Surfacing Ch. 04

"Perhaps later."

Like me, he could select any "why" he wanted and I did not know enough right now to be sure. Of course, if we were "planning" tomorrow and leaving soon, then I may not have the opportunity to know. Nonetheless, I still felt the planning tomorrow would reveal more than Sarilis would say just now, trade or not.

"But do you intend to take on this task?"

"I do not yet fully understand your task, Necromancer."

"It is simple, Red Sister. Sever the power given to the clergy, and make sure the Ma'ab do not take over the area in the immediate void. It can be done by just one person who gets close enough to their holy source."

I blinked at him. "Perhaps you should start at the beginning?"

"Of course, of course!" he said excitedly, as if he had been waiting for me to say that. "I have gathered four with motivation to see it through, but I have witnessed your Elder's determination and capability. If you have been an apprentice to her—?"

I nodded an affirmative.

"Excellent. Then they may yet succeed having you with them. Likewise, they could all die, and you may still succeed on your own."

"In what?"

"Primarily, despoil their holy pool. Desecrate it and their temple. If you can kill any of the upper Priests and Bishops, that is all for the better. Their defenses will weaken quickly and the Ma'ab will overrun their castle."

I quirked my brow. "And...one person can make that army break so as not to fill the void?"

"Polluting the pool in the manner I say will turn the Manalara Templars and most others in the temple into savages uncaring of their personal survival, and the Ma'ab will suffer heavy losses against such madness. I will be able to access that pool from afar and I will send my undead support to keep them all out."

"And then after? Do you want the castle?"

Sarilis shook his head. "I've not the population under my command to hold it, and I prefer this place. It is much quieter without nosey neighbors. Manalar falling accursed and abandoned is ideal for me."

I held his icy, gleeful gaze for several moments. "And you have this much magic, to overwhelm the will of an entire force?"

"Not without the holy pool becoming unholy," Sarilis said with force. "How do you think the Priesthood rule the wide area surrounding it? Their collective magic is strongest of any within two months' journey of here. The Templars and Witch Hunters of Manalar are culling all other sources of magic as they find them, in the name of their 'Sun god' and their new religion. Unfortunately they are gaining knowledge of how to better ferret us out, and it is only a matter of time before they overtake the smaller forces and integrate them. That is, of course, unless the Ma'ab enslave them first. Then we can all look forward to the same fate."

I considered. "The Ma'ab are going after the largest threat. These are the rabid two wolves needing to be arrow-struck as they bite each other's throat."

Sarilis cackled again, smoothing his hands against his robe. "I love the parallel, my dear. Yes. If one is not Ma'ab or Manalarian, it is no benefit to those still living should either win to dominate the region."

I felt my mouth twitch. The Necromancer wanted to break the back of two armies at once, and he seemed to believe he had the magic to accomplish it. I liked the image of a single, disassociated third party creeping in from the side to ruin the plans of two powerful opponents. It would also, however, leave room for further plans which would not be said.

If he were Drow, anyway.

"Are there any others interested in the outcome of that battle? If you see it coming from afar, surely others do, too."

The Valsharess and the Godblood being only two of which I knew.

Sarilis looked plainly delighted. "You dazzle me, Sirana. Do you like younger men?"

Unfortunately, that was almost funny. I coughed. "Who else, Necromancer?"

He chuckled, happy with my reaction yet staying on topic. "My scrying and my connections aren't *that* good, my dear. But I'll wager your eastern taskers have a few fingers upon the pulse of the drums, though I could not begin to guess their goals. It is also possible, if you have surfaced at this time, that your pale counterparts may be interested as well. I am not aware of the dwarves doing such but digging in deeper where they are, but that is only experience talking."

"You have a dwarf here."

"He's special."

"In what way?"

"I'll let him tell you. Be assured, he is stubborn as most of his kind and has turned his eye on bringing down Manalar."

I nodded. "Any others?"

"Oh...well," the old man eyeballed me. "Who are you hinting at?"

I sighed inwardly. "I have heard tales...of an army and a demon who may be involved. There is a third army, isn't there? Along with the tasker guild."

I was forcing this one a bit, but I would only have so much time. At least the discomfort was minimal as I spoke; I continued to learn the limits of the compulsion.

Sarilis pondered, pale eyes almost glittering with interest. "There is a third army, yes. And a demon in the guild? Yes, I've heard something about such a one."

I watched him.

"Are they...targets?" he asked shrewdly.

I shook my head. "Persons of interest, no more."

"I see. Well, the northern army has various leaders, more an alliance of many smaller cities and their surrounding lands. Their peoples have been here longer than the Manalara to the south."

"Who are some of note?"

"Beutrick of Hagan is decently competent as a twenty-year ruler," Sarilis sighed, "Keit of Crular has made a name for himself with his cavalry, and then there is...."

I did listen to all Necromancer told me of the many small castles that tended their lands and traded amongst each other and squabbled much the same as any Drow House over resources. I could quickly tell that either Sarilis had not yet become aware of the Godblood, or he was intentionally diverting from talking about him.

How could he not know if Tamuril had said her chosen Human had "become strong among men" over the last year? At the same time, I did not want to direct the old man on this. Perhaps it may come up later in the planning.

"And the guild?" I asked.

"Ohhh, often hired by any and all, Sirana, they have no loyalty to any but their own organization. They are the scalpel and the siphon when the broadsword and hammer is not practical. Thievery and assassination, information trade, blackmail, whatever might be sold for gold, they are quite competent. Have quite the mystery surrounding them, said to walk through walls, disappear in plain view...I almost admire them. You don't mind if I sit again, do you? These old bones..."

I watched as Sarilis leaned up against a blood-stained operating table and braced his palms, hopping his rear onto the edge with a grunt. His swinging feet appeared to have two sets of socks covered by a pair of soft, house shoes. He noticed my looking them and shrugged.

"Poor circulation. Anyway, as for the demon, I've heard speculation over the years that this is a patron from the planes honing a material force for just the right time. I have also heard this is a pet killer set loose only on the deserving. I have not been able to determine any truth, but somehow I am not surprised that the dark elves have interest."

"Oh?"

He showed yellowed, twisted teeth again. "His being the color of the shadows is a constant in the stories, and those stories span more than a century, as old as the guild, older than me! Few would make the connection unless they had seen your kind. It only struck me as possible after meeting your Elder two decades ago. We even discussed the likelihood after stumbling on the topic. She seemed convinced."

And Rausery would have reported to the Valsharess twenty years ago...

Sarilis considered me with sharp eyes that belied his tired body. "Are you looking for a lost relative, perhaps, Sirana? Is the master assassin not a demon but an elf from the Underdark?"

I could only stare at him at first, whether that was my intent or not. Oddly, I could not even lie as a direct answer. I couldn't say no. I couldn't say yes. I felt sick, but I dared not show it.

The silence stretched and he sighed. "Very well. Answer me, at least, if your goals overlap some mine? Are we allies, my dark angel?"

This group was going to Manalar to desecrate a sacred pool. They were going where the Godblood would be, where Jael was heading right now. Tamuril might even catch up as well.

And the eastern taskers might even be involved somewhere along the line. Sarilis was right, how could such an old and feared organization keep their gloved fingers out of such ripe confrontation...?

They wouldn't if they were being led by, or at least influenced by, a half-Drow.

I would not be "helping" either of my Sisters directly by being involved in this, though I may easily prevent another Drow from falling into Ma'ab hands by following my own leads, my own missions, my own compulsion...and Gaelan was somewhere generally between these two points. It was not a direct line, but...

I could always come back to Sarilis later; he would be easy to find, he said he wanted to stay here. And if he spoke the truth about his plan, then I might need him alive to fulfill the strike against the Ma'ab and Manalara anyway...assuming that was what I wanted to have happen. It could always change, and there had never been a time limit placed on this "penance"...only what was possible to survive.

I nodded. "They do, Sarilis. We are allies."

*****



The old mage assured me that more details would be forthcoming when the others awoke from their sleep and the real plans began. He suggested I follow his lead in the discussion as he was assured that any century-old apprentice of Rausery's knew enough tactics and subterfuge to test the others. I acquiesced.

Eventually Sir Cullen was given to lead me back upstairs, thought I had declined to return to my given quarters and asked if I could look around? Just for curiosity.

"As long as your escort remains nearby," Sarilis chortled. "For your protection, my dear, so my other shades do not draw too close or get too curious about a beating heart."

I nodded and accepted, though I figured the thrall was also to observe all that I did in the Tower, either to report later or—possibly—so Sarilis could scry through him at any point in time. It did not matter to me as I intended to sit in on planning the mission to Manalar, to support Sarilis's plan for the most part, and to travel with them leaving my target still breathing for now.

If I could not track Tamuril, then I could pass through hostile territory with a contingent of locals who would have something to lose if they did not assist with my journey.

Or at least, I would do my best to see to it that they had something to lose.

This was better than following the blonde, anyway; I was among the kind of humans that was more like me than not in motivation and choice: Exiled fringe with a grudge, interested in sabotage of those established and in power, either for pay or for pleasure or for pride. I understood this very well, and I was sure I could navigate it with an easier and more sure step than I had the five days I'd spent with the Silven which, upon reflection, had been very draining.

Not only that, but this element of plotters—or their contacts we may yet meet on the way across the land—may know more about the eastern taskers that I sought than a regiment of "good" (whatever that was supposed to mean) Humans and their watching spirits of the woods might.

I topped the stairs with Sir Cullen in front, his face pale and wooden and icy eyes empty, still silent, the stitches in his throat straining when he turned his head to look back at me.

"Move on," I said. "Back to the great room."

I did not want the thrall behind me so I had to be content talking to it, directing it. Sarilis said that I could do as much, that Cullen would obey simple directions from me where to go...but that was all the thing would obey. I thought it was telling that the Necromancer never suggested the guard might actually be a protector, too, as any Drow Noble might have offered. I would not be surprised if the undead messenger simply watched should I fall into trouble.

It was alright; I wouldn't trust that kind of protection anyway.

I came back into the great room—the room with the hearth and nearly-empty cauldron of stew and large table and chairs where I had sat the last evening—and stepped around carefully, noting the placement of everything in the dark. The embers glowed low, preventing me from seeing all the energy waves I was used to seeing in pitch black, but my eyes were more than sensitive enough to still navigate the obstacles and see the outlines of every shape.

Sir Cullen stopped and stayed by the door; I wondered whether the undead could see more than a life aura? His eyes were human; this room would be so black but for a few red coals off to the side as to make his eyes utterly useless. Unless something about becoming what he was changed that...

I shook off the thought for now and checked around each chair where Rithal, Mathias, Castis, and Kurn had all sat. I did want to see if they had dropped anything, but wasn't disappointed to find they had not; it was just part of my training being the first in any room. I was well rested, but I figured the men would be asleep for some time yet.

I could distinctly hear three different, loud resting patterns—snoring, huh, so that's what it sounded like—down the hall on the ground floor, where I figured Kurn and Rithal at least had insisted on the ground floor. Whether it was Castis or Mathias who remained and the last moved up a floor or two, I would note later if I could. It would say something about the pecking order.

It was obvious that Gavin the apprentice was at the bottom of that pecking order. I still remembered him eating his two bowls of stew leaning against the wall, watching and listening but saying nothing. Except for the scoff about my off-hand mention of dessert.

Knowing now that he was the cook as well as the apprentice put that in context and it made sense he'd react to that. Interesting that the reaction was a sneer; one could assume he was not content with his place and did not feel suitably appreciated. It was something I might be able to use.

Sarilis certainly did not think much of him, teasing me about gladly taking me instead of him, and barely willing to acknowledge the stew as edible. I had yet to see master and apprentice speak directly to each other, except for that first comment about Gavin being late and a threat of punishment if he lost any supplies.

And yet...the young Human man had been so flatly direct with me about his tiredness and his impatience at my coming to his door; I'd seen intelligence in his eyes on the level with Sarilis, if not the experience. He seemed so oddly indifferent to my appearance, my race, and why I was here; he'd been the least surprised when I'd lowered my hood to first reveal my face. His reaction had been so muted compared to the rest that I could not clearly remember whether he had even had one.

Rausery had said the neutral ones were those with which to drive the hardest bargain. Gavin could perhaps be my key to defeating the Necromancer when I returned...if, for reward, he wanted to take his dismissive master's place. Otherwise....why would he be here, or tolerate being worked so much yet so ignored and dismissed? I'd have to find out more of what drove him, I could not assume, but—

A glow from the staircase distracted me from my thoughts and I automatically lifted my hood to cover my white hair and stepped silently into a point of deeper blackness, in the shadow of a large wooden cabinet against the wall. I watched as the very subject of my thoughts entered the room with a candle lit. The apprentice set it down on a smaller table in the corner and moved toward the hearth to remove the cauldron. A few insects—roaches?—scattered from inside the pot as he did so.

"What are you doing here, Cullen?" Gavin grumbled, barely looking at the thrall as he worked to add tinder and smaller pieces of wood from the metal cache on his right, stirring the embers to liven the fire once again. "Mourning that your sweetheart ran off with a hairy brute and not you? Pah."

Cullen made no response whatsoever, not that Gavin looked to expect one.

The flare from a strengthening fire pained my eyes a little before they adjusted, but I could tell Gavin was moving through a waking routine with which he was well familiar. He had begun his chores, as a servant would, prior to his superiors rising from their rest.

I weighed letting him know I was here, trying to engage him again...but decided against it. Cullen was watching, I could hardly probe how Gavin really felt about his master, and something told me the skulking apprentice would be cranky and uncooperative being surprised and interrupted from his usual pattern. I also wanted food; it would not be long before my body required it, and I hoped part of Gavin's chores in the dark before the dawn would be to prepare a meal for the "guests."

I stayed where I was and allowed Gain to work unhindered; he never looked for long behind him and seemed not to sense anything unusual. Eventually he lugged the cauldron toward the kitchen and I heard some clattering and the sound of water being poured. Hopefully he was cleaning the old stew and roaches out before starting again.

I was about to step forward to spy on the apprentice in the kitchen when I heard much heavier noises coming from down the hall—rustling, steps, a low grunt here and there. I waited. Soon enough someone opened a door and was coming down toward the great room, also quite early for the day. The breathing patterns of the other two continued unabated; I supposed overall the one awake had not been terribly loud, it had only seemed that way to me.

Listening to the step, I knew it had to be the Hellhound. No other had his height and size, the length of stride and mass to make his boots sound like those of a lumbering giant.

*Great. His cheery demeanor is even better than Gavin's first thing pre-dawn.*

I waited longer, definitely wanting to observe what I could of the "elite" warrior before he realized he was being watched. It would be telling how long that took, but I had to expect a bad reaction to that if he discovered me, when or if I revealed myself. No domineering, self-sought leader liked being surprised.

Kurn stopped at the threshold and looked around, his face lit by the duller red glow of the hearth fire. He was scowling, as expected, and I thought he was taking a moment to let his own eyes adjust. I relaxed and breathed slow and steady. Interestingly, he did the same thing I had done: he checked out the table and chairs where the group had been sitting the evening before.

However, he failed completely to notice Cullen until he got closer to the thrall, who then turned his head, his pale, dead face mostly in shadows. The big man reacted quickly, drawing his sword in a loud, metallic *shing* as he simultaneously gained distance, deftly avoiding backing into the table. He was pretty quick for one so big, but I wasn't impressed he did not see the standing dead man in his first sweep of the room. I did not expect him to see me, but surely another human-sized creature right across from him.

At least that told me Kurn couldn't see in the dark.

"Damned soul," the Hellhound snarled quietly, his stance that of a barking canine threatening an intruder. "Suppose your master can't let us go wandering around alone, eh?"

Decent intelligence. At least he hadn't stated the painfully obvious such as, "By the gods, you're dead!"

I kept watching as Kurn moved to one of the tapestry-covered windows, lifting the edge of the heavy thing to look outside. I saw only the strength of Moonless Starlight seep in, so knew it had to be dark, and Kurn almost immediately stopped peering into blackness.