Dark Flower III, Ch. 1 Homecoming
Posted: Fri Feb 17, 2006 12:09 am
Sheyreiza made her way through the layers of Ched Nasad at a leisurely pace. Despite her summons from the Matron, she was in no great hurry. With the help of her bebilith Hartex, she had covered the long distance from the war camp in the upperdark near Silverymoon to the gates of Ched Nasad in the middledark far faster than anyone could have suspected. While the Matron would surely want Sheyreiza to report immediately, a few minutes difference after a twenty-five year absence would not be missed.
Climbing up through the layers of the city, Sheyreiza paused just outside of Zhennu Orbb and stared at the gigantic, arachnid construction with awe. Could anything built by mortals compare to this? She thought not. The great stone spider-fortress of Zhennu Orbb did more than elicit awe in Sheyreiza; it brought forth memories of things long since passed. She remembered her first year at the academy, meeting Hartex, their affair and the subsequent birth of her first born child, the male Tanias whose eyes haunted her until she sacrificed him to Lolth upon the altar. She remembered the musty smell of the old tomes, books and scrolls kept in the libraries of the fortress’ towers. She remembered the smell of the smithy’s furnaces and the clang of hammers on metal. She remembered screams echoing through the great courtyard as slaves met bitter ends for the amusement of bored students in the luxurious recesses of the Poison Pit, Zhennu Orbb’s plush, decadent torture den. And she remembered the fear, the ever present fear that coursed through Zhennu Orbb like blood through a living creature; fear of failure, fear of other students, fear of the mistresses and even fear of success. There was no class, no cycle, no moment with out fear save for those spent deep in the grip of massage, drink, drugs or sex which naturally explained the intense popularity of those diversions.
Sheyreiza spared Hartex a look, but the bebilith, in his drow male form, simply appeared bored; the past held no power over him. It was a far distant memory to one who had died and traveled the abyss for an age; time did not flow in the outer planes as it did here in the material world, and though they had been at Zhennu Orbb together, those times were far more recent to Sheyreiza than to the fiend. She sighed and traveled on ward and upward until Hartex stopped her a few layers beyond Zhennu Orbb.
“Can you feel it?” Hartex asked, his voice nearly a whisper. “Chaos. It grows within the city. Chaos and fear.” He paused and looked around, turning in a circle. “Something passed by here.” He said cryptically, his black eyes searching the darkness of a nearby alley. “He passed by.”
“Who?” Sheyreiza asked, her eyes narrowing as she too peered about warily.
Hartex answered in the sign language of the drow. Wendonai.
Wendonai the Balor Lord. A month before Sheyreiza had been summoned home, Hartex had sensed Wendonai’s return to the mortal planes. The fiend had been exiled, or so Sheyreiza had been told, for a thousand years. It seemed that time was up. Wendonai was a tempter, a corrupter and a manipulator. As a high priestess Sheyreiza knew that Wendonai was an early tool of Lolth’s used to bring the Ilythiri into Her web, a task he performed all too well. The ancient tomes of Zhennu Orbb’s priestess school indicated the balor lord had served Lolth well until sometime after he engineered the slaughter of the elven and dwarven courts several thousand years ago. After that, the records of the clergy contained no mention of him.
Hartex was not happy to feel the fiend’s return. Though powerful, the greater bebilith held no illusions about where he stood in relation to Wendonai; the balor lord was a creature nearly god-like in its power. Naturally Sheyreiza wanted to know the fiend’s purpose, but then, that was the question on everyone’s mind who knew that the beast was no longer banished. Divinations and investigations had yielded no answers as of yet.
While Hartex scanned the layer around them Sheyreiza’s hand slipped to her holy symbol. Quickly she cast a spell of seeing. Where is he? She asked Hartex in the silent tongue.
“He is gone.” Hartex answered aloud. “He merely passed by this place. He was here not long ago, but he is gone now.” The demon’s face contorted. “I cannot tell where he went.”
The high priestess glanced around at the nearest structures. The closest noteworthy building displayed the sign of a merchant house or mercenary band; the company of the Flickering Flame. Sheyreiza thought it unlikely the demon would be using such a lowly establishment to as his base, but she resolved to have them watched anyway. With a nod she signaled to Hartex and they traveled on, more wary than every.
They walked to stronghold of Qu’ellar Auvryndar, a magnificent enchanted castle built into the walls of the Ched Nasad rift. The grounds of the stronghold, including a great tower in which the house wizards plied their craft, were spread out upon the unholy calcified webbing of the city. One could not enter the hold easily or directly; there were several gates to pass through and ramps to climb. An attacking enemy faced a series of choke points and obstacles, all of which were within bowshot or spellshot of the battlements and towers.
At the outer gate, Sheyreiza paused again. She knew this gate was enchanted with defense glyphs; an unauthorized person who so much as touched them would set off potentially lethal magic. Sheyreiza was an Auvryndar by birth and she wore a House Symbol of Qu’ellar Auvryndar, but she had once been an exile. She wondered if the gate would recognize her as friend or foe. It was a question she had asked herself every time she had passed the gate, even before her flight from the city. Once, when she was young, her older sister had ordered a goblin-slave to touch the gate. The poor creature was electrocuted. Its smoking, twitching corpse had fallen at Sheyreiza’s feet. “That’s what happens when the house does not like you, or does not recognize you.” Her sister has said. Sheyreiza often wondered after that if the house might ever decide on its own not to like or recognize her. It never happened, of course, but now she thought it might. She had been gone a long time. There was nothing to be done about it though. She took a deep breath and pushed upon the gate. There was no explosion, no lightening, no fire, nothing; the gates simply opened for her.
She and Hartex passed through and scaled the ramps. They passed through another gate and another wall then walked through the main courtyard wherein the wizard’s tower stood. Beyond the arcane tower were the waterfall and its magic pool, and beyond that was the door. Sheyreiza did not pause this time; her mind was set and she was committed. She entered the stronghold.
The entryway was lit in eerie green fairy fire and magical braziers that hung by thick, soot-encrusted chains from the stone ceiling. A pair of armored skeletal warriors clutching enormous swords guarded each of the four doorways. A tiny flicker of unholy light burned in the otherwise empty eye-sockets of their skulls. They did not attack Sheyreiza or Hartex, they merely watched. It seemed Sheyreiza and her demonic escort were expected. Sheyreiza walked passed the undead guardians and into the antechamber of the throne room.
“Shall I wait here?” Hartex asked as they passed plush red couches.
Sheyreiza paused to consider his question. On one hand, she wanted to keep the demon as close as possible as often as possible; he was both a sign of Lolth’s favor and an effective bodyguard. On other hand, Matron Shyntlara already knew about Sheyreiza’s favor with the Goddess, and if Matron Shyntlara wanted Sheyreiza dead, a bebilith bodyguard was not going to prevent it. She nodded to him. “Yes, wait here. I should return before too long.” Should, she thought to herself, but then I might not, and if I do, perhaps not as you know me now.
Leaving Hartex to wait, Sheyreiza entered the large, ornate throne room of Qu’ellar Auvryndar. The center piece of the room was the Matron’s throne, naturally enough, which was flanked by two glowing pillars inscribed with holy runes. Two women stood beside the pillars, one on either side of the throne; they were armed and armored like elite guards but Sheyreiza suspected they were more than that.
“Who are you?” One of the women asked. When she spoke Sheyreiza could see elongated fangs in her mouth. Her suspicions were correct; these were vampires, Matron Shyntlara’s pets and guardians. Both women regarded Sheyreiza with undisguised hunger and animosity. They shifted on their feet and their hands strayed to the hilts of their weapons.
The two women were quite possibly more than a match for Sheyreiza; there was no telling how powerful the drow women had been in life, and no telling how much more powerful they might be in their undeath. Sheyreiza could not afford to be intimidated, however. She stood firm, feet set wide apart, head held high and steady, one hand on her hip, the other pulling her whip of fangs free from beneath her piwafi.
“I am the Lady Sheyreiza Auvryndar,” she announced, “Yathtallar d’Lolth and Fourth-Daughter of this house. Now, give the Matron my message, servant.”
The vampires did not cower at Sheyreiza’s announcement but they did relax. “She has been expecting you.” One of them announced. “Wait here.” The vampire warrior turned and strode off through the archway that led down to the catacombs where Shyntlara took her rest. The other undead female remained at her post watching Sheyreiza warily.
In front of the throne was a great rug and to one side of that rug were two chairs. Usually the Matron’s guests sat there when in conversation with her, assuming they were of high enough station. When there were many guests, the seats were usually occupied by the ranking high priestesses. Sheyreiza thought she might now be entitled to sit there but was not sure. She decided to play it safe and remain standing until the Matron invited her to sit. She did not recall Matron Shyntlara being overly strict about protocol, but on other hand, once her wrath was invoked it was terrible. All things considered, whether the Matron would care or not, it was best not too take chances with her. One bad roll of the dice and Sheyreiza might find her life being drained away by the Matron’s fangs.
The wait seemed to drag on forever but when Sheyreiza heard the unmistakable stone-on-stone grating sound of the catacombs door opening she suddenly wished the wait had been longer. From the gloom Matron Shyntlara emerged, her vampire soldier at her heel. Sheyreiza immediately dropped to one knee and bowed her head.
“Malla tlu Lolth,” Sheyreiza said, offering the traditional greeting, “malla tlu Ilharess Auvryndar.”
Shyntlara took her seat upon the throne non-chalantly. “Rise Sheyreiza.” She said simply. Sheyreiza complied at once but kept her head slightly bowed. “Do you know why I have recalled you to the city?”
“No, malla Ilharess, I do not.”
“Chaos is rising here. You can see it, taste it and feel it.”
Sheyreiza allowed herself a small nod. “Yes, honored Matron, my demon has mentioned this.”
“Has your demon mentioned anything else?”
“Yes, honored Matron.” Sheyreiza said before she could catch herself. She had not yet told Matron Shyntlara about Wendonai; knowledge of his return was a valuable piece of information and like all secret knowledge, its value diminished as the circle of those who possessed it increased. Still, it was best not to keep things from the Matron unless absolutely necessary; she was a dangerous creature of great cunning and resourcefulness. “My demon has told me that the balor-lord, Wendonai, has returned to the material plane. He is in the city, or at least has been recently.”
Shyntlara was on her feet instantly. Before Sheyreiza could move the vampiric Matron had crossed the short distance between them and wrapped a beautiful, cold hand of deceptive strength around Sheyreiza’s delicate neck. The Matron, her eyes alight with rage, lifted Sheyreiza off the ground. Sheyreiza could not breathe but she dared not resist. Her feet, in her high-heeled boots kicked helplessly beneath her as the infuriated matron held her up like a doll.
“You knew this,” Shyntlara snarled, “and you waited until now to tell me?” The matron released her grip just enough to allow Sheyreiza to spit out an answer.
“I did not know until this very cycle the fiend was in the city, honored Matron!” Sheyreiza gasped for breath between words, struggling to keep her arms from grabbing at Shyntlara’s arm. “All I knew was that he was free from exile. I had no reason to believe he would come here.”
The Matron narrowed her glowing red eyes and then dropped Sheyreiza to the floor where the priestess crumbled.
“Tell me all.” The Matron said simply. Sheyreiza did, gasping for breath between sentences and holding her throat. She relayed all that she had learned from Hartex from the first moment that he sensed Wendonai’s return to his latest feelings near the company of the Flickering Flame.
“I want you and your demon to see what else you can learn about this fiend, Wendonai. I want to know where he is, and who he is allying with. We need to know what he is doing here. This chaos in the city, it is his doing I have no doubt.”
Sheyreiza nodded as she stood. “Yes, of course honored Matron.”
“You are fortunate Sheyreiza,” the Matron said slowly, “fortunate to have the Goddess’ favor as you do. I will not be so kind to you again.”
“Understood, honored Matron.”
“Good.” Shyntlara said authoritatively. “Now, onto other matters. You will be given Yavoniel’s quarters in the royal wing of the house. As Yavoniel has gone to Lolth, I do not think she will need them any longer. As a Yathtallar you will need an entourage. The core of your previous patrol, the acolytes Jhana and Faerylene, as well as Sergeant Vedo, are here and you may use them to form the core of your murder-team.”
Sheyreiza nodded. “Thank you, honored Matron.”
“I will have tasks for you later but for now, get yourself settled in.”
“Yes, honored Matron.”
“Now,” Shyntlara said, rising back up from her seat, “leave me…oh…send your son down to me. The one you adopted while at the war-camp, the draegloth Xuntel.”
“Yes, honored Matron.” Sheyreiza bowed deeply, as the Matron walked away. When Shyntlara was gone, she rose and left the throne room.
Hartex was waiting for her in the antechamber. “You have returned, and alive. It must have gone well mistress.” He said with the hint of a sly smile un-obscured by his shallow bow.
“Well enough.” Sheyreiza responded. “I am alive, for now. You and I are tasked with finding out more about this Wendonai.”
The sly smile disappeared from the demon’s face. “Wise, but dangerous.”
“I need to get settled in to my quarters. I am to be housed in Yavoniel’s chambers, in the royal wing.”
“You should be on the Matron’s throne.” Hartex replied.
Sheyreiza was shocked by his boldness but she answered coolly. “All in due time, but not now nor tomorrow.”
“I will hunt then, while you see to your quarters.”
“Very well. Look for Wendonai while you are out.”
“As you command mistress.” Hartex turned to go then looked back over his shoulder. “You will know I found him if I do not return.” Without waiting for a reply, the demon stalked out.
Sheyreiza looked around the opulent antechamber. Qu’ellar Auvryndar was old, thousands of years old, and it was rich and powerful. Many an enemy had died vainly trying to breach its walls. Many others had perished vainly trying to stop the armies of Auvryndar from advancing. Others perished in their sleep or at their dinner, assassinated by Auvryndar killers, alive and undead. Each of these victories further secured Auvryndar in the society of Ched Nasad; each helped keep the house at the top of the ranks like the webs of Lolth held the city aloft. And yet, Sheyreiza suddenly felt very vulnerable, naked almost. If Hartex, a greater demon, was hopeless in the face of Wendonai, what could she do?
She sighed. Perhaps the better question was, what would she do? It was time to start figuring out the options and that meant figuring out what resources she had available. She turned to a passing servant.
“You, take me to the royal wing.” The terrified servant nodded silently and led Sheyreiza through the passages of the house. It was time to find the others, take stock of what she had to work with, and find out more about this Wendonai. Otherwise, Sheyreiza thought, this house which has stood for millennia may not be standing when the new year comes around.
Climbing up through the layers of the city, Sheyreiza paused just outside of Zhennu Orbb and stared at the gigantic, arachnid construction with awe. Could anything built by mortals compare to this? She thought not. The great stone spider-fortress of Zhennu Orbb did more than elicit awe in Sheyreiza; it brought forth memories of things long since passed. She remembered her first year at the academy, meeting Hartex, their affair and the subsequent birth of her first born child, the male Tanias whose eyes haunted her until she sacrificed him to Lolth upon the altar. She remembered the musty smell of the old tomes, books and scrolls kept in the libraries of the fortress’ towers. She remembered the smell of the smithy’s furnaces and the clang of hammers on metal. She remembered screams echoing through the great courtyard as slaves met bitter ends for the amusement of bored students in the luxurious recesses of the Poison Pit, Zhennu Orbb’s plush, decadent torture den. And she remembered the fear, the ever present fear that coursed through Zhennu Orbb like blood through a living creature; fear of failure, fear of other students, fear of the mistresses and even fear of success. There was no class, no cycle, no moment with out fear save for those spent deep in the grip of massage, drink, drugs or sex which naturally explained the intense popularity of those diversions.
Sheyreiza spared Hartex a look, but the bebilith, in his drow male form, simply appeared bored; the past held no power over him. It was a far distant memory to one who had died and traveled the abyss for an age; time did not flow in the outer planes as it did here in the material world, and though they had been at Zhennu Orbb together, those times were far more recent to Sheyreiza than to the fiend. She sighed and traveled on ward and upward until Hartex stopped her a few layers beyond Zhennu Orbb.
“Can you feel it?” Hartex asked, his voice nearly a whisper. “Chaos. It grows within the city. Chaos and fear.” He paused and looked around, turning in a circle. “Something passed by here.” He said cryptically, his black eyes searching the darkness of a nearby alley. “He passed by.”
“Who?” Sheyreiza asked, her eyes narrowing as she too peered about warily.
Hartex answered in the sign language of the drow. Wendonai.
Wendonai the Balor Lord. A month before Sheyreiza had been summoned home, Hartex had sensed Wendonai’s return to the mortal planes. The fiend had been exiled, or so Sheyreiza had been told, for a thousand years. It seemed that time was up. Wendonai was a tempter, a corrupter and a manipulator. As a high priestess Sheyreiza knew that Wendonai was an early tool of Lolth’s used to bring the Ilythiri into Her web, a task he performed all too well. The ancient tomes of Zhennu Orbb’s priestess school indicated the balor lord had served Lolth well until sometime after he engineered the slaughter of the elven and dwarven courts several thousand years ago. After that, the records of the clergy contained no mention of him.
Hartex was not happy to feel the fiend’s return. Though powerful, the greater bebilith held no illusions about where he stood in relation to Wendonai; the balor lord was a creature nearly god-like in its power. Naturally Sheyreiza wanted to know the fiend’s purpose, but then, that was the question on everyone’s mind who knew that the beast was no longer banished. Divinations and investigations had yielded no answers as of yet.
While Hartex scanned the layer around them Sheyreiza’s hand slipped to her holy symbol. Quickly she cast a spell of seeing. Where is he? She asked Hartex in the silent tongue.
“He is gone.” Hartex answered aloud. “He merely passed by this place. He was here not long ago, but he is gone now.” The demon’s face contorted. “I cannot tell where he went.”
The high priestess glanced around at the nearest structures. The closest noteworthy building displayed the sign of a merchant house or mercenary band; the company of the Flickering Flame. Sheyreiza thought it unlikely the demon would be using such a lowly establishment to as his base, but she resolved to have them watched anyway. With a nod she signaled to Hartex and they traveled on, more wary than every.
They walked to stronghold of Qu’ellar Auvryndar, a magnificent enchanted castle built into the walls of the Ched Nasad rift. The grounds of the stronghold, including a great tower in which the house wizards plied their craft, were spread out upon the unholy calcified webbing of the city. One could not enter the hold easily or directly; there were several gates to pass through and ramps to climb. An attacking enemy faced a series of choke points and obstacles, all of which were within bowshot or spellshot of the battlements and towers.
At the outer gate, Sheyreiza paused again. She knew this gate was enchanted with defense glyphs; an unauthorized person who so much as touched them would set off potentially lethal magic. Sheyreiza was an Auvryndar by birth and she wore a House Symbol of Qu’ellar Auvryndar, but she had once been an exile. She wondered if the gate would recognize her as friend or foe. It was a question she had asked herself every time she had passed the gate, even before her flight from the city. Once, when she was young, her older sister had ordered a goblin-slave to touch the gate. The poor creature was electrocuted. Its smoking, twitching corpse had fallen at Sheyreiza’s feet. “That’s what happens when the house does not like you, or does not recognize you.” Her sister has said. Sheyreiza often wondered after that if the house might ever decide on its own not to like or recognize her. It never happened, of course, but now she thought it might. She had been gone a long time. There was nothing to be done about it though. She took a deep breath and pushed upon the gate. There was no explosion, no lightening, no fire, nothing; the gates simply opened for her.
She and Hartex passed through and scaled the ramps. They passed through another gate and another wall then walked through the main courtyard wherein the wizard’s tower stood. Beyond the arcane tower were the waterfall and its magic pool, and beyond that was the door. Sheyreiza did not pause this time; her mind was set and she was committed. She entered the stronghold.
The entryway was lit in eerie green fairy fire and magical braziers that hung by thick, soot-encrusted chains from the stone ceiling. A pair of armored skeletal warriors clutching enormous swords guarded each of the four doorways. A tiny flicker of unholy light burned in the otherwise empty eye-sockets of their skulls. They did not attack Sheyreiza or Hartex, they merely watched. It seemed Sheyreiza and her demonic escort were expected. Sheyreiza walked passed the undead guardians and into the antechamber of the throne room.
“Shall I wait here?” Hartex asked as they passed plush red couches.
Sheyreiza paused to consider his question. On one hand, she wanted to keep the demon as close as possible as often as possible; he was both a sign of Lolth’s favor and an effective bodyguard. On other hand, Matron Shyntlara already knew about Sheyreiza’s favor with the Goddess, and if Matron Shyntlara wanted Sheyreiza dead, a bebilith bodyguard was not going to prevent it. She nodded to him. “Yes, wait here. I should return before too long.” Should, she thought to herself, but then I might not, and if I do, perhaps not as you know me now.
Leaving Hartex to wait, Sheyreiza entered the large, ornate throne room of Qu’ellar Auvryndar. The center piece of the room was the Matron’s throne, naturally enough, which was flanked by two glowing pillars inscribed with holy runes. Two women stood beside the pillars, one on either side of the throne; they were armed and armored like elite guards but Sheyreiza suspected they were more than that.
“Who are you?” One of the women asked. When she spoke Sheyreiza could see elongated fangs in her mouth. Her suspicions were correct; these were vampires, Matron Shyntlara’s pets and guardians. Both women regarded Sheyreiza with undisguised hunger and animosity. They shifted on their feet and their hands strayed to the hilts of their weapons.
The two women were quite possibly more than a match for Sheyreiza; there was no telling how powerful the drow women had been in life, and no telling how much more powerful they might be in their undeath. Sheyreiza could not afford to be intimidated, however. She stood firm, feet set wide apart, head held high and steady, one hand on her hip, the other pulling her whip of fangs free from beneath her piwafi.
“I am the Lady Sheyreiza Auvryndar,” she announced, “Yathtallar d’Lolth and Fourth-Daughter of this house. Now, give the Matron my message, servant.”
The vampires did not cower at Sheyreiza’s announcement but they did relax. “She has been expecting you.” One of them announced. “Wait here.” The vampire warrior turned and strode off through the archway that led down to the catacombs where Shyntlara took her rest. The other undead female remained at her post watching Sheyreiza warily.
In front of the throne was a great rug and to one side of that rug were two chairs. Usually the Matron’s guests sat there when in conversation with her, assuming they were of high enough station. When there were many guests, the seats were usually occupied by the ranking high priestesses. Sheyreiza thought she might now be entitled to sit there but was not sure. She decided to play it safe and remain standing until the Matron invited her to sit. She did not recall Matron Shyntlara being overly strict about protocol, but on other hand, once her wrath was invoked it was terrible. All things considered, whether the Matron would care or not, it was best not too take chances with her. One bad roll of the dice and Sheyreiza might find her life being drained away by the Matron’s fangs.
The wait seemed to drag on forever but when Sheyreiza heard the unmistakable stone-on-stone grating sound of the catacombs door opening she suddenly wished the wait had been longer. From the gloom Matron Shyntlara emerged, her vampire soldier at her heel. Sheyreiza immediately dropped to one knee and bowed her head.
“Malla tlu Lolth,” Sheyreiza said, offering the traditional greeting, “malla tlu Ilharess Auvryndar.”
Shyntlara took her seat upon the throne non-chalantly. “Rise Sheyreiza.” She said simply. Sheyreiza complied at once but kept her head slightly bowed. “Do you know why I have recalled you to the city?”
“No, malla Ilharess, I do not.”
“Chaos is rising here. You can see it, taste it and feel it.”
Sheyreiza allowed herself a small nod. “Yes, honored Matron, my demon has mentioned this.”
“Has your demon mentioned anything else?”
“Yes, honored Matron.” Sheyreiza said before she could catch herself. She had not yet told Matron Shyntlara about Wendonai; knowledge of his return was a valuable piece of information and like all secret knowledge, its value diminished as the circle of those who possessed it increased. Still, it was best not to keep things from the Matron unless absolutely necessary; she was a dangerous creature of great cunning and resourcefulness. “My demon has told me that the balor-lord, Wendonai, has returned to the material plane. He is in the city, or at least has been recently.”
Shyntlara was on her feet instantly. Before Sheyreiza could move the vampiric Matron had crossed the short distance between them and wrapped a beautiful, cold hand of deceptive strength around Sheyreiza’s delicate neck. The Matron, her eyes alight with rage, lifted Sheyreiza off the ground. Sheyreiza could not breathe but she dared not resist. Her feet, in her high-heeled boots kicked helplessly beneath her as the infuriated matron held her up like a doll.
“You knew this,” Shyntlara snarled, “and you waited until now to tell me?” The matron released her grip just enough to allow Sheyreiza to spit out an answer.
“I did not know until this very cycle the fiend was in the city, honored Matron!” Sheyreiza gasped for breath between words, struggling to keep her arms from grabbing at Shyntlara’s arm. “All I knew was that he was free from exile. I had no reason to believe he would come here.”
The Matron narrowed her glowing red eyes and then dropped Sheyreiza to the floor where the priestess crumbled.
“Tell me all.” The Matron said simply. Sheyreiza did, gasping for breath between sentences and holding her throat. She relayed all that she had learned from Hartex from the first moment that he sensed Wendonai’s return to his latest feelings near the company of the Flickering Flame.
“I want you and your demon to see what else you can learn about this fiend, Wendonai. I want to know where he is, and who he is allying with. We need to know what he is doing here. This chaos in the city, it is his doing I have no doubt.”
Sheyreiza nodded as she stood. “Yes, of course honored Matron.”
“You are fortunate Sheyreiza,” the Matron said slowly, “fortunate to have the Goddess’ favor as you do. I will not be so kind to you again.”
“Understood, honored Matron.”
“Good.” Shyntlara said authoritatively. “Now, onto other matters. You will be given Yavoniel’s quarters in the royal wing of the house. As Yavoniel has gone to Lolth, I do not think she will need them any longer. As a Yathtallar you will need an entourage. The core of your previous patrol, the acolytes Jhana and Faerylene, as well as Sergeant Vedo, are here and you may use them to form the core of your murder-team.”
Sheyreiza nodded. “Thank you, honored Matron.”
“I will have tasks for you later but for now, get yourself settled in.”
“Yes, honored Matron.”
“Now,” Shyntlara said, rising back up from her seat, “leave me…oh…send your son down to me. The one you adopted while at the war-camp, the draegloth Xuntel.”
“Yes, honored Matron.” Sheyreiza bowed deeply, as the Matron walked away. When Shyntlara was gone, she rose and left the throne room.
Hartex was waiting for her in the antechamber. “You have returned, and alive. It must have gone well mistress.” He said with the hint of a sly smile un-obscured by his shallow bow.
“Well enough.” Sheyreiza responded. “I am alive, for now. You and I are tasked with finding out more about this Wendonai.”
The sly smile disappeared from the demon’s face. “Wise, but dangerous.”
“I need to get settled in to my quarters. I am to be housed in Yavoniel’s chambers, in the royal wing.”
“You should be on the Matron’s throne.” Hartex replied.
Sheyreiza was shocked by his boldness but she answered coolly. “All in due time, but not now nor tomorrow.”
“I will hunt then, while you see to your quarters.”
“Very well. Look for Wendonai while you are out.”
“As you command mistress.” Hartex turned to go then looked back over his shoulder. “You will know I found him if I do not return.” Without waiting for a reply, the demon stalked out.
Sheyreiza looked around the opulent antechamber. Qu’ellar Auvryndar was old, thousands of years old, and it was rich and powerful. Many an enemy had died vainly trying to breach its walls. Many others had perished vainly trying to stop the armies of Auvryndar from advancing. Others perished in their sleep or at their dinner, assassinated by Auvryndar killers, alive and undead. Each of these victories further secured Auvryndar in the society of Ched Nasad; each helped keep the house at the top of the ranks like the webs of Lolth held the city aloft. And yet, Sheyreiza suddenly felt very vulnerable, naked almost. If Hartex, a greater demon, was hopeless in the face of Wendonai, what could she do?
She sighed. Perhaps the better question was, what would she do? It was time to start figuring out the options and that meant figuring out what resources she had available. She turned to a passing servant.
“You, take me to the royal wing.” The terrified servant nodded silently and led Sheyreiza through the passages of the house. It was time to find the others, take stock of what she had to work with, and find out more about this Wendonai. Otherwise, Sheyreiza thought, this house which has stood for millennia may not be standing when the new year comes around.