The Apostate Ch. 04

"As you say," Valshar replied. She put a hand on Lura's shoulder. "Come, I will introduce you to our leader."

Valshar led them to the center of the round chamber and a door on the opposite side slide into the ceiling. It was under the starburst of Corellon, but the man that came forward wore the robes and symbols of Chauntea.

"Welcome, Lura Torviir, Gundor Thunderborn. I am Alvon Deir, servant of Chauntea, first minister of our little cadre."

"You're human," Lura said to the man. He was nearly six feet tall and was likely less than half of Hammer's weight, but his eyes seemed to emanate the wisdom of his goddess.

"I am," he replied with a smile. "I serve Chauntea by feeding our people with crops that would not normally grow in the Underdark, without sunlight. Fertility, in all ways. We have birthed children between races with little or no record of interbreeding."

"Such as?"

"Our minister of Gruumsh is half-drow, half-orc. She is stubborn, but eager, and has taught many of our followers the way of the blade."

"Who is your minister of Sune?" Hammer asked.

"I'm glad you asked. I believe you should both meet all of our ministers now," Alvon said, and he snapped his fingers. People began filtering into the room, all smiling. Alvon began the introductions immediately.

The minister of Corellon, Valshar, was a lovely specimen compared to some of the others with her violet lips, her silver hair, gray skin, and tight fitting clothes. Serving Torm was a dragonborn, a former slave by the markings on his neck, who wore chainmail and had a large warhammer strapped to his back. The Tempuran minister stood tall, another human with a slave's tattoo on his neck. He was broad, but not as large as Hammer. The servants of Kelemvor and Mask were both drow, as was the minister of Selûne. The latter two were females, wearing tight leathers, with the Maskarran wearing the iconic black mask and the Selûnite silver slashes on her tunic in the shape of eyes. The Kelemvorite wore only a black robe.

The minister of Gruumsh was exactly what the first minister had described. She was stocky, well-endowed in all areas, and had a ferocious look about her. The dwarven servant of Moradin was also stocky, about four feet tall, with a great grey beard and bald head.

But what really captured their eyes was the Sunite minister. She was a tall, willowy woman that had every hallmark Lura had come to expect from the goddess herself. Pale of skin with bright red hair, brilliant emerald eyes, and a body so sensual that it made Lura weak in the knees, the red-and-gold-clad woman held Lura's gaze for an inordinately long time.

"I am Venusta," the woman said in a voice as smooth and comforting as a silk-wrapped Hammer. Lura felt her heart flutter and launch up into her throat. "I serve Sune. I was the one who knew of your coming and told my fellow. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Lura. The goddess has given me many dreams about you."

"Lady Venusta," Lura said, bowing deeply. Hammer did likewise, and Lura could sense his eagerness. It was something she usually only felt in him when he was alone with her. A bit of jealousy sprouted in her breast, but she suppressed it. Sune was love, not jealousy.

The drow addressed Alvon. "I would like to meet with Valshar and Venusta in private. With Hammer, of course."

"Naturally," the man said, smiling. "I would have words with your barbarian before you depart, though. Chauntea has a blessing for him."

Lura arched her eyebrows in surprise. "That is not up to me, as he is not mine to command," Lura said, and she saw Hammer's smile as genuine as she had seen in a long time. "I love him, and he loves me, but we do not command each other, despite the necessity of our previous situation."

"I will hear you," Hammer said. The other ministers began to recede with Alvon's gesture, and Hammer took Lura into his arms. He kissed her passionately, taking her breath away as if it was their first kiss all over again. "I love you, my beautiful elf."

"And I love you, my warrior," she said, smiling.

"Gundor Thunderborn," Alvon said when the drow departed.

"Just Hammer, please," the massive man said in a low voice.

"As you please. The Lady of the Harvest has spoken to me of you. You serve the Red Knight in your heart, is that true?" Hammer nodded. "Very good. Chauntea has a working relationship with your patron deity, and they have conspired together for your benefit. May I?"

Hammer acquiesced with another nod. The minister put his hand to Hammer's forehead and to his abdomen and chanted a prayer. At first, nothing happened. But, subtly, a warm glow formed in his chest and spread throughout his body. He felt...strength. Virility. Power. He felt his soul rising high.

"The goddesses bless you with the bounty of the earth. Your body is a great weapon, filled with strength and virility. Among your own people you would have sired many sons and daughters, all great warriors. Know that the Red Knight and Chauntea both favor you. Their divinity infuses you, a shard of which is now planted within you. It is a minor sliver; you are no Chosen, mind. But they walk with you wherever you go, even in this deep hole in the world."

Hammer felt himself taken aback. "Their divinity?" he said, and Alvon nodded.

"I know not what that entails, I only know what I have been commanded. Go in peace, Hammer. Go in confidence."

Hammer could barely find his voice. His heart thrummed. He bowed to Alvon. "My gratitude, first minister. I pray I prove myself worthy."

The warrior had seldom prayed to any goddess, trusting in Lura's judgment. But now, he figured, he should spend more time devoted to the Red Knight and now Chauntea. He knew little of the Great Mother, but knew that she was prominent among farmers. In their city life, he and Lura had known some couples to go to Chauntea's servants for blessings of fertility, in hopes of bearing a child.

That last thought stuck in Hammer's thoughts as he looked at Lura. The thought of bearing a child within her womb sent a shiver down his spine, in a not unpleasant way. She stood with the ministers of Sune and Corellon, her arms folded under her breasts, smiling at him as he approached with his ever-confident stride. He couldn't help but smile back at her.

He took her in his arms again, kissing her vigorously, claiming her as his lover. "Let us begin," he said to her and the ministers, never letting go of Lura.

*****

"Foolish girl!" Matron Mother Torviir screamed. Within the audience hall, her daughters—every one of them—were assembled. Myrynda Torviir was on both knees, her hands flat on the stone floor, face between her splayed fingers as her mother rained down wrath upon her.

"You let the Mourlefey cunt scare you away. You should have flayed her alive! The death of Kelaxle is unfortunate, he was an asset that proved worth time and again, but he is a male and will be replaced. You are costing me coin in that matter, but you are costing this entire House the favor of Lolth by losing your sister! Speak, insolent bitch!"

Myrynda didn't move from her position. She spoke into the floor, loud enough for her mother to hear. She recounted her sprint from Lolchrae to Menzoberranzan in exact detail. The trip had been fast and furious, for Lirafey had been on her heels the entire way. But Myrynda was a canny woman, and she eventually ditched her riding lizard—which had found its own way home—so that she could move on foot through the hidden ways of the Bazaar. The place was a microcosm of chaos, and she parsed its crowds expertly.

But Myrynda was not a fool, and knew she couldn't come home empty-handed, and what she had learned in the Braeryn—the slums of Menzoberranzan—was about to purge her of her shame.

"Matron Mother, I return to you not empty handed. We know Luriia was travelling with Lirafey Mourlefey. But we don't know how they separated. I learned of that event in the Braeryn from one of my informants."

"You keep informants in the Braeryn?" Nhil asked, leaning forward. Matron Torviir glared at Nhil for speaking out of turn, but only briefly. It was a good question, and she wanted to know the answer.

"'A spider must be know all the strands of its web, intimately.' That is one of the lessons I have been taught. I have bought informants all over Menzoberranzan, in every district and every outpost."

"You must be careful, my daughter," Matron Torviir said, but with a hint of respect. "Your ambition is appropriate, as my daughter, and I applaud your efforts. But learning to parse the good information from the bad will save you from future shame."

"My information aligns with what we know of Luriia," Myrynda said, lifting her face from the floor. She remained on her knees, but faced her mother now. "She was given to the Order of Apostates, by Lirafey Mourlefey."

Matron Torviir jumped from her seat. "Does Matron Mourlefey know of this?"

"No," Myrynda said, and the matron mother turned to the rest of her daughters. Her eldest, Briafyr, shook her head.

"We have no reason to believe Matron Mourlefey is in league with the Apostates. Her daughter's actions are hers alone."

"Indeed," Matron Torviir said. "But our position may be strengthened by this. To eliminate Mourlefey from her daughter's deeds, to implicate her entire family, would further consolidate our power within the alliance we have created."

"You are cunning, mother," Briafyr said, her voice filled with awe that Myrynda knew was more show than truth. "We can bring three Houses against one, perhaps even one of the Ruling Houses, gaining even more prestige! Our House will shine darker than all the rest!"

Matron Torviir patted her hand in the air to quiet her eldest daughter and turned to Myrynda.

"You have done well, it seems," she said, stepping down from her raised dais. Her gown was elegant and elaborate, with black diamonds sewn into the spider silk cloth. Her matronly figure was plainly apparent, for she rarely hid her charms, and never when amongst her daughters. "Come, kiss me."

Myrynda did, tasting Matron Torviir's tongue in her mouth, and doing her best to melt into her wicked Matron. In truth, she was not overly fond of Matron Torviir, but obeyed her out of necessity.

"I want you to find the Apostates. I want you to find our Luriia, your sister. Bring her home. Tell her that I will give her a chance to redeem herself in the conquest of House Mourlefey!"

Myrynda bowed, smiling, and left.

She was eager to see her sister again, and she knew just where to look.