Sufferance Ch. 11

Should I wait and see, or interfere? Was Shyntre likely to give anything away in a reaction in front of Auslan due to seeing me? Almost certainly. I just didn't know if it would matter. He didn't like me but I was interested in him. So what? That wasn't secret at all. The Consort already knew that.

More importantly, how good was Auslan had pretending he had never met me? Very good, yes, but I'd be catching him by surprise. Would I be causing undue risk to him by stepping out of the bushes? If Shyntre gleaned even a *thought* that Auslan and I knew each other....no, I couldn't risk that.

I had to go for the long-term benefit, here. I couldn't allow someone else to know that Auslan knew me, even if it meant the Consort learned more from Shyntre now than I'd like him to.

There were more frustratingly mute exchanges, but all I could gather was that Auslan was doing an excellent job slowly escalating the wizard's temper. He was poking at him similarly as he'd done me.

Then Shyntre shoved Auslan hard, hitting him in the chest and making him stumble backward. The Consort caught his balance but looked surprised at the strength of the wizard's reaction. I saw his hands come up as if he expected further violence and would have a response ready.

The sudden flare of arousal on my part caught me off guard, though I instantly knew I would *love* to watch my wizard and Consort wrestle and fight each other. Neither were trained fighters with little chance of lethal tactics, so it would not only be amusing watching them rolling around on the ground but also...

Hot. The very thought made me extremely hot.

My eyes remained fixed on the two males and I squeezed my crotch once just to soothe the sudden ache. Hello, new lust-dream...

"I'm guessing... hunting you like...done before."

I could finally either read or hear bits that Auslan was saying. Having been shoved and the now high tension between them seemed to make him a bit lax in his subtlety.

"What did...to catch her attention?"

I could have sworn I heard Shyntre grind his teeth at the question, even with the quiet rustles and low pitch of other living things surrounding me in the garden. He whispered as well, but his more vehement gesticulations raised his words to an audible level. "Don't be stupid, plaything. I exist! That's what I did!"

Auslan half-smiled but didn't take umbrage at the insult. "Why not ask Wilsirathon...?"

"I've already tried that...her protection is worth nothing..." came the bitter reply. "She uses me the same... still hands me over when they ask."

"...your headmaster at the Tower?"

The mage shook his head. "He works...that Elder Sister mage, you know that. He'll give her anything...this new Red Sister is one of hers."

The Consort pondered. "Have...considered simply submitting? Maybe she'll lose interest...only that you fight...she is enjoying herself, right?"

Shyntre started to shake his head. "No...you've never...with a Red Sister..." He growled shortly. "Don't tell me how to handle this. You've never been taken on anything but silk and wool!"

Auslan smiled, but without knowing what I knew, I wouldn't have seen the irony in it. On the contrary.. "....assuming the Matrons...some rather...odd tastes at times."

"Matrons don't practice their bedroom craft with intent to terrify the Nobles!"

Auslan seemed to concede the point by shrugging. "She's still young, Shyntre. Let her have you then lose interest...before she gains more rank."

"No," the wizard replied shortly.

"...that was the core...last time, wasn't it? ...higher the rank, the less resistance they can tolerate...in front of...."

"...to be known as one who can be taken any time...want? Especially to the youngest...."

Auslan sighed. "...tried to tell you...the longer you fight... you will have to supplicate...she'll stop looking at you. ....body will never be your own, the Red Sister...bore you and the Priestesses are the ones... possible for you. Why do you make it worse on yourself?"

"Because they don't deserve their power. If males ran things, you can bet we'd be more wise about using it!"

Auslan chuckled. "... so sure? ...nurturing type than I knew, you'd support and protect...better than they do us?"

Shyntre shook his head and folded his arms, not bothering to continue a topic that could only go into a philosophical realm. The Consort gave the wizard a few quiet moments before leaning forward just a bit more, and he said something that , sadly, I could not hear or read at all. I could only go off the wizard's response, which was to look down at his feet, his folded arms tightening against himself a bit more.

"I don't...to hear it..." the mage murmured, shaking his head.

"...you have to...I saw you standing...make a choice between them."

Shyntre trembled slightly. "...could always tell them...."

"You'd...explain why...waited so long...." Auslan's gaze was unwavering and his body exuded confidence. "Be satisfied...to see me torn...if you... Would you...same as them?"

The mage lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at the more beautiful Drow. His mouth tightened, and he shook his head. Auslan nodded back, seeming satisfied with the reply.

Damn it. If only the stupid bugs and creatures around me would stop their black noise! I wasn't even sure what I'd just heard but knew well by now that these two knew each other much better than just the Consort seeing the mage "occasionally" while growing up. I didn't know how often they communicated, but they were going over an older conversation they'd had before, when they'd come to some kind of agreement. Allies?

Maybe, or maybe just bonded by situation and happenstance, by necessity or a mutual secret. They were of close enough age to each other, and their social positions weren't dissimilar. Shyntre didn't fit in very well either in the Sanctuary or in the Tower with the other wizards, and Auslan didn't really fit in anywhere. Both were coveted by powerful females for different reasons.

Annoyed as I could choose to be that Auslan had opted to downplay his familiarity with Shyntre, I knew that if I were in his place, I couldn't imagine volunteering that information for nothing. Auslan was also trying to counsel the mage to be more open to my advances. I wasn't sure whether I liked that or not. Wouldn't it cut the hunt short and...?

Quite possibly make me less interested in pursuing him. That may have been true, if I hadn't overheard parts of this conversation. Now, knowing the reason in advance if Shyntre suddenly did become more pliable, he and I could have a very interesting conversation of our own. Shyntre wasn't that good of an actor, not like Auslan. He wouldn't be able to fake it. I smiled. I wasn't worried.

This actually made me feel even more intrigued. Both Kerse and Shyntre being at my trials and having a connection with Wilsira made sense; that had not been luck. D'Shea, if not Rausery as well, had started this when they'd sent Qivni to collect me, because they'd chosen my challenges. Even so, I also trusted my gut that D'Shea and Wilsira did not like each other, as much as they were required to share resources at times, and I meant to find out more about that.

My finding Auslan by himself on a small farm of solitude, and his having such a surprising connection to this same group of players...*that* had been sheer luck. That had been Lolth Herself nudging at the pieces and snickering to herself.

D'Shea knew all of this, though had kept so much so close to her chest...it was almost like she was modeling herself after the Spider Queen. Know and see, but watch the webs spin wider and wrap the players tighter. Sooner or later, we'd have to cut it and start over or not being able to move.

The wizard looked around the garden now, trying to spy any possible watchers. I remained still with my cloak covering me, and his senses missed me.

"Go back...can't stay out there....looking for the Priestess," he said.

"Try the nursery," Auslan smirked and turned around to leave. "Be wary."

******

I opted to beat Shyntre to the nursery; I already knew where it was and he didn't. Second floor, facing the front gate of the estate, it was a circle of interconnected rooms built to contain and protect everything a young Drow might need for the first years of life: reverie, food, cleanliness, education, entertainment, points of curiosity and beauty.

Ideally, the young of Nobility could be sequestered until their talents and potential became more obvious, and their learned behavior determined how soon they may be let out to wander farther afield with a governor or perhaps even their sire, or to meet guests and be in the presence of their Matron.

The nursery wing did have plenty of windows facing the front of the estate, though, and those inside could often be seen watching what went on outside. Only the extremely ignorant took care of any of their more discreet business in the front of any estate, where young eyes would always be.

The Itlaun nursery did contain one Drow child at the moment, a male much younger than his two pregnant sisters, and perhaps the Matron's final attempt at birthing a third daughter without more potent, magical assistance. I'd learned his name was Grelio, but because of his seeming to be an ordinary, fairly obedient Noble son, I hadn't seen much reason to watch him very closely.

I was therefore surprised to hear a subtle shuffle that led me to spot him now, folded into a tiny ball beneath on of the decorative tables in the hallway. His eyes grew very round when I kneeled down and peered at him. He was reacting at least to my weapons and the uniform, even if he did not necessarily know their significance.

Or maybe he did. The stories started early sometimes.

*Outside your nursery, boy?* I signed. *Why?*

*Demon... came in,* he answered hesitantly, one hand moving in unpracticed but understandable sign. *Woke...sneak out. No saw me.*

Impressive survival instinct, avoiding the Draegloth and staying so quiet. Grelio might actually have a chance for adulthood.

I nodded and signed back. *Only a demon? Anyone else?*

*Priestess,* he answered and hesitated.

*And?*

*Curgia.*

Excellent. I smiled at him. *Good boy. Stay here until they leave. If a wizard comes by, hide from him as well.*

He nodded, needing no further persuasion on that.

There were at least five different bedroom rooms, all on the small side but small ones didn't tend to need as much space. Grelio's room—the one with the unmade bed and a warmer scent—was wide open, and I walked through it leading to a small washroom, another empty room (though being prepared for newcomers), a miniature kitchen, and a third bedroom. Then I finally felt the itch at the edge of my senses; it was the fourth bedroom that was warded.

Frankly, if I'd known Wilsira would be so long occupied, I might have stayed and spoken with Auslan more...although then I wouldn't have discovered the alteration on the pendant now back around my neck, nor would I have been able to watch Shyntre shove Auslan as they talked to each other. Always a trade, it seemed.

As I reached out carefully for the door handle, I clearly felt the discouragement of the ward—and it was powerful. For a moment I wanted very much to walk away and not touch that door. I heard nothing at all, this fourth bedroom was no doubt empty, I was wasting my time...

Ah, but the pain that began to seep through my glove as I rested my fingers on the handle told me otherwise. Go away? I think not.

For now, my bracers helped protect me from most ill effects of wards, helped me see through the glamour that willed my departure, or the suggestion of pain in breaking the boundary. The magic of wards involved fooling the senses or tricking the mind; all Drow wards depended on overcoming the willpower of the intruder. That was where each Red Sister aimed to excel, with heightened senses and the willpower and endurance to surprise even the high ranking Priestesses.

With further teaching and experience, I knew I would gradually enhance my resistance to wards in general to the point where I could get into a room warded like this stark naked if need be. Alas, for right now, I needed the bracers. I'd already seen how Rausery was with offering powerful tools only to take them away and see how a Sister did when suddenly left without. Sooner or later I'd be tested on that, but I didn't fear that time. How else was I to achieve levels of mastery like my Leads and Elders?

This ward suggested more pain than any other I'd run into so far when I turned the handle and I began to tremble as I set my jaw and struggled to breathe slower.

No. Not real. The pain wasn't physical and was only as damaging to my mind as I let it be. My eyes scanned the tiny whorls and slashes on my bracers as I searched for the right combination of runes to bend the magic around me without dissipating it, and thus warning Wilsirathon I was about to enter.

Six individual symbols began to glow subtly between my right and left arm. I touched them in deliberate sequence: claw, net, stone, void, water, arch...

I turned the handle silently and pushed it open a crack. Nothing sounded, either in my head telling me I'd broken the magic or inside as if someone was startled. I saw no one in the nursery room by way of the crack so had no choice but to open it wider and peek around the edge to take in as much information as I could in the few seconds I had.

Kerse crouched in the far corner, his elbows resting on his thighs and his fingers interlaced. He was concentrating on his dam and Curgia and for the moment didn't sense me. He would if I passed completely through the ward, though, never mind simply being able to watch me enter.

I would have to pass all the way through, of course; I couldn't maintain this moment of limbo, kneeling in the center of a ward. The next second, I switched my gaze to the two Drow seemingly resting on a plush nursing couch, neatly surrounded by four candles. They were in the oddest position.

Curgia sat on Wilsira's lap with her back flush against the Priestess's chest, her legs open wide and feet barely touching the floor, nearly all of it covered by the full skirt of her gown. Wilsira sat with her back straight on the couch, her arms wrapped around the Noble and her bejeweled hands pressed flat against her rounded belly. Her own legs were hinted to be on the inside of Curgia's; I could make out the jut of her knees through Curgia's skirt, and her slippered toes were poking out of her robes, flat on the carpet.

Both of them had their eyes closed, and the pregnant Drow shivered and trembled, the rate and shudder of her breath mimicking either ecstasy or agony, I wasn't sure. Wilsira was still, her expression one of deep concentration.

I saw some symbolism in their position. Eight limbs, four eyes, swollen abdomen...maybe the spider motif wasn't intentional, but it was appropriate.

I was walking in on a ritual of some kind, I could see that much. I had the chance to back out with none the wiser, but I had to choose immediately: in or out?

Stay out and let Wilsira think I could not break her wards? Go in and prove beyond doubt I could perform my function as a Red Sister? Potentially force Wilsira to attack, or to lie, or something else unanticipated? Or back out and wait without rocking the boat, let her remain in control?

I went in. Wilsira no doubt already had a lie in place, as she always did. Better to force her to try it while not feeling safe and mentally prepared.

Kerse looked at me as I quietly closed the door and his eyes widened a little. I smiled and touched my index finger to my lips. I stood guard and watched, as I was supposed to; the ward was not painful on this side of the door.

The Draegloth look uncertain what do to as he looked between me and his dam. He did not want to disturb her, I could see, but still thought he should. I let him ponder this quandary on his own. I wouldn't very well try to direct him when I didn't know which would be better for him, or for me. Better he showed me more of his own hand, if possible.

Ultimately, Kerse chose a deliberate compromise: he crawled quietly across the room on feet and knuckles and moved in between me and his mother. His body blocked nearly all my view of the two female Drow on the nursing couch, and he was equidistant between us—neither threatening me nor interrupting the Priestess's work. He was not within physical reach of either of us.

I felt irritated that I couldn't see anything and tried a few careful steps to one side to see around him, but as I expected, Kerse shifted with me and kept his eyes pinned on me. Presumably he would continue to shift until either I got close enough to touch or one of us interrupted Wilsirathon. I sighed inwardly and resolved to wait this out to its natural conclusion.

Even not being able to see, I could hear Curgia quite well when she became distressed a short time later. She began protesting in a drunken murmur, gasping for more air; bodies shifted against fine cloth and upholstery, and the heat in the room picked up considerably.

"Please...please...no!" she cried, though it sounded more like she was talking in reverie, confused, her mind not entirely in the waking world.

Kerse didn't look away from me when the noise began; he hadn't all this time. He was an excellent guard. I did nothing to threaten him and tried to take note of everything that happened instead.

Soon I sensed the too-familiar taste of divine magic, now like an overly pungent and spicy spirit filling my nose, building pressure behind my eyes and causing me to wait in apprehension for that first clutch of arousal as magical residue diffused through me...

Over the next several moments, however, I grew accustomed to that potency, and the anticipated clutch of heat in my gut didn't come. For that I was grateful. The Draegloth had tilted his head inquiringly by the time I realized he had been watching my face and the discomfort I'd likely shown as the magic choked the air. I could do little but smile back.

Curgia still moaned but no longer formed actual words, and Wilsira had begun chanting under her breath. It wasn't in the Drow language; it sounded at once like the hissing of snakes and the blackest of curses rising as harsh echoes out of a deep earth chasm.

Abyssal. It had to be...and thinking now, it was not altogether unlike what I'd heard Qivni speak in order to send Kerse away from me at the worship ball. The undercurrent was also in Kerse's own Drow speech, subtle but ever-present.

The chant crackled along my nerves and sent a shiver down my spine, and I heard the Draegloth chuckle, very briefly. He wasn't smiling when I looked directly at him, though; he was breathing faster, more deeply. He shifted and champed his teeth briefly, physically responding to the rising surge of magic in the room—yes, I did see a change in tension behind his green loincloth, but his mane also began to stand up more and his muscles looked pumped and heated up as if he'd been lifting heavy objects for over a mark of the candle.

Uh-oh.

It may have been a little late, but I quaffed one of my own prevention vials right then and there. It wasn't an invitation for him—I would take great pains to avoid coupling in this nursery—but I was in a close, warded space witnessing a ritual I didn't understand and didn't mean to leave now. I simply had to be prepared for the possibility that the Draegloth may try to capture me under the influence of magic, might try to use force... and might succeed.

Kerse was huffing softly, flexing his hands and periodically dragging claws across the carpet, his shoulders slowly weaving. I could even sense his magic growing...or, no, wait.... After some concentration, I realized it was a loop, fed to him and back to his mother then back to him again. What Auslan had said about a Priestess losing her son to execution and what happened to her power...this supported it. I witnessed now to how the demonic half-breed amplified the Priestess's magic.