Surfacing Ch. 12

The architecture of the home itself was ornate and masterfully crafted in a way I had not thought Humans could accomplish without magic—or perhaps they had some magic that I had not seen yet? I counted three levels beneath the curved roof, and multiple smaller outbuildings which no doubt served necessary, purely practical purposes.

There were guards at the gate as well, obvious and easy to see as we approached. Yungian males, generally much shorter than Kurn but not spindly, were dressed in both functional and decorated leather armor, with metal parts for reinforcement of vulnerable spots.

They were armed with weapons I was immediately curious to see put into practice. The long poles, for example, with a curious double-crescent at the top and bright red tuft of something like the fluffiest feathers. It seemed odd to me to make it so clear to one's target where the end of the pole was, as that bright red could not help but draw attention. Was that the purpose, somehow, like the bright red leather of the Red Sister's uniform?

Beyond that, though, every tool with a sharp edge held a common purpose—to cut or puncture, to block or hook something—but the variety and details often dictated the most efficient way to wield it. Some required more training than others.

Mourn took us directly toward that main gate, walking along the relatively clean street and to a well-lit path leading from the gate to the lavish house.

*Will this not make us obvious?* I signed as we both worked on slowing our breaths from the run. I did not like the eyes I sensed peeking out of the windows.

*That is the point,* he replied. *What good is it to him if others do not see us arrive?*

*Fair enough, but you said midnight was for our privacy and comfort.*

*Yes. Privacy, not secrecy. I meant that there will not be hundreds of guests.*

Hundreds? Ugh.

*How many should I expect?*

*At minimum, his close family and his advisors, plus his personal warriors.*

*And that is how many?*

*Maybe twenty or thirty. But the warriors will not interact unless they are called upon to defend the family.*

*From you?* I signed with a smirk. *Or do they worry about me?*

Mourn gave me a look that was almost a warning. *Neither. Yong-wen has family houses competing for merchant rights and influence. He is simply not being negligent about his welfare and those of his own while hosting an important guest.*

*Got it. What is expected of me?*

*Watch for this signal.* Mourn showed me a subtle cluster of his four largest fingers pointed more toward him, with the pinky out more toward me.

I took a moment to interpret that. *Act as you act?*

*Correct. You will cover the basics that way.*

*Will they understand the signing?*

*No. They are not Guild.*

*Very well. And if I have any questions for them?*

*Speak to me; do not sign, as it might be threatening. I will translate. Keep your questions minimal; their females are not encouraged to chatter during important meetings.*

I frowned. *I am not one of their females.*

*It is polite.*

*And demeaning. They will have many questions for me, yes?*

*Likely, yes.*

*How are theirs more important than mine? Why should I tell them more than they tell me?*

Mourn sighed quietly. *Their questions are not more important, and you may decline to answer or be vague, or even lie. They will not know the difference. Bear in mind that they will remember everything that you say and do, and that will have consequence for me and the Guild. This is their first contact with a pure-blood Drow. You represent your race.*

I wanted to sigh at the weight of that last statement. *More Court games, then.*

*If you see it that way. I wager they follow many more unspoken rules than you do, and they do not tend to change as fast.*

That last thought especially set the tone for our entry and welcoming to the home of Patriarch Shi Mu Kuo. He greeted us personally, his black facial hair finely trimmed and braided down into three deliberate twists leading off his chin. He was as well-fed man, likely accustomed by now to mostly directing and giving orders without needing to do heavy lifting or fighting.

His fine clothing—loose-fitting but layered and highly-colored tops that stretched to his upper thighs, partly overlaid on baggy dark trousers—supported the lifestyle; not a smudge or frayed end to be found on him. He was not barefoot in his home, but wore sandals that did not look like they had ever been worn in the mud. His toenails were very clean.

His three sons, all young and slender but mature for their race, stood proudly forward on each side of him, wearing similar attire to their sire, and his two daughters were back behind the male "advisors" along with the "wife." The females were dressed in decorated, single-piece robes closed with a sash—not unlike my wizard back home—but instead of sandals, their feet seemed wrapped in snug bands of cloth. Odd.

They all had long hair like Mourn. I couldn't really comment; we all wore braids or wraps or buns in some fashion.

At first I could not comprehend what I was seeing in the family arrangement, though, or just did not know what it meant. But slowly—as Mourn took over the salutations—I started where he suggested, with the eldest male in front of me as the "Matron." The Human sons, then, would be the First, Second, and Thirds Daughters in order of birth, and the Human wife would be the current consort alongside any of the Matron's sons—whether or not they were the current consort's seed.

What was different here was that the four male "advisors" had status even over the consort and sons, standing between them. Matrons did not have female advisors not related to her, and her strength of presentation lay in how many children she could show off together, and also potentially how many male consorts she currently supported and enjoyed.

Something about non-blood standing between blood did not settle well with me, regardless of whether they were male or female. Or were they related, somehow? Surely male cousins and uncles would not stand before the blood children, even the females?

Especially the females.

I could barely absorb the intricate décor with how rigidly I had to pay attention to Mourn's hands, and the greetings and body language of Shi Mu Kuo. Bowing, gestures, words, more bowing, removing my hood at the proper moment to be stared at with stoic gazes. How could something so repetitive and ritualized be so hard to interpret?

Perhaps it was because it felt to me like everyone, including the Patriarch, was wearing an actual, immobile mask, and no one wanted to make any challenges to give any hints as to what they were really thinking to keep interactions interesting. My own muscles felt stiff by extension as I sensed their hesitance to make a move with their own bodies that would not, somehow, speak of something unflattering to their honored guests.

As if their guests couldn't recover from an assumption or a misinterpretation. As if they couldn't expect it as inevitable. If the whole of the night was going to be like this, it wouldn't be much fun for me.

It was at this time that I realized that Qivni did have at least one point about me: I was not capable of eternal vigilance when I was bored or thinking on something in particular. I did well in general, but I could never reach her level of stoic expectation. I had not really cared to try.

In this case, my attention wandered as I was looking at various Humans, mentally undressing them out of their armor (*Interesting how it is put together*) or their colorful robes (*Were any of them mages?*), and considering whether they do would for me or not. This was generally a bad thing when one does not know which individuals would be available for such services, or how they were chosen in the first place. Yet of all the questions I might ask Mourn to translate for me, now was not the time to ask the one I wanted most to ask.

Of course, I had never bothered with having any companion "selected" for me at Court based on a wise political choice. I went on instinct, with whichever male dared meet my eyes, even for a moment, and gave me some sign of his interest, that he wanted to be pursued. Because I gladly would. Regardless of what Mourn might hint as to who would be the best "choice" tonight, my own preferred choice would be whichever one signaled that he wanted to play.

"So what did we say?" I asked quietly as we were finally being led away from the front door, which at least had been closed so I did not have to worry about being shot in the back from outside. What was more, I was not asked to remove my boots as long as I remained on the woven reed mat that led to the back of the main level.

"Traditional greetings. Nothing more as of yet. Wait until we get to the banquet hall."

Indeed, the entourage was all moving together, me and Mourn behind only the Patriarch, with a few straight-backed, perfectly-dressed warriors in front. Need I mention that I hated having that many Humans behind me, several with weapons?

"Nothing more," I repeated. "So there's a traditional greeting for a Black Ghost?"

Mourn smirked. "No. You were 'And His Mystic Companion.'"

I chuckled once. "You wish it, maybe. Yet that is dismissive."

"They do not think so."

"I do."

"You can't speak it."

"You could tell them."

"Shhh."

I noticed two of the guard males looking at me with odd expressions, turning their heads to look as we spoke. If not for the masks, would they dare to show disapproval of my bantering with their Dragon Spirit? Was it so unusual for a female to carry a conversation with one of her own? I could certainly get one of them under me and show them just how to carry a conversation with a Drow female properly. We'd see if they urinated all over their mat in their fear...

"Are you well?" Mourn asked.

"No," I grunted, making some attempt to calm my tension, breathing out in focused pushes as if I had just finished an intense work-out.

Even more than the crush of would-be worshippers among the commoners yesterday, this place seemed even heavier on one's inability to move where one would. And there were only a fraction of the people.

I could grant that it was practical that I follow Mourn in everything going from place to place, starting in the mountains and jumping aboard a ship at the Great Lake, and eventually crawling back into shore deep inside the population of Augran. It was practical to take his hints at dealing with the crowds and stepping inside the homes and otherwise getting fed, rested, etc., without causing unnecessary conflict.

Here, I saw there were too many actions for Mourn to be able to tutor me in them all on short notice—I could see why he hadn't even tried—and none of them seemed practical to me. As if they were simply waiting for something to cause conflict in an otherwise plush life. It seemed to be nothing but adding unnecessary difficulty in attaining what you sought.

So...what did the Patriarch seek, then, assuming he went through these many social rituals to get it?

We had not quite reached the banquet hall at the back of the main floor when I heard a young female voice whisper something. Only when I looked around and actually made eye contact with her did I realize that she had not been talking to me, or trying to get my attention. The young daughter had simply underestimated how good my hearing was compared to what she was used to, and the other younger female to whom she had spoken looked equally startled at my sudden attention. Startled and frightened.

The entourage had slowed down. I could finally read something on their faces. The females had been talking about me. Mourn had pretended that he had not heard it, but I had just lost my cover of being able to listen to whispers at will. Damn.

Oh well, best make the most of it.

"What did they say, Mourn?" I murmured. "Quickly."

"Do not," he warned.

"Zehn-be'le, Lung-jinshen?" Shi Mu Kuo said as he stopped with everyone else and turned around. He actually looked just a little concerned.

"Just translate," I snapped.

His tongue flicked out just before he said shortly, "They are only curious if you can use the blades you carry. They mean no disrespect. Do not draw on them just to make a point, Sirana."

He knew Drow females well, indeed.

I finally felt like smiling—I was the only one there who was—and I made a little bow to Mourn, an ironic flick of my fingers letting him in on the joke. "In that case, please tell them that I would love to perform for them, if they wish."

"That would be a challenge to their best family fighter. He would be obliged to perform as well and be judged alongside you whether he still does honor to his family."

I liked the sound of that. "Oh? And who is what?"

Mourn sighed, looking over to where the Patriarch waited for a response. I caught him looking back at his daughters with a hard stare for a brief moment, perhaps promising them something for causing this unease with their whispers. His attention was solidly back on Mourn in an instant, and they conversed with their hands almost as much as their voices.

Meanwhile, the daughters were shrinking back, and only their mother—the wife—keeping them from leaving the hall. I pushed my cloak farther open so they could get a much better look at my weapons. The brothers and advisors were staring as well. One of them smiled.

"Pin'shya!" the Patriarch exclaimed, blinking his eyes a few times and really, I was glad to see that they were all capable of some expression on their faces.

Mourn crossed his arms deliberately, towering over all of us, and nodded toward me. "Jan'shi-tsao'nu."

"Jan'shi?"

"Tsao'nu."

They talked a bit more. With every bewildered, uncertain moment that passed, with every nervous gesture or tick that I finally began to read in the others, I got a feel for what thoughts might be passing through those minds in the room. I felt more and more at ease.

"Well, Mourn?" I asked with a sweet lilt to my voice.

He looked at me, his arms still crossed. He may have been irritated with me but he didn't show it. "Does the Warrior Maiden with Eyes of Water care to eat first or perform first?"

I showed my delight at getting my way. "Eyes of Water? Really?"

"Be glad you were not born with the usual red color, Baenar. You would not have this choice now."

So he had noticed. He hadn't said anything.

Chuckling, I bowed, probably my most gracious so far. "May I have a small pocket or something to keep my stomach quiet, and then perform?"

"So, neither and both?" He did not seem surprised that I chose the third option.

"I would not do a banquet right before a fight, if I had the choice."

"Nor sword-dance on an empty stomach?"

"You wouldn't if you were with child, Mourn."

"Perhaps you should not do this at all, for that reason."

"No. Better that I keep in practice for our mission. We need only an agreement: he doesn't hit my stomach, I don't hit his balls."

Mourn blinked and grunted. "It will be a weapons and form display, not a fight."

"Well, damn, thanks for teasing me." I grinned. "All the more reason to eat first and not worry about a banquet."

He conceded the point—perhaps he was hungry, too—and continued negotiations on my behalf. I loved it; whatever plans had been set in preparation for our arrival were being altered very quickly to please me.

I glanced around again; as everyone but me understood what was being said, I did my best to read their reactions. The sisters looked both horrified and excited, keeping their eyes down even as their round ears would be perked up if they could be. The advisors seemed flustered, as if their careful plans had been disrupted. Good.

The brothers...oh, the brothers were interesting. Two of the three were looking at the third, and that third one had straightened his back and was looking toward his sire and Mourn. Indeed, he seemed to be mimicking Mourn's body language, and looked about as serious.

Ah-ha. So he would be my competitor. I looked him over; he was likely the eldest with the most experience and training. I could only judge his potential strength and speed from his hands and neck, which I could see out of his loose clothing; it looked formidable for his frame.

I noticed callouses in the right places for someone who knew some hand-to-hand as well as melee weapons. He was not a lot taller than me, which was a nice change, but I wanted to see him dressed in something more form-fitting—assuming he wouldn't strip to the waist, or something lovely like that—to better see the shape and tension of his muscles.

I was used to seeing males of all shapes and sizes, some softer and smoother from studying magic or gracing a beautiful bed, and some harder and more taut from hard labor or fighting. I could be happy with about any shape, but I did want to see how a slighter Human such as this compared to a male Drow fighter, rather than being a bulky, top-heavy brute more like Kurn and Cris, and even Kerse. Still, certainly this shorter youth would fight differently than any of them.

My blood was humming, I noticed, and I was very pleased that Mourn was making some attempt to give me what I wanted, just like he had for Gavin. I just had to ask, or make an offer. The irony did not escape me.

Something else nearly did, though, and it was a look from one of the younger brothers. He was slightly leaner in the face than his eldest brother, as if he still had a bit of growing to do, not just muscle development as I had already seen in full adult male Humans.

I was not sure if it was my wishful desires playing tricks on me, or if Humans could have the same intent with the same expression...but the look had been almost identical to Callitro at the worship ball, the first time I had spoken with the wizard. Did the boy even realize what he had just done? My young battle wizard certainly had, but it would be foolish of me to assume it of a Human.

Still, I held the dark-eyed gaze for as long as possible right then, barely three seconds, yet to my surprise...the light brown skin of his face flushed rather like Tamuril's had. He looked away, but there was that uncertain tease of a smile, and a slight shiver through his frame.

Ah, yes. There it was; the scent. He was excited. He was perfect. Only slightly larger than the typical male Drow.

"May I make a request, Mourn?" I said softly in a brief break, and both he and Shi Mu Kuo looked at me.

"Like what?"

"I trust our weapon and 'form' styles are quite different, yes? You would know."

The older hybrid gave me a subtle-but-suspicious look; he was right to do so. "They will be, yes."

"Rather than throwing the honor of the family against unknown standards," I said, opening and spreading out both my hands to show them empty, a gesture I was copying from multiple Yungians, "and instead of placing admittedly ignorant risk on my 'condition,' what of a practice round first? One with a younger son who is still training and not expected to win?"

Mourn looked slightly intrigued, and his eyes did look briefly at the three brothers. I continued.

"The eldest would have a chance to study my style in action before facing me, and I would have a chance to practice against a new culture and get the feel for it. It would be fair, would it not?"

"Fair," Mourn actually smiled at that, and would have chuckled probably, if not for his company.

"Balanced."

"Indeed." The half-blood looked over the brothers. "Which caught your attention?"

I didn't point. "On your right. In the green shirt."

Mourn pondered for a few moments without staring directly at the boy, but began a new round of discussion with the Patriarch. The advisors shifted nervously on their feet as we stood in the long hall, doing nothing pre-ordained, and I actually had a chance to admire the burnt-ochre shade of the paint on the wall, framed with polished wood trim and lined with more paintings of various water scenes.