Surfacing Ch. 11

As we crested the last hill to the final decline, as I could see the expanse of dark water beneath Starlight, Mourn paused and looked toward the even darker spot on the edge of the water to our right. The settlement was much larger than the small, timber-built community around Brom's Inn, and had an even greater smell.

"Welcome to Port Fortnight," Mourn said quietly. "It is not without its charm...for a dung pile."

I blinked at his straight face, wondering for a moment how to react.

He was right, of course, there were plenty of dung piles. I could hear rising numbers of foreign livestock; kept, docile versions of the pheasants and wolves and pigs I had already seen out in the wild. I smelled manure evenly spread out over tiny plots of land growing food as well. It wasn't entirely unlike the lesser parts of home, even the floating fishing boats bobbing in sparkling water.

What was unlike home were the two or three much larger water vessels anchored farther off shore, and which seemed to be made of...trees. Formed wood, in the way that we formed stone, ore, and fiberstalk. But they did not have the magical tools; it looked rough and without much attention to aesthetics. Functional, sturdy, but not pieces of art to serve a picky eye.

"Ships?" I whispered to our guide as we got closer to the shore and the wind shifted to bring more of the Human smell to us.

Mourn surprised me by signing a simple: *Yes.*

I paused then tugged the mare up closer to where he could see my hand as I moved it one-handed near my face.

*You know the Silent Tongue?*

*A style of it.*

I watched his face carefully, and signed something more complex. *How will we get the mount of the apprentice onto the vessel?*

He was reading and translating with effort; I knew it wasn't exact, we each had our own sign language. It was close, though, because he understood me.

*We remove her pack and she can swim, and the— can use the— to lift her up.*

*The 'what' can use 'what' to lift her up?* I signed, shaking my head in confusion.

*Sailors,* he signed again, and I shook my head again. *They are the Men who direct the vessel.*

Ah. I nodded. *And the other?*

*Pulley. For using rope and canvas to lift cargo up from the dock.*

*Can-vas?*

*Cloth made of strong growth, like fiberstalk. Called 'flax' or 'hemp.'*

I signed understanding at last. I could only guess that Mourn had created new signs for the Silent Tongue while using it on the Surface. This told me he had likely taught it to others, so that he could still use it up here. Guild members; it had to be. It would be perfect for an organization of mercenaries and assassins and information traders.

So the Guild knew parts of the Drow Silent Tongue, similar to Mathias having learned from Cris about Drow interrogation techniques, each of them without knowing their true origin. That was amusing to think about.

But this was exciting to me in another way as well; now I knew the other Drow settlements had the same core sign language as my City. Had the split in our population happened after our exile, then? Did Ishuna know about them or had she forgotten, or assumed they had died out?

Soon, Mourn asked us to wait while he met with his contact to board the ship in secret before the Sun rose. He instructed us to keep our hoods up, faces covered, and auras suppressed, even boarding the ship. As soon as we agreed and Mourn actually opted to leave his cloak and some of his extra weight with us, we watched him slip into the Lake very similarly to how he had at the river, going beneath the surface with little disturbance and presumably swimming toward one of the ships.

"How far does the Great Lake extend?" I asked Gavin in a whisper, looking out but unable to differentiate much between the night Sky and the dark horizon of the water.

Gavin shrugged. "Unsure. It's known to be very big, but this is my first time seeing it."

I paused in thought, then asked, "How would one of his 'contacts' simply be here waiting on one of those boats?"

"Perhaps he has many, and we are lucky one is here."

"Or he knew somehow in advance."

"Possible. There could be any number of signs we would not know how to read."

"Could we be in danger, accepting passage on this ship?"

"Always. I might recommend making that contract sooner rather than later, Sirana. Mourn seems the type to keep his agreements."

"And what would you offer him?" I asked with quirked brow.

Gavin shrugged. "His choice of any treasure to be collected on our way."

"He would take that regardless."

"Unless you made it part of the agreement and did not just let it happen."

I smirked. "Is that a comment on Kurn's sword?"

"I had to insist on taking it, otherwise he would have."

I sighed. "I tend to barter in different ways. Secrets. Motives."

"Knowledge." Gavin nodded slowly, his face pale enough to be visible still but his eyes almost vanished inside his hood. "I understand. Material possessions do not normally persuade me, either."

"I don't want him to make a contract with us for treasure that allows him an opening to taking other contracts at the same time."

"Ah. Too simple, perhaps? I can see why you are teasing him."

"I am not teasing him."

"He is waiting on you. Even what little you have told me of your race, it is clear the females' opinions hold great sway."

"He was taught by a dragon, not Drow."

"Up until his twentieth year, he said. The arithmetic tells me he escaped to the surface world when he was one hundred and thirty-seven."

"You worked that out exactly?"

Gavin smiled a bit. "That's older than you are now, isn't it? Either way, it leaves a rather large period to have interacted with his mother's race, don't you think?"

My brow furrowed; I was annoyed. "I don't understand his body language, Gavin. He does not act like the males back home. I'm still reading him, deciding the best way."

"Very well. I will leave the particulars to you as long as we do receive the Guild's help on our mission."

"We will."

We fell quiet waiting for Mourn to return, and when he did, he was escorting a small carrier boat from the nearest ship. The half-breed was still in the water, and seemed to be tugging the craft along at a faster and quieter pace than the oars would normally have been able to manage. There was one Man inside the boat, and he was hunched down.

Gavin and I remained hidden where we were until Mourn came partway out of the water, holding the edge of the boat in one hand and signed to me an all-clear. I could make out that the mercenary seemed...different. It was still him, and he had his cloak off for the swims back and forth, but he was missing his claws; his ears were round and his eyes were not golden reptilian but white with deep, round irises.

He looked a bit more Human, if dark-skinned. Like a tall, strong Man with his black hair coiled at the nape of his neck.

I led Gavin's mare and he stepped as cautiously as he could in the dark; I figured his head still hurt and he was navigating by shadow and Moonlight. We had to wade partway into the shallows to step into the boat. The necromancer was surprisingly strong in lifting the mare's packs into the boat himself—he would not accept any help and he was efficient about it—but I blinked when the Man in the boat braced himself and reached his hand out to me, palm up.

Was he asking for a toll to enter?

"Milady," he murmured, and the next moment I grasped that he was offering his hand for stability.

Well. A Human woman would accept. He hadn't seen my face yet, just my smaller stature.

I grasped the rough, broad hand and climbed into the boat, crouching down, covering up with my cloak and making room for Gavin, who crawled in without any assistance. The Man, who was dressed in old layers of clothing and smelled of sweat and salt and oil, brought out his oars to reverse the little boat. Mourn had taken the reins and was leading the horse into the water; after a brief hesitation and a soft word from Gavin, she came forward straight into the Lake without fear and started swimming after the boat.

"Damnest thing I've seen this night," our Man grunted as he pulled at the oars. "Horse is jes followin' 'long in dark water withou' even a snort."

"She's well trained," Gavin murmured.

"Water horses 're rare 'nough. Don' sell 'er cheap."

"I will not."

We made steady progress toward the ship, and other "sailors" were ready to lower down the canvas and pulley for Mourn to wrap beneath the horse's belly in the water.

"Come on up," someone above us called, throwing a rope ladder over the side. "In case the horse kicks! Don' want tah be 'neath!"

She wouldn't if Gavin told her not to, but neither of us was going to bring that up. I glanced at Mourn still in the water, with his odd, Human face, and he signed to me.

*Go, hood up. Safe.*

Gavin balanced the saddle packs over his shoulders and began climbing first while we held the boat steady. The oar-bearer huffed at that, glancing at me and shaking his head, then gestured.

"Go'wan up, then, milady. Watch your step."

Adjusting my hood again to make sure it didn't fall, I stood up and scaled the rope ladder with considerable ease. I slowed down when I caught up the Gavin and heard a sound of surprise from the Man below me; I was giving too much away. Still, if the Man had not seen even the outline of any of my weapons by now, then he was truly darkness-blind. I was not a kept Consort, after all.

There were six more Men helping to get the horse on board under the paltry light of two glass-encased, candlewick lamps, and none of them questioned just what they were doing at this hour of the morning with this animal. A few grunts of effort, a word of warning when I saw Gavin gesture and the horse simultaneously kicked in a fairly believable manner, as if she were frightened—as if she were alive—but otherwise it was smooth and successful, and Mourn joined us aboard a moment later.

"Thank you, men," the mercenary said, passing a pouch of coin to one of them.

"We got it taken care of," the other nodded, accepting. "A few last-minute supplies when the sun rises and we'll set sail."

"We will wait in the hold with the mare."

"The lady, even?"

Mourn nodded. "We'd take spare blankets if you have them."

"Sure. We'll call ye when cook has the stew."

Gavin was a bit hunched over as if he was disguising his usual height around these other Humans, and he and I stood close together; he did a good job of casting extra shadow on me. We said nothing and went where we were guided to the ramp that would get the horse down below.

The ship assailed me with smells of close-working, Human males, of dank wood and something that smelled like burned sap, or perhaps tar, and of fish and old urine and vomit. It was nothing like being in Brom's Inn, which had servants to clean it. I wouldn't have called the sailors the "servants" exactly, even if they did all the work.

Still, while I might have preferred the fresher work, sweat, and mud of existing in the mountainous forests, I knew this was the fastest way to reach Augran and I wouldn't complain. I'd been in a few smellier places in the Underdark, including the dungeons. I'd even had a smelly, greasy-bearded dwarf with his trousers down, pressing me to the stone and breathing in my face, for Lolth's sake.

We settled down for the wait until Sunrise, listening to the Men's footsteps above us and the creaking wood. The slow sway of the boat in the water felt very strange to me, and I wondered at the thought that I might be below the level of the water. I had to hope that the workmanship of the sailors was competent and the wood would not begin leaking.

"So, they will not get too curious?" Gavin asked Mourn.

"No. I have used them for passage into Augran before, for those who wish to remain unidentified. It is not unusual. We will sail upriver through the city directly to Yong-wen and disembark there."

"Upriver? Where is this enclave compared to the Lake?"

"Southwest."

"And might there be inspections?"

"There will, but nothing that coin will not ease the way."

"You trust these sailors," I said quietly.

Mourn looked at me. "I have reason to."

Gavin quickly grew to be very tired after the day spent awake and the entire night riding; I gave him a blanket and he settled down against his pack to sleep with little care that his body would roll gently with the movement of the waves. I was a bit jealous; I was wide awake and consciously controlling any troublesome anxiety caused from having only one escape route that I could see, one that could easily be blocked.

*May settle to rest,* Mourn signed to me, getting down onto the floor himself. *It will be some time.*

I found a barrel upon which to sit and sighed, crossing my hands. I soon heard the tiny squeak of rodents down here with us, and noticed that the mare looked up with interest. She champed her teeth, and indeed, they were more carnivorous than they had been.

Well, I thought...why not?

It was easy enough to wait in the pitch black with my hand crossbow, ready and to shoot a couple of the rats with non-poisoned darts, practicing my skill and collecting them. I placed them within reach of the mare to eat, which she did, fur and tail and all. Mourn watched me the whole time without comment, though I supposed if I knew his Human face any better than his dragon one, then I might have been able to read something.

*Why the dark skin?* I signed. *It makes you memorable to these light Men.*

*They know me as Guild in this form; they will help. The dark skin form also protects you, should they see your skin.*

I nodded. *How many forms do you have?*

*As many as I can concentrate to make.* Then he smirked. *But they all walk on two legs.*

I nodded understanding. *No turning into a wolf or horse or lizard?*

He shook his head, blinking Human eyes properly. *No. Though a true To'vah can take any shape. My sire has one form of a handsome Baenar which he used.*

That was unsettling. A dragon could walk among us if he wished...?

*Is it an illusion that you form around you?*

*No. I shift bone and muscle, grow hair and change skin, altering color.*

*Sounds painful.*

*It can be.*

In the other hand, this made the idea of conceiving a hybrid in the first place a bit less...straining on the mother. Although that had not seemed to help her much in the birthing.

A quiet moment passed, and I tried asking, *Why did you leave the Underdark? You know why I did.*

*On an assignment for your queen. You mean to go back?*

He was delaying. I frowned in thought; it did not take long to decide the answer was simple enough. *Yes.*

*Why?*

I shrugged. *I cannot give birth alone up here, if I could survive that long.*

He watched me curiously. *Were you sent with child, or did you conceive up here?*

*Sent. But it was not known, or I would not have been allowed to leave.*

Mourn didn't reply to that; I was glad. There were a lot of other reasons I may have to go back regardless—one of them was currently bundled silent at my side and had belonged to the sister of the current Valsharess. But a lot of things could change between now and then, all depending if I found Jael, on if we took the Ley Tower from Sarilis, on if I did not miscarry...

Maybe Gavin would let me stay in safety and privacy, just for the last year until I birthed my child? But then what? It only began from there... I didn't know much of caring for infants. Maybe Jael could stay with me, could help me. Maybe I'd find Gaelan. Maybe.

It was a long time between now and then; there were a lot of unknowns.

*Why did you leave the Underdark entirely, never to return?* I asked again, finishing being distracted.

As he often did, Mourn took his time to consider and think it over. When he gave it, his answer was also simple: *I killed my Matron.*

Oh my goddess.

He had something in common with Kurn... He had to leave the Underdark; he would have always been hunted for that action, until they caught him.

*Why?*

Mourn blinked at me. *Your first question is why?*

I nodded, and waited.

Again, he considered. *She wanted to breed me. I was not ready.*

That was a strange reason. I wanted to feel some contempt at first; had he made it seem that he was untouchable? No male was untouchable, especially to a Matron...but he killed her for that choice? How dare he—?

I pushed that feeling down.

*I do not understand,* I signed instead. *You just did not want to breed?*

*No. I was too young. I was not ready.*

I felt further confused with Gavin's precise figure. *But you were one hundred thirty-seven when you left. How were you too young?*

He signed more emphatically: *I. Was. Too. Young.*

Oh shit.

I made the connection, I thought. I saw the misunderstanding in my head...the Matron would have been waiting for him to mature from the time he was sixty. And waiting more than twice again past that age, and he still couldn't breed? If his Matron was anything like our typical one, she would not have been patient or understanding with him.

Especially if she had paid a handsome sum and lost a sister to a dragon for such specific offspring.

*How long...for a dragon to mature to breed offspring?* I asked.

Mourn relaxed a bit at my question. *A full-blood To'vah must be about five hundred.*

My jaw dropped. Oh, wow.

*And you are four hundred sixty-three?*

*I am still half Drow,* he signed, answering my implied question. *I am mature.*

*Do...do these other Drow settlements mate their children on purpose?* I asked, and Mourn shook his head.

*No. I was trained to be an assassin against the other Houses. I grew to be very good, one of the city's best infiltrators and killers. They thought this meant I was ready to mate.*

Yet for the Matron to try to force it...indeed, he must have appeared capable to breed; in form, in intelligence, in skill. Dragons were that long-lived, that experienced and mentally mature, before they ever produced their first young.

...Was that why they were so rare?

I stilled my hands and thought deeply on this, because it was important. This explained a bit more...*a lot* more. This half-blood would not have matured in body while living among other Drow at all, but it would have happened later, on the Surface. He had still been a youth when he left, and may have suffered some abuse while too young to understand as much, such as I had, or he had watched the others cavorting in bewilderment, maybe very conscious that he was developing so differently from them all.

And no one would have known what to expect.

More immediately for me, this meant that Mourn had never mated a Drow female by choice or desire. Perhaps he was even confused, looking at me naked. My instinct to be careful with this bargain had been true. If he should want to bargain in this way, which I would have to discover, then I would be his first of his own race, ever, to bed him when he was "ready."

I did not really have any idea how I might even do it.

Yet he was telling me this about his past. Why was he telling me this? Just because I asked? In another place, confessing this so plainly would only mean his death in whatever painful, ruthless way that worked to put him down.

Ah, but I was in his world now; I was on his Guild-linked ship. I did not even have any true understanding of how far his influence extended on the Surface, except that there had been stories of him for many generations of Humans. He had earned that.

I was a fraction of his age, even if I would have the sexual experience over him by right of my gender and my purpose, by my very training.

He was testing me. He had to be testing me. He did want something. As long as he wanted something, then we could bargain.