Surfacing Ch. 04

He was taking a slow turn about the room; unfortunately if he stayed closer to the walls as he was doing now, he would probably come upon me as he headed back toward the hearth and the thrall. The shadows weren't that deep, and it was only his lack of sensitivity that he hadn't seen me already.

Worse, I would be cornered as he got close, more or less; the cabinet to one side, the wall to another, Kurn in the most open area, and the table and a chair constricting my last option. It would be hard to shift if the Hellhound decided he wanted to block me with his size; he certainly had the reach and his sword was still out.

Since it was inevitable, I moved to reveal myself in my way.

I waited until something on the tapestry caught his attention for a few seconds and moved low and quiet as I would on any mission in the Underdark, pulling out a web pellet—just in case—and reaching the head of the table where Sarilis had once sat with his back to the hearth. I eased myself onto the table in one fluid motion, only my cloak whispering, and stayed crouched with my hood up and my elbows resting on my thighs, my gloved hands folded before me.

I would be a backlit shadow with the fire behind me, and I could see Kurn and all of the room very well, however my back was not only to the fire but also mostly to Cullen and the hallway—not ideal—but I wouldn't be staying here long.

The Hellhound had turned toward the cabinet and my former hiding place, eyeballing it as if he considered looking inside, but then saw me. Or rather, he saw my crouched form.

"Ku's ummat!" he blurted, and immediately reached for something as I tensed to move, my spiders trilling in my head as they prepared to jump.

"Throw and you purge your guts before you see it miss!" I growled.

He paused hearing my voice, quickly realized who I was, and eased down, blinking twice and, of course, scowling. "Garbuua. Where do you come from?"

"My room. And pleasant morn to you, Hellhound."

Kurn snorted and shook his head. "Demoness..."

I heard a soft step from toward the kitchen and immediately figured Gavin had heard the exchange and was peeking in on us. Given that Kurn did not look behind me toward the servant's door, I assumed the Hellhound was unaware of our audience.

"What know you of demons?" I asked with a small smile he likely couldn't see but could certainly hear.

"Plenty," he said brusquely. "My people have long harnessed their power to defend our right to live!"

"And dominate," I said. "Do not forget that basic desire. But you would know one if you have seen one before?"

"I already have, many times," he said proudly.

"More than one?"

He nodded.

"Not including me?"

Kurn expelled a hot, noisy breath as his frown intensified. "Yes, witch. I know of what I speak."

*So you believe.* "Really? You don't believe Rithal's word that I am an 'elf'?"

"An 'elf' is a demon."

Given the relevant part of Ma'ab history that I knew of the last century, that was a logical connection. Some would have even seen one who was both.

"Of course, all demons are the same," I teased. "What of the pale ones?"

"All demons are tricksters and carnal gluttons," he spat back.

At first I wondered that I felt no insult, but then it did fit a large portion of the Drow. Demons shared those traits as well, in general. I had to suppose that was why the Valsharess and Priestesses were overall successful in bargaining with them without being overwhelmed by them for so long; it took one trickster to know another.

"Frightens you, does it?"

"Not at all," he blustered. "Demons are easily distracted."

"Good. Then you do not mind me in the group." I smiled, and thought it possible he could see it by the small shift of discomfort in his expression. "Come, you'd want to 'harness' my advantages for your quest, would you not?"

"I might accept your service," he said pompously. "If you swear it before the others."

"Swear?" I grinned wider. "Oaths mean little to me, Hellhound."

"Unless I discover the means to control you, demoness, then you will have no choice."

I chuckled. Was he diving down the wrong burrow...

"You have a name, do you not?" he said, perhaps reading something in my silence and body language.

"No name of power, if that is your meaning," I said. "My will is my own, and I cannot be summoned. I could let you believe otherwise, of course, and I while I may find your efforts amusing, it would also be troublesome and interfere in our quest and get you nowhere."

Kurn studied me a moment, plainly uncertain whether I was bluffing or not. "And what purpose do you have? You were sent by one 'Rausery' to assist the Necromancer. Seems a summons to me."

"Unsurprising that a sword-wielder could not tell between a message and a magical compulsion."

He glowered at me. "Unsurprising that a 'Red Sister' would only gain power from spreading her legs!"

I chuckled again; sometimes sex really felt like magic, but it was far from the only way. "Is it comforting for you to believe we are dependent upon a cock plunging into our tight holes?"

Kurn paused with that image in his head for a moment, then he shook it out. "So it is true?"

I threaded my fingers together, elbows still resting on my knees. "You have already decided what you like best, I think."

Unlike with Tamuril, where my gut had told me there was some benefit to "normalizing" my image, I saw no such advantage to unveiling the limitations of the Red Sisters and the Drow to this brash fool. In addition, I saw that it was just as Rausery and Shyntre had told us: a female enjoying sex freely was also used as a means to discredit or demean her among other males.

I had reflected whether we had done the same with our males...and I realized the answer was yes, but mostly in that we generally thought males had weaker wills. While I enjoyed some natural submissives like Callitro, I personally had a tendency to demean any partner who failed to win a contest of wills once engaged...and most males who tried had failed. Except Shyntre. Further, I thought of Panagan and Moria that way, too, even being fellow females and Red Sisters. I'd even consider Shyntre the greater challenge between them

Weakness was relative, and there were always exceptions regardless of gender.

It would be telling if Kurn clung to this notion to convince himself I was not a threat because I was a weak-willed, cock-hungry slit—and if he did, oh, the advantage I would have!—or, instead, if he had the perception to learn otherwise. Then he could be a real threat.

Surely until he decided which it was, he would use it to convince the others he would be the better leader over myself, and that very well might work in the short term if the other males agreed...but time would tell if it held.

Regardless, I already knew I did not have to go toe-to-toe with a giant to beat him.

I waited to see what the Ma'ab would say next. He just watched me suspiciously, trying to see farther inside my hood. I decided to oblige him and lowered it again. Even after a whole meal of staring, Kurn continued to gorge himself on my appearance.

Unlike Gavin, the Hellhound was so far from neutral that no deal could ever be made. I would have to kill him, sooner or later.

"Do you like what you see?" I asked, holding his gaze.

His nose twitched in a sneer. "Glamor. Your real form is not so comely, though your demonic coloring would be the same."

That was a "yes."

"Ah. Now I am a shapeshifter?"

"Do you deny it, witch?"

I sighed. "I have taken your measure, and I am bored. Excuse me. I will check on our breakfast."

I stood up on the table, temporarily taller than him and he straightened in response, holding his sword with no doubt that he knew how to use it. I hopped off and landed well, quiet enough for my professional pride, and walked toward the thrall and the hall leading to the kitchen, slipping the web pellet back in its pouch. As expected, Gavin had withdrawn already and was sneaking back toward his post. A good thing, as my stomach had started to ache.

I snapped my fingers—softly in the glove—and made a gesture for Cullen to move ahead of me. Of course the reanimated man was not obeying me but doing as commanded by his master, but I liked that Kurn was fuming and watching the theatrics, building the stories in his head.

There was a swinging door that I thought was suspiciously well-oiled that led into the kitchen. Gavin was focused on his tasks as I entered with Cullen holding the door. The young death mage still wore thick, woolen robes that covered pretty much all his gaunt frame except his head and hands. He hadn't washed his hair in a while as it hung flat from his skull in dark, glossy strands—though it did occur to me that I did not know the rate of build-up for something like that in humans. It seemed like it should be faster than I was used to, just in that they grow and age so quickly. So...not having washed in a while could be anywhere from a single day to a month to look like that? I'd have to ask later.

The tension in his shoulders and the fact that he did not look toward the door immediately said all too clearly that he knew I was there.

"Good morning, Gavin."

He grunted an acknowledgement before looking at me. The apprentice blinked his near-black eyes once and considered Cullen behind me as I came down the three dwarf-sized steps into the stone work area.

"Your escort, I take it," he said.

"Your master is gracious."

Gavin snorted, his mouth twisting. "Explains why he was standing there when I came in."

"You're an early riser."

He scowled. "More mouths to feed, more work for me. I can imagine you'd prefer I not have animates like Cullen here help prepare the bread. You might find a fingernail inside."

I smiled and felt my mood lift... though why did this strike me as funny? It was entirely plausible to have happen if the undead were kneading bread. Something about the delivery and that straight expression on his face.

"I'm sure it would add spice, rather like the roaches," I quipped.

Gavin quirked a black eyebrow at me with a brief glance at his recently-scoured pot. "A comment on the housekeeping?"

I shrugged, adopting a touch of his attitude from the night before. "Not really. I understand they are quite edible, even tasty when roasted."

The lanky young man stared at me for quite some time. It eventually occurred to me that he might be wondering if I was jesting, the same as I'd wondered if he was...

"All this talk of food," I said. "I am hungry, apprentice. Is there anything I might have now before the others finally wake? Even roasted roaches."

"How long have you been up?"

"Several hours. You Humans sleep a long time."

With a soft sigh, Gavin turned and rummaged in a few built-in cabinets, the hinges not nearly as well-oiled as the door had been. He found and grabbed a lidded, clay jar and placed it on the counter about midway between us.

"Take it with you. I have work to do."

I lifted the greyish jar and opened the lid to sniff gently. A collection of dried berries and strips of preserved meat...with a pleasant mix of herb and spice that was completely new to me. It actually made my mouth water.

"Thank you, apprentice. I'll take my leave. I do hope you enjoyed the show."

Gavin paused to watch me without saying anything as Cullen shuffled before me through the swinging door and back to the great room. Kurn wasn't there when I entered, but a pause told me he was back in the hallway, talking low with someone, likely Castis.

I picked the chair that gave me a straight hearing path into the hall, sat down with Cullen staring dully at me, and broken into the jar of preserves. I chewed slowly as I focused on listening to the voices bouncing off the stone. It was too far and too low to hear every word clearly, but I could gather exactly what I could guess: they were talking about the dark witch and how to journey with her.

It seemed Kurn expected more than Castis could perform, and the smaller man was trying to explain that. This was good. One stupid attempt to cast a spell on me, and the mage was dead. And if Castis hadn't recognized me for what I was, then he likely knew of no special weaknesses.

Somehow even listening to the plotting against me, I felt more at ease here than I had in Tamuril's dwelling. It was like back at Court and how I'd spent a decade and a half of sheer boredom before the Red Sisters collected me.

It was interesting that these were all males behaving in such a familiar way. If I imagined them to have breasts instead and remove the bulges at their crotch, I could see those two Ma'ab being a fair bit like several Nobles I'd "played" with over the years.

Like Court...minus the fucking, of course. I had probably missed a lot of spying time being in bed with a Noble's brother playing with said crotch bulge instead.

I smiled a bit to myself, put my boots up on the table, and continued eating.

Eventually everyone reconvened in the great room, but not until the Sun had risen outside and Gavin came in briefly only to put three dense loaves of something that looked kind of like dark mushroom bread on the table alongside three pitchers of water, bowls and spoons, and a larger dish of shredded greens tossed with some kind of oil. He left before the others had entered and ignored my nod to him.

It was still pleasantly dark inside the Necromancer's Tower, but I could detect the line of light around the tapestries well enough to know that the clouds had taken their leave of this part of the Sky. I wasn't looking forward to the headaches again when I needed to be back out there, but I would do what I needed to do.

Answering an earlier thought of mine, it was Mathais who came down from the second floor, and Rithal was the third who came out of the hallway with Kurn and Castis. They all noticed Cullen, considered him a moment, then eyed my casual lean as I chewed the berries and jerky to the point where I started chuckling.

"Lose something?"

The Ma'ab brothers didn't answer but came to sit at the table anyway, Kurn quickly breaking one loaf in half and handing one to Castis. Castis broke that in half and handed it to Mathias. Rithal took one for himself.

The brunette bounty hunter cleared his throat and said, "Red Sister?"

I looked at him as the others began chowing down.

"Please pass the greens."

I smiled, put my feet down, and leaned forward to place the bowl closer to him. He stared at my smile for a moment, looking hesitant all of a sudden, and I said, "It's safe as Gavin made it. I haven't touched anything here."

All three of the others stopped chewing their bread abruptly to look at me.

"What?" I asked. "You all expect to go first, right?"

"An' ye want us to know ye coulda done something, hey?" Rithal asked, one cheek bulging with bread.

"Typical woman," Mathias grumbled.

"Demoness," Kurn corrected, watching me from beneath the shadow of his brow.

"Elf," the dwarf grunted, taking another bite.

"Drow, gentleman," Sarilis said as he stepped carefully out of his own hallway with the help of a bone staff made of at least three femurs fused together. "Sirana is a Drow of the Underdark. As you gathered last night, she has come to the surface world to assist us in our quest." The old mage looked over all out expressions and gave a little bow to me. "I hope you don't mind, my dear, I thought it best to get some of this silly miscommunication out of the way. Unlike you, I do not have a lot of time left."

"Then start explaining, old man," Kurn grumbled.

"Well, let your host get a little bread into his belly at least!" Sarilis laughed and settled himself at the end of the table with a crack or two of his own bones. He broke off a piece for himself and offered me some, which I took. "I love that you waited for me, my dark angel."

"If she is from below, she is no angel," Mathias observed.

"Do you have any real idea what *is* below, my young lord?" Sarilis asked. "Enough to put even your favorite hobby to the test, I'd wager, but it has little to do with celestials of other planes, or even their tri-polar opposites." He sighed almost wistfully. "And in the middle of all that...." He looked at Kurn and Castis. "The Greylands. Downright peaceful by comparison, when you think about it."

"What in Ghabra's name are you talking about?" Castis asked, and Sarilis seemed that bit less impressed as I'd been, when most mages I knew were scholars. This magician seemed more...a dabbler.

Gavin came in then with a wide, steaming platter of some well-spiced hash mixture, placing it down and retreating back toward the fire to listen and watch. I had to assume that he had already eaten given that he made no move to serve himself. I did, though, taking two bowls, placing some of the hash in each and setting one by Sarilis while digging into the other myself.

The old Necromancer chuckled and bowed his head. "Thank you, my dear. Yes, let us eat first."

All of the food disappeared very quickly, but I got enough and that was all I cared about. I even still had half of the preserve jar left down by my feet. Gavin wasn't acknowledged as being in the room by anyone, though I kept him in my periphery along with everyone else.

"So...if we are taking the elf from below in our group, what may we expect of her?" Mathais asked first.

"The skills of some of the best assassins, my young lord," Sarilis said proudly. "Some clever tricks, some magic, and much competence. Always competence!"

"And...why would they send us a female?"

The Necromancer's mouth got impossibly wide. "Is it distracting, Mathais?"

The man shifted a bit. "Well...she is...smaller."

"Where you are going, and what you are, smaller and female does not mean more vulnerable than any of you, gentleman."

Kurn finally said something, and it started with a snort of disbelief. "Unless she has an invisible shield around her, death mage, she will be vulnerable and a liability just on her appearance! How are we to move unnoticed through townships with a knife-eared, black-skinned demoness standing next to us?"

I looked at the Ma'ab up and down, even if the table was blocking the lower view. "How are we to move unnoticed with a spike-armored, black-chromed Ma'ab Hellhound towering over us?"

Sarilis laughed aloud. "Oh, it is not recommended that anyone simply walk through a township! You are all memorable and the Witch Hunters won't like a one of you! Truly, what is adding one little assassin who can disappear in shadows?"

"Ahright, ahright!" Rithal groused. "Ye bicker like a bunch of hens! I'm here t'get on the foockin' road sometime before the Manalara cull the rest of the free! I'll take the elf and any with th'same goal."

I bowed my head toward Rithal. "Something we share, master Rithal."

"Jus' Rithal," he grumped. "What was it? Sirana?"

"Yes."

"Sounds vaguely elvish."

"If you say."

"So she's not a demon?" Mathais asked.

"No," I said.

"Yes," Kurn said.

Rithal threw up his hands and let the heavy fist slam down, rattling most of the empty dishes on the sturdy table. "What's got yer goat, Hellhound?"

"We need a guarantee to work with her."

"Sarilis isn't enough?"

Kurn glared at his host. "He has no control of her."

The Necromancer looked very entertained to me, his sagging, pale face creasing with every smile and word, his ice blue eyes seeming less cloudy. "Ohhh, but she wants something I can give her, just as I do you. That is enough, is it not, to have the same goals? Or is it that she is not a man?"

"Women never want what you think," the Ma'ab hissed. "And deals with demons are always three-fold."

I sighed; like Rithal, I was getting bored. "What guarantee, Hellhound?"

For a moment, Kurn looked surprised that I'd spoken—or more that I'd spoken that—but took full advantage. "Give to me the necklace you hide around your neck. You will receive it back when we have finished our mission."