are the lower their guard will be.
The wind slipped out of his sails, Perhaps youre right, Te. Besides, they know that you are
my sister, surely if I misbehave the repercussions would fall upon you.
She softened at his protectiveness and she reached up to rumple his reddish hair, making
him look slightly more like himself than he did with it brushed straight and sleek. She
stopped talking and tucked her head back under her arm.
Do you really think that you are right? Or are you frightened? Meika asked after a long
silence.
She didnt know how to answer. How could she know if she was right? He had been
imprisoned as long as she was. Who was she to tell him not to fight. He was strong and able.
He could probably escape.
We would only need to get through probably a few guards, he said into her ear, I only
counted six on our way in. I could do it, if you were close enough behind me we could both
get out.
She allowed herself to be lulled by his logic for a moment. She let the seductive image of
him brutalizing his way to freedom with her scurrying behind play behind her eyes. They she
pushed it down. What about after that, Meika? she asked, Do you know how to lead us
out of the desert? Do you know the way back? Do you know where the rest of our people
are?
One step at a time, Te! He hissed, How do you ever expect to escape if you want
everything to fall into place!
She wanted to retort, she wanted to tell him that it was stupid to charge off into nowhere.
But she couldnt. She didnt know if it was stupid. Perhaps death trying to escape would be
preferable to allowing themselves to be slaves.
She was not allowed the time to make up her mind. They were interrupted by the door to
their room clicking unlocked and swinging open. Silhouetted in the doorframe was a young
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human male. He stepped inside casually. He looked something like the woman who had
purchased them in the lips and in the nose. But he was not so elegant.
He was still young enough to look a little gangling, though by no means a child. Sandy hair
sticking up and skinny arms speckled with freckles.
He took a few steps in, a guard following him. He looked slowly over Meika, then just as
slowly over the little of Tega that could be seen. He lifted a finger and pointed it at Tega then
beckoned her to come.
No! Meika hissed, clinging to her.
She pushed his hands off, Its okay, Meika, Ill be okay.
She stood up and went with the human.
XXXXX
Tega nearly flew to her room that evening, thrilled to bursting to see the surface again. She
hadnt realized how terribly she had missed it until the opportunity to go back was put in
front of her.
She nearly slid around the corner to her rooms and stumbled awkwardly back, only avoiding
slamming into Kimmuriels chest by his swift step backwards. She lost her footing jumping
back and nearly slipped. His hand shot out and caught her roughly by the wrist. She was
startled more by his assistance than she had been by his sudden appearance. He looked
coolly down at her, face as unreadable as ever. His hand was cool and bony.
She righted her feet and had begun to pull her hand away but was distracted by him
intruding roughly into her memories. She could feel them being flipped through, flashes of
them appearing and disappearing.
Stop that, for once, she thought at him.
He let a long image of her, still young, slipping down a rope in the forest, unable to climb up,
progress slowly through her mind, Make me, Tega.
She restrained herself from shivering, barely, You know very well that I cant.
It was the smells he brought forward in her mind that made her shudder, sweetened incense
overlaid on the burning foul smell of the city. Stop it!
Anger replaced her fear in waves. She tried to focus. She was sure she couldnt overpower
him so changed her course, shutting away things she didnt want him to see. She tried to
dredge up her own memories, innocent memories. Trying to learn how to knit, a kitten that
she had briefly owned. The old man from the village.
You know how to stop me, Tega, this isnt it. He pushed passed her offered memories in
favor of his own selections. Sand colored hair and the thin body of a scholar. His skin was
always dry.
She fought viciously against the dredged up sensations. She did know what worked. She
didnt want it. But she wanted less the smell of ink soaked into skin and his weedy laugh.
She couldnt hear him say her name again or feel the kisses he put along her ears and his
fingers laced through hers. So against her will she conjured a replacement instead. The drow
commander. She spent her thoughts on remembering the details of his face and how his
voice had sounded when he had ordered the murder of those babies. She remembered how
he laughed and her heart burned.
Kimmuriel leaned forward toward her, his grip tight on her wrist, mouth set in a sneer. Why
is it that you remember him so vividly? He thought to her, abandoning or being forced out
of her memories, What is it that you want of him?
I want nothing out of him! She protested, pulling at her wrist unsuccessfully.
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He twisted his grip on her wrist until it was painful, tugging at her. She stepped forward
almost into him, baring her teeth up at him.
She fought to keep herself calm. But there were thoughts that had lived within her for so
long, thoughts that she tried to bury and cover. She tried to wish to forget the commander.
But they had filtered back when she had taken up with the drow, the details she had carved
out burning bright. Her dreams of the commander chained at her feet, of blood dripping
down his face. Having never done it, she could nearly have described how it would feel to
make small cuts and to pull back his skin with her fingers. To push under his nails until they
came off. She almost felt in her fingers how hard she would have to rip to pull his ears from
his head. Of making him shriek until he regretted looting the village of elves and killing their
chief. Until he lamented giving the little girl to his soldier. She wanted to make him bleed.
The images slunk out of their corners and coalesced, almost overcoming her in intensity. She
wrenched her wrist out of Kimmuriels grip, his chest was rising and falling rapidly, an
unsettling light in his eyes. He stepped back and allowed her to whirl away from him,
fumbling only slightly with her key and slamming her door behind her.
She fell against it as soon as it was closed, rubbing the heels of her hands against her eyes.
She took long and deep breaths, trying to reclaim the good mood that she had been in. Why
did Kimmuriel insist on doing things like that? Was the point to drive her mad?
She tried to lock up the thoughts of the bloody commander again, but it was harder. Her
fingers curled and uncurled so badly did she want to hurt him.
She forced herself to straighten up. She would not allow Kimmuriel Oblodra to ruin her visit
to the surface. Her movements severe, she washed her hands roughly, getting the last of the
ink off of her fingers. When she was cleaned up, she nearly aggressively changed out of her
sweater and into a dress that didnt have sleeves. She wanted the sun on her skin.
By the time she was to meet Jarlaxle she had nearly regained her good mood, sweeping out
of her room and back down the hall to the office. When she entered, she scowled darkly. She
had only just had a reprieve from Kimmuriel, but there he was, being merrily chatted to by
Jarlaxle.
Ah! Jarlaxle said, leaping up, Youre here! Excellent. If he noticed her unhappiness he
didnt say anything, Well then lets be off. Kimmuriel, if you would be so kind.
A tiny furrow appeared between his eyes and a glowing blue portal opened in the center of
the office. She stepped back warily, looking at Jarlaxle. He was standing calmly in front of it,
offering her his arm.
She took his arm and hesitantly let him lead her through the portal, clenching her eyes shut
as she did. As she passed through Kimmuriel left her a final comment ringing in her mind,
Enjoy yourself.
She flinched and rushed through. The change was immediate. She the wind moved passed
her and light burned at her eyes. The air smelled sweet. She opened her eyes.
The sun burned and the sky stretched a tremendous blue. She laughed out loud. Looking
over at Jarlaxle and beaming.
Shall we go then? He asked, grinning at her.
She let herself be led, focusing on the heat of the sun that poured into her skin instead of
where they were going. Tears prickled at her eyes, they way the sun warmed the half of her
that faced it while they other side remained cool. How had she never realized how much the
sun lifted her. The thoughts of the commander slipped back into the forgotten recesses of
her mind.
Chattering and ignoring the unpleasant and frightened looks he was getting, Jarlaxle led her
up a cobbled street to a pretty building. Mercifully, and she could have cried out at the sight
of it, the restaurant had a wide fenced patio drenched in sunlight.
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They were taken to a table that sat right in the orange light of the sun. Jarlaxle took the seat
with his back to it, leaving her to gladly sit with its light and warmth blaring into her eyes.
When the waitress came to their table Jarlaxle fixed her with a broad and disarming smile,
her reticence to approach them lessened by degrees.
Will you bring us wine? Your finest! He said grandly.
She might have been a wonderful waitress for other clientele, but a drow, even an
elaborately dressed and beaming one, seemed to have taken her aback. But she only
stumbled slightly as Jarlaxle ordered whatever the chef was most proud of and only tripped a
few times trying to hurry away.
Are you enjoying your sojourn to the sunshine, Tega? He asked, reclining in his chair.
She looked at him, squinting through the light, Yes, so much. Thank you, Jarlaxle.
It is lovely, isnt it, he mused, It always smells so sweet up here. Do you miss the sun
when you are down below?
Yes, she admitted readily, I like the way that it feels on my skin.
Perhaps you would like to spend more time away from my office, he said, raising his
eyebrow over his eyepatch.
What do you mean? She asked warily.
I was considering, it would be a while off yet, I need to find connections, a venue, a market.
I thought perhaps of he trailed off so he could dramatically lean forward and stare into
her eyes, smirk on his lips, expanding to the surface.
An confusing contradiction of emotions clutched her stomach, yes, she would like to spend
more time on the surface. She would like to do the work she was doing with a little more
access to the sun. But she did not much enjoy the idea of a drow army clawing its way to the
surface. Jarlaxle was alright, she supposed. He was, at least, unlikely to pillage towns. He
would be much more likely to get his fingers around enough leverage to get control of a local
king and siphon off tax revenue.
Do you not think that I could do it? he asked, tilting his head.
She rolled her eyes, Of course you could do it, but Im not sure how readily your soldiers
would take to it. Or how profitable it would be for you.
He shrugged, It was a passing thought, long off as I have said. Ah! he interrupted himself,
Our drinks!
Indeed, the waitress delivered their wine, red and sweet.
Oh, Jarlaxle said, waving his hand as though just thinking of it, We are going to be joined
shortly, I hope that this isnt a burden for you.
She might have laughed, A hopeful contact for your surface expansion?
He sipped his wine and said, muffled into the cup, What would possibly make you think
that?
So thats why you made a trip to the surface! she said, giving a short laugh, And here I
thought you were just celebrating with your hard working assistant.
He put his hand to his chest in mock indignation, I cant do both?
I should have expected as much.
He shrugged, You were probably distracted by how handsome I look in this lighting.
I thought that you said it was far in the future, she said.
Oh, yes, it is, he said, But there is no harm in putting my toes in the water, is there?
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She didnt get a chance to respond. She was interrupted by a jovial voice from a large frame
that had approached behind Jarlaxle. She couldnt see his face with his back to the sun, but
he announced himself loudly.
Jarlaxle! He boomed.
He came out of the sun and Jarlaxle rolled up from his seat to greet him. Tega too, rose,
though with less enthusiasm.
The man effusively clapped a hand on Jarlaxles shoulder, beaming broadly. He was an older
man, sixty perhaps, or seventy, though well kept. He was broad in the belly, with a rough
reddish beard clipped along his jaw. Tega frowned, something tickling at her.
Jarlaxle fixed him with a beaming smile and gave him a flourishing bow, Auguste Pernoit!
he exclaimed, I hope that you found us without effort!
The name slipped under Tegas skin and filled her with ice. He was much older than he had
been. Broader and heavier. His jaw was not so sharp as it had been, his angles softened. His
hair was not as blonde and he had grown a beard. But the freckles peppered his skin as they
always had, his eyes remained a crystalline hazel.
She could neither move nor speak. Her legs sat themselves back down as Jarlaxle did. She
hadnt notice him draw up a chair for Auguste, but he sat with them, beside her. The heat
from his skin soaking across her.
And who is this? he asked. His voice boomed more than it had. He was infused with
confidence she did not remember.
Jarlaxle grinned at him, This, dear Auguste, is my lovely and ever diligent assistant. The
brilliant and -
But he was cut off, Auguste had shaded his eyes to take a look at her and started, Tega?
Anger slid through her blood like fire for a fraction of a moment when he said her name.
She straightened her back and fixed her glasses slowly, Auguste.
Jarlaxle, taken aback, looked between them with abject surprise.
She prepared herself, ready to fight or to run or to snarl. But he did the only thing she had
not, would never have, expected. He beamed and laughed and pulled her against him in an
embrace. She was so taken by surprise she didnt resist, but let herself be pressed against
him. He no longer smelled like ink, but under his perfume, his body smelled the same.
Tega! He said again, smiling at her as he released her, You look as you once did! But
elves do not age so much I suppose! Surely I am not as you remember.
She didnt know how to respond. She looked from him to Jarlaxle.
I - she started, Yes yes you are
Old! he volunteered heartilly. Not nearly so beautiful as you have remained.
He reached out and touched her cheek with affection, You kept the glasses, he said
warmly.
Though his hand was warm, chill crept from where he had touched her and she shrank back.
Yes, she said, Well I still need them.
Jarlaxles visible eye glimmered with an emotion Tega couldnt pinpoint and he said in a tone
with more sharpness than before, Were the two of you -
Yes! Auguste said, winking at her, long ago when I was befitting of her charm.
The word Jarlaxle had not gotten to hung in Tegas mind. Lovers? Had they been lovers?
Indignity and outrage welled up inside of her. Is that what he had thought? Is that what he
would call it?
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She looked to Jarlaxle, willing him to step in. To take Augustes attentions off of her, to whisk
her away from him.
She couldnt speak, her throat was too tight. She wanted to disappear. She would take
Kimmuriel a thousand times before this. A thousand thousand times.
As though giving herself up to another person, that old calm took her again. This was
Jarlaxles business contact. She must be a professional. She could not tear out his eyes or
bite into his flesh.
She forced herself to smile, Im sure it was not so long ago! She said, trying to sound light,
It seems youve done well for yourself.
And you too! he laughed, I never took you to work with mercenaries. He gave her an odd
look. A question hidden by his turned face from Jarlaxle. Concern. He looked at her with
concern. Those eyes she knew. She knew what he was asking her. Are you alright?
A new wave of outrage crested but she fought it, The mathematics are as useful as you
assured me they would be.
He laughed, You act as though I had to convince you, you begged me to learn!
I can imagine that she did, Jarlaxle said, cutting in. He had been outside the conversation
for too long it seemed. I would not like to draw you away from your reunion, but we do have
business to discuss.
Of course, of course, he said, taking a large drink of the wine that he been brought to him,
You and your mercenaries! We would not be working here, you understand, I make my
home in the south, this is but a break from the blistering heat!
Calimport, yes, Jarlaxle said, I do remember, though if it is as you have described before, I
am glad we could meet here.
As am I, my friend!
The tension in Tegas stomach did not reduce as they talked but curled tighter the longer she
sat beside him. She could hardly keep her hands from shaking. They were exchanging words
she knew that she should listen to. But she couldnt turn the noise into anything intelligible.
They spoke in common, his heavily accented and Jarlaxles crisp and clear.
I do believe that we could have a relationship of mutual benefit, Jarlaxle said, Your guild is
a small but powerful one, as I remember. How it could flourish with the help of my soldiers.
We would stay out of the way, of course. But can you imagine the force behind you with
merely a fraction of my army. I could provide you with example, of course, and insurance.
Listening to Jarlaxle helped her focus. They would need new armour for the surface. The
metal of the underdark didnt take to the sun. The start up cost would be steep. She
estimated the cost of each soldier and readied approximations. Auguste did not matter. She
worked for Jarlaxle. He had brought her for a reason. She would do her work.
She began a list of differences and similarities between the guild fights she had witnessed
and the house wars she had recorded. Began a tally of things the lieutenants and
commanders would need to know. This was too much to keep in her head.
She glanced at Jarlaxle and gave a minute mime of writing. He smirked at her, not stopping
his long winded sentence and took a roll of leather from somewhere in his jacket.
She took it and unrolled it, taking up the pen that was curled up inside and beginning to
document her estimations on the paper that had been around it.
Auguste chuckled fondly at his, she forced her hands to write clearly.
When she had her estimations ready, she handed it silently to Jarlaxle, turned so it couldnt
be seen by Auguste. Jarlaxle glanced at it briefly, gave her a small wink and kept on.
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Auguste patted her hand, all nostalgia and affection, I miss sorely you giving the products
of your pretty little brain to me!
Jarlaxle saved her from having to respond, As you should! It would be a blow to the
efficiency of my band if she were to slip out of my employ.
She strengthened under Jarlaxles approval and managed to keep her calm for another
moment.
Auguste gave her a smile and but said to Jarlaxle, All of our talks, of course, are for quite far
in the future. I merely thought that you would be someone to know.
I certainly am! Jarlaxle said, beaming and pushing his plate back.
Tega jumped. She hadnt noticed to fish being put in front of her. She hadnt eaten anything,
couldnt imagine putting something into her mouth and swallowing.
I think that is as much business as I can stand in an evening, Auguste said, leaning back
and putting his hands on his belly, But perhaps I can steal little Tega for awhile. I would like
to catch up with her!
Jarlaxle stood up, ostensibly to leave, Im sure I could spare - Tegas hand shot out under
the table. She could not reach his hand surreptitiously but clutched his pant leg and looked
at him.
He switched tacts with only a moment of hesitation, her at any other time, but we do have
an appointment.
She stood, putting her chair between her and Auguste.
He deflated, Another time then, perhaps, I do hope we will see more of each other.
He had said it to Tega, but Jarlaxle interceded, Of course we shall! he said bowing again,
Now Tega, we must be getting on.
She gladly took his offered arm and hurried away from Auguste, only Jarlaxles hold on her
keeping her from clamboring over the patios fence instead of going through the doors.
She didnt realized until they were a block away that her fingernails were biting into
Jarlaxle's arm.
Tega? He said, Are you so shaken by him? It is something you should expect when taking
humans as lovers.
She ripped her arm out of his, He was not- we were not- she didnt know how to say it. She
didnt know how to explain. She didnt know what words to use to tell him. She thought she
would be sick.
Are you alright? She had stopped walking and was bent with her arms crossed over her
chest. She was breathing too fast.
No! she whined, No I am not, Jarlaxle. We were not lovers. We were not! She took long
breaths and leaned back, Im sorry. Im sorry. Im alright.
He was looking at her expectantly.
She took a moment to collect herself, We were not lovers, she said again, I belonged to
him.
A scowl twisted his face, You belonged to him?
She knew that his question was more clarifying than anything, but she lashed out, Yes,
Jarlaxle! I was dragged out of my home and sold across the desert! He purchased me and
kept me!
His brow furrowed and he peered back toward the restaurant over her shoulder. He did not
reach out to comfort her, but said in a still, calm voice, There is still time. I could kill him for
you.
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There was a moment, the shadow cast from the brim of his hat over his face, the gleaming
red eyes, the tension through his muscled arms, that he looked much more like a drow than
she was used to. In an overshadowing way she knew he should frighten her, but instead
affection curled in her belly. She could merely give him a word. Open her mouth and say,
Yes. And Auguste would be cold on the floor.
She was overcome. She thought of Jarlaxle swinging back into the patio. Auguste would look
up, perhaps he would stand, Forget something, my friend! he would exclaim. He would not
foresee it. Jarlaxle would spread his hands wide and he would smirk that one smirk that he
had that was so full of danger. He would drop and hand on Augustes shoulder and lean in. A
sword would grow into his hand and shine in the sun. She would see the color drain out of
Augustes face. He would press the tip against his chest, he would glance over his shoulder
and look at Tega with those eyes, Is this what you had in mind, Tega? he would say. She
would look at Auguste in the eyes, so that he would know that it was her doing this, so that
he would know why this was coming. Then she would look at Jarlaxles shimmering red eyes
and say, Yes. And the sword would bite into his heart.
She had once dreamed about it. About a blade through his heart and the life leaving his
eyes. There had been a time when she had spent eventing reclining in his arms and thinking
of nothing but quelling the heart that beat against her ear. And it was possible, seconds
away. He would do it for her. She was sure Jarlaxle would have even restrained him and let
her do it if she asked.
The quality of her thoughts shifted and she was seduced for a moment, she thought of
August helpless in front of her, so deep in the underdark that he could not see what was in
front of him. She thought of Jarlaxles warm hand wrapping hers around the cold handle of a
knife. She imagined Jarlaxles hot breath in her ear, he would tell her where to strike. He
would be warm, almost hot standing behind her. His shoulders behind hers, arm stretched
out along hers to guide the blade. She could nearly feel him lead her hand over the girth of
Augustes stomach, Here, Tega, he would whisper, If you want it to last. And she would.
Instead, she laughed, Thats sweet of you. But he is your business partner. She wondered
if her thoughts would have always been so hard to give up, or if Kimmuriel had awoken this.
He shrugged, I can always find another.
She tucked her hair behind her ears, No, no, she said, No, I am alright. Really, Ill be fine. I
was just surprised. Hell be a good business partner.
He laughed, Are you telling me you wouldnt like to see your former owner brought down by
your handsome and charming captain?
She didnt tell him how badly she would like that, nor about the fluttering butterflies that
rampaged at the thought of Jarlaxle standing in the lowering sunlight with a sword dripping
in Augustes blood, but replied, I meant what I said, Jarlaxle, let him work with you.
Why? He said, dropping an arm over her shoulders and walking with her.
She tried to keep the darkness out of her voice, but she wasnt entirely sure that she
succeeded, Because you will eat him alive.

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Chapter 9: Chapter 9
Tega lay in her bed. She wasnt asleep, just laid out on top of her blankets sullenly. Having
returned to the Bregen Daerthe, she was burdened with a mixture of disappointment and
relief. She was far away, worlds away, from Auguste. She felt like she could breathe better
away from his heavy human scent and cloying perfume. The tight and sick feeling in her
stomach was moving off finally. But Auguste was not the only thing in the World Above.
Feeling the sun against her skin again and then returning to the dark hung heavily upon her.
The underdark was balmy, warmer than most parts of the surface. But it felt chill and
confining.
Having her trip to the surface interrupted by Auguste made her feel cheated. She had had
an image of how the night would go and it had not included being reunited with a human
who had once possessed her. Away from the confines of his office and the prying eyes of his
guard, Jarlaxle might have been excellent dinner company without the interruption.
She wanted to be angry with Jarlaxle for taking her to a business meeting without any
forewarning. When this thought had fully articulated itself to her it made her laugh, having
met Jarlaxle should have been enough forewarning for her that a trip to the surface would
have a larger agenda than entertaining her. And how could she be angry with him when he
had offered to kill Auguste? The sweetness she found in the offer still felt foreign to her.
What sort of person took warmth in an offer of murder? Well, she supposed, the sort of
person who worked as the assistant and accountant of a drow mercenary.
She wanted to shout and drum her heels into her mattress. But she didnt know how
soundproof the room was. And she didnt want to leave the imprint of throwing a tantrum in
her mind for Kimmuriel to discover. So she lay on her bed as still as she could and tried to
control her heartbeat. It was impossible, obviously, but it gave her someplace to put her
concentration.
She knew that she should try to lock up her blood thirsty daydreams about Auguste and
make them as hard to discover for Kimmuriel as possible. But she couldnt help lingering
over them. Auguste had the potential to make Jarlaxle a lot of money, and he had been
willing to kill him, just for her. It may have been drow sweetness, but it was sweetness
nonetheless. She wasnt sure if it should be upsetting or charming how dashing she kept
imagining him while he murdered Auguste. When imagining ones employer splattered in the
life blood of one of his business partner ones focus ought not to be on how handsome it
looks.
She scolded herself resoundingly. This was also something she shouldnt be allowing herself
to think about. He was her employer. It was unprofessional and inappropriate. What had she
heard that sailor say while she was traveling over the Shining Sea? Dont shit where you eat.
That was it. It had been an admonition to a cabin boy after a comment on a fellow sailors
good looks. That certainly held true now. He was not only her employer but a drow. And she
had
seen
how
he
treated
lovers.
Besides, professional or not, she certainly did not want Kimmuriel watching her daydreams
about Jarlaxle smirking over his shoulder at her as he very handsomely murdered people
who had wronged her.
She tried to clear out the thoughts of Jarlaxle and thought instead of the sun. Kimmuriel
already knew she longed for it, it would do no harm to daydream about that. If she closed
her eyes, she could almost pretend that it was pouring down on her. She would wake up with
burnt skin. Her thoughts permeated her dreams when, finally, she slept. She lay in the sun,
warm and crisped. She heard nothing around her but the soft chirping of birds and leaves
rustled by the wind.
She woke up too early, she couldnt see Narbondel from her little room but it felt early. It
took her eyes a couple of seconds to get their bearings in the dark and for a moment she
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could see nothing. She felt well and truly back in darkness. When her stunted sight trickled
back, she got up and pulled her clothes on, rubbing at her eyes.
She missed the sun like it had been a friend. It hadnt seemed to burden Kimmuriel to take
them to the surface. She could visit so much more frequently if he were just a little bit less of
a drow. But he was a drow, and she had agreed to come down here. She was not trapped
and she ought to soldier up about it a bit.
She left for the office, far too early for Jarlaxle. It would be nice to have hours alone. She
could really immerse herself in her work. Stop thinking about the sun on her bare arms and
light leaking through her eyelids.
The office was as empty as she had expected when she got there and she settled herself
behind her desk. She felt safe tucked back in her little corner. It always smelled so good in
the office. A softened and lingering version of the perfume that Jarlaxle wore. She would
have liked some tea, but was not up for walking to the kitchens on her own and, now that
she thought on it, was not even sure she would be able to make her way there without a
guide. The halls outside the direct path between her rooms and the office seemed to shift
around.
She took out her stack of projects and began work, making a tidy to do list. She would like to
continue to work on the requisites for expanding to the surface, thinking Jarlaxle would like a
report on that, but wasnt sure where to start. She worked, instead, on her history project,
cataloguing house wars and house histories.
She was sitting, minding her own business at her desk, thoroughly entranced with her work
when the door to the office slammed open so hard that it crashed into wall behind it with a
reverberating crash. She jumped terribly and looked up. Standing in the doorway was,
perhaps, the last person she would expect. A wild eyed and imposing drow female.
She knew, at once, who it must be. The Bregen Daerthe had briefly taken her in. She had
been taken in by House Baenre after the fall of her own house. But she had come here
promising some sort of grand reward. It had struck Tega as strange that they had taken in a
female. The Bregen Daerthe she knew was an exclusively male band. As much as she often
missed the company of females, she had rather liked that the Bregen Daerthe was run by
only males. She thought it akin to an exclusively female mercenary band were they on the
surface.
Of course she remembered the females name, Vierna, Vierna DoUrden. But knowing her
name and how she had gotten into the complex didnt make her sudden appearance any
less frightening.
Tega tried not to shrink against her chair as Vierna turned her head. Scouring the office for
life. When the priestess saw her, she snarled, disgust plain on her face.
Where is Jarlaxle? She commanded viciously.
Tega straightened herself in her chair and replied in a soft and even tone, Im sorry, the
Captain remains retired in his chambers. I will have you sent for immediately when he is
available.
The viper heads on her snake whip thrashed menacingly at her hip. This was the first time
Tega had ever been alone with a drow female, ever had ones attention on her. The first time
she had ever seen their infamous whips for herself. Contrary to what she logically knew
about their race she had been picturing them like surface elf females. Unconsciously she had
always imagined them smaller than even the rather diminutive males. But they were not.
Vierna stood at least a head and a half taller than Jarlaxle. Unlike the general litheness of
male drow bodies, hers was possessed of a physical sturdiness. Wider shoulders, thicker
arms. She didnt look bulky and to a human would have still looked slim and pretty. Pretty
was the wrong word, even a half blind human would see that Vierna DoUrden was not
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pretty. She was more like an elegantly designed war machine. Heartstopping in both beauty
and terror.
Having heard what she had about the females, Tega was rather expected to be lashed in the
face with her whip, but for now at least, Vierna did not attack. Her scowl merely deepened
and she said abrasively, He sleeps late.
Tega remained stiffly in her chair, trying not to reach up and touch the pendant that would
call Jarlaxle to her. Not unless she really needed it.
Yes, she agreed, Often he does.
This would have been an excellent time for Kimmuriel to come in with the reports. He was a
terror and an annoyance but at least he didnt have a whip made of living snakes. But of
course, the one single time when his presence might have been less horrific than usual, he
did not appear.
Vierna was looking down her nose at Tega, What is a faerie doing on her own in his office
then? Are you his whore? As far as insults in drow went, faerie was a particular vitriolic one.
A racial slur of the highest degree.
She wanted to ask her if the whores she was familiar with regularly wore sweaters and sat
alone in their patrons office doing paperwork but she did not. Primarily because she didnt
think sass was the best response to a priestess of Lolth. But belatedly she also admitted to
herself that just because someone was a whore didnt mean they didnt sometimes get cold
nor did it keep them from having a head for numbers.
Instead, she said, only a bit crisply, and ignoring the slur entirely, I am his assistant.
Vierna walked closer, corners of her mouth twisting down, A slave is a slave.
Tension laced through Tegas shoulders and she bit out before she thought better of it, I am
not a slave. I am here of my own volition.
Vierna reached out and took Tegas chin between her fingers, tilting it upward and staring
her in the eyes. Her other hand softly caressed the handle of that whip. The viper heads
snaked out and wriggled against the papers on the desk.
She whispered into Tegas face, Whatever you are iblith, she said, hissing the slur through
her teeth, Why dont you run along and fetch your captain for me. She shoved Tegas chin
back harshly when she was finished.
He will be around shortly. I can have you sent for when he comes in. She could see at once
that should not have said it. This close she could she the wildness of desperation that clung
in Viernas eyes. But there was no taking it back.
Vierna bared her teeth and, faster than Tegas eyes could follow her whip lashed out, striking
her thrice, with the snake headed whip. The snakes were alive and they did not merely snap
but bit, fangs cutting through first her upper arm, then her shoulder, and the last across her
face. Pain lanced through her and she yelped, bringing a hand up to her face. Blood coursed
from the wound.
She got up, self preservation more strong than dignity, Ill fetch him at once, priestess.
Vierna stepped back, smirking, I thought as much.
Tega slid passed her as quickly as she could and fled out the door. Her sweater, one of her
favorites, was ripped now in two places and blood pulsed from the wounds on her face and
arm.
She was quite glad now that she had learned where Jarlaxles quarters were. She would not
have wanted to have to ask someone to lead her. Not that they should be unsympathetic to
her plight. But if there was one thing the drow excelled at it was figuring out how to be
unsympathetic against all odds. Luckily, his door was not too far from his office, she knocked
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on it the moment she was in front of it. She hardly waited long enough to be appropriate
before knocking again, much louder. When she knocked a third time, the door swung open.
Jarlaxle stood in front of her, irritated scowl on his face. Earrings still shone up the lengths of
both of his ears and a ring still lingered on one of his fingers, but other than that he was
undressed, save for pants tied so loosely that they were nearly falling off of his narrow hips.
He raised his eyebrow wearily, but then, eyes darting between her three wounds, his
expression changed.
Vierna DoUrden would like to meet with you immediately, Tega said through tightly
clenched teeth.
He tilted his head to peer at the bleeding wound on her arm, So it seems.
Tega understood that drow, particularly drow males, were accustomed to pain and practiced
in enduring it. She was not. She had, of course, suffered both pain and physical violence, but
she had never gotten used to it. Her face and arm throbbed and tears prickled at her eyes, a
result of combined pain and fear. She tried to keep them at bay. Three small wounds must
seem paltry to Jarlaxle who must have felt the lash of a snake whip much more harshly.
He stepped back and held out and arm, ushering her inside. Awkwardly she stepped in
passed him. He shut the door and looked at her again, he reached out and touched near the
wound on her face and flared his nostrils, She didnt get you so badly.
Tega glowered, She ruined my sweater.
Jarlaxle appraised her sweater, The sweater was very cute. My assessment was wrong,
Viernas crime was terrible.
He walked barefoot into the room with his bed and came out with a healing potion phial,
Just a sip should be enough.
Although she desperately wanted it she resisted, I am fine, Jarlaxle, hardly more than a
scratch.
He scoffed, We cant let her spend the day admiring her handiwork. Drink it.
Gratefully, Tega took the tiniest sip from the phial and handed it back. Heat flared at each of
her wounds and she felt them mercifully close. Jarlaxle dropped the phial into his pants
pocket and raised his hand, wiping the blood from her cheek with his thumb.
She could have broken my glasses! Tega protested.
You could use new ones anyway, those must be ancient. Perhaps Ill get some for you.
His hand was still on the side of her face and very warm. Before she had been shaken and
her attention captured by her wounds. Now healed and securely away from Vierna, she
blinked quickly, realizing how close to her Jarlaxle was standing.
He regularly wore that revealing vest, but there really was something about him wearing no
shirt at all. She had noticed it when she had walked in on he and KarDritch. Her shoulders
tensed when that came to mind and she clicked her teeth together. She thought he must
sleep in hardly anything at all, his pants were so loose. She could see his hip bones peaking
up over them and lean triangular muscles that disappeared under his waistband.
Tega held very still, the color rising in her cheeks. She might have chastised herself. Of
course he was attractive, wasnt that why he wore the vest and the tight pants? To flaunt to
the females how beautiful he was? She suddenly felt a wave of guilt. Jarlaxle was possessed
of pleasing slope of his chest narrowing to his waist and the slimly carved muscles. His face
as symmetrical and angular, with soft looking lips and mischievous eyes. How much of a gift
could these assets have been living in the underdark where females took what they wanted?
She forced herself to look at him in the eyes.

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He looked like he was waiting for her to say something. He had asked her something and all
she could do was look at him dumbly. His lips turned up in a smirk, Am I distracting you,
Tega? The breathy way he said her name gave up his game, but knowing that he was
teasing her did not provide her any immunity.
She hunched her shoulders together, Im sure I dont know what youre talking about, she
said in hardly more than a whisper herself.
His teeth revealed themselves in a predatory grin. Without his usual glitter he appeared
carved from obsidian. He began to slowly stalk around her, clearly enjoying the way he was
making her squirm.
A priestess is waiting for you in your office, perhaps you should put a shirt on and see to
her.
You think I should scurry around my own complex at the whims of uppity houseless
priestesses?
She smiled faintly, No, I suppose that you should not, although it would be too bad if other
mercenaries of yours were caused harm by her impatience.
Having come back around in front of her he shrugged, So a few mercenaries get a little
scratched.
She frowned, You healed me? What is different between your mercenaries and I?
He laughed, face splitting in a grin, I told you that Id bring you back home if you wanted to
go, so I cant let you get too terrorized. Where would my drow go if they were unhappy
here?
He sighed and rocked back on his heels. I supposed I should go though, he said with a
small scowl. He disappeared again into his bedroom, Wait if you wish, Ill be only a few
minutes.
Her thoughts were much less muddled now that she was healed and he wasnt stalking
around her whispering at her. So what is the game here?
Hm? He asked, arching an eyebrow and leaning out from behind the door. He had swapped
his state of undress, tying up a spider silk shirt but removed of the loose sleeping pants and
in only underpants.
Well, this is the first female youve taken in. She said, looking him squarely in the eyes,
Clearly she doesnt think of herself as part of the band and clearly youre not treating her
as such, so what is she doing here?
He disappeared again and said, loudly enough for her to hear, Arent we a clever little
surface elf. Shes been adopted by House Baenre, but she had an idea that sounded he
strode out again, light lizard skin pants now pulled on and adjusting the tilt of his hat,
profitable.
Tega waited for him to continue while he pulled on socks and then his high boots.
He looked up at her, Were you around for the destruction of House DoUrden?
Dinin DoUrdens house? She said, No, I was not.
He looked at her in surprise and indignation, Do you run around with all of my mercenaries
behind my back or only the pretty ones?
I really have no idea if hes pretty, she said, I could tell you the average profit margin of
the assignments he is sent on though.
Ah, he said looking almost relieved, Your record keeping, of course. Im glad you arent
spending evenings with him. He tipped his head back, reclining on the chair, boots now
secure, and looking at her, Yes, it was Dinins house. Dinin is her brother. He took a long
pause, She had another brother too, a younger one. His name was Drizzt.
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Did he...die in the house war? She asked, unsure where he was going.
He tilted his head back to look at her again and smirked without mirth, No, no he fled.
She shrugged, she was fairly certain this Drizzt DoUrden was not here, she didnt know all of
the soldiers names so she supposed he could have been, but it would not have slipped by
her notice he Dinin had had a brother, he had been quite impressive so far. She had been
keeping an eye on his reports. She asked anyway, Where to?
He waggled his eyebrows at her, The surface. But really, Tega, are you not going to
comment?
And hes living up there? On his own? She gave a cursory look at his outfit, The pants are
quite dashing, she deadpanned.
He beamed at her and winked, Everything I wear is dashing. No, he is not alone, he is with
the dwarves, although he spends most of his time in the forest. Quite the little hero so I hear.
He got himself into a mess of trouble down here before he left. Something went wrong on a
raid. He save a little girl, so the story goes, his house fell out of favor.
Tegas voice hitched, What were they raiding?
Jarlaxle didnt meet her gaze, Moon elves. A hunt such as that is a common graduation
reward from Melee Magthere.
And he saved one of them? A little girl? Im sorry, Jarlaxle, but you are not making me want
to be complicit in hunting him down.
Jarlaxle stood up and gave her a lopsided sort of smile, Well, Vierna certainly does, and her
new house, the great and mighty Baenre is offering its army and its considerably deep
coffers to the effort.
Why would Baenre help her hunt down her wayward brother?
The dwarves he has made friends with live in the fabled and recently rediscovered Mithril
Hall which, as Im sure you can surmise, is fair flush with Mithril.
The flippancy that had been in the conversation vanished. She felt affixed to the patch of
floor she was standing on. This was not partaking in wars between blood drenched drow.
This was a colony of dwarves. Dwarves had never been her favorite race, she found them
gruff and short sighted, but she didnt hate them. They were good people.
She focused on keeping her breath steady and fidgeted with her hands. She did not have to
ask what would be done with the dwarven survivors. They would be taken as captives into
the underdark. Worked like beasts until they dropped dead.
She wanted to say, No, Jarlaxle. Dont do this. Not this. But she did not, instead, she pushed
her glasses up the bridge of her nose and said, It is quite risky for you.
What do you mean?
She gave a still little shrug, Well, in a house war, if you are losing you can switch sides or
run back to the complex. Most house wars you do not personally have to be at. But I believe
you would be required to be at a battle in a dwarven hall. And if you begin to lose, your only
recourse will be to flee into the wilds of the underdark, which would mean a costly and
dangerous trip to the surface with no payment.
He looked insulted, You dont think I would win?
We know nothing about the stronghold, she said almost desperately, And besides, this
Drizzt boy escaped on his own didnt he? He must be formidable. Can Vierna even beat
him?
Jarlaxle grinned at that, He was trained by his father, the best fighter Menzoberranzan, so I
do not know. They say that he surpassed even his father in the end. Pride leaked out of his
voice as he spoke.
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And can Vierna defeat him? She didnt comment on the odd tone of his voice, nor on the
nickname, Zak that he had used.
House Baenre can defeat Mithril Hall, he said with confidence, And it will be too profitable
not to be a part of.
She clicked her teeth together, Jarlaxle- She didnt know how to put the words together
right to tell him that she couldnt do it. Unexpectedly she felt competing surges of guilt. She
couldnt attack the surface, but neither did she want to abandon Jarlaxle. The things he had
done. Allowing her to return whenever she wished to the surface. The high praise he gave
for her work. Protecting her from the drow. Offering to kill Auguste. They had affixed her with
a loyalty to him that she had not expected. She felt muddled as to how to express something
she dearly wanted to. He was still a drow. How much of it would he think was weakness?
How did you tell a drow that you would give up days under the sun and nights of sleep on
projects that would make him flourish but you could not do this one thing? Of course she
would not be a part of the fight, but she had seen herself that her work, making estimations,
running numbers and doing calculations, helped the Bregen Daerthe be more effective. It
would help them slaughter dwarves.
She looked up from her hands to find Jarlaxle directly in front of her. Without his boots, he
moved so quietly he was nearly ethereal.
I know that this will disappoint you, he said softly, but you cant help us with the attack
on Mithril Hall. Kimmuriel needs to visit a library on the surface, a rather well known and well
guarded library. The curators deemed that he requires someone born to the surface to
accompany him. To keep him in line. I thought you might enjoy the trip.
Again, she failed to know how to align her words. There was too much. His intention was
obvious, When we attack the surface, I will send you away. You will not have to be there. If
it were only that it would still be sweet. But it meant sending off Kimmuriel as well who
would be an enormous asset in a war. Done so that she would not be forced to choose her
loyalties. It, of course, also meant being alone with Kimmuriel. More than that, being
responsible for Kimmuriel.
Finally, all she could think to say was, I am not sure I will be able to keep him in line.
He shrugged, Well talk about it later. I regret that we cant discuss this further now, I
should probably see to Vierna. You should come with me, I liked having you at my meeting
with Auguste. Perhaps we will make it a regularity.
Dutifully, she nodded and followed him back to his office.
XXXXX
The human who came to take her away from Meika was not what she had expected in a
captor. He was weedy and scraggly. Taller than her and too skinny, he walked rather
hunched over. His fingers were too long for his hands. He was covered in a dusting of
freckles that extended all the way up his bare arms, across his cheeks, to the tip of his
pointed nose.
He said something in that fluid language of his. She didnt respond, how could she?
He ignored her lack of response and carried on, leading her through the windowed corridor.
They were at least three levels above the street and the sunlight poured through glass to
illuminate the tiled floor.
Although she hadnt struggled, he took her by the wrist and pulled her faster, nearly
dragging her through the hallway to a solid wooden door. She watched as he extracted a
long silver key from his right pocket and unlocked the door. His urgency had put ice in her
blood. Was her fate to be the same as the little drow girls? Her breath came unevenly.
Then she saw the inside of the room. There was a bed, yes, through an open archway and
half concealed, but it was the main room that drew her interest. There was elegant furniture
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there, long reclining couches and elegant little tables, but every inch of them was covered in
books. The walls were covered in bookshelves but they messily overflowed, leaving the ones
that didnt fit to be stacked up into teetering piles.
The only surface that was not entirely covered was a sturdy desk pushed against a wall. A
lamp sat atop it along with a mess of parchment and paper. He tugged her inside and
snapped the door shut behind her. He released her wrist.
He took a step back from her and appraised her. She self consciously crossed her arms over
her chest. She was still dressed in the transparent silks she had been purchased in.
After he was finished with his inspection of her he said In belabored and heavily accented
elvish, Can you read?
She nodded slowly.
Good. I am Auguste. You listen to me.
I am Tega. She spoke slowly so that he would be able to understand her in his clearly
rudimentary elvish.
Does not matter, he turned to his desk, scraping the chair backward, The book are in
elvish and common mostly. You do know common?
Yes. Some. She knew common well enough, though they had never spoken it enough in
their forest for her to become especially fluent.
He waved his hand airily behind him, his focus was already back on his papers, Clean them
up. Dont damage them.
She almost choked on her relief. She would not be attacked. She had to clean up books. Her
fingers flexed to touch them.
As an afterthought he turned back and said, Wear something else. You look like a - the
word he used was in his own language and she didnt understand it. But she could make a
rather well educated guess.
In a spiteful tone she rebuked, I do not have anything else.
He looked at her with narrowed eyes then got up and marched behind the curtain, to the
area of his rooms with his bed in it. She followed him hesitantly. He opened a large armoire
and pulled clothes out at random and tossed them to her.
Put on them instead. You distract. He returned again to his large desk, leaving her to tuck
herself behind the wall to change out of his eyeshot.
The clothes were cut for him, clearly. They were too broad in the shoulder and waist for her
and too long in the arm and leg. She rolled up the sleeves and the pant cuffs. The material
was stiff with a high collar that rubbed at her chin. She had never worn so many clothes in
her life, still, after so long in silk you could see through it was more comforting than
restraining.
She reappeared around the corner. He was bent over his desk, writing swiftly, scratching out
and editing. She did as she had been originally told and began to sort the books. They were
indeed in languages she was familiar with, only a few that she could not. She assumed that
the fluid scrawling script was the partner of their flowing language. She could not make
heads nor tails of it. She had found three such books that were outside of her ability to
decipher. These the stacked neatly and set aside.
He was easy to ignore as she worked, she was too enthralled with her task. She had loved
the books that her mother had left behind, but there had been so few of them. These were
innumerable and all sounded interesting. She wondered if she would ever be allowed to read
them.

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There was an oddness to this task that she had not felt before, an ease. She didnt falter and
hesitate like she was accustomed to. She saw the space she had and the things to be put
there and they cascaded into place. She moved with quickness and surety. She only
stumbled when she had to climb on a rickety step ladder to reach the topmost shelves. She
could nearly forget that he was there.
As the sun sank behind the window, she finished. There had been more space than there
had appeared when she first started, more than enough shelf space for everything. They
stood up straight and dusted and tall, all in order. First by subject, then by author, then my
title. All but the ones she could not read, which she had left out, stacked in a neat little pile.
She dusted her hands off on her pants and smiled. The human, Auguste, turned in his seat
and jumped. He gaze shuffled around to the books so neatly put away on clean and tidy
shelves.
You are not stupid, he said.
Although she knew it was his second, or perhaps even his third language, she took some
small enjoyment from how silly he sounded calling her not stupid with his poor grammar
and barely intelligible accent.
He paid her no more mind, just got up and moved passed her toward the door. Almost as an
afterthought he turned to her before leaving, You finish clean.
She nodded and he left. She was alone in his room. She felt timid and giddy all at once.
There was something that settled her bones about the organization work, about taking his
piles of nonsense and turning them into something better. She began at his desk.
His notes were in his own language and indecipherable for her, all of it was indecipherable
for her. But she put them into piles and laid them temporarily on the floor. She cleaned off
the desk, wiping away dust and the debris from things he had eaten while he worked. She
moved methodically through his rooms. The study first, then the bedroom, the closet, then
the water closet.
She had not seen such finely crafted things. The layout mimicked what she had seen before
at home, but more secure, the rooms laid out all flat and on the same level. And, of course,
this was a room just for him. At home people often slept together, hammocks pulled
kiddywompus across rooms. The twins had slept twisted together in the same hammock
sometimes even. And Meika had slept above her.
Her father had had his own room to sleep in, as the chief, but it was not closed off. They had
no windows or doors. Just pavilion roofs and open archways. Some rooms were platforms
with no railings or walls at all.
This set of rooms was very closed off, private. It was hard to know you were in a whole big
building when the doors were shut. But he had let it get so cluttered. Clothes had fallen off
their hangers to clump at the bottom of the wardrobe, the bed was tussled and sleep
mussed. Dust clung to everything. She liked the work. Well, she didnt like it, but it was
better than what she had imagined. Perhaps this Auguste was not so terrible.
She stopped her work. She drew long breaths through her nose. She had remembered
something. Something one of the elder females had said while they were in that slavers
house.
A younger female, Lilifeil, had said, How can we complain? We have food and bathes. We
have water to drink and salves for our wounds. How could we complain when our captors
show such kindness?
Tega could still hear her ears ringing with the elders response. It was not that it was loud,
she did not scream it. It was said with the graveness of a dirge, stoney in absoluteness, Do
not ever, she had said, allow yourself to confuse the absence of abject cruelty for kindness.
If they were kind, they would have set us free and brought us home. If you are a well kept
possession or a poorly kept one, you are still a possession. Do not let that be enough.
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She would not. Tega whispered an oath to herself. She would act meek, obedient, she would
wait. Someday she would see her chance. But she would not let herself feel warmth. Not
from Auguste, nor anyone who had a hand in her captivity. No matter anything she might
have to do with her hands and her body. She would steel her mind.
She continued to clean sliding objects to their place. Taking away the dust and the dirt. As
long as she belonged to Auguste, he was cruel.
But that didnt mean that he could not be useful. There had been a book that had given her
an idea. A thick tome, the title in his unreadable language. But it had opened, mostly
accidentally, when she had been putting it in the stack. The glimmer of the pages had led
her to peek more closely at it.
It made sense for him to have it, he had obviously learned some elvish, could clearly read
elvish, and he must have learned it somehow. But the sight of the lexicon had given her an
idea. What she really needed was to learn the native language, and to do that, she was
going to need a teacher.
XXXXX
She was not the only one who joined Jarlaxle for his impromptu meeting with Vierna. She sat
at her desk, taking notes on what was said and writing quick calculations in the margins
while they talked. Jarlaxle was reclining in his own chair. Vierna paced viciously back and
forth. But the two chairs Jarlaxle kept for visitors were both filled. Both lieutenants Kimmuriel
and the wizard Rai-guy sat stiffly, watching the proceedings. Dinin standing behind them,
eyes tracking his sister around the room.
Well, she thought idly to herself, Jarlaxle was not wrong about Dinin being pretty.
Kimmuriel glanced at her briefly. She ducked her head and focused on the note taking.
Matron Baenre wants the Bregen Daerthe to lead the attack! Vierna snarled, And me to
remain back with her priestesses. The desperation that Tega had seen before shone more
brightly than ever. You will take me with you. Drizzt is mine to kill.
Put directly adjacent to the males Vierna looked bigger than ever. It was an odd meeting,
other than Jarlaxle each of the three males held themselves rather submissively, sitting
quietly as she stalked around fuming. Regardless, she was glad Jarlaxle had allowed her to
change sweaters before coming back to the office. Submissive or not she liked to be
composed around this many drow.
Of course he is, Jarlaxle appeased, We could not allow someone else to make off with
your vengeance. The Bregen Daerthe will not touch the boy until you can sink your claws
into him.
She could not imagine a scenario where she would negotiate for the right to murder her
brother. But nor could she really understand Dinin. He must have been quite close to Drizzt,
and he just stood there letting his sister threaten to kill him. They kept calling Drizzt a boy,
how old was he? Old enough to have finished Melee Magthere but perhaps not much more.
KarDritchs age probably. She could take some small comfort that they were threatening the
mysterious and formidable Drizzt DoUrden rather than the mostly helpless KarDritch.
It was finally decided that if the Bregen Daerthe was used as a front guard Vierna would be
allowed to lead a battalion of them, putting her in the perfect position to kill her baby
brother. Jarlaxle was looking positively annoyed by the end of the meeting.
He rose with a tight smile, If that is all, Vierna, I will escort you back to House Baenre, I
believe it will be best if you remain there until the attack. To Tega he gave a swift little nod
which she took as, Sit tight, I will be back.
Tega removed blank parchment from her desk drawer. She thought, as long as he had had
her take notes, she could transcribe them into something brief and usable rather than her
quick scribbling. Vierna left with Jarlaxle and the other males trailed out behind them. After
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this, Tega was rather looking forward to a little time alone, even if she knew that Jarlaxle had
filled his other dimensional pockets with drow guards that would remain until the evening. At
least she could pretend they were not there.
Did you enjoy your sojourn to the surface, Tega?
She jumped and looked up. It seemed that Kimmuriel had not left with the others. She
looked back to her work and didnt bother to respond, she knew that he could discover with
no input from her that she had not. Of course, by asking he had already revealed that he
knew she had not had a good time. It wasnt as though he regularly asked her for updates on
her emotional well being. But she didnt have it in her to give him a straightforward answer.
How did you find the company of my contact?
At this she did look up. His contact? It was absurd how much anger shivered through her.
She should have expected this out of him. Should have known that something like that could
never have been mere coincident. How foolish could she be? While working with a drow
psion she had had a run in with her old captor half a world away from where he lived? Of
course it had been Kimmuriel. She had not felt anger like this in many years. Not since she
had been a girl in the clutches of the drow slavers. It had sliced up her skin like venom. He
had eaten into her mind and seen Auguste and then gone out and found him. He had been
the one to toss Auguste back at her. It was not a terrible coincidence, it was an attack.
She wanted to hit him. She wanted to fling her chair at his head. She snarled out loud, her
voice ringing through the stone office, Your contact?
I thought you would thank me.
Why would I thank you? She spat. When she got this upset her voice got shrieky and high
pitched. In her rage she forgot about the drow guards watching from their hidden nooks.
He pushed into her mind and she saw the imprints of Auguste at the table, making eyes at
her and of her flight with Jarlaxle away from him. Kimmuriels eyebrows drew together ever
so slightly.
He lives?
This, even more than his admission that it had been him who tracked Auguste down, made
her skin crawl. She got up from her chair and flung an inkwell at him before she could stop
and consider what she was doing.
The inkwell went far left of his head but slowed its descent before it hit the wall, hanging in
mid air. The line between his eyebrows deepened somewhat. She could feel the heat on her
cheeks.
Yes, he lives, Kimmuriel! she shrieked, What did you expect of me?
I expected nothing of you. She felt him claw farther into her and she used all of her will to
push against him. But she did not know how to fight. It took him hardly more than moments
to watch the imaginings she had had. He lingered over her thoughts of putting a knife
through Auguste herself.
Unfathomably the very tips of his mouth curled upward. He forced her mind over the entire
incident, from seeing him broad and fat in the sun to leaving with Jarlaxle, his arm over her
shoulders.You will eat him alive? He quoted at her, tilting his head, I nearly mistook your
inaction for mercy.
She had no response for that but glared at him, biting at her lip. He turned minutely and
reached out his long fingered hand to pluck the inkwell from the air. He stepped forward and
set it back on her desk.
I do hope that was not meant as an attack.
He turned from her desk and swept out of the room, leaving her alone with the guards.
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Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Jarlaxle had been enamored with the little bundle of notes Tega had given him concerning
his meeting with Vierna. So enamored, in fact, that he had decided she would accompany
him to all of his meetings.
Rather than enumerating her fears or lamenting the bite out of her time working on projects
it would be, she dutifully nodded and asked only for a days forewarning. The next morning,
he said, right away, as soon as she would accompany him. So the next morning she packed
herself one of her thin slates so that she might write standing up, ink, a pen and clean
sheets of paper. All of this she had put into a slim little shoulder bag that Jarlaxle had given
her. He had actually given her four shoulder bags and made her hold each of them in turn
and walk about his office before he decided which of them she could keep.
Jarlaxle, of course, was dressed to the nines, every inch of him covered in glittering metal or
skin tight leather and finished off with the ever present purple hat.
He circled her before they left the office eyes roving up and down her figure. Finally he said,
Tega, are you armed in the least?
She flushed nervously, Well, no. I cant...I really dont know how to fight.
Yes, he said briefly, tapping her nose with the tip of his finger, I have learned that much
about you, tender surface flower, but a knife would not be amiss.
I dont have one, she said meekly.
He gave a theatrical sigh, Then I suppose your flawlessly prepared, generous, and
indescribably handsome captain will have to offer one to you.
He drew a slim knife out of his own boot and handed it to her. She took it awkwardly, not
really sure what to do with it. She did not have high boots to put it in and had honestly never
been sure how people kept their ankles from being cut when they did that.
He watched with not little amusement, Just put it in your bag.
She did, carefully sliding into her new bag in a little side pocket so she wouldnt cut herself
when she was pulling out papers and things.
When her new armaments were secured, he led her out of the Bregen Daerthe and into the
streets of the city.
Menzoberranzan was louder than she had anticipated. She had always envisioned it as
ghostly silent. It was in no way the overwhelming boom and crush of a surface city, but it
was not silent.
The Bregen Daerthe headquarters was in a low ravine tucked away from the rest of the city.
It was a beautiful city. The upper stretches of it were limned with faerie fire and glittered in
the distance. Every stone of the city had been carved into wondrous shapes, although the
beauty was somewhat stagnated by the overwhelming number of spiders carved as
decoration. Even from here Tega could see a grand palace that stood above its surroundings,
towers built into natural stalagmites that stretched to the roof of the cavern. Around it was
high wall made entirely of, she could see even from this distance, spider web.
Regardless of the magical quality of the ambiance, Tegas heart still hammered in her chest
as she walked through the Menzoberranzan streets. The people that filled the streets made
her fingers shiver and she had to resist grabbing hold of Jarlaxles cape or hand. They were a
grim lot, scowling and sneering or dead eyed and lurking. As obviously under Jarlaxles
protection as she was, no one harassed her, but it was not a place she wanted to be on her
own.
On the way there they took the quickest route possible, zig zagging through streets that
Tega could barely keep track of. She thanked the stars for Jarlaxles showy outfit then, he
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was impossible to lose. But he didnt let her stray, keeping her nearly under his arm as he
walked.
The house they went to, House Maevret, was an small little palace built into a stalagmite.
Every inch of the outside of the palace was carved into an intricate inverted cone like a
momentous spike. As they got close Tega could see that rings of walkways encircled it,
heavily patrolled by female drow in dark armor.
Jarlaxle was greeted at the gate by a surely set of guards that scowled as he approached.
Their armor was clearly not new, it lacked luster and was, in more places that one, in poor
repair. They opened the doors for Jarlaxle, as he predicted, not noticing Tega was trailing
after him for an instant. Low level guards though they might be, Tega saw both of their eyes
crawl across Jarlaxles bared midriff as he walked passed then exchange tawdry looks with
each other.
Regardless of odds of victory, there was a small part of Tega that wanted to fight them for it.
Of course, having some instincts of self preservation, she did not, and merely followed
Jarlaxle through the doors.
Inside was a thin antechamber, walls claustrophobically close but ceiling toweringly high. At
the other end of it, tapping his foot impatiently, was a male drow. He was more well dressed
than the guards outside and in the vestments of a wizard. He wore his yellow hair long and
pinned into elaborate coiffures. His face was thin and snakelike, with a sharply pointed chin.
When Jarlaxle got close he swept into a grand bow before the sharp featured drow,
flourishing his purple hat, Ah, it is lovely to see you Eljiel, secondboy of house Maevret! He
said when he straightened.
Eljiel inclined his head toward Jarlaxle minutely, Firstboy.
Thats right, Jarlaxle said waggling his finger at the other male, I had forgotten. My
condolences for the loss of your darling brother.
Eljiel smirked rather proudly, looking like a viper, Thank you. Let me accompany you to
Matron Petrizel, she awaits you in the chapel.
The House Maevret chapel was a thing to behold, although Jarlaxle seemed none too
impressed with it. It was situated in the pinnacle of the stalagmite an inverted miniature of
the conic complex. The point high above was covered in what must have been decades of
spiders webs that radiated out, eventually thinning to nothing.
There were pews situated in concentric circles inward from the wall, enough space for the
entire house to come for prayers and rituals. The pews faced a raised dais that stood in the
center of the room. At the moment the dais held an intricate throne on which sat a
gruesome faced drow female.
The female, undoubtedly Matron Petrizel, was the obvious survivor of many terrible fights.
She was broader of shoulder than Vierna and probably shorter, though it was hard to tell
when she was sitting. She wore unadorned armor and had her long hair bound back roughly.
Her nose was smashed, looking like it had been broken more than one time. A scar cut down
the side of her face, splitting her top lip and disappearing under a patch over her right eye.
Her snake headed whip, five heads thrashing menacingly, curled up from her hip. In her
hand she held a short, thick knife that she tapped on the arm of her chair.
Jarlaxle bowed low, his cape swirling around him elegantly as he did, Matron Petrizel, you
look as radiant as -
Save it, mercenary, she said, waving her knife at him, I didnt pay for this meeting to be
flattered by you.
May I at least do your daughters the favor of a little flattery? He scanned the back wall of
the chapel and Tega nearly screamed. With her stunted vision she had not seen them so far
back, but now that they were pointed out she could not fathom having missed them. Clad in
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dark armor and dark cloth twelve females stood with menacing looks on their faces. At each
of their hips snake whips slithered and thrashed.
My daughters require no flattery either, she said, spinning her knife.
He grinned at her, Then perhaps we ought to talk about the war that is brewing between
your house and Breelion.
The muscles tightened in her jaw, it was clear she had not anticipated Jarlaxle knowing why
she had called him here.
Tega remembered quite well the reports she had received about House Breelion, twelfth
house of Menzoberranzan. She took quick notes on the rather large size of the army. It was
rough but she also jotted down figures of an estimated cost of the war, if played from either
side, as well as probable profits. She circled the numbers.
Hearing her pen scratch a circle Jarlaxle held out his slim fingered hand without looking at
her. She handed over the paper and he glanced down at it and grinned. She had added
another note that she thought he would be interested in. It wasnt something he would have
heard yet, they had left for the meeting before he had read through the morning reports.
House Breelions secondboy had just graduated first in his class out of Melee Magthere. He
would make a strong addition to the Bregen Daerthe if ever something terrible fell upon his
house.
Jarlaxle grinned at Petrizel, he opened his mouth but she beat him to it, tossing a rather
large bag toward him. He caught it deftly and peaked inside, then beamed.
That should persuade you not to wander during the course of the war.
Of course, Jarlaxle said with a smile, And, of course, a fair share of the profits if you win.
A fifth.
Jarlaxle remained unfazed, his weight casually on one foot, Half.
Half? she mocked.
Jarlaxle frowned as though trying to remember something then turned to Tega, How much
was it that Breelion offered us?
To the best of Tegas knowledge they had not yet had a meeting with House Breelion nor
received any formal offers. Her heart hammered and she wrote down haphazardly, I dont
know what youre talking about!
Jarlaxle took the paper with a flourish and, reading it, beamed, As I thought, he bowed
dismissively, Matron, I wish you the best of luck in your endeavor.
He turned, sweeping Tega along with him out of the chapel.
Just as they reached the door, Petrizel called out gruffly, Half.
He spun around theatrically, a pleasant smile on his face, What was that?
Her face was dour, You will have half of the treasure.
He threw her a wink, Then we have an agreement.
Tega followed close behind him as he turned and paraded out of the chapel. She stayed
tucked up against him until they had made it out of the complex and back out onto the
street. She found walking out to be much harder than going in. Tega had feared the entire
time that they would be leapt upon from behind. Particularly with no Jarlaxle between her
and the thirteen angry females they were leaving behind.
As soon as they were clear of the complex Jarlaxle let out a laugh and tossed his arm over
Tegas shoulder, You are truly a mercenary now!
Tegas pulse was racing but she grinned up at him, adrenaline still making her fingers shake
a little, I will compile my notes and give them to you when we get back.
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He ignored her return to business, he was peering down at the bag the matron had tossed
him. Now that she was this close, she could see it was near to bursting with emeralds. His
eyes glittered as he poured them through his fingers. He cinched the bag closed and grinned
rakishly at her, We ought to celebrate, come now!
She was in no position to argue with him and allowed him to lead her back up the street, his
arm still around her shoulder. When they emerged from the labyrinthine maze of alleyways
however, they were not back at the Bregen Daerthe complex where she had assumed that
they were going. They were at the end of a long and wide streetway, lit up with faerie lights
and bustling with traffic.
It looked like a carnival, with lights and merchants carts littered throughout. Sellers were
hawking everything from street meat to jewelry. Shops had heat painted advertisements for
magical components and the finest clothes in the underdark.
Jarlaxle led her through this street, grin splitting his face. The milieu of people stepped out of
his way, clearly aware of who he was. If they noticed Tega at all, they didnt reveal it. Their
focus was entirely on Jarlaxle, mostly with a barely concealed mixture of trepidation and
respect.
He stopped in front of a oddly smelling little booth covered in a dirty canvas cover and
guarded by what looked like a half drow half orc. Jarlaxle traded him a few copper coins for a
spike of meat on a stick. Here, he said to Tegao, Try it.
She took it warily, it smelled like hot grease overlaid with overpowering spice, What is it?
Seasoned rat, he said simply, They are quite good!
Tega wrinkled her nose, You first.
He gasped theatrically and looked wounded, You dont trust me?
Grudgingly she took a tiny bite of the rat, Oh, she said with surprise, That isnt as horrible
as I thought that it would be!
He laughed, That is high praise in the underdark!
He let her have a few more bites of it before snatching it away and tossing it out, Dont ruin
your appetite on that, though, there is better fare coming.
She was not disappointed to be relieved of the meat and continued to follow him through the
broad street. She might have actually said that she was having fun, being led through the
loud and exotic Menzoberranzan Bazaar. Jarlaxle led her first through a brightly decorated
shop that sold spidersilk woven with tiny lights or enchanted to shift temperature and glitter
in infravision.
Gleefully, he plucked out a long and gleaming scarf to wrap around Tegas shoulders. She
blushed, but rather wished that she could see how she looked wrapped up in the twinkling
fabric. The blue fabric inset with glittering white lights reminded her of the stars.
Jarlaxle took one look at her and tossed a coin to the shop owner, Keep it, he said to Tega,
I ought to pay you more anyway.
She touched the soft fabric of the scarf and smiled, I keep telling you that. Is all spider silk
this soft?
He wiggled his eyebrows and winked at her, And this is not even the nice stuff, you should
feel my underclothes.
She went profusely red and looked away from him. He ignored her discomfort and tugged
her out of the shop and back up the street. He led her passed a myriad shops, whispering
tawdry stories about their owners. She giggled along with him, entrenched in the sweetly
spicy smell of his perfume.

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They meandered through a number of shops before they arrived at where he was really
taking her. The building was elegant with spiraling columns and an arching roof. He led her
inside, grinning from ear to ear, You will adore this place, he said looking back at her, I
used to come here with a frie- with someone I once knew. We thought it was the best place
in all of the underdark. His lips tilted in a private little smile, Well, the second best place.
She followed rather happily into the warm establishment, he reached out and took her by
the elbow, keeping her beside him.
Immediately upon catching sight of him, the drow male conducting patrons at the door
approached them, The usual spot, master Jarlaxle? he asked deferentially. His eyes darted
briefly over Tega but he said nothing.
Jarlaxle nodded and was led to a booth near the back that gave them a great deal of privacy.
He allowed her to slide into the seat first then followed her, sitting beside her rather than
across. This kept her tucked against the wall and impossible for passersby to harass.
He ordered in a rapid drow that she did not understand. It was different than the drow she
was used to, more slurred together and rough. Vernacular drow, she thought. It interested
her greatly, and she would have rather liked to hear him have entire conversations in the
new form of his language to see if she could get the hang of it. But he turned his attention to
her.
Unbelievably, pushed into a little corner of a booth and nibbling off of a plate of mysterious
mushrooms and meat slices in the underdark, she was having more fun than on a
sundrenched surface veranda.
Jarlaxle became entrenched in a story about his days at the Academy, which left Tega
enthralled. It was not often that he spoke about his past. So there we were, he continued,
hidden in the rafters, hands full of stolen mushroom wine and I could barely contain myself!
The entire room was filled with the start up priestesses who were looking for us and not a
single one of them thought to look up!
Did you escape? Tega asked, enjoying the mushroom wine she had herself.
He gave her a wink, Who are you talking to? Of course I escaped, me and the boy who had
gotten me into trouble.
She bit back a smile, I have a hard time believing that it was him who got you into trouble.
He glowered playfully, You, my darling, never had the misfortune to meet Zaknafein
DoUrden, he could get a spider in trouble if there was a priestess around.
The name piqued her interest but she didnt comment on it, not wishing to jolt him into not
finishing his story, So what did you do when you escaped?
He gave her an incredulous look and said, We lay in the rafters and drank our stolen wine,
of course!
She laughed and he gave her a warm little smile that tugged the corners of his lips up, And
what have you ever done that is worth the telling? Im sure you have not gotten up to many
misdeeds.
I have not had many adventures, she said shyly, At least not the kind that make good
stories. What did she have to tell him? Her grandest adventures were being captured by the
drow and used by a Calishite. Not exactly tales of cavalier excitement.
I am not surprised, coming from the elf I found smelling of vanilla and draped in a sunshine
yellow apron he crowed. He lifted his arm and he paused for a part of a second, his smile
only just faltering and dropped then he dropped the arm around her shoulders, tugging her
against his side. He was partially reclined, with his feet wedged against the booth seat
across from them. Now flush to his side and blushing, Tega put her feet up as well, although
less wantonly as Jarlaxles and allowed herself to lean against him.
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She was feeling a ludicrous number of butterflies in her stomach. He is my employer. She
told herself sternly, It would be irresponsible and unprofessional to become involved with
him. It was difficult to listen to her own advice. He smelled very good and it was impossible
to ignore the musculature of his arms or torso while she was this close to him.
Perhaps just this once you can do something wildly ill advised. She thought to herself
temptingly. She reasoned with herself, It isnt as though you arent already in danger just
being down here and clearly the drow would not find it unprofessional.
This was not the first time that she had not been able to reciprocate an exciting story. How
grand might it be if the next time someone told her about their rambunctious exploits she
could tell them about taking a devastatingly handsome drow mercenary as a lover.
It was an easy thing to convince herself of with the heady weight of Jarlaxles full attention
upon her. He was looking down at her, lips, very soft looking lips she noticed, turned up in
half of a smile. With the hand that was not around her shoulder he brushed a stray strand of
her hair behind her ear. His eyes moved slowly from her eyes to her mouth.
I did some math of my own recently, he said. His voice had dropped to that low husky
whisper he used sometimes. It made heat flare across her stomach and she fought to
maintain eye contact. Do you know how much our profits have increased since I brought
you down here?
She hesitated, she did know, but it felt indecent to say it, especially when he asked in a
voice like that. Regardless, she answered him, Fourteen percent.
He repeated her words in a reverent tone, Fourteen percent. Those are...great gains. The
hand that was about her shoulder dropped to her waist and tightened its hold, pulling her
nearly flush against him.
Her head was buzzing with thoughts she usually did not allow herself to linger on. How warm
his skin would be against hers. The deftness of his fingers. His soft lips and sharp white teeth
on her throat. How her name would sound when he was raggedly out of breath.
She was nearly lightheaded, their faces so close to touching she could almost feel him.
The glint from his one visible eyes was nearly predatory as he tilted her chin upwards. Heat
radiated where his fingers touched her flesh and she could barely draw breath.
Before he made another move a cheering and raucous laughter erupted from the center,
and much more crowded, area of the establishment. Tega took her attention off of Jarlaxle
for less than a moment, eyes slipping over to look passed him.
She transformed in his arms. She had been warm and pliant a moment before, eyes
shimmery behind her glasses, lips slightly parted. In an instant it was gone. Her eyes
hardened to stones and her body turned rigid. She pushed back away from him with all the
wildness of a hook horror.
Jarlaxle turned his head, sword already appearing in his hand, thinking some threat must be
approaching.
He swore. Vith! I forgot.
They could only see a portion of it from their booth which was set back in a corner, but she
had seen enough. Three drow were leading a line of surface elves onto the platform. The
elves were barely dress, draped loosely in spider silk, the one in the center covered in
nothing but thin trails of golden chains. Around their necks were spindly silver collars
attached to metal chains that locked them to hoops on the platform.
Tegas body was entirely rigid. Her body forgot how to pull air into her lungs. Blackness crept
in on the edges of her vision. Her heart was beating too fast, so fast it hurt in her chest.
Every inch of her flesh was struck simultaneously with overpowering dread. Fear so visceral
that she fought an instinct to attack Jarlaxle and push him away from her. It had beset her
like an attack, sudden and unstoppable.
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Jarlaxle swung himself up to his feet and pulled Tega up with him. Jarlaxle released her when
she was up, he thought he would make it worse, holding onto her, but the moment she was
not caged in by him she lost the battle she had been fighting against her instincts. She fled,
away from Jarlaxle and toward the door. He lunged forward to snatch her by the wrist but
missed by a hairs breath. He swore again and leapt after her.
Her calm and orderly brain, usually so careful and logical had had its control thoroughly
wrenched away. Instinct fed on terror guided her mad dash through the restaurant and out of
the doors. Being drow, none of the patrons did more than watch with amusement as Jarlaxle
bounded after what they assumed was a wayward captive.
She had slammed the door after her and Jarlaxle lost precious time stumbling back and
reopening it. When he had and was finally out of the building, she was no where in sight, lost
to the streets of Menzoberranzan.
XXXXX
It had not been difficult to convince Auguste to teach her his own language, not with the
promise of helping him to improve his belaboured elvish. He was not a poor teacher and
soon, much sooner than she had anticipated, she was able to speak in short sentences of his
native tongue.
You are clever, he said slowly in his own language, Much more clever than the harlot
slaves my mother usually buys me.
His mother had been the woman who had taken them here from the auction house. Tega had
only seen her a few times since her arrival. More often, she saw his sister, a woman slightly
older than he was. It was his sister who made use of Meika.
The comment had repulsed her and she felt only pity for the slaves that had not lived up to
his demands. But she smiled as though the comment gave her pride, I am happy, she
started slowly, the lyric words awkward on her tongue, That you think me clever.
His mouth tilted into a cocky smile, as though he had given her a gift, You are going to be
useful.
Again she tried to look demure and grateful, I would like very much to be useful to you.
Meika had been quick to warn her about Auguste. His mistress, Alexandrie, had enlightened
him.
I would say your goodbyes to your sister now, he had quoted her, My brother, he goes
through slaves like rats through a corpse. She did not come back to their sleeping chambers
with bruises or bite marks, but then, Alexandrie had not sold her last six slaves into brothels
when she tired of them.
Tega was indeed happy to be useful to Auguste.
He seemed happy with her so far. She kept his library and bedchambers immaculately tidy.
Although he seemed the most pleased that she could do this nearly silently while he worked.
She was not agile for an elf, but when compared to humans she was still rather clever on her
feet and made almost no noise walking about his safe little rooms.
And, of course, she was teaching him elvish.
That is enough of a lesson for today, he announced, brushing her aside, I have work to
get done.
She took her dismissal, retreating to the bookshelves to dust and he turned back to his desk.
His work had something to do with numbers, she had discovered. This was a branch of
knowledge she knew nothing about. She was immensely curious about it, but she did not
dare ask. How much mathematics would he expect someone clever to know. He might be
disappointed that she knew nothing. She could not afford to allow him not to find her useful
and amusing.
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Aside from the dread of dismissal that lived inside her whether awake or asleep, her biggest
obstacle was boredom. The problem was that Auguste didnt do much by way of mess
making. He got books out sometimes and twice a day left clothing strewn across the floor,
but mostly he just sat at his desk and he worked.
Her only instructions were to keep his area clean. And she had. His room was spotless and
flawlessly organized. She stood by his window, trying not to tap her foot or make any noise.
She had been doing this for two weeks now. She could scrounge up about an hour of work to
do, and he usually occupied her with language lessons for a few hours, but other than that
she could only stand and be quiet.
There was only so much of it that she could take.
She took a deep breath and said hesitantly, M-master Auguste?
He turned to look at her, scowling at the interruption, Yes?
Is there - is there anything else you would have me do?
He shrugged, No.
Then she looked around and bit her lip, Then...could I...I dont wish to be too bold
could I read one of your books?
If you damage any of them Ill have you flayed.
Does that mean that I can?
You might as well, you might even find something interesting to talk about. Impatiently, he
turned back to his work and ignored her once more.
She took a book immediately. She had cleaned the shelves enough to have chosen exactly
which one she would read first, if given the chance. A Treatise on the Wandering Stars by
Furglorph Walden.
It entrenched her immediately. The sordid state of her life ripped off of her like a snake skin.
She had read the few books that her mother had left for her so many times that she did not
entirely remember what it was like to read something that she had never read before. The
writing of the book was small and precise, and she held it close to her face, her nose nearly
pressed against it.
She devoured the book, wishing only that she had paper to write things down. She could
imagine the stars alive before her as she read. She had not known that some of the stars
wandered the sky.
Neither did she notice the light becoming dim behind her. Her elven eyes had no trouble
reading in the shallow light. Her eyes did not leave the pages until she reached Waldens
conclusion. She stared at the last blank page of the treatise then reverently closed it.
When she looked up, Auguste was watching her. He was straight backed in his chair, odd
expression on his face.
You finished it. He said. He had lit his lamp, his skin looked golden in the soft light.
It was not so long, she said.
And what do you think? He asked.
I beg pardon?
He glowered, What do you think, girl, about the book? What are your thoughts?
She considered slowly, she both had to consolidate her thoughts and respond in either
simple enough elvish words that he could understand or labor through them in Calishite.
I know little about the stars, she began, It seems odd to me that some stars would
wander when so many remain affixed.
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And what do you make of that?

She gave a noncommittal answer, There is more to be learned.
He sneered and fear lanced through her chest. She had not answered correctly. She could
almost hear his cold voice condemning her to a brothel on the streets.
There is always more to be learned, He said in a horrible voice, What do you think! You
read the whole thing straight through, sitting there so nicely and now you do not even have
a single thought about it? What use are you?
I cannot think of new ideas, she said desperately. It was hard for her to say anything
nuanced in a language she barely knew.
His eyes were ice and his voice terrible, Should I send you off? he threatened, If you
cannot even come up with intelligent things to say how could you be worth keeping? I am
sure you would do well keeping beds warm.
She shook, how had this turned to poorly, Perhaps they are not stars! She said this wildly,
looking for something that might make him keep her. She had no basis for it, had not really
thought it.
What do you mean by that?
She drew her metaphor from the only thing she could think of, looming death. Perhaps,
she started weakly, It is like eyes flashing in the darkness. If you can only see the eyes they
look the same. You do not know if it is something harmless or a beast in the night.
He leaned back and smiled, You see, girl, you just had to have the right incentive.
She nearly balked. The right incentive? Is that what he called it? Threatening to sell her to a
whore house. She had the good sense instead to look down demurely, You are right. Thank
you.
Read something else, keep reading.
Oh, alright. The command was an awkward one, but she was happy to oblige. She returned
the treatise to its spot on the shelf. She would have felt uncomfortable choosing another
book with him watching her, but as soon as he had finished speaking his attention had
returned to his work.
She slid another book out of the shelf, a longer tome this time, heavy and bound in leather.
This she would not finish in a night. She had kept the same theme, selecting another book
about the stars.
She settled back into the corner of a couch that she had been occupying and pulled her
knees up to her chest, balancing the book so it was wedged between her legs and her face.
She read late into the night. At first this book held the same mystique as the first, plunging
her deep into its mysteries. Slowly, however, an ache grew in her eyes and her head began
to throb. The moon rose behind her and she longed for sleep. But she dared not drift off nor
ask for a reprieve. He might think her uninterested or lazy. She could not allow him to think
either.
The words were blurring together and she found that her eyes would glaze over an entire
page without taking in any of it. She would start again at the top and, trying to get through
it, focus so hard on concentrating that she lost her thread thinking about concentration.
It must have been passed midnight when he finally called a halt.
Return to your sleeping chambers, he said with no preamble.
Gratefully she got up, noting the page she had left off on and going to the bookshelf to
return it to its spot.

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No, he said sternly, You may leave it out. Continue reading tomorrow, when your tasks
are done. Here, he said handing her a slip of parchment, Mark you page and leave it on
the table.
Thank you, Master Auguste, she said, holding in her yawn with difficulty.
Goodnight.
Goodnight, Master Auguste.
She returned to her sleeping chamber, winding half blindly through the dark corridors. When,
finally, she had made it back, she opened the door and was immediately pulled into Meikas
muscled arms.
Tega, he said, holding her against his chest. Regardless of how many baths soaked in
perfumes he was given, he still smelled of home. She wasnt sure why he had grabbed her
so willfully, but she nuzzled into her big brothers chest.
Tega, are you alright?
Yes, yes of course. Why? Are you?
He pushed back her hair and smiled at her, Yes, I am fine. You were gone so late I was sure
that he
No. No, I am alright.
Well thank the gods.
I am so tired.
He scooped her into his arms as he had done when she was quite small and settled onto his
own sleeping mat, letting her rest against him. He was built so much like their father.
Te, he said, pulling through the knots the day had left in her hair, I do...I do wish to talk to
you...about something.
What is it Meika?
He was obviously uncomfortable. For the first time she really looked at him. The bruises he
had had around his wrists and at his neck were fading and had not been replaced. Te, I will
never stop feeling hatred for myself that we have come to this, but I feel...I feel I have to say
it.
What is it?
If you...if you have to....if he he cleared his throat and started again, If you must act as
though you are enjoying yourself to avoid being hurt or being sent somewhere worse.
You...there.There is no shame in keeping yourself safe. I just...I want you to know. You must
know, even...even if you do...enjoy him. The only shame falls to him. I will think nothing less
of you. It is important to me that you know.
She had not known it was possible to feel so deeply comforted and be so egregiously
wounded from the same words. How far down he had fallen from the warrior who had spit
and fought his captors.
She laid her head against his shoulder, I dont think any less of you either, Meika.
They fell asleep on the same sleeping mat. Tega sent prayers to any god that she was not
there alone. Gruesome and disconcerting as it was to be one of a matched set selected to
appease another pair of siblings, it meant Meika being at her side.
XXXXX
Tega did not have a heading when she fled the drow restaurant. Out. Away. Were the only
commands that made the full journey from her brain to her muscles. Adrenaline had already
been thick in her blood when she had seen the slaves. Terror overlaid the excitement she
had been feeling, choking her clear thinking like a poison.
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Outside, on the streets of a drow city, the animals terror began to ebb, and gave way to a
very real dread. She had sprinted through the streets. She already had the attention of the
people around her. She noticed for the first time how really stunted her vision was. Her only
real hope was to either find Jarlaxle or find her way back to the Bregen Daerthe. She had no
real idea how to do either one.
She spun back around the way she had come, looking for the broad brimmed hat or the
shimmering cape. But she saw nothing. Only the press of drow and the smattering of other
scowling denizens. The was attracting more than a little attention, a little surface elf that
had bolted through the crowds a moment before.
She began scooting toward an alley. She needed to breathe and to get her bearings. She had
thought that Vierna was frightening, but there still she had been in the Bregen Daerthe, she
had known where Jarlaxle was, there had been no real threat of Vierna killing her. But now
there was nothing. She tried to console herself that there was still no reason for anyone to
murder her. That gave comfort for only a moment. They could murder her for her shoes or
her bag. Or drag her into captivity. Take her back to their House for their own amusement.
She couldnt keep her breath even.
This is your fault, she chastised herself. She had been safe beside Jarlaxle, had been
enjoying herself even. But she had lost her control and ended up here, alone.
Suddenly from behind her, she felt someone seize her wrist in a bruising grasp.

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Chapter 11: Chapter 11

What she would later categorize as the second leg of her internment with Auguste began
while he was out of the room. It was begun by the same catalyst that started what would be
the only true affair of the heart her young life had encountered. There were great tracts of
time that she was let alone, abandoned in his chambers with no company. When he went for
formal meals with his family or was drawn away to some other task he left Tega to her own
devices. Boredom was an impossibility in his rooms being so full of books. If it had been up
to her she would have spent the time continuing to read about the stars. But like all things
while she was enslaved, it was not up to her, not really.
She could very nearly convince herself that she could have the time for herself and continue
her languid reading, slowing consuming his library. But she could not escape the thought
that it would be foolish for her not to understand what he loved the most, that esoteric work
with numbers. He fevered over it, sometimes going on long winded explanations of his pet
projects, although not in enough detail for her to follow. Whenever she did not understand
he would huff, sneer insults and go back to work.
This tendency had flummoxed her for a time. How might he react if he discovered that she
was not even acquainted with the basics? It was in this question that she devised her
strategy. She was certain that she could figure out the very basics on her own and it would
probably be safe to ask about the more complex parts.
Late in the day, he broke her from her reading. Come here, girl, Auguste ordered sternly
from his bedchamber.
Tega rose immediately from her book to attend to him, What do you require, Master
Auguste? As was her custom, she said it demurely, looking down at his knees.
He stood before his bed, luxurious blue pants done up at his waist, a matching sleeveless
tunic undone and hanging on his shoulders. They were both decorated with golden stitching,
made to fit snug to his body. His legs, in such close fitting pants, looked absurdly thin. The
shirt had a complex system of ties on the front. He had obviously attempted to tie them at
the bottom, leaving an awkward knot of tangles.
It was clear what he wanted and Tega, with only a moment of hesitation, moved forward to
help him tie his new shirt. Facing him, and with small elven fingers, it was not hard to do up
the shirt, but it took a number of minutes that she spent staring at his uncovered chest.
She had not ever seen a male less well muscled. On someone she loathed less, it woud not
necessarily have been a bad thing, but she was not used to it, her people had been warriors
and the male forms she was familiar with were cut with hard muscles.
Auguste was not. His body was closer to skinny than slim, with the barest outline of his ribs
above his stomach. This was undoubtedly due to the many days he neglected to eat in favor
of his work. More curious to Tega was the light dusting of coarse blonde hair. It peaked out
on his chest and in a little line leading down to his waistband. It repelled her, used to
hairless bodies, although she fought against the urge to recoil. She wondered if it was a
normal human trait and if human females grew chest hair also. But it seemed impertinent to
ask.
She finished tying up his shirt and stepped back, looking down at the floor. Is there
anything else that you require from me, Master Auguste?
Instead of answering he commented in a complimentary tone, You arent like most elves.
Tega didnt really know what he meant by that. Understanding neither what most elves were
like nor why she should want to be different. Meekly, she said as much, I dont know what
you mean by that, Master Auguste.

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He turned to the large mirror that leaned against the wall and began adjusting his clothing.
Idly he said, Youve been here for nearly six months, all the other elves I have had have
always tried to seduce me by now. But you are more interested in my library arent you?
She focused for a moment on keeping her breathing even. Was personal enslavement the
only context he had ever met and elf? She scanned his skinny freckled body and thought of
the snide remarks that poured out of his mouth. She could not imagine any elf pursuing him
of their own volition. She tried to imagine stripping him of his clothing. The daydream
slipped, without her trying, to cutting his clothes from him so they would not impede her
when she began cutting into his skin. She did not, of course, give voice to her thoughts and
only said, Your library is quite exceptional.
You see, he said happily, You are different. Much different from that red headed whore my
sister keeps.
This made fire burn in chest. Her fists clenched at her sides and she gritted her teeth. It was
impossible not to think of the bruises left of Meikas wrists and throat. Of the deadness that
sat in his eyes. She wondered how hard she would have to strike with the letter opener on
his desk to impale Augustes temple.
He continued, brushing his shoulder length blonde curls, Dont you sleep in the same
quarters as he does?
Yes, Master Auguste.
He twisted and looked at her, eyes scathing, He is not as light fingered with you as he his
with my sister is he?
Disgusted and offended she could only manage a stiff she responded, He is my brother.
He shrugged, Yes, I know, Im not familiar with elvish customs regarding such matters.
It didnt matter how much vitriol smoldered under her skin as long as none of it showed on
her face. Her brother was being used by his owner, had been torn away from his wife and
this boy dared to suppose he raised a hand to his own sister? He is not, she said tersely.
Good, let me know if he misbehaves, we will have you moved to your own chambers. How
do I look?
Excellent, Master Auguste, horror rose up in her. The only solace she had was evenings
with Meika. It was the only time that she was not alone. That she could speak as she felt and
feel another body warm with hers. How would Meika bear the brutal treatment of his
mistress without her to soothe his aches? How would she suffer the injustice of their
captivity without Meikas tender elvish words and strong brotherly arms?
If she betrayed any of her emotion, he noticed none of it, I will be back this evening, my
mother requires that I be at a formal dinner. Stay here until I return.
As you wish, Master Auguste, she said, relieved that he would be soon gone. She didnt
know how much longer she could keep control over her temper.
Without another word he turned away from her and left the room, locking the door behind
him. Tega stood for a moment, pressing her lips together to regain control over herself. But
she would not squander her time with anger. Anger was to be used and kept until she could
aim it with more potency.
She took a single circuit around the room, making sure nothing was out of place before she
settled in with her new project.
The book was entitled, An Introduction to Arithmetic. It was a thick volume and very worn,
the spine nearly falling apart. When she flipped open the front cover a messy, childish hand
had written From the Library of Auguste Pernoit. The ink was smudged as though he had
closed the cover before it had entirely dried. She flipped passed the title page and began to
read.
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This was a book of magic.

Not the sort for wizards, but equal to it. Magic written in a language made just for her. When
she had made sense of the symbols they fell together with more beauty that she had ever
encountered. Like a parasite feeding on the edges of her brain she was devoured. As she
worked her way through the pages, tracing the work out on her skin, not having paper, her
heart very nearly raced.
She felt as though the universe, the stars and the sand and the sky, had always been trying
to speak with her and she had been deaf and unable to understand. It was this, this was the
language of the heavens and the gods. This she felt in her marrow.
She heard it like a call from a deity to a paladin. The overwhelming need to master this, to
be mastered by it. It gave her the sense of rightness laying structure to the bookshelves
had, multiplied a thousandfold. Her heart lit with it, butterflies filled her stomach.
And this was only an introduction.
She was thus immersed, face pressed nearly against the book to read it properly when it was
wrenched from her grip. She gasped and looked up, eyes wide.
Darkness had fallen while she had been in the thrall of the book. More unhappily, Auguste
had returned and she had not even noticed, he frowned down at her, holding the book.
Are you ignoring me, girl? He nearly snarled. Do you believe that you are anything
special, you stupid girl? That I cannot cast you aside? When I call, you answer me!
She stood up. She had lost her carefully maintained control, feverishly grasping his wrist,
looking desperately at him, You must teach me.
I will not be given orders by a filthy slave, he said, throwing her off of him. He raised his
hand and struck her hard with the back of his hand. His knuckles jarred on her cheek. They
would bruise.
She didnt respond, the pain was as unimportant as his questions, she seized his wrists
again, The book, you must. It is the universe in ink, the sky, she rambled, unable to form
the words, Please, Auguste.
He looked down at the book and back up at her, her feverish words and the color in her
cheeks. He looked at the book that he had taken from her and then back at her consuming
eyes.
For a moment he forgot her slight, You want to learn mathematics?
Yes, the hunger in her voice was unmistakable, beyond her ability to conceal. Already,
book out of her hand, she felt a pull toward it, as though the world had become scaled in
grey.
What do you wish to learn? There was something in his voice that was not quite
judgement and not quite lust.
Sensing his interest she took his wrist again, eyes wild, holding his gaze fiercely with her
own. In the horrible instant that she could have lost what she had so carefully maintained
she was unable to care about what he thought of her or her elegantly thought out schemes.
She could only demand introduction to the vice that had taken her, Everything.
It happened before she could put each of his individual motions into something cohesive. He
dropped the book. He gripped his hand on her waist. He tugged her forward. The fire that
had leapt inside her had spread to him like an infection. Blotches of red were painted on his
cheeks as he stared at her demanding eyes. He kissed her on the mouth.
The magic that the mathematics had put into her blood flickered away and she was entirely
herself again. Standing in someone elses library being kissed by a human who owned her.
Who had just struck her in the face. What she wanted to do was push him away, to cry and
run to Meika. She wanted to hide in his big arms and never be kissed again.
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But she had the presence of mind to kiss him back.

He pulled back and looked at her with a mesmerized expression, Of course I will teach you.
As though he had been burnt he released her waist and nearly leapt back, looking down at
the floor, pink creeping up his cheeks. Unfathomably, he looked embarrassed.
In a voice much softer than any he had ever used he said, You may - you may retire for the
evening.
However badly she wanted to, she did not flee before stammering, Goodnight, Master
Auguste, she said, then turned to the door.
When she was nearly through it he said, Goodnight, Tega.
She did flee down the hall, racing from his chambers to her own. She stopped just short of
the corner before her door. A guard would be outside the door. Not the human male Lex who
was regularly there, a night guard whose name she wouldnt know. She waited behind the
corner, getting her breath back, then slowly walked around and faced him.
He didnt say anything, but unlocked and opened the door for her, allowing her inside her
chambers. Meika was not there. Disappointed and still trembling she threw herself onto his
sleeping mat, wrapping his quilt around herself.
It was not that Augustes kiss had been so terrible. Yes, yes it had been an indication of what
was to come. But even that did not frighten her so much. Meika survived it. She had
prepared herself for it. But she had thought it would be bound wrists and angry lust. This is
what she had prepared herself for. For shutting down and letting time march forward.
He had kissed her shyly. Looked away after. Called her by name.
She knew that she could not hurt him or disappoint him. She had a game to play, for her
own sake and for her brothers. If he thought romance had anything to do with what was
between them she would allow him.
As she lay there, a terrible thought came to her. Auguste was young and impulsive. He
thought himself so smart. If he began to think that he loved her, if he thought that she loved
him, might he release her brother as a favor to her? Could she use someones heart like
that? Could she take his own emotions and strangled him with them?
Yes. Yes. Yes.
XXXXX
On the streets of Menzoberranzan, Tega was not faring well. A hand had snatched at her by
the wrist. She stumbled and tried to swing around. She prayed it was Jarlaxle, or hell, even
Kimmuriel, but it was not. A drow male she did not know held her. His hair was chopped
roughly, his clothing poorly cut. The smell of the street oozed off of his skin.
He smiled a yellow toothed smile, and hissed, You look lost, little fairie.
Terror spiked through her again and she tried to pull her wrist away. She knew the theory,
break toward the thumb. She had always been told that it was easy and did not require
much strength, but she could not do it. Her wrist was held fast by the drow.
She shoved her other hand into her bag and withdrew the knife Jarlaxle had given her,
thanking the stars that he had imposed it on her.
She stabbed at her attacker, all her strength behind the blade. With laughable ease he
turned the knife away, disarming her with his free hand and spinning the knife until it was he
who held it. He licked his lips and pressed the knife against her ribs. Come on now, dont be
like that.
She wanted to scream and fight but the knife was pressed so tightly to her skin she could
barely move without it cutting in.
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His breath on her face stank of the spice that had been on the street rat. Dyou know how
much theyd pay for something like you in the right place? The nobles especially like a
female they can cut on.
She whimpered, twisting her wrist futilely as he pulled her inexorably toward the alleyway.
He dug his fingernails into her wrist and poked with the knife. She yelped in pain, feeling her
skin open up and blood eek out.
Wont bring your price down if I amuse myself first though, he said with a snarl only a drow
could create. He pulled her successfully into the alley and rammed her against the wall,
knife cutting deeper into her side. No one on the street gave them any mind.
Belatedly remembering it, she tried to move quickly enough to reach up and touch the
pendant that called Jarlaxle. But when she did he slashed at her, cutting her deep across the
hand. As she pulled her hand reflexively backward he shifted, easily holding both of her
wrists with one of his hands, the other still wielding the knife.
It came upon her with crushing certainty. There was nothing that she could do to prevent
this. She was entirely helpless, her fate in the hands of a ferocious low born drow. She could
not stop the tears when they came, even if they made her captor smile in glee.
She closed her eyes, if this was to be in the memories she would have to keep, she would
minimize how much of that smile she had to see.
A surprised voice interrupted the attack, Tega?
She and the drow captor both looked up. Hope sparkled in her eyes, irritation in his.
Desperately she called out, recognizing the slim male who stood at the edge of the alley,
KarDritch?
He was dressed much differently than she had seen him before, more elegant. His clothing
was undeniably expensive, tailored just for him she would guess by the way they fitted to
him. Over his left breast was a silver embroidered insignia. It was an insignia even she
recognized, one that every inhabitant of the city would recognize: House Baenre.
He looked down his nose at her captor, looking every bit a noble. Release the elf.
Her captor spit, Who are you? The knife bit at her again and she gasped.
An agent of House Baenre. KarDritch said loftily.
Her captor frowned, even if it was just a Baenre agent and not a proper noble, it was clear
he didnt want trouble from that house.
Whatdya want with the faerie?
She belongs to my house. I do hope you have not damaged her.
The knife disappeared from her side and he pushed her forward at KarDritch. No amount of
gold, it seemed, was worth a fight with a Baenre.
KarDritch caught her when she stumbled, taking her by the wrist ruthlessly, he looked at
her with an expression she had never seen on him: abject cruelty. In a tone that spoke of
vengeance he said, You will regret running from House Baenre, iblith. Then he looked back
up at her attacker, carelessly he tossed a silver coin to the other male, Well, run along.
He did, unhappily disappearing into the crowd, leaving her and KarDritch alone in the alley.
His grip on her wrist loosened somewhat.
What are you doing out here? he hissed.
She could barely find words. Her breathing was still erratic and labored, her hands shook to
her elbows. She wanted to throw her arms around him and burrow against his chest. But she
did not. They were still on the streets of a drow city.
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When, finally, she could draw together words all she said was, Dritch, gods above, youre
alright.
He pulled her farther into the alley, away from the prying ears of the street, Im alright? he
said incredulously, What in Lloths name were you thinking, out here alone?
I was with Jarlaxle. We...we were separated. Thank you. Thank you.
He laughed softly, We are even now, yes?
She wiped the frightened tears off of her face. Seeing KarDritch again was so wonderful she
was shaking away her terror, Sure, sure. Why are you - I mean, you are an agent of House
Baenre?
Well yes, he said, looking rather grand, I thought you would know. I am Gromph Baenres
consort.
Working for the Bregen Daerthe?
He flinched, Shout about that why dont you? he scolded, I worked hard for my position
and it benefits the Bregen Daerthe greatly.
She smiled at him, she would much prefer to talk about this than how near her scrape had
been, Congratulations, KarDritch, she said happily, Im proud of you. She wanted to get
him to tell her about himself, so she could calm herself down, What is Gromph like?
His eyes twinkled mischievously, Well he is a wizard.
What does that mean?
He winked at her, Good with his hands.
She hit him playfully. The long minutes of terror having abated left her feeling nearly giddy.
I ought to call Jarlaxle.
You could call Jarlaxle this entire time? What is the matter with you?
She blushed, Well...well I was in sort of a tizzy and...I forgot that I had it. She reached up to
her necklace and pressed against it. It grew warm on her skin in a brief pulse.
Ill wait with you until Jarlaxle comes, I was sent to have words with him.
Can anyone see us down here, do you think? She asked.
He looked up the alley, Probably not, why?
She threw her arms around him, pulling her face against his chest, nestling. She sorely
missed those few nights that he had spent in her bedchamber. She had never liked sleeping
alone. Drow did not casually touch. She yearned for it.
I miss having you around, she said softly.
He gave her a half surprised, tender look and replied, I miss you as well, Tega, more than I
anticipated. He put his arms around her as well, laying her head beside hers. He was not
big enough to put his head on top of hers, they were roughly equal in sizes, and he held her
back with gusto equal to hers.
With her face so tucked into his hair she noticed the glitter no longer woven through his ice
white hair, You took out the crystals in your hair!
He touched his hair lamentingly, Yes, well, Gromph said they looked tawdry and got in the
way. But I do miss them.
Loud clicking of boot heels on pavement made them spring apart and whip around. Jarlaxle
came up the alley, fury in his face and swords in his hands. He had not progressed halfway
down the alley when he saw that the person with Tega was KarDritch. The swords
disappeared and the firmness of his shoulders eased. He rushed to her.
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Tega, he said. His voice was rough. He grabbed her by the chin and inspected her, Youre
bleeding.
Incredible relief filled her seeing Jarlaxle again. He kept touching her hair, pushing it back
and tucking it behind her ears.
Can we go back to the headquarters? She asked him.
Jarlaxle took his eyes from Tega and turned his head to her savior, KarDritch, how
fortuitous it was that you found her.
KarDritch nodded once, Jarlaxle, he said in a businesslike tone, nearly a chilly tone. For a
ludicrous moment Tega remembered him sprawled over Jarlaxles desk, looking at him much
differently than he was looking at him now.
Dritch carried on, I was here because I was sent after you, Gromph sent me to give you
word, Matron Baenre wishes to have a council with you, immediately, concerning the war. It
would not do to keep her waiting.
Jarlaxle scowled, looking harassed Now?
KarDritch shrugged, You know how she is.
Jarlaxle heaved a sigh and twisted a bracelet on his wrist. Almost immediately a blue portal
opened beside them. Wait for me here, KarDritch, I will not be but a moment. Impatiently,
Jarlaxle pulled her through the portal.
She had expected them to emerge in his office, but that is not where they were.
They stood in a small chamber, only slightly bigger than her bedchamber. The walls were
entirely covered in books, an elegant bed against one wall. Meticulously organized desk
monopolizing the center of the room. Sitting at it in a stiff backed chair was Kimmuriel.
Jarlaxle gave him a lopsided grin, We ran into a spot of trouble, but I am being called away.
Patch her up for me, wont you, my loyal lieutenant? No, no, he said as the portal grew
smaller, Leave that open for a moment, I really must be off. He turned to Tega and said, I
am sorry to run, but when Matron Baenre calls he trailed off and shrugged.
And he disappeared through the portal, abandoning her in Kimmuriel Oblodras bedroom.
The portal closed after and the two of them were entirely alone.
She looked away from him, tenderly touching the small stab wound at her side. It wasnt
very deep, she was not in any sort of danger, but it was bleeding quite a lot and didnt feel
particularly good.
Kimmuriel wasted no time plundering her mind for what had happened.
That would not have happened if you had kept your control. He commented unnecessarily.
Very helpful, Kimmuriel, she said, touching the slash on her hand. It was her right hand
too.
You expect me to help you? He said, standing so he stood over her, he was playing over the
events of the evening more slowly in her mind.
You know, you could just ask me what happened?
Why ask for what I can take?
Blood still pulsing from her hand and her side she stalked closer to him, her face turned up
so it met his with bared teeth. Emptied of fear and anxiety, she could only bear the brunt of
the anger that he cause to lash up from her. Because, lieutenant, she snarled at him, you
will never be able to go to that library that you want to if I dont escort you.
He thought back a response before even all of her words were out, What makes you think I
care enough about that for it to do you any good.
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She gave a brief, mocking laugh. The adrenaline was still pulsing in her blood and she had
felt too much fear already to have much to spare for Kimmuriel. You are willing to go to the
surface for it, and to ask Jarlaxle that I come as your escort. You wouldnt do that for an idle
curiosity.
He sneered, looming over her, his next thought cut into her like glass, If you do not escort
me you will take part in the expedition to Mithril Hall. He filled her mind with images of
bloody dwarves chained in long lines, dragged without mercy into the bowels of the
underdark.
Dwarves be damned, she spat, Stay out of my head or you wont be going to your
library. Even without prying into her brain he could see that, at least in that moment, meant
every word of her threat.
He lifted an elegant eyebrow and Tega could very nearly see the corner of his lips turn
upward, Very well, he said aloud. Then his face contorted into a sneer and he said, Get
back to your own chambers, you are getting blood on my carpets.
Tega triumphantly retreated, marching out of his rooms and slamming the door behind her.
She took a single step down the hall before she stopped, heart sinking. Color rising in her
cheeks she turned back to his door and knocked timidly.
He opened it, expression bored, Yes?
She looked down at her feet. If she werent beginning to feel like she was going to faint and
dripping blood with every step she would have attempted to do it without him. But now was
not the time. I only ever go between my rooms and Jarlaxles office, I...I dont know how to
get...back to my room from here, she said sheepishly.
He looked down at her for a long moment then said, I can show you, he paused and
scowled, If you would allow it.
It took her a moment to realize what he meant, then she said hurriedly, Oh, oh alright.
Sharply, the map of the Bregen Daerthe headquarters laid itself out in her mind. It
bludgeoned into her head and a cracking headache was left in its wake.
She cried out softly and clutched her forehead in her hands, Did you do that on-
Yes, he sneered and slammed the door in her face.
Headache now added to her list of discomforts she shuffled away to her own room to lick her
wounds.
XXXXX
Meika returned to their joint sleeping quarters in the early hours of the morning. Tega awoke
with a start when he tried to push her gently over to get into his sleeping mat.
Sorry, he said, I tried not to wake you.
Meika! She said, desperately.
Are you alright, Tega? He sat down next to her. There were no candles or lanterns for them
so their vision was greyscale and stunted. He took her by the shoulder and inspected her. He
lifted his hand to her bruised cheek, touching it softly with his big hand.
Im..not badly hurt. Are you ok? You are back so late.
Im alright, I was taken to a family dinner which caused quite a stir. Then I was kept late
with Alexandrie. He furrowed his brow and tilted her chin up, You arent alright, Te.
In a little and breaking voice she said, He kissed me.
She would have understood if Meika had not had sympathy for her. It had been a tender and
chaste kiss and she knew what he had suffered. But he took her at once into his muscle
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corded arms and dragged her against his chest. She nuzzled against him at once, not
realizing how shaken she was until he was cradling her.
Im sorry, Te, he whispered into her hair, And I am sorry for what may come, I wish that I
could protect you. It was not logical and she knew that it was not true, but inside his
embrace indeed felt protected, Auguste could not pry her from Meika. They had been
purchased as a set and it had begun to feel as though they were, incomprehensible without
the other.
Tega whispered up at him, Do you ever think of Trilifeil? she asked. After she had said it
she felt caulous, asking him, while he was in his position, about the wife he had only just
gotten before she had been snatched away.
He didnt flinch or recoil, but held her more tightly. Yes, he said wistfully, I think of her
every day and every evening. She is the last thing I think of before I sleep and the first
before I wake.
His voice broke while he spoke. Occasionally Tega forgot that, by and large, she had ignored
her eldest brother while they were at home and he had mostly ignored her. She had not
known how closely he was bonded to his new wife.
You will be returned to her, Tega said.
Do not! He replied roughly, Do not say such things when you dont even know if she
lives.
She lives, Tega said, sudden fierceness clawing up inside her chest, She lives and you will
be returned to her.
He seemed to take heart at her conviction, but nonetheless changed the subject, He only
kissed you then? That is strange.
Not at all the strangest part, let me tell you. And so she explained the comments he had
made, of her being different, more interested in books than in him. She told him about her
loss of judgement concerning the mathematical texts and his sudden shyness, his use of her
name.
As she spoke Meika loosened his grip and turned her around so that her back faced him.
With deft fingers he began the task of unbraiding and rebraiding the little knots that were
tied in her hair, readjusting the beads that he had gotten from Alexandrie. Other tribes of
elves, she knew, had coarse hair that could be wound into thick and beautiful ropes. Theirs
was too fine to take well to the ropes and had to be content with interspersed braids.
When she finished her story he mulled over it for a long while.
This is a good thing, he said finally.
Do you think?
He yanked a piece of her hair while he was tying it and she yelped. Dont be a baby, he
said, playfully tugging it again, Yes, I think its good. He may be on his way to caring for
you. Hopefully that means that he will be less likely to sell you. Alex says that none of his
slaves have ever lasted longer than a year.
Is she Alex now? She asked, turning to look at him, she nudged him off of her hair. Turn
around, mine is good enough.
He turned obligingly Well she and I do spend a great deal of time together. Fix the braid on
the left, will you, its been pulling at my scalp all day.
She worked deftly at his hair, undoing the myriad braids and brushing her fingers through it
before rebraiding them, that was her favorite part. His reddish brown hair stuck in the
crimped puffiness from the little braids.

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Their braids had been taken out before they were sold and their hair had been painstakingly
brushed and oiled until it shone. Putting them back into each others hair had been one of
the first things they had done when left alone. Preserving their heritage, Meika had called
it. Tega felt it was much more of keeping a fragment of home with them. Though maybe
those were the same.
Sliding a bead back into his hair she asked, What was the dinner like?
Informatory, he said, The two siblings dont get along well. I can see why, Auguste is a
nightmare.
He says that Alexandrie is an easy tramp who can do none of her own thinking.
He laughed, She calls him a stuffy, self righteous ass.
She isnt wrong.
Well, he said, turning to face her now that his braids were finished, Their mother,
remember the one who bought us, is who runs the show. They do some sort of trading,
although I am not sure about the details. At dinner they mostly bit at each other. To tell you
the truth it made me miss Dad.
Why?
He shrugged, I just kept imagining what he would say if I called you half of the things
Auguste called Alex.
Tega imitated her fathers gruff voice, If you think that is the behavior of a fitting leader,
Meika, I will take you outside and teach you differently.
Meika laughed, And here I thought that I would never again hear him reprimand me! He
ruffled her hair affectionately, But this family, I understand very little of it.
Tega shrugged, They understand little of us, Auguste asked me if you and I were you
know.
Meikas face contorted in disgust, Does he know you are my baby sister?
Yes! She said, mimicking his face, Apparently he didnt know what elves thought of things
like that.
That is the end of chattering for the evening, I think, he said, If we have reached that, we
should speak no more tonight. Bed.
XXXXX
Tega was asleep when the knock came at her door in the underdark. Wearily, she got up and
opened the door. Jarlaxle stood waiting for her, tapping his foot.
Yeah? She asked sleepily.
May I come in?
She stepped out of the way and he came inside, shutting the door after him, Sorry I had to
run off like that and leave you with Kimmuriel.
Salright, she said, still bleary, putting on her glasses.
Oh, I did not mean to wake you. Are you alright?
Her side and hand still hurt but she had bandaged them up and her hand, at least, had
stopped bleeding. Im fine, how was the meeting with Baenre?
Well discuss it, he said briefly, his visible eye glinted rather dangerously at her, He set his
hands on his hips. Aggressive energy was coming off him in rivulets. He stepped back and
forth his pacing stunted in her narrow room. Running off on your own into the streets of
Menzoberranzan was the most foolish thing you have ever done.
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She didnt have a response, but felt irritated if he had dragged her out of her much needed
sleep only to reprimand her.
Why did you run? He asked. She was too tired to be annoyed that he sounded more
offended than anything.
Jarlaxle, she said slowly, not looking at him, You know that I was...that Auguste owned me
in Calimport.
She had been about the elaborate, to tell him about being taken by drow, to confess that
some of her family had been taken away by them, that she didnt know where they had
been taken to. That they could have been taken here. Could have been sold to that very
establishment.
But he spoke over her before she could,So it was just the dancers? He grinned, I did
suspect as much, I had forgotten that they had them, I am sorry about it. He shrugged,
You ought to be glad that KarDritch came when he did.
Well, yes, I am. And it was nice to see him again. He seems to be doing well. He seemed to
have glanced over his own question and if he was not going to press her for details of her
past, she would not offer them.
He gave her a saucy grin, Are you sure you werent bedding him?
She scowled at him, It is possible to show affection for someone without sleeping with
them.
Certainly, he said shrugging, But KarDritch was certainly willing and you had ample
opportunity.
She went scarlet and stammered, If there were a matter to discuss, which there is not, it
would be a matter between KarDritch and myself.
Jarlaxle wiggled his eyebrows at her, He did not think as much when we discussed it.
Is this what you came here in the middle of the night to talk about?
Jarlaxle blinked, Oh, well no. I came to make sure you were alright. Did Kimmuriel tend to
you?
She raised her eyebrows, Oh yes, she said sarcastically, He washed and bandaged each
of my wounds and kissed them better.
Jarlaxle let out a surprised bark of a laugh, Was it designs for Kimmuriel then, that kept you
off of KarDritch? That may be a dangerous path.
The corners of her mouth turned down, The only designs I have for Kimmuriel is wanting to
swat him in the nose. He showed me how to get back to my own room and sent me out the
door.
Jarlaxle softened, when next he spoke the sarcasm had come out of his tone, Then you still
have that little stab wound in your side, he said. He reached out and took her wounded
hand. He began unwrapping the, admittedly poorly done, bandages to inspect the wound.
He peeled back the bandages softly. His visible eye no longer glinted. She loved when he
was like this. When the overpowering charm diminished, it altered him, nearly to the set of
his jaw and the angle of his cheekbones. It was less alluring. It didnt make her fingers shake
or her heart hammer. But he felt more real.
KarDritch didnt tell you that he wanted to bed me, she said. It was not a question.
Jarlaxle gave a tiny huff of a laugh, No, he did not. How did you know?
We have an understanding between us.

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He considered this for a moment then said, abruptly, Did you know that little drow are
taught that there is no greater evil in the world than surface elves? That every inch of pain
and degradation comes from them?
No, she responded, slightly jarred by the unpredictability of the question, I know very
little about how young drow are reared.
Jarlaxle shrugged, touching next to the wound on her hand gently. He drew a silvery orb from
his pocket and pressed it along her wound. For many years I had thought that it was
nothing but their nonsense propaganda. But I am beginning to believe that they may have
been right.
The orb glowed on her hand and warmth spread out from it, pulsing into the wound. She
watching it knit itself back together. She didnt have anything to say to his comment. How
could she possibly be more dangerous than Jarlaxle or Kimmuriel? She was not even more
dangerous than a random drow on the street.
So what as that about kissing the wounds better? he asked in a whisper.
Her cheeks colored at once, It is nothing, a silly thing parents on the surface tell their
children to sooth their little wounds.
He lifted her hand and kissed it softly on the once torn flesh. Warmth crept up her arm. His
lips were very soft.
Has it been soothed?
Yes, She said brusquely, By the healing orb.
He shrugged, I did my best, could I see your other wound?
She rolled up her night shirt so he could peel back those bandages also. She didnt know
what to make of his statement. How in the world were surface elves more dangerous than
drow? She had no idea how to respond so she did not.
He crouched in front of her, face close to her, now bare, abdomen, looking at the wound,
This must be painful for you.
Well, it certainly doesnt feel good. She was not sure if she wanted him to repeat his
soothing on this wound or not.
He pressed the orb to it and it began to heal. It took longer than her hand, but in due time it
was erased, leaving not a scar.
Jarlaxle hovered over the skin of her stomach for a moment and she felt his hot breath there,
but without a kiss, he stood up and she righted her shirt, Thank you, Jarlaxle, she said,
But I am very tired.
Right, Ill see you in the morning. He turned to go.
At the door, twisted back around, Oh, I forgot to tell you in the commotion, tomorrow you
will meet your new companion.
Companion?
Jarlaxle grinned, He also hails from Calimport, though he is a human. Perhaps you could
help him acclimate. Im sure you will like him, I find him endlessly entertaining.
...Oh...why is he coming down here?
He waved his hand dismissively, Our dear Vierna wanted an ace up her sleeve against her
sweet baby brother. The Calishite is, so I hear, a rival of his. Equal in combat skills. Just, you
know, be nice to him.
Ill set him up with Kimmuriel.
Thats the spirit.
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XXXXX
Meika woke her earlier than usual. Regularly, they were woken by their breakfast being
brought in by the sturdy male guard named Lex. But, judging by the sun, it was at least a
half an hour before Lex would bring their food.
What is it? Tega asked blearily, sitting up. He had shaken her roughly to wake her,
hovering over her. He looked mad.
I didnt sleep, Meika said, and indeed, he was restless and agitated, but steady. He had
come to some decision she could see, I have to talk to you. He looked like he had when he
told her not to feel shame for things she may be forced into, wild eyed and despairing.
Ok, she said, rubbing her eyes, so talk.
I have to prepare you. You are so...young.
I am not so young.
I mean...inexperienced. Was there anyone at home that I did not know of?
There was a time where this would have been an uncomfortable conversation to have with
her elder brother. But captivity, the awareness of what was being done to him, and the now
imminent press of what may be done to her stripped them of their inhibitions.
She could keep nothing of her heart from Meika now. They were bound so entirely. If she
were alone, how much easier might it have been to cast herself out of a window or slice
open her wrists with the little knives Auguste kept to sharpen quills than suffer what he
might have planned for her? If she were not here, how quickly Meika could throttle
Alexandrie and bear the consequences? But each would not leave the other alone to
torment. The bond of it tore away the childish resentment she had felt for him, always so
illustrious.
I never so much as kissed someone, Meika, she said, Auguste was my first.
Meike seized her by the hand and held it so firmly it was nearly painful, No. He was not. It
was nothing but an attack. But that is not my point, you must tell me, was there someone
that you felt tenderly for?
I wasnt so much concerned with matters of the heart. If you remember I had other things
to worry over. Why are you so insistent?
It helps, Te, he said, If you think of someone else. Someone you loathe less. You must find
a way to...to endure. Tega, you have never shared yourself with someone, you do not know.
His blood was high with desperation and despair, You are a female and it will be different
for you than for me. If you cannot find...enjoyment...you will be hurt. Sometimes, I have
been told, the hurt is irrevocable
I can withstand some hurt.
Meikas eyes were vicious in their fury and he seized her by the shoulders. His red hair
loomed around him, his dark tattoos stark on his skin, now ghostly pale from being
sequestered out of the sun. Do what we must to remain whole and uninjured. Be strong so
we may flee when an opportunity comes. That is what you said. Do you not believe your own
words? His terrible tone, stricken with such panic that Tega saw that he clung as
desperately to her guidance as she cleaved to his.
Yes, she said, Yes. Yes. Of course. Is that...is that what you do? Think of someone else?
He softened and sat back. There were wounds deep in his eyes, Sometimes, sometimes.
His voice trailed away. He opened his mouth to speak again, but closed it several times,
unable or unwilling to speak.

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What of other times, she prompted him. Did she want to know? Did she want to be privy to
the ways that her brother kept himself sane while being forced into anothers bed? Yes, of
course, she had to know, she would have to emulate him.
He lingered with his silence then, belatedly said, Sometimes also I think of stripping the
skin from Alexandries face, or feeling Augustes entrails spilling out over my hands.
It was now Tega who rushed forward and took him by the wrists, sharp little nails digging
into his skin. Despite his tall and muscular frame, a replica of their fathers and her slight and
incapable one, it was possible that they were made of the same stuff. She too felt the claws
of violent things burning up in her.
She whispered to him, Sometimes I think of putting knives under Augustes fingernails, or
clawing his eyes from his skull. When I cant sleep that is what I think of. Sometimes it fills
my dreams.
She almost expected him, part of her almost wanted him, to recoil. To reprimand her for
cruelty and darkness. She made words for him Were you yourself infected by the blackness
of our drow captors? Have you been so tainted?
He said no such thing, nor did he recoil, but a wild joy leapt in him and his eyes were alight
with it, Truly, my sister, I could not bear this burden without you.
It was then that Lex brought in their breakfast, knocking first, as he always did to herald his
arrival.
Mornin, he said, giving them his rather lumbering smile, Picked the good stuff for you two
today.
Tega smiled at him, immediately she abandoned the fraternal fire that had begun to burn
between them in favor of good cheer for their guard, Good morning, Lex. They had
decided amongst themselves that only good things could come from befriending their guard.
Meika stood and took the breakfast tray from him. Meika stood a good two heads above the
squat human. His tone had also changed abruptly, turning convivial and pleasant, How
does your daughter fare? Has she overcome her illness?
He smiled, Oh yes, the wife fixed her up real good. Little flower perked right up.
Meika smiled, I am glad of it. He returned to Tega and sat down in front of her so they
could split their shared plate.
I gotta tell ya, Lex carried on, leaning on the door, The old girls got another biscuit
cookin, in the family way she is.
Tega gasped in exclamation, Congratulations to you both.
Neither of the two of ya know the joys o marriage I spose, too young, you both. Lexs
saving grace was his lack of cruelty, it compensated for moments like this where he forgot
the state of those he spoke to.
Meika, it seemed, was unable to bear this comment cheerfully and darkened, his body
turning as still as stone.
Lex, bereft of the chilly indifference of his superiors, looked tormented by the change he had
affected, Did I insult ye, Meik?
Tega answered for him, seeing possibility looming. She touched Meika protectively on the
shoulder and replied, We were captured from our home during his wedding celebrations.
While the dancing still commenced.
Lex looked shocked and empathetically hurt, During your wedding night? What - what
happened to your woman?

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Meika released the sound of a tiger being stabbed and again, it was Tega that responded,
She was taken by the drow who attacked us. We do not know where. Probably into slavery
in the underdark.
Meika tilted his head to look at Lex, anguish pouring from his lions eyes, She was with
child.
Tega gasped in abject horror. How had she not known? How had he never told her. The child
would have already been born. Could it ever have survived? Thunder crackled under her skin
and renewed fury burned at her blood.
Lex had no recourse but retreat, Gods. Gods, Meik. I...I gotta go on my rounds. Im real
sorry. Gods, Im sorry. He shut the door and was gone.
Tega seized Meika her aimless fury targeting him, How could you have said nothing to me!
But Meika was grinning, the horrible pain gone back out of his eyes. In a whisper he said,
Do you think that if she had been with child I would not have told you, Tega? Do you think I
would not have told all the world?
She sat back, You were lying?
He shoved some of his breakfast into his mouth, Keep up, Te.
If he were caught helping us, he would be executed.
Meika shrugged and finished his half of the breakfast, Te, if it meant getting us out of here, I
would kill him with my bare hands and devour his flesh raw.
He rose and returned to his side of the room, stripping of his sleeping clothes to dress
himself. Alex had given him his own clothing that was less encumbering than the silks. Tega
pulled on Augustes cast offs, still the only clothing she had been allotted.
XXXXX
Tega met her new companion the next morning. Thankful to have had her wounds healed
and excited for meeting a fellow from the surface. It would be nice, she decided, to have
someone from the surface to spend time with. She had dressed for the occasion in what she
considered her cutest skirt and sweater combination. Well, her second cutest skirt and
sweater combination she thought bitterly. Vierna had ruined her once cutest outfit.
She was hoping that she could get to the office first and make a good impression, but she
had slept later than usual and he was already in the office when she got there, standing
aggressively in the center of the room. A sword hung from one of his slender hips, a dagger,
studded with jewels, from the other.
His effect on her was immediate. She could not have pinpointed what about him did it, but
he scraped on her from the second she saw him. The chipper quality of her steps drained out
of her and she shrank away, shuffling sideways toward her desk. He turned at the sound of
the door and looked at her.
There may have been a way to make him attractive. He possessed the features, a slim
frame, slick black hair and elegant features. But his face was set in an emotionless sneer
and only deadness came from his dark eyes. He was Calimport in a man. Beautiful and
terrible. He even smelled of Calimport. Human body odour is generally more foul than elves,
but the smell of his rotting city was inside of his skin. It may not have been noticed by
someone else, but she would not forget how that city smelled. In conjured Auguste and
Meika striped in bruises.
She found her seat behind her desk and set her shoulders stiffly, biting the tip of her tongue.
It was only then, sitting at her desk and no longer under the Calishites heavy gaze that she
saw that Kimmuriel was also there, looming behind Jarlaxle, who sat at his desk.

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Tega! Jarlaxle exclaimed, beaming at her from under his hat, This is the companion I
spoke to you about, I am hoping the two of you get along. Tega, this fine specimen is Artemis
Entreri.
He was a guest of Jarlaxles, and a very useful one. She remembered her manners, and in
Calishite she saidNice to meet you, Artemis.
In a dark tone he corrected her, Entreri.
Now turned again on her, his back was to Jarlaxle and Kimmuriel. Over his shoulder Tega saw
Kimmuriels nose wrinkle. Despite herself, she grinned. Entreri said nothing else, glowering
cruelly at her.
Her dislike for him was immediate and intense. But she did not retort nor scowl back.
Although Jarlaxle saved her from having to form some sort of reply.
I was hoping that the two of you would get along! he said with his normal excited charm,
She also hails from Calimport, Im sure you will find much to talk about.
Tega did not share his certainty. She would like to spend as little time with the human as
possible, and would have walked across hot coals before being alone with him. His presence,
and Jarlaxles excitement over him, made her nearly feel communal to Kimmuriel for his
obvious distaste.
Jarlaxle continued, I was particularly hoping that you might teach him drow.
Entreri interjected, I dont see a reason to speak drow, I will not be here long. The attack is
set for a few weeks.
The looming dread that rose up in her at the thought of sitting for long hours next to the
man to teach him drow do the second irrational thing she had done in as many days. She did
not know where it came from. It wasnt a plan that she had thought out, or even something
that had occurred to her before she spoke.
In drow she said, If the attack comes so soon then so does Kimmuriel and Is trip to the
library. I will be occupied in the next weeks teaching him enough surface customs to get by
on.
Kimmuriel looked nearly taken aback. Jarlaxle blinked at her, Oh, he looked quite
crestfallen, Would you leave a fellow Calishite alone in the underdark?
She flared her nostrils, I am not a Calishite.
In her head Kimmuriel thought, You would rather spend time with me than the human? How
touching.
You dont smell. she thought back.
His face did not alter, but he telepathed the vague sense of amusement.
Overlaying her private conversation with Kimmuriel, an intrusion on her mind she had
decided to forgive him for, Jarlaxle continued in drow, You are from Calimport are you not?
I am not, she said bitterly, I lived in Calimport, I am not from Calimport.
In angry Calishite, Entreri bit at her, What are you speaking of?
She glowered at him. Absurdly, Kimmuriel backing her dislike of the man made her feel more
able to stand up against him, It is the language of the land, you cant be upset if those
around you are speaking it, she said in rapid Calishite.
I thought you were supposed to be my interpreter, he said dryly.
If you would like me to interpret for you, you are going to have to be quite a bit more
pleasant that you are being.

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If possible, his dirty look intensified. He looked fit to stab her in the heart. There might have
been a time where she would have cowered at the expression, but living amongst drow
scaled up ones bar for intimidation.
Now, she continued, flattening her skirt with the palms of her hands, If you would like a
little guidance on how to survive the next few weeks, or even rudimentary ability to speak
the native language, I would ask nicely. If you are opposed to that, I have a lot of work to
do.
She looked away from him and drew the daily reports to her, picking up her favorite quill she
commenced with her work.
Jarlaxle looked between the two with disappointment but said quickly, Tega will be far too
overburdened preparing Kimmuriel for their project to do much looking after you.
I do not need looking after.
Jarlaxle beamed, Of course, you do not. I will show you to your quarters. Tega, he said,
turning to her instead, his voice shifting to be a little darker, You had better be off with
Kimmuriel, his quarters will be fine. Irritation had crept into his voice and she felt more than
a little dismayed to have disappointed him. Although not nearly dismayed enough to request
to help Entreri.
She stood again, Of course, captain.
Kimmuriel swept passed Entreri and she followed him out the door, infinitely glad to be rid of
the human.
Her blood was still pumping from telling off the intimidating man. It translated into her
walking quicker than normal, keeping pace with Kimmuriel rather than trailing behind him.
The human smelled truly foul, Kimmuriel said softly to her.
She scoffed, He smelled like his city.
Kimmuriels lip curled. She was not sure that she could even contort her face into displaying
the level of disdain he was achieving. The entire city smells like that?
Magnify it a hundred times.
And you lived there? he asked, disgust leaking out of his voice.
It isnt as though I had a choice.
They walked along for a few moments in silence before he thought to her, Anything you
could teach me I could strip from your mind in an instant. You could be free to help the
human in a matter of minutes.
She thought back, If you mine my brain for useful information and leave me to sit next to
that foul man alone I will get you to the library door and let you look inside then tell them I
am there under threat and have you dragged back out.
He made no reply, but the corner of his lips tipped upward.

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Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Tega stopped outside of her room and unlocked the door. Kimmuriel stayed in the hallway
eyebrow raised.
If Im teaching you, it will be in my quarters, not yours, she said with as much authority as
she could muster.
Why? he asked with a sneer, My quarters are far superior.
Could you be less like you for a few minutes and just use my rooms?
For once, he did not fight with her and walked through the door of her room with only a
heavy sigh.
She closed the door behind him and clicked the lock home, Ok, so...mine away.
What? He asked, raising his delicate eyebrow.
She leaned against a wall, leaving the one available chair for him, Its a waste of time to sit
here teaching you if you can just lift it out of my brain. So just take what you need and we
can work here quietly for the next few days.
You welcome me to rifle through your mind?
She sighed, As though you havent done that enough, I might as well get some benefit from
it.
Benefit? He asked, enunciating each syllable.
I have a project I want to get done in this library, when we go. Im going to need time to
prepare for it. So can you just take the information you need so that I can work?
He lifted his chin to looked at the papers and maps pinned across the wall, Project? he
asked with incredulity.
She looked at the papers with affection. Strings roped across them now, linking houses,
pinned with colored flags. She could feel him push his way into her mind, uncovering her
plans for the mess of information on her wall.
He got up and looked around at the papers, touching them lightly.
Tega was looking at the wall affectionately. All of her spare hours for months had gone into
this.
Can you do it? Kimmuriel asked. His voice was hushed. He didnt wait for her to answer. He
peeled into her mind and lifted his way through her plan for the congeal of data strewn on
her wall. Until this she had not realized how brutal he had been with his intrusions. They had
been the psionic equivalent of holding someone down by the wrists and rifling through their
pockets.
This was gentle, nearly intimate. The paging through of a book with delicate pages.
She held very still and let him do it. The moment seemed fragile and she feared that if she
said anything, if she moved at all, it would be broken.
Do you understand the implications of this project, if you should be successful? He asked.
He had stepped closer to her, looking down at her.
This broke the illusion and she gave him a sour look, Do I understand the implications of my
own project? Go to hell, Kimmuriel.
He withdrew sharply from her mind and returned to his chair, the corners of his mouth
twisted down.
XXXXX
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You are taking to this very quickly, Auguste said as he looked over the mathematics work
he had set Tega.
She straightened proudly, It was not so hard.
Auguste looked at her with soft eyes I have never seen someone learn this so quickly. He
returned her parchment, If you keep up at this pace you will soon catch up to me. You could
assist me in my research.
He had begun to touch her hands or wrists when he spoke to her, to watch her while she
worked on the problem sets he gave her, eyes soft. She wanted to retch, to fight him.
Instead she would look up, catch his eye, look away.
He allowed her to work in silence for a long while, nearly an hour. He had allowed her to sit
alongside him at his desk, thinking it a privilege. She would have much rather been alone, or
at the very least at the opposite side of the room. Her knees ran into the drawers for one
thing, the desk being made only for one, and his smell made her want to retch. It wasnt so
much that he smelled too terribly bad, he just smelled like him.
He worked as she did, but he kept getting distracted, looking up at her.
She had a part to play and she knew it. She finished a problem and looked up through her
eyelashes.
He saw her looking and put down his quill pen. Tega he said hesitantly, While I
recognize our power disparity, I do believe that the two of us have much in common
She imagined stabbing that quill pen through his hands. But instead she leaned forward and
pressed her lips against his. He froze for a moment, then his hand came up to her cheek and
held it tenderly, pressing his lips back against hers.
When they pulled back from each other his eyes were wide. He swallowed. She was nearly
moved to pity at how innocent he seemed. She crushed it back. It did not matter if he
understood what he had done. He owned her. He had sent countless others like her to the
torments of the streets. She had to keep her heart shut up. Whenever the moment came for
her to move she wouldnt have the luxury of hesitating.
Tega he said.
She looked away, blinking bashfully.
He scooted his chair back from her and turned back to his mathematics, Tell me when you
finish learning the concepts in that book, I can check over your work. But smiled at his own
work when he said it, but did not look at her.
XXXXX
Much to her own surprise, Tega found that she did not much mind working alongside
Kimmuriel. After he had lifted the essentials of surface customs from her mind, he had set to
his own work. He was quiet and still for hours on end, allowing her to work undistracted. It
was odd, though, having him in her chambers. It forced her to think of him as a person,
rather than an antagonist that disappeared as soon as he wasnt bothering her.
She looked up from her own work to glance at him. His long white hair was pushed back
behind his ears, out of his face as he bent over his book. She watched a small strand of hair
slip repeatedly from behind his ear and across his eye. He sighed each time and the hair
moved itself back behind his ear. Finally, on the third occasion, he released a muffled
scoffing and the front strands of his hair twisted themselves into a messy knot at the back of
his head. It looked so much less purposeful than everything else about him it made her grin.
Occasionally also while he worked, a small crease would appear in his forehead and a quill
would trace itself across paper that floated beside him. Sometimes he would take the paper
from midair with his fingers and read back over it. When he wasnt infiltrating her mind it
117 | P a g e

was much easier to appreciate the sharpness of his cheekbones and the slender length of
his fingers.
She blinked and turned abruptly back to her project, blush rising on her cheeks. She had
better hope he wasnt infiltrating her mind if she was thinking things like that. To be entirely
honest she felt a little silly. Had she not nearly kissed Jarlaxle in a tavern only yesterday?
Jarlaxle at least had moments of kindness, even if they were self serving. Kimmuriel was
consistently cruel, taunting and testing her.
Of course, he had handed Auguste to her. Because he thought youd want to kill him. She
chastised herself. This made her stop. Hadnt she wanted to kill him? Hadnt she dreamed of
killing him for years? Certainly he deserved it even by a heros standards. But what duty did
she have to be kind to those who had wronged her? No one had shown her mercy. She had
taken her freedom for herself. If she were confronted with the drow commander would she
quiver and then forgive him or would she put a knife through his throat?
Perhaps you could be quieter with your bloodthirst, if you had not notice, I am reading.
Tegas nostrils flared, Im sorry, Kimmuriel, is my thinking too loudly for you?
Largely ignoring the vitriol in her voice he replied, Yes.
She shut her book, I know this would make it actively harder for you to invade my privacy,
but could you teach me how to keep you out of my mind rather than just berating me?
He turned in his seat and looked at her. His unbroken gaze was far different from Jarlaxles.
Jarlaxle alway seemed like a predator when he looked straight at her. Like a snake that
charms. She always thought he seemed to be about to open his mouth and bite out her
throat.
Kimmuriel, the few times his gaze had fallen so heavily on her, was much more akin to a
doctor sussing out symptoms. More likely to split her open with a scalpel to see what lay
underneath.
He did not deign to speak out loud, No, although had you asked me a week ago I would
have.
She glowered in indignation and spoke aloud, not letting him set the tone for the
conversation, What in the gods names has changed?
He took awhile deciding whether or not to answer her. Finally he apparently decided that he
ought to and said directly into her mind, You began to figure it out, did you not, all on your
own. You employed a technique I have not seen before and I would see you strengthen it. I
protect my mind, the human Entreri protects his mind, with what is most accurately
described as walls. A series of barriers that keep a psion out. This has a number of
disadvantages, tell me, what are the disadvantages to that?
He had communicated none of his usual condescension so this time she played along,
thinking back her response clearly, I suppose they could eventually be broken down, if you
used enough force. Although, can you hurt someone doing that?
A smile lifted the corner of his lips, and he thought, Yes, I can hurt them. Think more, Tega.
What is the disadvantage?
She did think more. She furrowed her brow and tried to work through it like a drow, to see
what Kimmuriel would think of. It came to her like a snap of fingers, You know that they are
defending themselves I suppose.
He gave the barest nod of approval, Yes, Tega, and if I know that they are defending
themselves, I can redouble my assault. You did not defend yourself in such a way, did you?
You led me astray. Fed me things you thought it safe that I had. If you had done it sooner
and if I were a poorer psion, I would not have noticed. It was a remarkable strategy.

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She could feel her cheeks turn red and was glad that the lights were on so they would not
glow so brightly in infravision. She had a soft spot for compliments and unlike the freely
given ones from Jarlaxle, if she had won a kind word from Kimmuriel she must have earned
it.
He spoke aloud, although his voice was low, nearly a whisper, his eyes gleamed, When you
arrived I thought you helpless. Have you not, always seemed helpless? I have seen in in your
memories. Too small. Too weak. But it was you alone of your people who found freedom. Not
your skilled father nor your warrior brother.
He had not stood but he seemed somehow to be closing in.
You, Tega, he continued, Always seem so guileless. It is not a technique any drow could
accomplish. But you, little faerie, never quite seem like a threat.
She fiddled with her skirt, I am not so much of a threat.
What was almost a true smile was on his lips, it was both intimidating and allowed his face a
cast of beauty it did not normally have. Although he had not moved she felt phantom fingers
brush up her wrist. She froze, entirely still.
His voice, soft and lush spoke. She could see that his lips did not move, but it came upon her
like a whisper behind her ear. She felt even his breath, although it was not there. Tega, if
you wished it, do you think you could have me killed?
Kimmuriel, I dont want to have you killed.
That is not what I asked.
She gave the thought due consideration, I think Jarlaxle could kill you if he wanted to, but I
dont think that I am profitable enough to warrant your death.
Her mind became alight with memories of Jarlaxle leaning over her in the tavern with his
glittering eyes and husky voice. Of the way he had curled against her lap when he had been
wounded.
Kimmuriel continued, Do you think you could convince him of your worth? Have you not
always played the long game? The fingers trailed up her arm and she was burdened with
the memories of her manipulative affair with Auguste, who still looked at her fondly, this
many years later.
The phantom touches that were pressing periodically along her arms were sending
gooseflesh across her skin. It was becoming increasingly difficult not to watch his long
fingered hands rest on the arms of the chair.
To her own surprise she was rather complimented by the thought that Kimmuriel believed
her capable of getting him killed, Dont you think you could kill me though, she added
fairly, And Im sure you could get the job done more quickly.
He arched a slim eyebrow, Not without raising the ire of Jarlaxle.
She changed tact somewhat, remarking again on what she thought an important point of
fact, I do want to make it clear that I would gain nothing from having you killed nor even
demoted.
Would you not berid yourself of an irritant?
That is true, she admitted fairly, But Jarlaxle would replace you and I would have to
contend with another drow lieutenant. You, at least, mean me no harm.
His lips twisted down, Dont I? Are you so sure?
She thought he had pressed her enough that she was within her rights to press him, You
arranged for Jarlaxle to meet with my old captor, for whom you knew I harbored ill feelings.
Most would not take that as kindness.
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She allowed herself to grin at him, You gave up your game when you asked if he still lived.
You meant him as a gift.
With what was nearly irritation he remarked, Perhaps next time someone offers you your
vengeance you might take it, or be considered ungrateful.
She might have laughed, When I didnt have him murdered, it was not my intention to
offend you.
The hints of his smile returned, It is possible I erred in judgement.
What do you mean? That you shouldnt have given me a man for the slaughter as a gesture
of goodwill?
No, he rebuked, I had assumed you only wished him dead, and because even an old
human could overcome you in physical combat and you have no magic about you, I had
surmised it would be enough for you for Jarlaxle to finish him. But it was not, was it Tega?
Once more his phantom fingers crept up her arms. They brushed across her cheekbone with
what, from another person, she might have taken as reverence. She stiffened. Her own
bloody fantasies were laying themselves out. She had dreamed of it many nights since she
had rediscovered Auguste, her old lusts surfacing. Kimmuriel displayed them for her,
overlapping and back to back. What would Augustes blood feel like on her fingers? Would it
be hot coming from his body? His screaming might be different than she had imagined it as
a girl. He was older now.
Would he have children now? Would he beg for mercy for their sake? Would she give it to
him? She thought of Meika and her heart was hardened. No. No she would not give him
mercy. The desire rose more strongly in her than it ever had more powerfully than she had
thought possible to contain, a desperate thirst, given strength no doubt by the psions
intent.
She wanted his blood strewn across the floor, to splatter on the walls. She wanted it to spurt
from him and cover her. She wanted to tell him the things she had thought of him when he
had stroked her hair and kissed her skin. She wanted to show him the inventiveness he had
birthed in her.
Her desire to bloody Auguste crested over her, the visions Kimmuriel was emblazoning in her
mind nearly blinding her to her reality.
And then she felt the warm press of lips against her own.
Instantaneously the visions broke and her eyes, which she had not realized she had closed,
flew open. Kimmuriel remained across the room, although he looked nearly as jarred and
swept into the moment as she felt. Her hand flew up and touched her lips.
Did you- She started.
He did not let her finish, he rose and a blue portal opened at his side.
She leapt to her feet and seized him by the wrist, pulling him back, Dont you dare run off
after that! She nearly screeched.
He turned back toward her and looked down at her, eyes hard. The portal disappeared and
he stepped at her. She stumbled back half a step then stood her ground, glowering at him.
Enunciating his words sharply he hissed, although he still looked taken aback at his own
actions, Did you want an apology, faerie?
She glowered back, No, she snarled, But you cant psion kiss me and then run away.
His eyes burned into her and he said sarcastically, danger cutting through his voice, You
believe you can refuse me leave to quit your chambers?
No, She said, letting him go Fine, go if you want, but I dont think Im out of line asking
you were trying to do!
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He sneered at her, That is the most idiotic question I have ever been asked, elf, He
snarled, saying elf like a slur.
Then it should not be difficult for one so brilliant as you to explain!
He carded one his long fingered hands through the hair at the back of her head, with the
other he seized her by the waist and pulled her toward him, crushing his lips against hers.
Sparks flickered up her spine. Had she been asked thirty minutes ago what she would have
done if Kimmuriel Oblodra were to swoop down and kiss her on the mouth she would have
sworn she would stomp on his foot so hard she would break it. But instead, she gripped him
by the hips.
Communicating his request or demand or desire through her mind, using intention rather
than words, she complied, turning her head to better accommodate him and parting her lips.
Hot and tingling almost of electricity his tongue invaded her mouth.
She shifted her hand up to his long hair. It was nearly cool to the touch and twice as soft as it
looked. She ran her fingers through it and released a pleasured noise. Fire was burning low in
her belly. The combination of the bloodthirst he had elicited and the anger he brought out in
her being transmuted into desire.
He growled softly, akin to the purr of a tiger and his hands slid down and lifted her. She lifted
easily, borne more from psionics than brawn. His hands pulled up her legs to wrap around
her waist and he turned slightly, pushing her against the wall.
The attention of her mind was divided between alternating flashes of her bloodthirsty
desires for Auguste, her mathematics project, and, the only piece she was supplying on her
own, her delight under Kimmuriels affections.
His own hands were underneath her, keeping her elevated and pressed between the wall
and his body. But psionic hands, impeded by neither her clothing nor the wall, scraped down
her back and caressed up her sides.
Her reach was not so liberated, but she had one hand on the hot skin of his neck. With the
other, she ran her fingers up the sharp point of his ear. He broke the kiss to let his head
drop. Through his swollen and parted lips came a sound that Tega thought might be
considered a moan, but the descriptor did not entirely capture the lust that permeated it. It
made heat curl inside her.
Driven by unconquerable need to make him elicit that sound again she lowered her lips to
the side of his throat, kissing and sucking upon the skin. As lightly as she could she scraped
her nails up his ear again and, when she reached the very tip, tweaked it in the tips of her
fingers.
His voice breathy, he called out, but did not leave her unattended. His psionic hands crawled
up, over her belly and across her small breasts, pulling softly at her nipples.
She gasped against his neck, and whispered roughly, Kimmuriel!
Under his breath he murmured, Ishwi, and it took her all the way until his lips and teeth
were traveling down the column of her neck before she was able to translate it as brilliant.
He telepathed his intent in vague flashes of word and image. His teeth still on the soft flesh
of her throat she gasped her assent, Yes, go.
Once more held up by the force of his psionics he crossed the room with her and dropped
her atop her bed, coming down after her. He slid his hands up her skirt and she began
working at the ties on his robe. She wondered, if she could get her lips against the skin of his
chest and his belly, if he would smell even stronger of his tantalizing but infuriatingly faint
scent.
This was madness! She attempted to reason with herself. But she did not feel compelled to
stop him or even slow him down. She felt entirely pulled in by the desperation in his
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movements. Although she had not given this consideration before, she considered the
possibility that he had.
Her fingers loosed the ties of his robe and she pushed it down his shoulders, revealing his
lithe dark torso. She leaned up and smelled his skin, pressing her lips to his chest. She
brought up her hands and ran her fingers down his belly, nuzzling against the softness of his
skin.
He made a low noise and his hands moved up her thighs and touched her through her
undergarments.
Her nails bit into his sides and she gasped against his chest.
Psionics were pulling her clothes from her and she fidgeted to facilitate their removal.
Frustratedly she pulled his hands from her so she could remove entirely his robe, leaving him
in only fitted pants. He sat back on his knees to pull it free from his arms and stopped,
looming over her and looking down.
The frantic aggression that had permeated the first part of their tryst was dimming
somewhat, although his chest still rose and fell rapidly. He paused and raised an eyebrow at
her, eyes still dark with desire.
Her breath was also coming harshly, If you are giving me time to reconsider, you neednt.
A whisper of a laugh passed through his lips and those psionic hands divested her of the top
and bottom halves of her undergarments, leaving her entirely bare beneath him. His eyes
crawled over her. Psionic touches came in the wake of his gaze, caressing with the imitation
of hands, and kissing with the imitation of mouths.
She could feel him inside her mind and his touches adjusted every time he found a spot that
was particularly sensitive.
You are right, he purred, I have considered it. But I did not anticipate you being
so compliant.
She was helpless beneath this attention, squirming and releasing small desperate noises.
Her back gave little involuntary arches and she tried futilely to press herself harder into his
touches. With a drowish smirk he pressed his physical fingers against her, slipping them
through her folds and coating them in dampness. Now slick, he drew them upward until they
reached her clitoris.
Her body curved up in an arch and she whimpered. She could neither form words nor speak
under the dexterity of his fingers. It was entirely too much and not nearly enough.
Kimmuriel! She pleaded, so reduced by him.
Psionic energy buzzed through his fingers on her and her words came unbound into a yell.
He purred above her, Yes?
Kimmuriel She gasped, she could not find the words in drow and turned back to her native
elvish in desperation, Please. I want-
Following her into elvish he teased, What do you want, Tega? Do words so fail you? Show
me.
She condensed her pleas into a lust driven mental display of him removed of the rest of his
clothing, his hair falling against her skin, his weight pressed on top of her. The slow burn of
him inside of her. How he would sound moaning her name against her skin and the bursts of
noise he would make when she sucked the tips of his ears between her lips. How he would
shudder and lose his composure.
Vith, he swore and for a moment she was bereft of his touch as he briefly stood and slid
his pants and underthings from his slender hips. Her eyes moved to the newly exposed
length of him, hard and glistening at the tip.
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Later she would consider the ramification of allowing this to progress so far, but now he had
driven her so close to the edge she had little energy for anything but consuming lust.
He returned to the bed, pushing her legs apart and kneeling between them, he lowered his
body, holding himself over her with one hand, the other pulling her into position by the hip.
He recreated the imagery she had conveyed, allowing his long and soft hair to fall upon her
chest.
He dragged his erection through her folds, against her sensitive flesh until its tip was poised
at her entrance.
It was all she could do not to wrap her legs about him and take him inside of her herself, but
she waited for him to move.
He did, but slowly, so infuriatingly slowly, he began to slide into her. He was gritting his
teeth and his breath was in harsh, controlled bursts. It clearly took as much out of him to
draw this out it did for her not to hurry him along.
Her body felt empty and burning, desperate for him to be inside of her.
More infuriating than relieving he had entered her only to the tip. He looked at her, fire in his
eyes, whose red irises were being consumed by dilated pupils. And his psionics shared
between them their combined lust, building such vivid anticipation that when she cried out
for it, he joined her, needy groan slipping from his lips. He shifted, poised to impale himself
entirely.
When sudden and rapid knocking came at the door.
XXXXX
Tega was rather at a loss at what to do. Auguste had left her alone for the afternoon and,
having hours to kill, she had begun to look over his mathematics work. She had progressed
much since she had discovered her skill. It no longer sent her into a burning fury for
knowledge, but now lived calmly as an irrevocable part of her.
He had been belabouring this project for weeks, unable to find a way to balance his
hypothesis. He had redone his work countless times, torn through his papers, ripped them
up, shrieked and shouted. And she had solved it in an hour.
He had made several quite grievous errors, when she fixed them, his hypothesis fell entirely
into place. But ought she tell him? She remained the rest of the day, plagued by
deliberation, until, near nightfall, he returned to his room.
But the look upon his face drove all thoughts of mathematics from her mind. A frown cut
deeply into his forehead and twisted his mouth in fury.
She rose, Auguste? she said, then amended, master?
He lashed out, swiping his hand so hard against an ink bottle that it flew across the room
and smashed, exploding across the wall. He let out an enraged roar.
What is it, Master Auguste? She asked, taking a step back from him. She would kill him if
she had to, if he attacked her she would stab his eyes out.
My whore of a sister! He seethed, She has designs against my mother! Why must she be
so gods blasted selfish!
You sister plans to kill your mother? she asked, Why? Although, she thought she knew
why. To take control of the house and the guild that they ran.
Auguste gave her a condescending look and told her as much, I cannot bear to be beholden
to my sister. I ought to be running this guild! But she and that harlot she keeps at her side
will take it from me. He rounded on her, eyes blazing, Tell me, does that vile brother of
yours know how to fight?
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She answered, trying to keep pride from leaking into her voice, Yes. He is a prodigious
fighter.
Auguste swore, Could I beat him, do you think?
Her eyes widened and she looked at his scrawny frame and ink stained hands.
Well? He pressed.
Oh...Oh I didnt know you really wanted me to answer you. No, if you fought him he would
have you on the floor in seconds. I did not even know you knew how to fight.
He is only a slave.
Anger burned under her skin, Then, by all means, do as you think is best and fight him,
master and we will see how it turns out.
He struck her across the cheek with the backside of his hand, knuckles slamming against her
cheek, You will not talk back to me!
She took a step back and raised her hand to her swelling cheek, Master, Im sorry, I didnt
mean it like that. Tell me what I can do to help you.
He sneered at her and said viciously, Kill your brother.
The bottom dropped out of Tegas stomach, Please, Auguste! she said, No, I cannot.
Anything else. I will do anything else to help you. But I cannot wound Meika!
He gave her an appraising look, What about my mother and sister then? Could you devise
how to get rid of them?
Yes, she said with surety, Yes, yes. I will help you become the leader of this guild. I would
kill a hundred soldiers for you!
He pulled her against his chest and kissed her. She nearly sobbed but returned his kiss,
clinging to him in hatred and despair.
He tore himself off of her, You will no longer be spending nights with him, it is too
dangerous, I am sure he plots to take your life.
Horror at losing the only part of her life she did not despise rose like bile, He would not,
Auguste, my brother wouldnt raise a hand to me. You do not need to worry.
He didnt listen, You will spend your nights here.
XXXXX
Kimmuriel dropped his forehead onto Tegas chest and swore, Lloths webs, now?
From through the door, Jarlaxles impatient tone rang out, Tega! I know you are in there, I
need to speak with you. Now, Tega.
Kimmuriel laid a finger on her lips to quiet her and thought, Be silent, perhaps he will go.
More merry rapping sounded on the door, I have a key for this room, you know, Tega!
They heard the jangling of keys and Kimmuriel leapt off of her, his clothing flying back over
his body in an instant, his hair righting itself. They heard a key enter the lock and Tega shot
up, giving Kimmuriel a look of desperation and outrage.
He put up his hand and her clothes pulled themselves over her body, her hair straightened
itself and the bed smoothed itself out. Kimmuriel returned to his seat, book in his hand and
she rushed to the door, opening it as Jarlaxle did from the other side.
Really, Jarlaxle? She asked, You could not wait?
He clicked his tongue, Well what were you doing? Oh - he had spied Kimmuriel over her
shoulder, The two of you are locked up together?
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She fought to return her breathing to normal and hoped that he had not left marks exposed
on her throat, Well yes, I am preparing him for the surface.
Jarlaxle arched an eyebrow, He seems to be reading, I will hazard a guess that you can
sacrifice a few moments of your time, excuse us, lieutenant.
Wordlessly, and with an icy expressionless face, Kimmuriel rose and departed through a blue
portal.
Jarlaxle stepped into the room and closed the door with a snap behind him, Tega, he began
with a frown, Cant you get along with Artemis?
She gaped at him in disbelief and frustration, That is why you barged into my chambers?
She asked. Her body still thrummed with need and she would be furious if Jarlaxle had
interrupted her to talk about the hurt feelings of his human friend.
Jarlaxle scowled, He is an important asset, Tega, and I would like him returning to us when
we are finished with this war against Mithril Hall. I thought, as my assistant and a denizen of
the surface that you could facilitate making him more comfortable here. He broke off and
turned his head to the side, peering at her, Tega, are you feeling alright?
What? She asked, Why- why do you ask?
He shrugged, Your face is quite flushed, surely you cannot be that angry with me? And he
gave her a wide eyed and pouting look.
Jarlaxle, she said, I will try to ease Artemis transition, but I will be upfront that I do not
like the man.
How could you not? Jarlaxle said, He is exotic and handsome and so good with his dagger
I can hardly believe it!
He smells terrible! She said.
Jarlaxle smirked and laughed, I think you have become too close with our good lieutenant
Kimmuriel!
She could not help the pinkness that rose up her cheeks, and she said, defensively, He is
Calimport incarnate, Jarlaxle. I do not like Calimport, it smells of death and I spent the worst
years of my life there, enslaved to Auguste.
Jarlaxle shrugged, Then get along with him as a favor to me. Oh, that reminds me, I have
reports on your desk that I need you to look through, you were finished with Kimmuriel,
yes?
No, she had not been finished with Kimmuriel, thank you very much. You need them done
now?
Quite! he said, Come now, back to work!
She would have liked to visit a bathroom and tidy herself up before settling back to
paperwork, but she followed Jarlaxle back to his office and returned dejectedly to her desk.
Indeed, there was an enormous stack of paperwork in front of her.
What is all this? She asked in disbelief.
He winked, You need to get ready to be gone at the at library, do you not?
Oh, yes, she drew down the first page, settling in to a long night of paperwork, Where is
Artemis then?
Jarlaxle looked up from his own desk, Sulking and alone in his own suite.
Perhaps were he more pleasant I would feel worse for his plight.
Jarlaxle scoffed, You were perfectly ready to cloister yourself off with Kimmuriel who is, by
my estimation, far worse tempered than Artemis.
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Perhaps, but he smells nicer.

Jarlaxle laughed and teased, Do you make a habit of smelling him?
She quite vividly remembered the exaggerated scent that clung to his skin along his chest
and neck and how it had felt to press her lips and nose to his skin. She shivered, Of course I
dont.
Tega?
She looked up at him, Yes, Jarlaxle?
I do apologize for sending you off to the surface alone with him. I know you and he do are
not on excellent terms. But I thought it would be preferable to taking part in the surface
raid.
She gave him a sincere smile, Thank you, Jarlaxle. It is preferable. I want no part in the war
with Mithril Hall.
I will make sure that he behaves himself.
Thank you.
She set to the paperwork, working quietly and steadily. Jarlaxle had a stream of visitors
passing in and out of his office and, as she had grown accustomed to, she ignored them
quite proficiently.
Now that her body was cooling down her brain was running into overdrive. How could she
have possibly nearly bedded Kimmuriel Oblodra? Certainly she had always had an
understanding that he was attractive, but she had never considered taking him to bed. Not
that it had not been an enjoyable endeavor. But idiotic. Wasnt it?
She had not had a tryst such as that before. The two that she had taken apart from Auguste,
who she resolutely did not count, had begun as emotional connections that grew into
physical passion.
Why had those died out? They had not lasted long, either of them, not long enough to even
really note them. She would never have told them such, but boredom. Not that they had not
been engaging and interesting people full of their own qualities and pursuits. They just had
not been entirely suited to her.
Certainly, there were borders that Kimmuriel crossed, and they had begun their
acquaintanceship as something closer to antagonists than equals, but she did not fool
herself into thinking that this was about finding an emotive companion. What did she have
to lose?
And he had called her brilliant, and gods was he not brilliant himself.
Thank you, he said teasingly in her mind.
Her head shot up. Kimmuriel sat across from Jarlaxle, his back to her
What do you mean you will be staying on the surface for the duration of your time at the
library? Jarlaxle said, You want to remain on the surface?
In clipped tones Kimmuriel replied, Creating a portal to cross such a distance as that can be
done but it is rather exacting. To do so every day may compromise my ability to complete
my work at the library. I am sure the faerie will not complain.
In her head he commented, Take it as a gesture of goodwill.
Not sure where it came up from, she thought back coquettishly, And you will not begrudge
either being away from Jarlaxles interruptions for a number of weeks, I think.
I hope you did not expect selflessness. He had not had the appropriate word in drow and
had to substitute elvish to make himself understood, it nearly made her laugh aloud.
Of course I didnt, I am not entirely foolish.
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Out loud, to Jarlaxle, he said, I will allow her to make the arrangements when we arrive, I
am sure the other faeries will find her more agreeable to work with.
Tega? Jarlaxle said, Would it so impose on you to stay in an inn on the surface rather than
return here while you work in the library?
She didnt look up from her work, That sounds fine, although Kimmuriel will have to behave
if he does not want to be thrown from the inn.
Kimmuriel rose and swept toward the door. Before he left he stopped and turned back, face
as expressionless as ever, When you have finished with her, Captain, there are details I
need to discuss about our venture. Send her along to my chambers when she can be
spared.
Jarlaxle waved him away dismissively, Yes, fine, fine.
In her mind, as he took his leave he said into her mind, And we have a pending matter I
intend to resolve.

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