Sufferance Ch. 09

Grown, then, not a youth.

I had to turn then and start navigating the lizard over the rooftops; I'd lost sight of Wilsirathon and that wasn't good. The older, dying Drow continued mumbling but she got less and less coherent. Something about swapping unborn children, abominations, more eating and birthing and eating again. It painted a gruesome picture but I didn't know what to make of it.

Daelina continued to weaken, the slow poison finally catching up to her as I caught up to the carriage. Her ranting had stopped and it was only a matter of time before her breathing did as well. I didn't really have to do anything to her in order to "silence" her, and I didn't care to bring Wilsirathon any body parts when I could just bring her the whole thing.

Wilsirathon leaned out of the carriage when she heard me come alongside her again. She had been smiling and seemed about to say something but blinked at the body still slung over my mount. Then she frowned. When I came closer still, she leaned back, wrinkling her nose.

"What are you doing?"

"She's silenced, Priestess. I gathered you didn't want me to just leave her body smelling up the City streets for enemies to find?"

"And just what are we going to do with it, Red Sister?"

I shrugged. "Identify it? Report it?"

"I already know who it was. An annoyance, nothing more."

I smiled. "Aren't there others searching as well? She looks like a prisoner escaped."

The Priestess shook her head, bringing up a scented cloth to cover her nose and mouth. "I'll send a message once we reach our first destination. We don't have time now. If you would drop that diseased thing somewhere else and dispose of it, Red Sister? Maybe *your* immunity is heightened by magic, but your mount's isn't and neither is mine or Shyntre's."

A decent point. Daleina didn't smell healthy. The Priestess was right about my own strong immunity, though: it was a gift given from the Red Sister Prime when we earned our reds. We rarely became ill, even exposed to some of the seedier places of the Underdark. Not impossible for us to contract something, of course, but it wasn't the highest concern on our mind when we were hip deep in excrement—only sometimes figuratively. If we had to go there, we went there.

I chuckled and turned the lizard away from the coach, Daelina's head lolling and her body unmoving.

The population crunch loosened as we got out of the center of the City, and I stayed farther away from the carriage while keeping it in sight. My mount had to deal with the scent of dead flesh a little longer. A few times, he tried to turn his head back and nibble on a leg, but I struck his nose with a crop each time.

I no doubt held on to the body much longer than the Priestess preferred I did, but that was part of why I'd done it—as long as I had it, I could stay away from her because that's what she ordered.

I was also looking for a place that wouldn't poison a soil or water source, or sicken kept beasts which might find and eat it. It was more difficult than one might think finding such a place. The meat was not good for scavenging, after all.

At least it gave me some time to think.

If the rants were even remotely true—and I may yet find out if Wilsira knew something about this prisoner—then why steal a merchant and her grown daughter by force? It was not beyond the Priestesses' resources, but it seemed...clumsy. They could not have convinced the mother and daughter to come along willingly? They had to abduct one and blackmail the other into coming to see them? They had to do it in exactly the way to create the most rebellion and resistance possible?

It made little sense to me. Perhaps the old Drow had simply been insane for another reason, pushed to create her own personal cause, her own grief, and her own enemy on which to focus her rage—all in the delirium of her mistreatment and toxic blood. The symptoms of the poison, especially the stuttering, indicated a rough distilling of a particular mushroom that I rarely had cause to use in my line of work. It worked far too slowly and I had access to much better ones that incapacitated my targets in more precise and predictable ways. This one was cheaply made and sometimes the victim didn't even die because it required multiple doses.

As I said: a clumsy assassination. I knew the Priestesses had much better resources than to have to resort to what had been done to this Drow. All the physical details matched a mere unfortunate prisoner, condemned to die slowly—and it could have been for any slight, any rivalry, any revenge. If Wilsirathon hadn't acknowledged knowing of her, I'd have been willing to believe it had nothing to do with the Priestesses at all.

I stopped at an outcropping of bare rock as we crested a small hill and checked for a pulse one last time. I didn't find one so dismounted before pulling the dead weight off to lay it on the ground. I took an extra moment to check her body for any unique marks or items, but saw only the scars and found no possessions.

She couldn't be left for the scroungers, so I plucked out a small bottle of accelerant, dribbling a potent, clear liquid on the hair and clothing before switching out for simple flint and steel and climbing off my mount. I had received enough practice in the last year using this cheap method of gaining fire to get a spark ignited within a handful of seconds. It was a handy skill to have, though I'd never learned it as a Noble.

The lizard hissed as soon as it smelled the first wisps of smoke and I remounted quickly, moving away only far enough to watch and make sure the fire took. I had to look away when it flared suddenly to higher heat and began charring the flesh, and my eyes watered from the brightness I'd set in the enormous cavern. My nose and ears and skin all told me the fire was strong and would not go out until it had finished all its fuel, so I set to catch up again to the carriage.

******

We were headed to visit three different Houses. I learned this only after we'd only begun approaching the first one. We were to pay respects to the Matrons and Wilsira to discuss whatever business she had with them. We would be spending one reverie in each place, and two in pre-selected inns that knew how to cater to a traveling Priestess.

"It does make it more difficult to protect your body when I don't know where it is going earlier than this, Priestess," I'd commented at her window.

She chuckled. "You failed to ask earlier."

"Ah, but I did ask, Priestess. You failed to answer."

She gave me a sardonic grin. "I don't fail, I choose."

"I'll bear that in mind, Priestess."

She harrumphed. "You responded most creatively to that threat back at the City. I don't think long planning would help much, as it changes often. That's why I have faith in the Red Sisters' training."

Undoubtedly.

"She was no threat, Priestess," I said blandly. "Just loud."

"Well, we like quiet, don't we?"

"So who was she?"

Wilsirathon sniffed. "Why would I know?"

"You said so, Priestess. An annoyance, as I recall."

"That's what all prisoners are."

I tilted my head; she sounded like a Noble-nosed bubble head. "You're smarter than that, Priestess."

Finally she seemed to drop whatever attitude she'd been trying for and narrowed her eyes at me. "Not open for discussion, Red Sister. Now mind your tongue and your duties."

Given that Shyntre was staring at us from deeper inside the coach, I got the message and dropped it. I had enough ammunition from Daleina's own mouth to start it up again anytime I wished.

Our first stop that eve was House D'Verin, the Ninth House at present, and the closest one to the City. They had also been the Noble Family who had previously been gifted Auslan, back when I'd found him on that tiny farm the previous year. As I recalled, D'Verin had been awarded a different Consort at the most recent worship ball, the one with purple eyes.

This solidified for me part of the web of connections to which I was always adding. Wilsirathon connected to House Illuen, who was given Auslan, but previous gifted to D'Verin—which was now also being visited by the same Priestess who awarded him to Illuen. Obvious, yes, and hardly secret—I was not the only one taking notes at the worship ball—but I wasn't sure how many Nobles or Matrons knew whether a particular Priestess watched over a particular Consort.

That was what I was trying to find out. I didn't know who had awarded Auslan to D'Verin in the first place; that would have been a decade ago and, while I had been there at the time, I hadn't noticed a damned thing. I'd been too busy stuffing my cunt with glee deep in the audience. That could be an indication that only a few younger Nobles really paid attention to the motives beyond status, reward, and breeding—or only that I was unusual enough to in my appetite to draw the attention of another order entirely.

It was probably the latter.

This gave me ample warning as well that we may be heading to House Illuen on this tour. Wouldn't that be a balancing act? Curgia and Auslan, who both knew my face, with Wilsirathon and Shyntre. All of us in the same spot.

If I didn't know better, I would think the Priestess knew about my spying on her and Curgia, and of my connection with the Consort, and she was doing this on purpose. But I had reason to think she didn't know about my second run-in with Kerse at the ball, which meant she likely also didn't know that I'd watched him breed Curgia.

There was also no way she could know about Auslan unless he'd betrayed his agreement with the Sisterhood. If he hadn't, then it was just coincidence. Granted, not a coincidence that helped my situation, but I wasn't about to get paranoid before I had more evidence from somewhere that I should worry.

Ideally, though, Curgia and Auslan shouldn't see me with Wilsirathon. That would only make things more difficult...

"I can appreciate keeping me on display like a grand gesture, Priestess," I said through the window as we rolled along the road. "But may I suggest I do what I do best and watch from shadows while you deal?"

"Nonsense," she replied. "How would you guard my body being in another room spying from a peephole? You are a far greater deterrent when they can see the reds, my dear, and far more effective at your function if you can cover me in an instant."

She had the stronger argument, I had to admit. Perhaps there was no real way to avoid being seen by those at House Illuen.

What I was concerned about, however, was Wilsirathon gleaning much more information about some of the Sisters' recent doings at that House and unveiling Auslan as compromised. Oddly, I didn't worry about Auslan himself giving it away; he was skilled at what he did and plenty smart enough to see the layers, given what he knew.

It was Curgia that concerned me. She wasn't a quick study in the first place, and she did not have the benefit that the Consort had of knowing some of the background and having a lot more to lose. If her first sight of me made it clear that she'd seen me before, Wilsirathon probably wouldn't let it go until she knew why.

That could get messy, rather quickly.

"As you wish, Priestess."

"Not thrilled, I see," she said playfully. "Am I that distasteful? Or too old for your taste, perhaps?"

I gave her an odd look, then smiled. "Not at all, Priestess. I'm sure even Shyntre would agree with me, you carry your wisdom well. Do you dance?"

She laughed, and for an instant I wondered whether it had been genuine. "Every cycle."

If nothing else, I pulled up the cowl on my cloak to establish a pattern going to the first House, so by the third House it would not be thought twice.

"Ah, adding mystery," she said smoothly from the coach. "I approve. I hadn't realized you were so shy after your stunt in the City, Sirana."

I chuckled, part of my periphery blocked by the cowl but with the trade that, as she'd said, there was more mystery around my face. "You tease, Priestess. I only consider my own Elders' wisdom here."

"Indeed." She sounded intrigued and I was sure the wizard leaned forward. "What wisdom is that?"

"Always leave the Nobles wondering who is watching."

******

I found that I rather enjoyed being exempt from all social expectations. While Wilsira and Shyntre did all the bowing and gestures and traditional words at House D'Verin, I could just stand and watch. I was not introduced, and no one asked my name; furthermore, few spent more than a moment looking at me before their eyes drifted somewhere else. Most of my weapons were covered by my cloak, my hands just out of view as I stood near to Wilsirathon—but not too near.

I was the dragon in the room, and everyone ignored it.

The disadvantage was that no one was behaving naturally, and all were watching their words carefully. The chances of me learning anything useful or truly secret were almost nil, and I had to work harder to occupy my mind and keep from becoming bored or complacent. It was amusing, seeing them shift and turn over every word that left their mouth for possible offense, but...it would grow old quickly.

The main interaction of interest for me was when the Priestess asked to see their Consort. They brought the beauty down promptly enough for me to know that he had been waiting for the summons, and he stood before the Priestess so she could see he was still in excellent health. He looked like he could have been Auslan's cousin, although his eyes tilted differently, and of course they were that fetching lavender color that I'd only seen in silk before.

The Matron D'Verin had caught from him quickly, it seemed, the bump at her middle only somewhat smaller than Curgia's as I'd seen last. Neither of her daughters were pregnant, however, and from the covetous looks on their faces, I was guessing the Matron was keeping the Consort to herself.

It did occur to me as well to keep an eye out for a young Drow here that may have been sired by Auslan the previous decade. Such a one would probably be kept to a nursery and not included in any adult conversations, so it wasn't likely I'd see her, or him. But I was still curious.

Soon we retired to the library where only the Priestess and the Matron—and me and Shyntre—were present to discuss some plans and goals for House D'Verin where the Court was concerned. I did pay attention to that. The short of it was weighing the potential magic ability in Daughter Number Four versus the beauty and charm in Son Number Three in trying to gain access to some part of House Number Eight's financial records.

Matron D'Verin had a very large family compared to mine. No wonder we had been slipping when I'd left; we didn't have the resources of these higher Houses.

But then, that was assuming that they were all working together—which would have been a fantastic tale. It was a given there was competition within the family, and the larger the family, the more potential for failures due more to self-sabotage than being out-witted by the adversary.

The thought that the upper Houses maybe retained their power because they in fact took fewer actions overall—letting those hungrier below them eat and stumble over each other—was a theory that made me laugh.

I could see more of my Sisterhood's strengths in how we were trained as well. It didn't negate our nature or our upbringing, but at least we could put the mission first before we turned on each other for rank within our "family." Even then, we wouldn't kill each other. There was a cohesion there that was lacking in the Noble Houses, possibly because we had the right outlet, and the right tools given to could fuck out all our frustrations. The natural mentality of anyone chosen had to be compatible with the Sisters, of course; the drive for sex had to be high regardless, if not the highest of motivations, or it wouldn't work.

I reflected, looking briefly between the Consort and equally untouchable Shyntre, that after missions like this one, no wonder Jaunda had returned only wanting to mount the youngest Red Sister she could find. I could think that my supplying the mounting, even with various levels of consent, had strengthened the bond between a veteran and one less experienced. Somehow it still kept us whole.

No demons but us, because with each other we could be free of the constraints elsewhere—such as here, in this situation. Protecting a Priestess I'd rather see attacked, with long cycles watching and unable to prowl much around a wizard for whom I'd been searching a year now, and forbidden from such distraction even with a more forgettable male—all after being felt up by three Draegloth and gaining no release from it.

I really needed a good rut to clear my head. If Wilsirathon knew this (she likely did), then she'd chosen her traveling companions well. This was only the first cycle, and I could look forward to very little sleep.

"Good. We agree, then," Wilsirathon said, uncurling herself from her comfortable chair. "Now if you'll excuse me, Matron, I believe I will take a brief respite before we dine. It was a tiring ride here."

Matron D'Verin stood along with her and bowed her head. "Certainly, Priestess. We look forward to the grace of your company. Please allow our serving boy to show you to your quarters. They are even more comfortable than last time." Our hostess paused. "Are you sure you would not prefer separate quarters for your wizard? I can provide them."

"I am sure, he will stay with me. Goddess blessing, Matron."

As we were led down the spacious and decorative hallways of the House, I proved almost more distraction than our poor serving boy could handle. Barely an adolescent Drow, he kept looking at me in brief, darting glances, perhaps trying to see farther into my cowl, even to the point of nearly leading us down the wrong path.

"This way, boy," the Priestess said irritably. "I know where I rested last time."

"Y-yes, Priestess. Forgive me." When he finally found the correct door, he unlocked it, went inside to make sure no one else was there, and returned out, handing the key to the Priestess. "The call cord is by the bed...um...should you need anything else...uh...Priestess."

He'd looked twice at me, and forgotten his speech twice. I supposed it didn't reflect too well on the Matron and preparing her selections on who would serve whom. I wondered if the Priestess would complain just to cause trouble for the boy?

Wilsira looked directly at me with a level of amusement that only barely covered her initial irritation. "Perhaps you should simply take him, Red Sister, and satiate his curiosity."

Fear flashed across his wide eyes as he swallowed and his face emitted a lot more heat all of a sudden. He began to stutter something when Wilsira cut him off.

"About your duties. Before you irritate me further."

"Yes, Priestess!" He bowed and left quickly on both counts.

Only after I'd swept the room a second time and called the two of them in, only after she'd closed and locked the door, did she laugh out loud.

"Oh, my," she chortled. "I am rather enjoying having you at my side, Sirana. And bravo for staying so silent. I've never seen so many off their game before. Even the Matron was easier to guide in our conversation than she's ever been. Perhaps I will have to get a Red Sister for my future journeys as well!"

Like the Abyss she would.

"We're rather busy most of the time, Priestess," I said.

"Never too busy for repayment of favors, I'd wager."

"Overuse us as escort, and it will cease to have that effect," I shrugged.

"I'll enjoy this to the utmost, then." She sighed and moved over to where her trunks had already been place for her convenience. She murmured a command word and I heard something click before she lifted the top. She began to undress, placing her things gently inside the trunk as she removed a few others; soap, towels, a silver brush.