Sufferance Ch. 09

"Priestess."

He straightened up and saw me. We both went absolutely still.

*Fuck me to the Abyss and back...*

"You are right on time, Shyntre," the Priestess said with a wide, beautiful smile, her copper eyes twinkling. "It is good to see you again."

I was rather glad I had an excuse not to speak since she had not addressed me; I had some time to recover from the shock of seeing him. My wizard, on the other hand, had to wrench his attention from me back to her and take a breath. It shook a little.

"And you, Priestess. Always a pleasure to serve you."

Except this time, perhaps. His eyes were furious though he kept his hands closed against any gestures.

My only true advantage to this was that my wizard was just as surprised as I was. It meant Wilsirathon didn't trust him enough to bring him in on the plot ahead of time, and if I knew his mind well enough, he'd think Wilsira had chosen me to deliberately mess with him, not the other way around. He'd think that he was being punished or challenged, not me.

When he looked at me again, I winked and grinned. I would have loved to watch his body's responses in the dark. Oh, Lolth, this was going to be interesting. If I was aroused before inside the Draegloth chamber, my blood was fairly singing in excitement now.

"You two have met already?" Wilsira asked, now sounding very amused. "Or shall I introduce you?"

Our respective sexes and our mouths were certainly familiar with each other, but—

"We've never been formally introduced, Priestess," I said, looking at her with an equally amused smile. "If you would?"

"Of course. Sirana, this is Shyntre, son of the Wizard's Tower and an accomplished scholar," she nearly cooed. "He has been studying for well over a century, and his specialties include invisibility, as I believe you're aware, but also short-time evocations, gem-imbuement, shielding and scrying."

She observed me so carefully as she spoke that I wondered if Shyntre wouldn't deduce himself that I was the target of her attention, not him. Perhaps the only reason he didn't notice was that he was clearly angry that I was simply being *given* his strengths and skills, and I wouldn't have to find them out the hard way. I might have doubted her on some points, except that Shyntre's response was so genuine that I had to take it as she said.

What had happened to make this one so angry? No Priestess liked to be glared at by a petulant male; why was it being ignored, now?

I gave a little bow to the wizard. "A pleasure to be introduced at last."

"Shyntre," the Priestess continued, looking to him just as he forced some better control over his expression to make it much milder. "This is Sirana of the Red Sisters. She's been a mere year with them thus far, but talented in the martial arts prior to that or she would not have been selected for their tests. I trust you'll understand my not divulging her particular specialties—"

Perhaps because she didn't know them.

"—although you're aware of their reputation for having insatiable carnal appetites, I'm sure."

Now that was a bit much, perhaps. I could be satiated. It was more that we had far greater endurance and a quicker physical response than the norm. We were expected to spy and attack in that manner as well.

Shyntre bowed stiffly. "Well met, Red Sister."

"I should say this clearly now, Sirana," Wilsira said looking directly at me, "that since you are both on duty at all times watching for my welfare, you'll not take your pleasure with him on our tour. Surely you can control yourself that long?"

"No need to disrespect the Sisterhood's competence or training, Priestess. I can, surely."

"No disrespect intended, but you *are* the youngest, after all."

No longer, I remembered, and made a mental sigh as I again thought of how I'd *still* rather be back at the cloister as Jael's initiation went on—even with Shyntre here. Wilsira wouldn't allow me to begin my vengeance on him now, so even that could wait a little longer.

"Have no fear, Priestess. Shyntre's various qualities will not distract me."

"Excellent, my guardian. I shall be most pleased with your service, then."

Finally it seemed as though the wizard was catching up; he looked far less angry and much more thoughtful as he listened to us and looked at me. I still smiled at him. Regardless of the restrictions and my preference for Jael over him, I could still see potential in having him so near to hand for several cycles. I could still learn much.

I wondered how long it would take him to ask for his blue sapphire back?

As our preparations continued and we approached the time to leave the Sanctuary, I began to wonder whether D'Shea had been wrong and Wilsira had no intention of bringing Kerse along on this trip. I hadn't seen him at all and she hadn't mentioned him since we'd talked about him in the Abyssal chamber. What might it indicate if she didn't? That she didn't trust either his or her own responses to me? That she intended to spring him on me at some point, as she did the wizard?

And speaking of the wizard, I wondered now how often Shyntre might have served this particular Priestess. They knew each other from before, but I didn't know whether it was possible Wilsirathon had chosen the male Drow for my trials. Why would she? No, that made no sense; her influence wouldn't reach to the Tower or Army selections... unless I was missing something.

I knew precious little about the wizard's past; where he had come from, of what House, if any. I was only guessing that he had been involuntarily moved to the Tower when his magical aptitude became known. It may not even be a far leap to think he might have originally come from the Sanctuary. It might explain his intense but impotent rage of a kind I'd never really seen in a male of "normal" society. It might also explain why he went dead silent when I'd had him in my arms before; when he realized I knew nothing about him.

A former, fallen Consort, perhaps? He wasn't quite beautiful enough, I thought. Or a Priestess's son? Or both, sort of a "failed attempt" to breed a Consort? I didn't truly know just which wombs were used to breed the Consorts, after all; it was a well-kept secret, even though I had figured for a while now that the Priestesses had more than enough vanity to consider themselves the prime choice. It might also explain his particular hatred for the Red Sisters, being birthed and raised by Priestesses. "Your kind," he'd called us, voice full of derision and distaste. Somehow the thought of his having grown up fully in open society didn't fit him; either he had been taken away from his mother very young, or he'd never been out there. Even by Drow standards, he was warped.

When I ultimately got my chance to interrogate him—not likely on this trip, but it could help develop my plans if I was successful—I might get just as much pleasure extracting answers from him as I would using his body against his will.

"So what methods do you have for protecting the Priestess?" I asked Shyntre as we stood together, watching Wilsira move around her carriage inspecting it herself. We had already done so but if she wanted to look herself, but all means.

"You didn't listen, Sister?" he said, just short of the tone where I'd have had the excuse to strike him. "I can perform shield and invisibility spells."

"And short-time evocations. And imbuing gems. Tell me about both those."

As I watched his angry face in better light then I'd ever seen it before, he was actually fairly beautiful, just nowhere near Auslan's level. He'd look better if he smiled once in a while. For the first time I could determine his eye color; a dark, crimson red somewhat like Rausery's, although his contained flecks of gold. He also looked a bit familiar in the shape of his eyes and mouth, but I wasn't sure where—or even whether—I'd seen the traits before or if he just looked like someone I'd known. I had many male faces with which to compare his, after all.

Shyntre breathed out. "The first is a simpler form of evocation that can be cast in a fraction of the time. The effects are normally small but if played right, can be nearly as deadly or distracting."

"Like whatever you threw at my head in the Tower?" I asked with a smile.

He grumbled. "Yes. It would have stunned you for several moments if it had struck you."

"It wouldn't have stopped me, dear wizard," I said sweetly. "You'd have still been dragged along the floor. Although nice to have a better idea of the level of damage we can do to each other and expect not to be killed for it, hm?"

I saw him swallow. "It was all I could cast at the time."

"Making excuses? Are you trying to say you didn't *think,* wizard?" A quiet laugh escaped me and he shot me an annoyed glance.

"You don't know enough of magic, I see," he said haughtily.

"Then tell me about the gems. Can you imbue any stone or gem? Onyx, sapphire, quartz? What do you imbue them with?"

He looked at me and his eyes flared with heat as he stressed the first word. "Sapphires... are quite good for imbuing. Quartz it too brittle. And only certain spells use onyx."

"What do you do with them?" I asked.

"It's like having a spell, or the strength to cast one, suspended in time and available call on demand, but only those with at minimum the ability to call Light or Darkness could use them. They are hard to make and expensive," he added quickly, "that's why you don't see imbued gems scattered across the City. Mostly I am called on to make light, healing or beautification gems, or one for simple stored energy. The Valsharess has forbidden highly destructive gems to be made and the materials are difficult to collect anyway."

"Talented wizard," I cooed, smiling slowly and suggestively at him.

He lifted one nostril. "So mere talk of my work arouses you?"

"The simple fact that you are breathing arouses me, Shyntre." I reached to pinch his backside but he stubbornly refused to react by flinching or jumping.

"How mindless," he commented. "But only what can be expected of your kind, isn't it?"

"Thank whoever taught you to feast between female legs so well. I'd like to see what else you can do with that mouth."

He didn't have time for a reply as Wilsira called to us and I responded well before he did, striding away from one enemy toward another.

The carriage was loaded and stocked for a seven-day journey, just in case. The spidery black metal of the wheels were well-formed with suspension capable of absorbing shocks on the road. There was a decorated enclosure with padded cushions for the Priestess and up to three more to sit in comfort, the carriage's rear and underside balanced with what she was carried with her.

The four beasts pulling this load weren't lizards; they didn't have the back muscles for this. We used a species of more rare omnivores in the Underdark, Uroans—rare because of the expense needed to keep them fed. Four-legged with wide, clawed feet, and capable of keeping a gallop for brief periods and maintaining a brisk walk for eternity, they possessed broad shoulders, short necks and faces, and a soft, moisture-sloughing brown coat we rarely needed to trim. The snouts barely long enough to root in the dirt for additional nibbles and the eyes small and mostly useless. They guided themselves by smell and possessed excellent balance—and our harnesses gave them direction.

The Priestess and the wizard both got inside the carriage and still I did not see Kerse. I had to decide that he wasn't coming after all, which would help provide fewer distractions, but also possibly less information as well.

The Drow driver climbed atop the carriage to guide the beasts, and I was given a lizard to ride alongside them—Wilsirathon wanted me seen by the public, apparently, and I didn't debate with her the wisdom of maintaining any element of surprise. I could believe that Wilsirathon only wanted the entertainment of being escorted by both me and the wizard on this tour and our respective functions were a mere precaution. She wasn't expecting any sort of real trouble or danger.

Not that I wouldn't be a fool and a failure as a Red Sister to think I could let down my guard. A bored and jealous Priestess with no outside danger to distract her? More than enough reason to put myself on high alert, regardless of my teasing and flippant attitude toward both of my traveling companions. Let them think everything rolled off my back easily as water; I would not have my own emotions used against me if I could help it.

I was definitely not used to being so visible as we moved down from the rulers' rise and into the winding streets of the City itself; it seemed nearly every passersby noticed me riding alongside the coach. They knew well what a Priestess carriage looked like even if they might not know who was inside, but a Red Sister riding in plain view with it apparently wasn't an everyday occurrence. Some stopped in their tracks, some slowly retreated while trying to be discrete about it, others only watched warily as they moved on their business. Only the very young pointed at me, often right before an adult slapped their hand.

"Do not raise your hand in such a manner," I heard one mother hiss, shaking the youth's arm. "They assume you are preparing to attack and they kill disobedient children like you!"

Well. A few other factors went into that deduction and ignorant child deaths were far more rare than those of the adults, who usually earned it, but who was I to interfere in some traditional passing on of legend when it maintained my order's reputation?

I noticed now, much more than I had as a Noble, how many non-Drow slaves, servants, and independents which were present as well, and what kind. Gnomes and their distant relatives, the Peches, a few rare Duergar—hard-earned slaves from the look of it—but many more of their weaker, lesser relatives, the Derro.

Different from all of them were the fish-headed Kuo-toa, an aquatic race that worked hard to maintain mutually beneficial relations with us by trading deep water resources for those of agriculture and mining. Drow were still the majority of any single race on the streets, at perhaps five out of ten. Still, there were a lot of individuals that were integrated and useful in the City, likely the very reason Wilsirathon could lounge so pleasantly in an elegantly designed carriage pulled by four Uroans in the first place.

Drow worked and plotted, but we had also found many ways to take advantage of the greater productive capabilities of other races, if we could find out what it was they wanted most.

"S-SPEED FOR A CLIFF, M-MONSTRESS!"

I looked toward the stuttering shout, pegged its owner, and evaluated quickly: a female Drow in a thin, dirty gown, middle-aged, hair shorn very messily, no weapons but for a tired, old eating knife in her right hand; her energy was extremely unhealthy and her gestures unfocused.

No threat.

Wilsira leaned cautiously out her window as the driver slowed the carriage. I looked up and around, just in case this was a distraction for something bigger.

"L-LOLTH'S WHORE IN THAT C-CARRIAGE! M-MAY YOU ROT IN THE B-BELLIES OF D-DRIDERS!"

The Priestess frowned and said to me, "Silence her."

I quirked an eyebrow but withdrew my crossbow pistol and aimed it without reply. Those on the street moved fast, darting to get out of my line of fire, and the crazy Drow was just within range. I fired at her feet, and my second packet of sneeze powder burst open quickly enveloping her. She not only sneezed but was caught in alternating choking and coughing as well. She must have inhaled as much as was even possible; that, or she was truly in bad condition. She dropped her dull knife to the ground.

After the cloud had dissipated enough, I pricked the lizard forward in its customary burst of speed, bearing down on the dissenter and plucking her up by the hair. She shrieked as I folded her over my saddle and kept moving into the inky shadow of an alley. Once out of sight, I directed the lizard up, selecting a fairly easy path for it to climb as I held on to her tightly. She smelled as though she hadn't bathed in a long time.

I stuffed a cloth into the older Drow's mouth, which at least muffled her ranting and squealing as we climbed. In perhaps twenty seconds, I had enough height to still be able to see the Priestess's carriage while at the same time fewer on the street could see me—if they even knew where I'd gone with my victim—and none could interfere. Meanwhile, the driver continued moving forward without me; a good move, but I had maybe thirty seconds before I'd have to start jumping across smooth and curved rooftops to keep them in sight.

"Pshshesh dugh!" the squirming female said through her gag.

"What?" I chuckled, pulling the soggy cloth out and stuffing it between her dress and shoulder in case I needed it again. I certainly wasn't putting it back on my belt.

"P-Priestess's dog!" she spat again. "She s-sent you to find me?"

"Who's she?" I asked.

"The c-cunt who f-fed my child to the Abyss! She didn't d-do anything wrong! My d-daughter...!"

She sobbed, her jaw quivering as she struggled to breathe over the saddle. She tried to get up and I pressed my hand to her back. It took little effort on my part to control her; she was very weak. The constant stuttering, the way she trembled, and the fever coming off her body all implied she'd already been poisoned.

"And you are?"

"J-just kill m-me! N-need my ears a-as p-proof, h-huh?"

Something like that. I glanced at where the carriage moved down the street. No troublesome figures followed them, and only now were individuals cautiously coming back out from where they'd hidden when I'd charged forward to snatch my prisoner.

"Give me your name, and the name of your enemy," I said. "Maybe you'll live."

Except she wouldn't. We both knew that.

She wept as I'd never seen a Drow weep before, and just then I could see naturally-healed lash marks peeking out from her neckline. I hooked one finger to lift it up so I could see farther down her back. I saw actual scar tissue marring her flesh and obstructing the normal flow of life energy. It would have taken weeks to form those, and the entire time healing draughts had to have been kept out of her reach.

"Answer me. Your name."

"Daleina...M-merchant."

"And the cunt in the carriage you want to see die?"

My writhing prisoner growled. "T-Tushendathon."

That was a title, and not a Drow I knew personally. Nor was she the Priestess I was protecting right now. Mistaken identity. I thought as much, although it wasn't out of the question that Wilsirathon might still be involved somehow. "And, again, what did she do to your daughter?"

"Ab-abducted r-right off the street! Know it was h-her because...received a s-summons. W-wouldn't p-pay so was whipped and k-kept."

"And they just released you, Daleina?"

"N-no...I escaped."

"When?"

"Y-you know! S-sent you...only m-marks ago... P-poisoned my l-last meal, assumed I'd die of it in p-prison...I d-didn't! Now—"

"Now you've gone insane to be yelling at a Priestess carriage on a street corner."

"I w-wanted them to know! I w-want them—" This was followed by an incoherent wail and she shook her head as if trying to dislodge a spider that had crawled in her ear.

"Know what, Daelina?" I said, taking her hair to force her face to look toward me. Her eyes and cheeks were sunken, her eyes dull and flicking unfocused at all points around her.

"T-they're f-feeding them...our ch-children...to...d-demons..."

"How old was your daughter?" I was hesitant to take her description literally; she was out of her mind and probably hallucinating from the poison and abuse. An age might make a difference in possibilities.

"S-she just ch-chose a sire...wanted...ch-ildren...her own..."