Sufferance Ch. 13

As D'Shea strengthened her spell and my sight faded as the energy became much higher, I was vaguely aware of the deep blue stone starting to glow and become hot in my palm. After a time, it felt as though the magic had somehow...changed.

The undersong of the spell altered its pitch and I felt a rough shift inside my head, a disharmony as the essence of the spell was transformed. I had cried out softly, I thought, but D'Shea shushed me.

"Shh, do not panic. You know how it should feel. Tell me if we've got it right."

The power felt...tasted...psionic, somehow. Like Kain, coming from inside. And I wasn't even wearing the Feldeu.

Her voice was also not at my ear; it was inside it, in my head, clear as a speaking voice. The voice held pure thought, the way the Duergar and that unknown voice had, though D'Shea herself forced her thoughts through a sieve of words, to define them because she was not familiar with this type of sharing.

Truthfully, neither was I. I was only beginning to learn.

I thought an affirmative, and she attached the equivalent words to it: "Yes, it feels right."

"Good. Now let us try something..."

The magic lurched painfully against some block inside us—inside her—as she tried to speak again. Now even she must've moaned aloud. I hadn't known the block was there until she touched it; she had tried to tell me something, and it had hurt both of us.

"Help..." She didn't know what to do against the block, that woven membrane separating some part of her from the rest.

"Relax," I whispered. I remembered the way Lana's presence had flowed into me before, the sudden bond that was like water rushing in to fill an empty vessel, when we were one and the same. "Let me inside..."

This was very difficult for her to do, but when I sensed a thin spot in the block, I started pushing against it, until I was...well, flowing through it. The membrane was not designed to repel psionics as it did magic, and though it did not break entirely—whatever power had placed it there remained—it was enough.

For the first time, I ended up on the other side when someone else's defenses had faltered, not the other way around. D'Shea's deepest thoughts... I was surprised to find something beyond drive, ambition, and the desire for power.

I found regret, pain, helplessness, anger...a private dungeon of solitude that had been there for a marked time, though not the whole of her life.

"Yes, Shyntre is my son," she said. "He was supposed to have been my daughter. The Priestesses changed that and Wilsira was the spearhead of the plot. She is the last remaining one involved who draws breath."

I felt the elation that she felt then: she had been able to say it! She was astonished that it had worked, that she had finally formed those words somehow, in some form. She could not speak them, sign them, write them, or message them...but...

"I have only now found this way to speak, to tell you through the psionic gift you acquired. Somehow the nature of it...bypasses the divine compulsion."

"Go on, Elder," I coaxed, feeling both her excitement and when she focused again.

"You remember, I told you they can select for the sex as they breed the Consorts."

"But... you had already conceived by Phaelous, hadn't you?"

"Yes."

"How is that possible, then? They could not simply weigh the seed in favor of a male at that point."

"It took an old and dangerous ritual to accomplish it, and I was not aware of her intent when I arrived at the Sanctuary. When I understood she meant my unborn ill, I was not willing to undergo any ritual, Sirana. It was forced early in my pregnancy. When Wilsira succeeded, I could not speak of it while she lived."

The mental images were frightening—my own imaginings based on my experiences on the altar, not hers. Oddly, she did not seem to have clear, specific memories of the ritual or even where she'd been; there were only flashes of pain and the sure knowledge that it had taken place.

"How did you know what the sex was supposed to be?"

I felt the mental equivalent of a steadying breath. "I must back up. I was a high-ranking Lead, Sirana, not an Elder yet. My...attraction to Phaelous was surprising, to say the least, and the conception unintentional. But we performed a divination spell before my Elder found out and told the Prime. I had to know so I could start planning. Our vision saw a daughter."

"And Wilsira? Why would she attempt such a thing?"

"She heard of the Valsharess granting the Prime first claim on my child, should the vision prove accurate and it was female. This was a first; the Sisterhood would keep one of their own daughters. She simply did not want the Sisterhood to gain the female offspring of two powerful mages. The full power of the compulsion she placed on me was that not only could I not speak of the ritual or accuse Wilsira, but I also could not deny it if someone suggested the vision was inaccurate, as that is not unheard of."

Which meant, to me, that it still could have been inaccurate the entire time. I shuddered regardless. I felt her frustration and her rage, her inability to act against the one who'd taken much from her. So familiar; I had been in her place before.

She continued. "As well...I cannot be near the boy without feeling ill as well. Wilsira did everything she could to claim my child and get away with it. The only action I can take against her is through others."

Her vehemence, which I felt through the mental bond, suggested neither affection nor possessiveness for that lost child, but sharp awareness of the loss: the chance to feel either, to know anything about him through interaction, to gain any insight or build any loyalty. It felt as if he had been standing on the other side of an unbridgeable chasm from her for the entirety of his life.

He was aware of it as well, but didn't know the true reason why. He blamed her, and she had to accept that blame because she could not deny it.

"You feel...ill?" I asked.

"I have rarely been in the same room with him since he was born. I feel nausea that makes my knees weak, fever, fading vision, the constant threat of unconsciousness when he is in proximity."

This stunned me. It explained what Rausery had said..."she doesn't want him, never did." The blunt Elder would assume that D'Shea's actions—abruptly leaving the room when Shyntre entered, avoiding him at all costs, never speaking to him—were those of a resentful mother who was extremely bitter not to have been given the daughter her vision promised.

D'Shea could not say otherwise until Wilsirathon was dead. It had been two hundred years.

"Shyntre has given me some pride with his choices, though he does not know it. I see the irony that most choices were likely made only to spite me. But he sees Wilsira for what she is and chose the Sisterhood over her in the end. He appealed persistently to gain our attention from the Sanctuary and from the Tower.

"Eventually, Rausery wanted to create a trial of some kind for him, to test him. I think it was more for entertainment, but also given that he was so stubborn and had no solid anchor in any one spot, she considered him similar to some of our recruits.

"'Perhaps he could be more use to us than them,' she said.. Rausery had to admit he held up better than she expected, and he engaged her further by showing interest in the Surface and finding a little more information in the Tower libraries about it than she knew.

"He also gained some further favor from the Prime the last time he faced the Valsharess. He had bourn witness to an assassination in the Sanctuary—one of the Priestesses who helped Wilsira during my pregnancy, and yes, I was behind it—and he made a favorable account of the Sisterhood over the Priesthood. He had lied about at least one small thing to make it so.

"Through all this, I could not agree to help, and no one could understand why. I did not stop them, though. I was just not involved in his training."

I absorbed it all and had to ask. "Rausery told me you made the decision to use him in my trial. Is this true?"

Her worded thoughts paused but her turmoil did not and I felt every instant that passed. "Yes, but only because he overheard something I'd said to Rausery which I did not intend. I did not feel the illness to warn me he was there until it was too late, but I believe Rausery was making an attempt to get us to talk because she was impressed with his actions and instincts while on the Surface. At the time, however, we were discussing you."

"What did you say about me?"

"I was in an unusually good mood, the Prime had granted my sponsorship of you, and Rausery and I were sharing a spirit in one of the planning rooms. We sometimes have discussions at the start of a competition, and I was looking forward to claiming you. I said you had the potential that Shyntre might've had if he'd been born female.

"I rarely make such mistakes around Rausery, but that was a regrettable one. I knew he had heard me when the nausea came on me suddenly, and I knew then that Rausery had him tucked away out of sight. I could leave or I could compromise myself further by falling unconscious in front of my equal. I left without seeing him. I later granted Rausery my agreement that he should be in your trial. I believe he may have asked her to grant it."

And he'd taken all that resentment and anger out on me. I had known that was what he was doing at the time, I just didn't know the specifics. Nor had I cared; it had made for a glorious chase afterward and an enlightening quest. I felt myself flush in response to a memory of our recent tussle in the Tower, and D'Shea gasped in response to the sudden feeling.

"Sirana, I...I did not expect you to start appreciating him. A disadvantage, for certain, if he still hates you."

"It is more complex than hate, Elder. I believe some part of him likes the challenge and perhaps the attention as well. He feels he does not belong anywhere, that is true, and he aches for bonds, for acceptance, even while pushing them away with both hands."

"And why would you want a bond with him?"

I hesitated, and when I didn't answer immediately, she added, "Watch your blind spots, Sirana. I cannot help you or advise you in this case."

"I understand, Elder. Tell me how Tarra became your ally."

"All you need to know is that she did not witness the ritual and does not know of it from me. Whatever she has found out about it has been on her own, but I believe she has since pieced most of it together. She provided me with care and protection during my time at the Sanctuary, for her own reasons then, but we have formed a mutually beneficial bond since. I forged the way for her to become our liaison because of her knowledge of both arcane and divine, and it has had its moments to please the Valsharess."

"Thank you, Elder."

"Thank me later. We have many more specifics yet to discuss."

I was the only Drow to whom she had been able to confess in two centuries. D'Shea asked me clearly now to see her vengeance through to the end, to see Wilsirathon dead, or at least crippled to where her death would be eventual—and in doing so, to free my Elder from her chains.

For once, I didn't doubt her motive. It was hard to lie in a psionic link.

There was a means in which I might do it, but I had to return to the Sanctuary and serve Wilsira again. Failure would not only affect me but, depending on the "how" of the failure, also D'Shea and the political strength of entire Sisterhood.

"Kerse is her weak spot, Sirana, and you are the only one other than her who can use him."

*****

Even having been able to finally speak her own secret, D'Shea proved remarkably patient as we waited for Wilsirathon to ask for me. I agreed that the Priestess would be suspicious if I took any initiative, so we focused on the other plans and plots spread out before us. Almost too many from which to choose, it seemed sometimes.

The Priestess waited for just over seven months before we heard from her.

In that time, Jael had earned her red uniform, we managed not to lose any Red Sisters to casualties, and I made three more attempts to break that fourth ward without the help of my bracers. I was motivated, and learned to accept the indescribable stress and endure a little longer each time. The fourth attempt saw me break it, and D'Shea was delighted, in spite of the fact that I collapsed and nearly passed out afterward.

I had also been to the Tower thrice more to sit with my "instructor," this time with D'Shea's knowledge and consent. I treated the wizard no differently than before; not only could that possibly compromise my Elder, but he wouldn't have wanted my pity and I would not stir his suspicions that anything had changed between us...except for the sex.

For my second lesson, Shyntre had placed a familiar color of stoppered vial on the table and folded his hands, watching me. "From my own trusted source. I must insist before we begin your studies."

I had grinned so widely, confirming it was a prevention draught. This meant that he had at last accepted that I would have him when I wanted him.

He was still not easy to seduce; he was incredibly stubborn and spiteful. Though I had wondered at first whether the preventative he'd given me would go to waste, we found ourselves again on the floor earning rug-burns before the lesson was finished. Ultimately there was not one visit where I could not goad Shyntre into some form of coupling in the library. I let it be rough, that was the best way between us and, in truth, I loved his energy and his foul and so-very-talented mouth.

I still held to what I'd told D'Shea as well: some part of him desired the attention, enjoyed being pursued and wanted. He did not go out of his way to find sex, Phaelous had told me, but I seemed to be one who could gain his attention with any consistency.

I managed a visit to Callitro as well, recalling the item I'd asked him to make for me ages ago. I discovered he was still willing to see me—though he seemed to have done more research and was better prepared for submission, such a contrast to Shyntre— and that he had been keeping the simple gold ring for my eventual return. I had taken to wearing it on my right hand beneath my glove.

"Once per cycle, it will give you enhanced senses when you need to aim a weapon," he said. "Only whisper the command word. The effect will last for only a few moments and you will not get a second try, so make the strike count."

"Well done, young mage."

I had the opportunity to test the ring both in practice and in combat, and it was as Callitro had said. I considered myself impressed, and I liked having that edge at my disposal. It wasn't like others didn't have the same; it all depended on what they asked for and how persistent they were to get it.

I went only once to see Auslan. It was granted when I heard that Curgia at House Itlaun had caught and promised D'Shea a better update than those who questioned him, they not knowing what went on at that House.

Curgia's sister, Tulia, was about ready to burst, but the elder sister was again about as I'd seen her before; far enough along to show but perhaps a bit over a year yet to go. Curious. She would have had to conceive very shortly after she miscarried the quarter-breed to be this big by now. Auslan was indeed a potent Consort.

The beautiful Drow had seemed troubled by something while I was there, asking him for current information.

"Are you well, Auslan?" I asked, mostly to be polite and keep him talking.

"Yes, Sister, I...have only not been sleeping well."

"Oh? Why is that?"

He shook his head. "It happens to us sometimes. The dreams of reverie are too real to allow us to rest deeply."

"What kind of dreams?" I was interested. "And who is 'us.'"

"That would be the Consorts. As for what kind, it is essential that we dream practicing the fertility magic at least twice per seven days if we are not actively breeding. It keeps the pathway open."

This sounded abstract, even for him. "Mm-hm. And when they seem 'too real'?"

"It feels as if Lolth herself has ridden me and the sheets usually need washing. It is not very restful."

My brows lifted and I blinked then smiled. "So you have wet dreams regularly. As part of your health, you say?"

He shrugged with grace and managed not to look embarrassed as he moved a few things around his vanity. "Near enough."

"I still don't see why that would make you troubled."

"Try dreaming my dreams sometime, Sister, and tell me you feel otherwise."

He almost sounded like Shyntre right there, with that bit of bold defensiveness. I thought it was cute.

"I'd love to, but seeing as that's impossible, I'll have to stick with my own dreams."

In the following lull, Auslan looked up from the vanity to see me staring at him. He read my expression well because it was one with which he was familiar.

"You still desire me."

I shrugged. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I have not seen you since the eve Curgia miscarried."

"You could have seen us off the next cycle as we left."

"I was...resting."

"The healing took a lot out of you?"

I'd wager he actually looked wary with that one. "I am not a healer as you understand it."

"I'd love to hear more about that."

Auslan started to shake his head, but I took a step forward, closing in on his space. He started backing up.

"Fertility magic can heal, right? Only you have the ability to take fertility away as well."

"I said it can have that side effect on a healthy womb if it is powerful enough," he corrected, moving to the side and putting one of the two lounging chairs between us. "It's not a direct occurrence or something that happens in the weaker spells. But you had been barren, hadn't you? You aren't now. A powerful Priestess healed you, correct?"

"Very good," I said, starting to circle around. "I'm guessing you did a similar ritual to get the stillborn out and save Curgia from bleeding to death?"

"A ritual, yes. I have no idea if it was similar to what you experienced."

"So exact in your wording, Auslan."

"I must be in my role, Sister."

"Curgia caught by you almost immediately, didn't she? You must have been talented, or she was grateful."

We were still moving slowly around Auslan's room during our back-and-forth. We each wanted to maintain the same distance from each other, but we seemed to disagree on what that distance should be.

Or perhaps Auslan thought I was stalking him. He could be right.

"I fail to see how that is relevant to this report, Sister," he said.

"Don't try hiding behind a mask now, Consort. Your act doesn't fool me, it never has. You are powerful, and I tempt you."

We were getting near the bed but Auslan quickly realized it and took several steps sharply in the direction of the balcony.

"You agreed to leave me be," he said.

"You got too curious about me," I replied. "Tell me, have you told Wilsirathon what you know of me in the wilderness?"

"No," he stated immediately, and looking a little shocked. "That would make me of far less value to her."

"You couldn't give it to her without implicating yourself?"

"She would ask how I could possibly know. I do not think she would believe you simply loosened your tongue around me for no reason when she wasn't even aware that you and I knew each other before you fell on me in the garden. At best, she would assume you had taken me during that visit and engaged in some pillow talk, and the result for me would have been the same. Believe me, Sister, I will say nothing of it to her. I gain nothing."

His voice had risen just a little in frustration and I loved it. Auslan chose to keep the room secure and did not open his balcony doors to escape into more open air. He moved passed them.

"Then why ask in the first place? You seemed desperate to know something about me, my treasure."